Robin Hobb - The Complete Tawny Man Trilogy - Fool’s Errand, The Golden Fool, Fool’s Fate

Her words left me speechless. She smiled to see me struck dumb, then left me behind with the other attendants as she spurred her horse forwards to ride at Lord Golden’s stirrup. I do not know what, if any, words passed between them, only that soon the hunting party decided to return to Galekeep. The game-bags were heavy, the beat of the sun overhead was becoming oppressive, and the cats seemed irritable and less interested in the hunt.

This being so, the nobles turned their horses and set spurs to them, hastening back to the welcome cool of Galekeep’s thick stone walls. The rest of us followed as best we might. Myblack easily kept their pace, though I had to ride in their dust.

Nobility retired to their chambers to wash the dust away and don fresh clothing while others cared for their sweated horses and cranky cats. I followed Lord Golden as he strode ebulliently through the halls. I hastened to open the door for him, and then to shut it behind us after he had passed through. I fastened the latch quietly.

I turned to find him already laving the dust from his face and hands. ‘What happened?’ he asked me.

I told him.

‘Will he be all right?’ he asked anxiously.

‘The Prince? I hardly know.’

‘Nighteyes,’ the Fool clarified impatiently.

‘As well as he may be. I’ll take him more water and meat when I return. He was in pain but not like to die of his injuries.’ Though I had not liked the look of the inflamed scratches. The Fool almost seemed to answer my thoughts.

‘I’ve a salve that may soothe his hurts, if he will let you use it.’

I had to smile. ‘I doubt that he will, but I will be glad to take it all the same.’

‘Well. There but remains for me to manufacture a reason for the three of us to depart Galekeep immediately after lunch. We dare not let his trail grow cold. Nor do I think it likely that we will be returning here.’ As he spoke, he was changing his jacket, brushing dust from his trousers and wiping a cloth over his boots. He considered his reflection in the mirror, then hastily ran a brush through his fine hair. The pale strands floated after the brush and clung to it. The shorter pieces at his temples stood out like a cat’s whiskers. He exclaimed in annoyance, and refastened the heavy silver clip that he used to secure his hair at the base of his neck. ‘There. That will have to do. Pack us up, Tom Badgerlock. Be prepared to leave by the time I return from my meal.’ And he was gone.

There was fruit and cheese and bread on the table from the night before. The bread was a bit stale but I was hungry enough that it did not matter. I ate as I hastily packed my own things. Lord Golden’s wardrobe presented me with more problems. I could not recall how he had fitted so much clothing into such a small bag. At length, I managed to cram it all in, though I wondered what the fine shirts would look like when they emerged again.

The midday meal was still in progress when I finished. I took advantage of that and slipped down to the kitchen for cold beer and spicy sausages. My old skills served me in good stead, for when I left several thick slices off a cold joint were concealed in the breast of my servant’s tunic.

I returned to our rooms and spent the early afternoon impatiently awaiting Lord Golden’s return. I longed to reach for the wolf, and dared not. Every passing moment might be carrying the Prince further away. The afternoon was flowing away from me. I flung myself down on my bed to wait. Despite my anxiety, I must have dozed off.

I awoke to Lord Golden opening the door. I rolled from the bed to my feet, feeling sodden with sleep yet eager to leave. He shut the door behind me and in response to my look, replied grimly, ‘It is proving socially difficult to extricate us. There were guests at today’s luncheon, and not just those we hunted with. The Bresingas seemed determined to exhibit me to all their wealthy neighbours. They have planned dinners and teas and more hunts with half the countryside in attendance. I have been unable to invent a pressing enough reason for us to leave. This is damnably inconvenient. Would that I could go back to my motley and a more honest form of juggling and rope-walking.’

‘We’re not leaving yet,’ I observed stupidly.

‘No. There is a large dinner in my honour this evening. For us to abruptly leave before that would be insult. And when I hinted that I might have to cut my visit short and leave tomorrow morning, I was told that Lord Crias from across the river had planned a morning hunt for me, and an afternoon repast at his manor.’

‘They delay you on purpose. The Bresingas are involved in the Prince’s disappearance. I am sure they provided food for him and the cat last night. And Nighteyes is certain that those who attacked him are aware he is bonded to someone. They tried to flush me out.’

‘Perhaps. But even if we were certain, I could scarcely fling accusations about. And we are not certain. Perhaps they but seek social advancement at court, or to show me their various marriageable daughters. I gather that is why the girl was at dinner last night.’

‘I thought she was Civil’s companion.’

‘She was at great pains during the hunt to tell me that they were childhood friends with absolutely no romantic interests in one another.’ He sighed and sat down at the small table. ‘She told me that she, too, collects feathers. Tonight after dinner she wishes to show me her collection. I am certain it is an invention to spend more time with me.’

Had my own needs not been so pressing, I would have smiled at his dismay.

‘Well, I shall have to deal with it as best I may. And perhaps it can even be turned to our advantage, now that I think of it. Oh, I’ve an errand for you. It seems that while we were hunting today, I lost a silver chain. At lunch I noticed it was missing. It is one of my favourites. You will have to retrace our steps and see if you can find it. Take your time.’

As he spoke, he drew a necklace from his pocket, wrapped it in his kerchief, and handed it to me. I pocketed it. He opened his clothing-case, shot me an accusing look at the compressed jumble inside it, and then fished about until he discovered the pot of salve. He handed it to me.

‘Shall I lay out your clothing for dinner before I go?’

He rolled his eyes mockingly at me as he drew a crumpled shirt from his clothing bag. ‘I think you’ve already done enough for me, Badgerlock. Just go.’ As I moved towards the door, his voice stopped me. ‘Does the horse suit you?’

‘The black is fine,’ I assured him. ‘A good healthy beast and fleet, as we proved. You chose a good horse.’

‘But you would rather have chosen your own mount.’

I nearly said yes. But then, as I considered it, I realized that was not true. If I had been choosing the horse, I would have sought for a companion to bear me through the years. It would have taken me weeks, if not months, to select one. And now that I was unwillingly confronting the wolf’s mortality, I felt a strange reluctance to offer that much of myself to an animal. ‘No,’ I replied honestly. ‘It was much better that you chose one for me. She’s a good horse. You chose well.’

‘Thank you,’ he said quietly. It seemed to matter to him a great deal. If the wolf had not been waiting, it would have given me pause.

Many are the tales told of Witted taking on their beasts’ shapes to wreak havoc upon their neighbours. The bloodier legends are of Witted in wolves’ skins, who in that guise rend their neighbours’ families as well as their flocks. Less sanguine are the tales who depict Witted suitors taking on the shapes of birds, or cats, or even dancing bears to gain access to a bedchamber in the course of a seduction.