Golden Fool (61 page)

She smiled at me and I saw relief in her eyes. “That’s the first time you’ve had the strength to be difficult. Should I take it that you are recovering and will soon be your old self?” She asked the question teasingly, but for all that relief quivered in her words. She set the cloth aside and gathered my hands in hers. I felt my bones rub together in her gentle grip; all flesh had fallen from my hands, leaving them like talons. I could not bear to look at them, or at the tenderness in her blue gaze. I glanced past her and frowned, not recognizing my surroundings. Her eyes followed my gaze. “I changed it,” she said. “I could not abide for you to lie in this cell as it was.”

There was a thick rug of Mountain weave on the floor. I lay on a low couch, while my exalted queen sat cross-legged on a plump cushion on the floor beside me. In the corner, a spiraling rack held tiers of fat scented candles that warmed and lit the room. A chest of drawers, the front ornamented with carving, supported a graceful ewer and washbowl. I saw the lacy edge of some piece of weaving beneath the pitcher. A low table beside the bed held the empty mug and a bowl of torn bread softened in broth. The smell of it made me hungry. Kettricken must have seen my eyes go toward it, for she immediately took it up and lifted a spoonful from it.

“I think I can feed myself,” I said hastily. I tried to sit up and shamed myself by needing her assistance. When I did so, I became aware of the tapestry on the wall facing me. It had been freshly cleaned and mended, but as ever an elongated King Wisdom stared down at me as he made treaty with the Elderlings. My shock must have shown on my face, for Kettricken smiled and said, “Chade said you would be astonished and pleased. It seemed a rather dismal tapestry to me but he said it was an old favorite of yours.”

It took up the entire wall. Just as it had when it hung on the wall of my childhood bedroom, it struck me as nightmarish. And the old man knew that full well. Despite how weak I was, his rough jest brought a smile to my face. Still I protested, “But this chamber should be kept as the humble room of a serving man. Except for the size and lack of windows, you have fitted it out as if for a prince.”

Kettricken sighed. “Chade too rebuked me for that, but I refused to listen. Bad enough that you must be ill in such a small and gloomy chamber. I will not leave it pauperish and cold as well.”

“But your chamber is simple and sparse, in the Mountain fashion. I don’t—”

“When you are well enough to have visitors, then you may have it all taken away if you wish. But for now, I will have you comfortable. In the Six Duchies style.” She spoke with asperity, then sighed. “As usual, a lie has explained it away. Lord Golden rewards his serving man for loyalty. So. Tolerate it.”

And there was no arguing with her tone. She propped me up with pillows and I ate the sodden bread. I could have eaten more, but she took the empty bowl from me and told me to take my recovery slowly. And then I was suddenly tired. I lay back, overcome with weariness yet astounded there was no pain. And I suddenly realized that I was on my back. My face must have changed, for Kettricken anxiously asked me if I was all right.

I rolled to my side and reached a cautious hand to my back. “There is no pain,” I told her.

There were no bandages.

I felt the smooth flesh, and then the knobs of my spine and my ribs that stuck out like a starved dog’s. I started to tremble, and my teeth to chatter. Kettricken pulled blankets closer around me. “The wound is completely gone.” I rattled out the words.

“Yes,” she agreed. “The flesh is closed and sound. Of the sword thrust, there is no sign. It is one reason we have kept visitors away from you. Surely they would wonder at that, and also wonder why you are thin and wasted as from a weeks-long illness.” She paused then, and I thought she would say more, but she did not. She smiled at me tenderly. “Don’t be concerned about anything right now. You need to rest, Fitz, not to worry. Rest, and eat, and soon you’ll be up and about.” My queen touched my whiskery cheek and then smoothed back my hair.

A thousand questions suddenly crowded my mind. “Does Hap know I’m all right? Has he come to see me; is he worried?”

“Hush. You are not all right, not yet. He has come here, but we judged it best not to let him see you. Lord Golden has spoken with him, assuring him that you will recover and are receiving the best of care. He told him how grateful he was for how Tom Badgerlock had attempted to defend his treasure at such a cost to himself, and made Hap promise that if he had any need while you are recuperating, he would let Golden know of it. And a woman named Jinna has come to visit, but also been turned aside.”

I understood the wisdom of it. Both Hap and Jinna would have been astounded at my present appearance, but I hoped my boy had not been made too anxious. And then, as if a gate had been opened, all my other questions assaulted me. “Were there other Piebalds, beside Laudwine and Padget? And Henja. I saw Henja there, and I do not think it was coincidence. And, I got the impression that Civil’s mother was living under a threat. Chade should send someone to aid her. And there is a spy still, the one who took Thick to see Laudwine, Chade must—”

“You must rest,” she said firmly. “Others are dealing with all of that just now.” She stood fluidly. It only took two steps to cross my tiny room. She blew out all the candles save one, and she took that one from the holder. I became aware that my queen was in a nightrobe and wrapper. Her hair hung in a thick gold braid down her back.

“It’s night,” I said stupidly.

“Yes. Very late at night. Go to sleep now, Fitz.”

“What are you doing here so late at night?”

“Watching you sleep.”

That didn’t make sense. She had deliberately waked me. “But the milk and the bread?”

“I had my page fetch them for me, telling him I could not sleep. Because, in truth, I could not. And then I brought them here, for you.” She sounded almost defensive. “There is a good amidst all this evil that has befallen you. It has made me recall vividly just how much I owe you, and how much I value you.” She looked down at me for a moment. “If I lost you,” she said unwillingly, “I would lose the only one who knows the whole of my story. The only one who looks at me and knows all I went through with my king.”

“But Starling was there. And Lord Golden.”

She shook her head. “Not for all of it. And neither of them loved him as we did.” Then, candle in hand, she stooped and kissed my brow. “Go to sleep, FitzChivalry.” And when she kissed my mouth, it was like a long drink of cool water, and I knew the kiss was not for me, but for the man we both had lost. “Rest and grow strong again,” she admonished me, then rose and left by the secret doorway. She took the mug and the bowl with her, leaving behind no trace of herself save her lingering scent in the darkness. I sighed, and sank into a sleep that was deep, but almost normal.

chapter
XXI

CONVALESCENCE

The Witness Stones have stood on the cliffs near Buckkeep Castle for as long as Buckkeep Castle has existed, and likely for longer. Tall and black, the four Stones thrust up in a quadrangle from the rocky earth. Either time or the hands of men have obscured the markings that once graced each side of each standing Stone. The runes are unreadable now. The stone itself appears very similar to the black blocks of Buckkeep Castle, save for silvery threads that run like flaws through each pillar. No one knows whence came the tradition of calling the Stones to witness either a vow or the truth of what a man was saying. Sometimes combats are fought before the Stones, in the belief that invoking their presence will enable the fighter whose cause is just to prevail. Many superstitions are associated with the space at the center of the four. Some say that a barren woman can conceive a child there; others, that there a woman can ask the Stones to take away that which grows in her womb.

—
LADY CLARINE
’
S
“
CUSTOMS OF BUCK DUCHY
”

I rose from my sickbed the next day. In the blackness of my closed chamber, I walked the three steps to my clothing chest. Then I fell and could not find the strength to get up. I lay still, resolving not to call out for help but to wait until I could muster the energy to return to my bed. But almost immediately, the door to my room opened, admitting light and air and Lord Golden. He stood limned in the doorway and looked down on me with aristocratic disapproval. “Tom, Tom,” he said, shaking his head. “Must you always be so annoyingly stubborn? Back to your bed until Lord Chade says you are free of it.”

As always, the strength in his slender body surprised me. He did not help me to my feet but lifted me bodily and set me back on my bed. I groped for my blanket. He caught up the corner of one and flipped it over me. “I can’t just lie here for days and days,” I complained.

Lord Golden looked amused. “I’d like to see you try to do anything else, for obviously you can’t. I’ll leave the door open so you have some light. Do you wish a candle as well?”

I shook my head slowly, chilled by his impersonal yet tolerantly kindly manner. He left me, but the door remained open. I could see the fire burning in his tidily swept hearth. He resumed his seat at a small writing desk and took up his quill again. It scratched energetically over the paper.

In a short time, there was a tap at the door, and at his invitation to enter, his serving boy came in bearing a breakfast tray. Char set it down on the table and carefully unloaded it. When he was finished, there remained several bowls and a mug on the tray. He picked it up and started toward my door but Lord Golden, without looking away from his writing, said, “Leave it on the table, Char.” The boy left, and still Lord Golden scribbled at his writing. A short time later, there was another knock on the door. This time, the boy carried in buckets of water. A man with him had an armload of firewood. Lord Golden ignored them both as they went about their tasks. When they had both left, he sighed, stood up from his desk, and went to the door and latched it. Then he spoke to me again.

“Will you eat in your room or at the table, Tom?”

For answer, I sat up in my bed. There was a new blue woolen robe across the foot of my bed. I pulled it on over my head, and then stood up. The low bed made this more difficult than it should have been, and for a moment I stood still, my head reeling. Then I began my cautious walk to the table. I paused once in the doorway, clinging to the jamb as I caught my breath, then moved on to the table. Lord Golden had already seated himself and was uncovering the dishes the boy had set out for him. After a moment, I lowered myself into the chair opposite him.

They had given me an invalid’s meal, of broth and runny porridge and bread in milk. On Lord Golden’s side of the table, there were shirred eggs and sausages, bread and butter and preserves and everything else I desired. I knew a moment of irrational fury at him. Then I ate everything they had given me, and washed it down with a cup of lukewarm chamomile tea. Afterward, I rose and went back to my bed. We had not exchanged a single word. After a time, boredom lulled me into sleep.

I awoke to low voices. “Then he is well enough to rise and eat?” Chade asked.

“Barely,” Lord Golden replied. “Better to go slowly. He has no reserves of strength to call upon. Yet if you set tasks before him now, he will still—”

“I’m awake,” I called out. It came out as a croak. I cleared my throat and tried again. “Chade, I’m awake.”

He came quickly to the door of the room and smiled in at me. His white hair gleamed in shining curls and he seemed vital and energetic. He looked down with disdain at Kettricken’s cushion beside my bed. “Let me get a chair, boy, and I’ll sit and we’ll chat a bit. You’re looking much better.”

“I can get up.”

“Can you? Ah. Well, take my hand and up you come. No, let me help you, don’t be stubborn. Shall we sit by the fire?”

Thus he spoke to me, as if I were a trifle simple. I accepted it as his concern for me, and allowed him to support me as I walked. I lowered myself into one of the cushioned chairs before the hearth. He took the other with a sigh. I looked about for the Fool, but Lord Golden was busy at his desk again.

Chade smiled at me and stretched his feet out toward the fire. “I’m so glad to see you doing so well, Fitz. You gave us quite a scare. It took everything we could muster to pull you back.”

“And that is something we need to talk about,” I told him gravely.

“Yes, but not just now. For now, you are to take things slowly and not tax yourself. Sleep and food are what you chiefly need.”

“Real food,” I stipulated firmly. “Meat. I won’t gain any strength on that pap they sent up this morning.”

His eyebrows rose. “Feeling crotchety, are we? Well, that’s to be expected. I’ll see you get meat at noon. All you had to do was tell us you were ready for it. After all, up until a few moments ago, I hadn’t even heard you speak since we brought you home.”

It was unreasonable, but I felt my temper rise. Tears stung my eyes. I turned away from him, trying to master myself. What was wrong with me?

Chade spoke as if in answer to my thought. “Fitz. Boy. Don’t expect too much of yourself just yet. I’ve seen you through a number of hard times, and this was the worst yet. Give your mind time to recover, as well as your body.”

I took a breath to tell him I was fine. Instead I said, “I expected to die down there. Alone.” And my discordant memories of my jail cell rushed back to fill me. I recalled both my terror and my despair, and felt anger that I had to bear those memories. They had left me there. Chade, the Fool, Kettricken, Dutiful—all of them.

“I feared the same,” Chade said quietly. “It was a hard time for all of us, but for you, worst of all. Still, if you had heeded me—”

“Well, of course, it was all my own fault. It always is.”

Lord Golden spoke over his shoulder to Chade. “There’s no talking to him when he’s like this. You will only upset him more. Best just to let it go for now.”

“Be silent!” I roared at him, but my voice cracked to a squeak on the second word. Chade looked at me in wordless reproach and concern. I pulled my knees up to my chest so I was sitting in a ball in the chair. My breath was coming in shuddering gasps. I wiped my sleeve across my eyes. I would not weep. They expected me to fall apart, but I would not. I had been ill, and I’d had a bad scare. That was all. I dragged in a steadying breath. “Just talk to me,” I begged Chade. I unfolded my shaking legs and planted my feet on the floor again. I hated that such weakness had come over me like that. “Tell me what is happening, without making me ask all the stupid questions. Start with Civil.”

Chade heaved a sigh. “I don’t think this is wise.” I began to protest but he held up his hand. “Nevertheless, I’ll let you have your way in this. Very well. Civil. He got to his horse and came back to Buckkeep Castle as swiftly as he could without drawing attention to himself. When he got to Dutiful, he could scarcely croak out a word for how he had been strangled. But he got it across that Lord Golden’s serving man had rescued him from murderers in Buckkeep Town. That was as much as he told Dutiful, then. It was enough for the Prince to bring to me, and for me to set other feet running.”

He cleared his throat, and then admitted, “It took us longer than it should have to find you. I had not expected you to kill nor had I thought you would let the City Guard take you alive. But when I knew you had been arrested and charged, I got a man into the cell with you as quickly as we could. Unfortunately, they had already had a healer see you, so I could not send in one of my own. The sergeant was very stubborn about releasing you. He was sure you’d killed those three men and some brawl you’d previously been involved in had marked you as a troublemaker in his eyes. Lord Golden had to complain of his missing jewels thrice before any of the guards thought to go search Laudwine’s cottage and find them there. I’d already provided a witness that you hadn’t started the fight. That was as far along as I could nudge it. By the time the sergeant put together that you’d been defending your master’s property from thieves and released you to us, it was damn near too late.”

“As far as you could nudge them,” I said flatly. Alone and cold and dying. He’d “nudged” them.

“The Queen wanted to do more. She wanted to simply march her own guard down there and remove you from the cell. I couldn’t allow it, Fitz. For, yes, there were other Piebalds. The day after you killed Laudwine, there were scrolls posted in several places, saying that Laudwine and Padget were Witted, and that agents of the Queen had killed both them and their Wit-beasts. And it mocked her avowed intent to end unjust persecution of the Witted. It warned any of Old Blood not to be stupid enough to trust her and come to her Old Blood convocation. And it ended by saying that she and her minions would kill anyone who tried to speak the truth: that her own son was Witted.” He paused a moment. “So you see now. I had to leave you there. I didn’t want to, Fitz. And I shouldn’t have to tell you that.”

I put my face down in my hands. Yes. I should have heeded Chade. I had precipitated this. “I suppose I should have let them kill Civil. And then run and reported the murder.”

“That would have been one way,” Chade agreed. “But I think it would have damaged your relationship with Dutiful, even if you had concealed that you could have prevented his friend’s death. And now, I think that is enough for today. Back to bed with you.”

“No. Finish this, at least. What did you do about the scrolls accusing Dutiful?”

“Do? Nothing, of course. We ignored them as ridiculous. And we took great care that there was no royal interest in Lord Golden’s serving man confined in a cell. The City Guard had their murderer. Let justice take its course. The posted accusations were ridiculous, a wild attempt by someone to smear the Prince’s good name. It was doubly ridiculous, in that the Prince still bore the deep scratches from his good friend’s hunting cat. Surely a coursing beast would not attack a Witted one. All know the power Witted have over animals. And so on. In time, it was shown that the dead men were no better than common thieves. There was nothing of the Wit in what had happened, and certainly no royal interference. Thieves had been killed by a good servant protecting his master’s property.”

“So. The Wit accusation was why you had to leave me there to rot.” I tried to put acceptance into my words. Part of me understood. Part of me hated him.

He winced at my choice of words, but nodded. “I’m sorry, Fitz. We had no choice.”

“I know. And my own actions had brought it upon me.” I tried to keep bitterness out of my voice and nearly succeeded. I was suddenly horribly tired, but there was more I needed to know. “And Civil?”

“Once I discovered who was dead, I knew I had to question him. I squeezed it all out of him. And what had triggered his action also. His mother killed herself, Fitz. She had sent the lad a message, begging his forgiveness, but saying she could not go on as things were. That she could not live with what he must be doing to buy her safety, even when it was a false sanctuary where men assaulted her at will.”

The ugliness of what he implied sickened me. “Then Civil had meant to let them kill him.”

“His mother was dead. I think he meant to kill them, not caring if he died in the attempt, but he didn’t even know how to begin. He was full of lofty ideals of duels and fair challenges. Laudwine never even gave him a chance to demand his right of combat.”

“What now for Civil?”

Chade took a breath. “It’s complicated. Dutiful insisted on being with him while I questioned him. Civil is Dutiful’s man now, heart and soul. His prince defended him to me. If he must have a Witted one serving him, we have at least pulled that one’s teeth. The Prince is fully convinced, and I almost am, that the Bresingas acted under duress. If the Piebalds ever held any of Civil’s loyalty, his mother’s suicide and their previous treatment of her have purged it from him. He hates them more than we ever could. Lady Bresinga was pressured into presenting the cat to the Prince, under threat that the Piebalds would betray her son and herself as Witted. But once she had done so, she was completely within their power. She was not only Witted; she had committed a treasonous act against the Prince. The Piebalds separated them, mother from son. Civil was sent to Buckkeep. They ordered him to maintain his friendship with the Prince, to draw him deeper into the Wit, and to spy for them. If he did so, they promised his mother would be safe. His mother’s home, Galekeep, became her prison. The Piebalds became greedy swiftly. First, it was her home, her wine cellar, and her wealth. If she did not accommodate them, then they threatened her son. Eventually, some of the men evidently availed themselves of the Lady herself. She could not live with that. I think they misjudged her strength of will, and that of her son.” It was an ugly, sobering story. But I did not let my mind dwell on it. I had more immediate concerns.