Читать книгу The Complete Tawny Man Trilogy: Fool’s Errand, The Golden Fool, Fool’s Fate - Робин Хобб - Страница 23

There is a certain black stone, often finely veined with white or silver threading, that was extensively used by the Elderlings in their construction. At least one quarry for this stone exists in the wild lands beyond the Mountain Kingdom, but it is almost certain that other sources for it exist, for it is difficult even to imagine how it might otherwise have been used in such large constructions in so many far-flung locations. It was used, not only in the construction of their buildings, but also in the monoliths they raised at certain crossroads. Due to several odd qualities of the roads that the Elderlings constructed, it can be deduced that a ground or gravelled form of the stone was also instrumental in their creation. Wherever the Elderlings built, this stone was a favoured instrument, and even in the places that they seemed to have visited only sporadically, monuments of this stone are found. A close scrutiny of the Witness Stones of Buckkeep will convince the examiner that, although defaced by harsh weather or perhaps intentionally vandalized by men in ages past, the stone is of the same type. Some have suggested that the Witness Stones of Buckkeep and other ‘oath stones’ throughout the Six Duchies were originally raised by the Elderlings for a very different purpose.

I awoke in Chade’s great four-poster bed in the tower chamber. I knew a few moments of disorientation before deciding this was not another dream. I was truly awake. I did not recall going to sleep, only sitting down on the side of the bed for a few moments. I was still dressed in yesterday’s clothing.

I sat up cautiously: the hammers and anvils in my head had subsided to a monotonous drumming. The room appeared empty, but someone had been there recently. Washwater steamed near the hearth, and a small covered dish of porridge kept warm near it. As soon as I discovered these items, I put them to good use. My stomach was still reluctant to accept food, but I ate stoically, knowing it was for the best. I washed, put on a kettle for tea and then wandered down to the worktable. A large map of Buck was unfurled across it. The corners were weighted with a mortar and two pestles and a teacup. An inverted wineglass rested on the map itself. When I lifted it, I found Galeton underneath it. It was on a tributary of the Buck River, northwest of Buck and on the other side of the river from Buckkeep. I had never been there. I tried to recall what I knew of Galeton and swiftly did so. Absolutely nothing.

My Wit alerted me to Chade’s presence, and I turned as the hidden door swung open. He entered briskly. The tops of his cheeks were pink with the morning, and his white hair gleamed silver. Nothing invigorated the old man so much as fresh intrigue. ‘Ah, you’re up. Excellent,’ he greeted me. ‘I managed to arrange an early breakfast with Lord Golden, despite the absence of his serving-man. He assured me that he could be ready to travel in a few hours. He’s already concocted an excuse for the trip.’

‘What?’ I asked him, befuddled.

Chade laughed aloud. ‘Bird feathers, of all things. Lord Golden has a number of interesting hobbies, but his most current fascination is feathers. The larger and brighter the better. Galeton borders on a wooded upland, and has a reputation for pheasants, grouse and whiptails. The latter have rather extravagant plumage, especially their tail feathers. He’s already sent a runner on ahead to Lady Bresinga of Galeton, entreating hospitality from her while on his quest. It won’t be refused. Lord Golden is the most popular novelty that Buckkeep Court has seen in a decade. Having him guest at her manor will be a social coup for her.’

He paused, but it was I who took a breath. I shook my head as if it would settle my brains and enable me to catch up with him. ‘The Fool is going to Galeton to find Dutiful?’

‘Ah-ah!’ Chade cautioned me. ‘Lord Golden is going to Galeton to hunt birds. His manservant, Tom Badgerlock will, of course, accompany him. I hope that in the course of running down birds, you’ll pick up the trail of the Prince. But that, of course, is our private errand.’

‘So I’m going with him.’

‘Of course.’ Chade peered at me. ‘Are you all right, Fitz? You seem wool-witted this morning.’

‘I am. It seems that all is happening so fast.’ I didn’t say to him that I had become accustomed to ordering my own life and journeys. It felt strange to revert to living each day as another person decreed. I swallowed my protests. What had I expected? If we were to regain Prince Dutiful, this was how it must be. I struggled to find new footing for my thoughts. ‘Does Lady Bresinga have a daughter?’

Chade considered. ‘No. Only the son, Civil. I believe she fostered a girl cousin for a time. That would have been Fillip Bresinga. She is, let me see, I think she would be nearly thirteen now. She has returned home since spring.’

I shook my head, both in denial and in wonder. Chade had obviously refreshed his information on the Bresinga family since last night. ‘I sensed a woman, not a child. An … attractive woman.’ I had nearly said seductive. When I thought back to my experience of the night before, the dream became mine, and I recalled only too well how she had stirred my blood. Tantalizing. Challenging. I glanced back at Chade. He was watching my face with undisguised dismay. I asked the next question. ‘Has Dutiful expressed an interest in a woman? Might they have run away together?’

‘Eda forbid,’ Chade exclaimed fervently. ‘No.’ He denied it almost desperately. ‘There is no woman in Dutiful’s life, not even a girl he finds attractive. We have been very careful not to allow him the opportunity to develop such a bond. Kettricken and I decided long ago that it would be for the best.’ More quietly, he added, ‘She did not want to see her son torn as you were, between heart and duty. Have you never wondered how different things might have been if you had not loved Molly, if you had accepted your match with Lady Celerity?’

‘I have. But I will never regret loving Molly.’

I think the vehemence in my voice persuaded Chade to change tack. ‘There is no such love in Dutiful’s life,’ he declared with finality.

‘There wasn’t. There may be now,’ I contradicted him.

‘Then I pray it is a youthful infatuation, one that can be swiftly –’ He searched for a word. ‘Terminated,’ he said at last, and winced at his own choice. ‘The boy is already promised. Don’t look at me like that, Fitz.’

Obediently, I looked away. ‘I do not think he has known her long. Part of her allure was her mystery.’

‘Then we must endeavour to recover him swiftly, with little damage done.’

The next question was my own, asked for me. ‘What if he does not wish to be recovered?’ I asked in a low voice.

Chade was silent for a moment. Then, he said heartily, ‘Then you must do as you think best.’

My shock must have been apparent on my face, for he laughed aloud. ‘For there is little use in my pretending that you will do otherwise, is there?’ He drew a breath and sighed it out. ‘Fitz. I ask only this. Think in large terms. A boy’s heart is a precious thing, as is a man’s life. But the well-being of all the people of the Six Duchies and the Out Islands is even more precious. So, do what you think best. But be sure you truly have given it thought.’

‘I can’t believe you are allowing me that much leeway!’ I exclaimed.

‘Can’t you? Well, perhaps I know you better than you think I do.’

‘Perhaps,’ I conceded. But I wondered if he knew me as well as he thought he did.

‘Well, you arrived only a few days ago, and here I am sending you off again,’ Chade abruptly observed. He clapped me on the shoulder but his smile seemed a bit forced. ‘Think you can be ready to leave in an hour or so?’

‘I’ve not much to pack. But I’ll need to make a trip down to Buckkeep Town, to leave a message for Hap with Jinna.’

‘I can take care of that for you,’ Chade offered.

I shook my head. ‘She doesn’t read, and if I am to be Tom Badgerlock, then I wouldn’t have folk running errands for me. I’ll take care of it.’ I didn’t tell him that I wanted to do it myself.

‘As you wish,’ he replied. ‘Let me prepare a note for the boy to present to Master Gindast when he goes to him about his apprenticeship. The rest will be done subtly, I promise you. The joiner will believe he takes Hap on as a favour to one of his most affluent customers.’ Chade paused a moment. ‘You know, all we can offer the boy is a chance to prove himself. I can’t force the man to keep him on if Hap is clumsy or lazy.’ At my outraged look, Chade grinned. ‘But I am sure he is not. Just allow me a moment to compose my note for Hap to carry.’

It took more than a moment, of course. When I finally had it in hand, I found myself hurrying after the fleeing morning. I encountered Lord Golden in his chambers when I emerged from my own dark little cell. He clucked over the state of my slept-in clothes and commanded that I pick up my new garments from the tailor so that I would have appropriate garb for our journey. He informed me that we would travel alone and swiftly. Lord Golden had already established a reputation for both eccentricity and adventurousness. No one would look askance at this expedition. He also told me that he had himself selected a horse for me, and was having it freshly shod. I could pick her up from a smithy. He assumed I would wish to select my own tack, and gave me a letter of credit for that as well before sending me on my way. At no time did he vary from his Lord Golden manners, and I maintained my demeanour as Tom Badgerlock. These were roles we had to settle into as swiftly as possible. No errors could be made once we began to move in public. By the time I finally set out for Buckkeep Town, I was laden with errands and the sun was moving far too swiftly across the sky.

The tailor sought to delay me with a final fitting and adjustment of my new clothes. I refused, and did not even open the bundled garments to inspect them. I could tell Scrandon was accustomed to making a ceremony of delivering his finished goods, but I told him bluntly that Lord Golden had commanded me to make the greatest haste. At that he sniffed, and said he would take no responsibility then if the garments did not suit. I assured him that I would make no complaints and hastened out of his shop with an annoyingly bulky parcel.

I went next to Jinna’s shop, but there I met disappointment. She was not home, and her niece had no idea when she would be back. Fennel came to greet me. You love me. You know you do. Pick me up.

It seemed pointless to disobey. I picked him up. He sank his claws into my shoulder as he diligently marked my jerkin with his brow.

‘Jinna went up into the hills yesterday evening, and spent the night there, so that she could gather mushrooms first thing in the morning. She might be back in a moment, she might not return until the night falls,’ Miskya told me. ‘Oh, Fennel, stop being a pest. Come here.’ She took the cat from my arms, tsk-ing over the coating of tawny hair that clung to my jerkin.

‘No matter that, I assure you. But, oh, this is awkward,’ I apologized, and told her that my master had suddenly decided to take a journey and I must accompany him. I left with her the letter Chade had written for Hap, along with a note from me to my boy. Nighteyes would not be pleased to reach the city and find me gone. Nor would he relish lingering there, waiting for me. I belatedly realized I was leaving Jinna not just my son, but a wolf, a pony and a cart to tend until my return. I wondered if Chade could be of any help with that. I had no coin to leave for their keep, only my greatest thanks and deepest assurances that I would make good any expenses she encountered on their behalf.

‘So you’ve told me, Tom Badgerlock.’ Miskya smiled at me in gentle rebuke, obviously humouring my worry. Fennel tucked his head under her chin and regarded me severely. ‘Three times now you’ve told me that you’ll be back soon and pay us well. Rest comfortable, your son will be in good hands and welcome here, pay or not. I doubt you asked coin of my aunt when you welcomed her to your home.’

At Miskya’s words, I realized I had been clucking on like an apprehensive hen. With an effort, I stopped myself from explaining again just how sudden and urgent my errand was. By the time I had conveyed my awkward thanks, I felt completely disorganized and bemuddled. Scattered, as if parts of me were at my abandoned home and with Nighteyes and Hap, and even in the tower room at Buckkeep. I felt vulnerable and exposed. ‘Well, goodbye,’ I offered Miskya.

Sleeping in the sun is nicer. Take a nap with the cat, Fennel suggested as Miskya told me, ‘Travel well.’

As I walked away from Jinna’s house, guilt gnawed at me. I was leaving my responsibilities for strangers to deal with. I rigorously denied my disappointment at not seeing Jinna again before I left. The single kiss she had given me hung waiting, like a conversation unconcluded, but I refused to contemplate where it might lead. As complicated as things were, adding another tangle to my life was the last thing I should consider. Yet I had looked forwards to seeing her again, and being denied that dimmed my excitement at the journey.

For I was excited to be on my way. The guilt that I felt at leaving Hap’s welfare to someone else was an odd reflection of how freed I felt by this undertaking. In a short time the Fool and I would ride off together into El knew what, with only ourselves to look after. It promised to be a pleasant ride in fair weather with a good companion. There was more of holiday to it than errand. My fears for Prince Dutiful had been largely laid to rest by last night’s dream. The boy had been in no physical danger. Intoxicated with the night and the woman he pursued, the only danger was to his young heart, and no one could shield him from that. Truth to tell, I did not see my task as particularly difficult. We knew where to look for the lad, and with or without my wolf, I had always been a good tracker. If Lord Golden and I did not immediately flush the young prince from Galekeep, then I would track him down in the surrounding hills. Doubtless we would not be gone long. With that reassuring thought, I salved my conscience and went on to the smithy.

I had not expected much of a horse. Almost, I had feared that the Fool’s sense of humour would express itself through Lord Golden’s selection of horseflesh. I found the smith’s girl cooling herself with water from the rain barrel and told her I had come to fetch the horse Lord Golden had left for shoeing. She bobbed her head in understanding, and I waited where she left me standing. The day was warm enough. I had no desire to enter the inferno of noise and heat that was the blacksmith’s shop.

The girl was back soon enough, leading a rangy black mare. I walked round her once and looked up to find she was regarding me with the same wary gaze I was giving her. She appeared sound and unscarred by misuse. I quested lightly towards her. She snorted and would not look at me, refusing the contact. She had no interest in being friends with a human.

‘She was a nasty bit to shoe,’ the smith informed me loudly as he came sweating from his shop. ‘No manners about lifting her feet for a man to handle. And she’ll kick if she gets the chance, so mind that. Tried to take a nip out of my girl, too. But it was only while we were shoeing her. The rest of the time, she minded her manners well enough.’

I thanked him for his warnings and gave him the promised purse from Lord Golden. ‘Has she a name that you know?’ I asked him.

The smith pursed his lips and shook his head. ‘Never saw her afore this morning. If she had a name, she likely lost it in the horse-trade. Call her what you will; likely she’ll ignore it.’ I set the issue of her name aside. Her worn halter went with her, and by that I led her down to a saddler. I purchased plain, serviceable tack and despite my best bargaining efforts, I was still outraged at what they charged for it. The man’s expression plainly said he thought me unreasonable. As I went outside with the tack I had selected, I wondered if I truly were. I had never had to purchase tack before; perhaps Burrich’s obsession with repairing tack had been founded on how much the stuff cost.

The mare had been restive as I had tried several saddles on her, and when I tried to mount her, danced sideways. Once I was up, she answered the reins and my knees, but sloppily. I scowled at that but schooled myself to patience with her. Perhaps after we had taken one another’s measures she would serve me better. And if she did not, well, patience was required to unteach any horse’s bad habits. I had best accustom myself to that now. As I rode her carefully up the steep streets of Buckkeep Town, I reflected that perhaps I had been far more spoiled in my youth than I had ever known. Excellent horses, good tack, fine weapons, decent clothing, plentiful food: I had taken so much for granted.

A horse? I could teach a horse whatever it needs teaching. Why do you need a horse?

Nighteyes had slipped into my mind so easily I’d scarce been aware of him sharing my thoughts. I have to go somewhere. With the Scentless One.

Must it be on horseback? He didn’t allow me time to reply. I sensed his annoyance. Wait for me. I’m nearly there.

Nighteyes, no, don’t come to me. Stay with the boy. I’ll be back soon enough.

But he was gone, and my own thought was left hanging unanswered. I quested towards him but found only fog. He wouldn’t argue with me. He simply wouldn’t hear me telling him to stay with Hap.

The guards at the gate scarcely gave me a glance. I frowned and resolved to speak about that to Chade. Just because I was wearing blue clothing did not mean I had legitimate business in the castle. I rode up to the stable doors, dismounted, and then halted, heart hammering. From inside the stable came the voice of a man genially instructing someone in how to correctly clean a horse’s hooves. Years had deepened the voice, but I still recognized it. Hands, my boyhood friend and now the Stablemaster at Buckkeep, was just inside the open doors. My mouth went dry. The last time he had seen me, he had regarded me as either a ghost or a demon, and run shouting for the guards. That had been years ago. I was much changed, I told myself, but could put no faith in the years as my sole disguise. I took refuge in becoming Tom Badgerlock.

‘Here, boy,’ I summoned a lad loitering outside the stable. ‘Put this horse up for me. She belongs to Lord Golden, so see she is well treated.’

‘Yes, sir,’ he replied. ‘He sent us word to watch for Tom Badgerlock and a black mare, and to saddle up his own horse as soon as you returned. He said to tell you that you’re wanted up in his rooms as soon as you show.’ With that, he took my mare away without another word. I breathed out, relieved at how easily I had passed that hurdle, and turned away from the stable. Before I had gone a dozen steps, a man hurried past me, evidently on an errand of his own. As he passed me he gave me not a glance. I stared after Hands. He had put on girth with the years, but then, so had I. His dark hair was thinning on his head, but bristled thicker than ever on his brawny arms. In a moment he turned a corner and was out of sight. I stood staring after him, feeling as if I truly were a ghost, invisible in his world. Then I took a breath and hurried on my own way. In time, I reflected, he would catch a glimpse of Tom Badgerlock here and there about the keep, and by the time we stood face to face, I would have assumed that name and identity so completely that he would not question it.

I felt my life as Fitz was like footprints on a dusty floor, already being swept aside and overtrodden by others. It did not help that as I passed the Great Hall, I heard Lord Golden’s voice lifted in sudden summons. ‘Ah, there you are, Tom Badgerlock! Excuse me, ladies, here is my good man now. Farewell, fare well all in my absence!’

I watched him detach himself from a gaggle of noble ladies. They let him go reluctantly, fluttering fans and eyelashes after him, one making a pretty mouth of disappointment. Lord Golden smiled fondly on them all, waving a languid valediction with a graceful hand as he strode up to me. ‘Errands done? Excellent. Then we shall complete our preparations and be on our way while the sun is still high.’

He swept past me and I followed behind at a discreet distance, nodding to his words as he instructed me in how he wished his things packed. Yet when we reached his rooms and I closed the door behind us, I saw his well-stuffed travelling bags already waiting on the chair. I turned to the sound of him latching the door behind us. He gestured at my room just as the door of it opened and Chade emerged into our midst.

‘There you are and not a moment too soon. The Queen has received your tidings, and commands that you depart immediately. I do not think she will be completely at ease until the boy is under this roof again. Well, and neither will I.’ He bit his lower lip briefly and then announced, more to Lord Golden than to me, ‘The Queen has decided that Huntswoman Laurel will go with you. She readies herself now.’

‘We don’t need her,’ Lord Golden exclaimed in annoyance. ‘The less who know of this business, the better.’

‘She is the Queen’s own Huntswoman, and in her confidence in many things. Her mother’s family lives less than a day’s ride from Galeton. She claims to know the area well from childhood times spent there, so that may be a help to you. Besides, Kettricken is determined you will take her. Well do I know the futility of arguing with the Queen when she has made up her mind to something.’

‘I recall something of that myself,’ Lord Golden replied, but there was much of the Fool in that rueful voice. I felt a smile crook the corner of my own mouth. I, too, knew what it was to quail before the blue determination of my queen’s gaze. I wondered who this Laurel was, and what she had done to win the Queen’s confidence. Did I feel a prick of envy that someone had taken my place as Kettricken’s confidante at court? Well, it had been fifteen years since I had filled that role. Had I expected her to take no one in my place?

Lord Golden’s displeased resignation broke into my thoughts. ‘Well, so be it, then, if it must. She can come, but I’ll not wait upon her. Tom, are not you packed yet?’

‘Close enough,’ I rejoined and recalled myself enough to add, ‘My lord. I shall be but a moment. I’ve little enough to pack.’

‘Excellent. See that you bring Scrandon’s wares, for I will have you dressed appropriately to serve me in Galekeep.’

‘As you will, sir,’ I replied, and left them to step into my chamber. I put the bundle of new garments into the new saddle pack I found there. It was marked with Lord Golden’s cock pheasant. I added a few of my old garments for the night work I expected to be doing in Galeton, and then looked about the room. I already wore my serviceable sword. There was nothing else to add to the pack. No poisons, no cunningly made small weapons to smuggle along. I felt strangely naked despite having gone without them for years.

As I emerged with my packed bags slung over my shoulder, Chade stopped me with a lifted hand. ‘One more small item,’ he offered sheepishly, and held out a leather roll without meeting my eyes. As I took it into my hands, I knew the contents without having to check it. Picks for locks, and other subtle tools of the assassin’s trade. Lord Golden looked aside as I slipped the roll inside my pack. Of old, my clothing had featured hidden pockets for such things. Well, I hoped I would not have to be at this long enough to make such concerns necessary again.

Our farewells were hurried and odd. Lord Golden bid Chade a formal farewell, as if there were an entire audience of strangers watching them. Thinking I should emulate their example, I offered Chade a servant’s bow, but he seized me by the arms and embraced me hastily. ‘Thank you, my boy,’ he muttered by my ear. ‘Go in haste and bring Dutiful back to us. And go easy on the boy. This is as much my fault as his.’

Emboldened, I replied, ‘Watch over my boy for me, then. And Nighteyes. I hadn’t thought I’d be burdening Jinna with him, let alone a pony and cart.’

‘I’ll see they come to no harm,’ he offered, and I know he saw the gratitude in my eyes. Then I hastened to unlatch the door for Lord Golden, and followed at his heels carrying our bags as he strode through Buckkeep. Many called out farewells to him, and he acknowledged them warmly but briefly.

If Lord Golden had sincerely hoped to leave Laurel behind, she disappointed him. She was standing at the stable door, holding all our horses and waiting for us with every evidence of impatience. I placed her in her middle to late twenties. She was strongly built, not unlike Kettricken herself, long-boned and muscled, yet still womanly in form. She was not from Buck, for our women tend to be small and dark, and Laurel was neither. She was not fair like Kettricken, but her eyes were blue. Her brown hair was sun-streaked with blonde, and bleached near white at her temples. Sun had browned her face and hands. She had a narrow straight nose above a strong mouth and determined chin. She wore the leathers of a hunter, and her horse was one of those small, wiry ones that leaps like a terrier over any barrier and can race like a weasel through the most tangling brush. He was a homely little gelding, and his eyes shone with his spirit. Her small baggage roll was secured behind her saddle. As we approached, Malta lifted her head and whickered eagerly to her master. My black stood by uninterestedly. It was oddly humiliating.

‘Huntswoman Laurel. Ready to go, I see,’ Lord Golden greeted her.

‘Yes, my lord. Waiting only for you to be ready.’

At this, they both glanced at me. Recalling abruptly that I was Lord Golden’s servant, I took Malta’s reins from Laurel and held her while Lord Golden mounted. I fastened both our saddle-packs onto my black, a process she did not much approve of. As I took my reins from Laurel, she smiled at me and proffered a hand. ‘Laurel of the Downs family near Pitbank. I am her majesty’s Huntswoman.’

‘Tom Badgerlock. Lord Golden’s man,’ I replied as I bowed over her hand.

Lord Golden had already set his horse in motion with a noble disregard for the doings of servants. We both mounted hastily and set off after him. ‘And where is your family from, Tom?’ Laurel asked.

‘Um. Near Forge. On Bramble Creek.’ Bramble Creek was what Hap and I called it. If the creek near our cottage had any other name, I had never heard it. But the impromptu pedigree seemed to satisfy Laurel. The black was annoying me by tugging at her bit and trying to move up. Evidently she was not used to following another horse. Her stride was longer than Malta’s as well. I held her in place, but it was a near constant battle of wills.

Laurel gave me a sympathetic look. ‘New mount?’ ‘I’ve had her less than the day. Discovering her temperament on a journey may not be the best way to get to know her.’

She grinned at me. ‘No, but it may be the quickest. Besides, what choice do you have?’

We left the castle by the west gate. In my boyhood at Buckkeep, this gate had been kept secured at most times, and the road that led from it had been little more than a goat-path. Now it stood open, with a small manned guardhouse next to it. We were passed out with scarcely a pause, and found ourselves on a well-travelled road that traversed the hills behind Buck Castle before winding down to the riverside. The steepest bits of the old path had been rerouted, and the whole way widened. Tracks told me that carts used this meandering path, and as it carried us on our wandering way down to the river, I caught glimpses of wharves below, and the roofs of warehouses. I was still shocked when I began to catch glimpses of cottages back beneath the trees.

‘Folk did not use to live there,’ I said. I bit my tongue before I added that Prince Verity had loved to hunt these hills. I doubted they offered much game any more. Trees had been cleared to allow small gardens to be cultivated. Donkeys and ponies grazed in brushy pastures.

Laurel nodded to my surprise, but added, ‘Then you have not been here since the Red Ship War ended. All this has sprung up in the last ten years or so. When trade improved, more folk wanted to live near Buckkeep, and yet did not want to be too far from the castle lest the raids resume.’

I could think of no sensible reply to her words, but the new stretch of town still surprised me. There was even a tavern as we got closer to the docks, and a hiring hall for rivermen. We rode past a row of warehouses that fronted onto the docks. Donkey-carts seemed the favoured transportation. Blunt-nosed river craft were tied up to the docks, unloading cargo from Farrow and Tilth. We passed another tavern, and then several cheap rooming-houses such as sailors seem to favour. The road followed the river upstream. Sometimes it was wide and sandy; in other places timbers had been laid in a sort of boardwalk over boggy stretches. The other horses seemed to take no notice of the change, but at every one we traversed, my black slowed her pace and set back her ears. She did not like the drumming of her hooves on the timber. I set my hand to her withers and quested towards her, offering reassurance. She turned her head to roll an eye at me, but remained as distant as ever. She probably would have refused to go on if there had not been two other horses to follow. She was plainly far more interested in her own kind than in any companionship I might offer.

I shook my head at the difference between her and the amiable horses in Burrich’s stable, and wondered if his Wit had made the difference. Whenever a mare birthed a foal, Burrich was at her side, and the baby knew the touch of his hand almost as soon as it knew the lick of its mother’s tongue. Was it merely the early presence of a human that had made the beasts in his stable so accepting, or was it his own Wit, suppressed but still present, that had made them so receptive to me?

The afternoon sun beat down on us, and the sun bounced off the river’s wide and gleaming surface. The thudding hooves of the three horses were a pleasant counterpoint to my thoughts as I pondered. Burrich had seen the Wit as a dark and low magic, a temptation to let the beast in my nature overwhelm me. Common lore agreed with him and went further; the Wit was a tool for evil, a shameful magic that led its practitioners into degradation and wickedness. Death and dismemberment was the only recognized cure for the Wit. My equanimity over Dutiful’s absence was suddenly threatened. True, the boy had not been kidnapped. But although the Skill had let me find him, it was undoubtedly the Wit the boy was employing in his night hunts. If he betrayed himself to anyone, he might be put to death. Perhaps not even his status as a prince would be enough to protect him from that fate. After all, the Wit had been enough to tumble me from the favour of the Coastal Dukes straight into Regal’s dungeons.

No wonder Burrich had given up all use of the Wit. No wonder he had so often threatened to beat it out of me. Yet I could not regret having it. Curse or blessing, it had saved my life more often than it had endangered it. And I could not help but believe that my deep sense of kinship with all life enhanced my days. I drew a deep breath and cautiously let my Wit unfold into a general sensing of the day around me. My awareness of both Malta and the Huntswoman’s horse sharpened, as did their acknowledgement of me. I sensed Laurel, not as another rider beside me, but as a large and healthy creature. Lord Golden was as unknowable to my Wit as the Fool ever was. From even that sense, he rippled aside, and yet his very mystery was a familiar one to me. Birds in the trees overhead were bright startles of life amongst the leaves. From the largest of the trees we passed, I sensed a deep green flow of being, a welling of existence that was unlike an animal’s awareness and yet was life all the same. It was as if my sense of touch expanded beyond my skin to make contact with all other forms of life around me. All the world shimmered with life, and I was a part of that network. Regret this oneness? Deny this expanded tactility?

‘You’re a quiet one,’ Laurel observed. With a start I became aware of her as a person again. My thoughts had run so deep, I had almost forgotten the woman riding beside me. She was smiling at me. Her eyes were pale blue, but with rings of darker blue at the edges. One iris, I noted, had an odd streak of green in it, radiating out from the centre. I could think of no reply so I simply shrugged and nodded. Her smile grew wider.

‘Have you been Huntswoman for the Queen long?’ I asked, simply to be saying something.

Laurel’s eyes grew thoughtful as she totted up the years. ‘Seven years now,’ she said quietly.

‘Ah. Then you know her well,’ I rejoined, wondering how much she truly knew of our present errand.

‘Well enough,’ Laurel replied, and I could almost see her wondering the same about me.

I cleared my throat. ‘Lord Golden visits Galeton in search of gamebirds. He has a passion for collecting feathers, you know.’ I did not directly ask any question.

She looked at me from the corner of her eye. ‘Lord Golden has many passions, it is said,’ she observed in a low voice. ‘And the funds to indulge them all.’ She gave me another glance, as if to ask if I would defend my master, but if there was an insult, I did not take its meaning. She looked ahead and spoke on. ‘As for me, I but travel along to scout the hunting for my queen. She likes to go after gamebirds in the autumn. I have hopes that in Galeton woods we may find the kind that she likes best.’

‘So do we all hope,’ I agreed. I liked her caution. We would get along well enough, I decided.

‘Have you known Lord Golden long?’ she asked me.

‘Not directly,’ I hedged. ‘I had heard he was looking for a man, and I was glad when an acquaintance recommended me.’

‘Then you’ve done this kind of work before?’

‘Not for some time. For the past ten years or so I’ve lived quietly, just my boy and me. But he’s of an age to apprentice out, and that takes hard coin. This is the fastest way I know to earn it.’

‘And his mother?’ she asked lightly. ‘Won’t she be lonely with both of you away?’

‘She’s gone many years,’ I said. Then, realizing that Hap might sometime venture up to Buckkeep, I decided to keep as close to the truth as I could. ‘He’s a fosterling I took in. I never knew his mother. But I think of him as my son.’

‘You’re not married, then?’

The question surprised me. ‘No, I’m not.’

‘Neither am I.’ She gave me a small smile as if to say this gave us much in common. ‘So, how do you like Buckkeep so far?’

‘Well enough. I lived close by when I was a boy. It’s changed a great deal since then.’

‘I’m from Tilth myself. Up on the Branedee Downs is where I grew up, though my mother was from Buck. Her family lived not far from Galeton; I know the area, for I ranged there as a child. But mostly we lived near the Downs, where my father was Huntsman for Lord Sitswell. My father taught both my brothers and me the skills of being a huntsman. When he died, my older brother took his position. My younger brother returned to live amongst my mother’s people. I stayed on, mostly training the coursing horses in Lord Sitswell’s stable. But when the Queen and her party came hunting there years ago, I turned out to help, for the party was so large. The Queen took a liking to me, and –’ she grinned proudly ‘– I’ve been her Huntswoman ever since.’

I was trying to think of something more to say when Lord Golden beckoned us both to come closer.

I urged the black forwards and when we were close, he announced, ‘Those were the last of the houses for a way. I did not want folks saying that we rode in great haste, but neither do I wish to miss this evening’s only ferry from Lampcross. So now, good people, we ride. And, Badgerlock, we’ll see if that black is truly as fleet as the horse-seller said. Keep up as best you can. I’ll hold the ferry for us all.’ So saying, he touched his heels to Malta and let out her reins. It was all the permission she required. She sprang forwards, showing us her heels.

‘My Whitecap can match her any day!’ Laurel proclaimed, and gave her horse her head.

Catch them! I suggested to the black, and was almost shocked at her competitive response. From a walk, she all but leapt into a run. The smaller horses had the lead on us. Packed mud flew up from their hooves, and Malta led only by virtue of the narrowing trail. My black’s longer stride diminished their lead until we were close behind them, getting the full benefit of the mud they threw. The sound of us behind them spurred them to greater effort and once more they pulled ahead of us. But I could feel that my black had not yet hit her peak. There was still unrealized reach in her stride, and the tempo of her gait said that she had not reached her hardest gallop. I tried to hold her back where the flying clods would not shower us so heartily, but she paid no heed to the rein. The moment the trail widened, she surged forwards into the gap, and in a few strides she passed them both. I heard them both cry out to their horses, and I thought they would overtake us. But like a lengthening wolfhound on the scent, my black reached out to seize even longer strides of the path and fling it behind us. I glanced back at them once, to see both their faces alight with the challenge.

Faster, I suggested to my black. I did not really think she had more speed in her, but as a flame roars up a dry tree, she surged forwards again. I laughed aloud at the pure joy of it, and saw her ears flicker in response. She did not reach towards my mind with any thought, but I felt a tentative glimmer of her approval. We would do well enough together.

We were first to reach Lampcross Ferry.