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MERIBUCK'S HERBAL

As Chade had warned me, I slept away not only the afternoon, but part of the early evening, as well. I awoke in the utter blackness of my little chamber, in the total solitude of myself, and suddenly feared I was dead. I rolled off my bed, found the door by touch, and lunged out of it. Light and moving air stunned me. Lord Golden, impeccably attired, sat at his writing desk. He glanced up casually at my abrupt entrance. “Oh. Awake at last,” he observed congenially. “Wine? Biscuits?” He gestured at a table and chairs by the fireside.Advertisement

I came to the table rubbing my eyes. Food was artfully arranged on it. I dropped into the closest chair. My tongue felt thick, my eyes sticky. “I have no idea what was in Chade's tea, but I don't think I want to try it again.”

“And I have no idea what you're talking about, but I sus' pect that that is just as well.” He rose and came to the table, poured wine for us, and then glanced over me disparagingly. He shook his head. “You are hopeless, Tom Badgerlock. Look at yourself. Sleeping in all the day, and then appearing with your hair half on end in a worried old robe. A worse servant a man never had.” He took the other chair.

I could think of no reply to that. I sipped my wine gratefully. I considered the food but found I had no appetite. “How was your evening? Did you enjoy a dance with Huntswoman Laurel?”

He raised one eyebrow at me, as if my question puzzled and surprised him. Abruptly, he was my Fool again as a smile twisted his mouth. “Ah, Fitz, you should know by now that every moment of my life is spent dancing. And with every partner, I tread a different measure.” Then, adroit as ever, he changed the subject, asking, “And are you well this evening?”

I knew what he meant. “As well as could be expected,” I assured him.

“Ah. Excellent. Then you will be going down to Buckkeep Town?”

He knew my mind before I had even thought it. “I'd like to check on Hap and see how his apprenticeship goes. Unless you need me here.”

He studied my face for a moment, as if waiting for me to say more. Then he said, “Go to town. I think it an excellent idea. There are, of course, more festivities tonight, but I shall endeavor to manage my preparation without you. Do, please, try to make yourself a bit more presentable before leaving my apartments, however. Lord Golden's reputation has been tarnished quite enough of late without it being said that he keeps motheaten servants.”

I snorted. “I'll try.” I rose from the table slowly. My body had rediscovered its aches. The Fool ensconced himself in one of the two chairs that faced the hearth. He leaned back in it with a sigh and stretched out his long legs toward the warmth. His voice reached me as I moved toward my chamber.

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“Fitz. You know I love you, don't you?”

I halted where I stood.

“I'd hate to have to kill you,” he continued. I recognized his adept imitation of my own voice and inflection. I stared at him, baffled. He sat up taller and glanced over the back of his chair at me with a pained smile. “Never again attempt to put my clothing away,” he warned me. “Verulean silk should be draped for storage. Not wadded.”

“I'll try to remember that,” I promised him humbly.

He settled back in his chair and picked up his glass of wine. “Good night, Fitz,” he told me quietly.

In my chamber, I found one of my old tunics and some leggings. I put them on, and then frowned at the fit. The leggings sagged on me about the waist; the privations and steady exertions of our expedition had trimmed my body. I brushed at the shirt, and then frowned at the stains. It had not changed since I came to Buckkeep, but my eye for it had. It had been fine for my farmstead, but if I were going to stay at Buck and teach the Prince, I would need to dress as a townsman again. The conclusion was inevitable and yet it felt oddly vain. I washed my face with the stale water in the ewer. In my small looking glass, I tried vainly to smooth my hair, then gave it up as a bad cause, and put on my cloak. I put out my candle.

Lord Golden's chamber, as I ghosted through it, was now lit only by flickering firelight. As I passed the chair by the hearth, I offered, “Good night, Fool.” He did not speak, but lifted his graceful hand in farewell, his flicking forefinger gesturing me toward the door. I slipped out, feeling oddly as if I had forgotten something.

The keep had a festive atmosphere as all prepared for another night of feasting, music, and dancing. Garlands dressed the door arches, and far more folk than usual moved JsÊ

through the halls. A minstrel's voice drifted from the lesser hall, and three young men in Farrow colors chatted near the door. My worn clothing and badly cropped hair drew a few bemused glances, but I was generally unnoticed among the newcomers and their servants, and unchallenged as I left Buckkeep and headed down toward the town. The steep road was still busy with folk coming and going from the keep, and despite the steady rain, Buckkeep Town was livelier than usual. Any occasion up at the keep stimulated trade in the town, and Dutiful's betrothal was a major occasion. I wended my way through merchants and tradesmen and servants on errands. Nobles on horseback and ladies on litters passed me, on their way up to the keep for the evening's festivities. When I reached Buckkeep Town itself, the press of folk in the street only became thicker. Taverns were full to overflowing, music swelled out to lure in passersby, and children raced past, enjoying the excitement of so many strangers in town. The holiday aura was infectious, and I caught myself smiling and wishing many a stranger good evening as I made my way down to Jinna's shop. pqdm.com