by Robin Hobb
"I shall. Thank you."
A few moments passed as his pen scratched busily across the paper. Once or twice he looked up, regarding me with a speculative look that made me uneasy. I wandered over to his window and looked out of it. It was a lovely day. I wished it belonged solely to me. I smelled melting wax and turned around to see Lord Golden applying his seal to his missives. He let the wax cool a bit, then held them out to me.
"Off you go, to tailor and weapons dealer. As for me, I think I shall stroll for a bit in the gardens, and then I have been invited to the Queen's parlor for—"
"I saw her. Kettricken." I choked on a bitter laugh. "It seems so long ago: us waking the stone dragons, and all. And then something will happen and it seems like yesterday. The last time I saw Kettricken, she sat astride Verity-as-Dragon and bade us all farewell. Now, today, I saw her and it suddenly all came real for me. She has reigned here as Queen for well over a decade.
"I stepped aside from all this to heal, and because I thought I could no longer be a part of it. Now, I've returned and I look around me and think, I've missed my life. While I was off and alone, it went on here, without me, and I'm forever doomed to be a stranger in my own home."
"Regrets are useless," the Fool replied. "All you can do is start from where you are. And who knows? Perhaps what you bring back from your self-imposed exile may prove to be just what is needed."
"And time flies by us, even as we speak."
"Quite so," Lord Golden replied. He gestured at his wardrobe. "My coat, Badgerlock. The green one."
I opened the wardrobe doors and extracted the required garment from its many brethren, then closed the panels as best I could upon the bulging excess. I held his coat for him as so often I had seen Charim hold a coat for Verity, and assisted him into it. He held out his wrists to me, and I adjusted the cuffs and tugged the skirts of it straight. A flicker of amusement passed through his eyes. "Very good, Badgerlock," he murmured. He preceded me to the door and then waited while I opened it for him.
Once he was gone, I latched it, and quickly finished the rest of the cooling breakfast. I stacked the dishes back on the tray. I looked at the entry to the Fool's private room. Then I kindled a candle, entered my small chamber, and shut the door firmly behind me. But for the candle, the darkness would have been absolute. It took me a few moments to find the trigger that released the catch, and then two tries before I pressed the right spot on the wall. Despite the protest in my aching legs, I carried Verity's sword up the I multitude of stairs to Chade's tower and leaned it in the corner by the mantel.
Once I was back in the Fool's room, I cleared the table. When I glanced into the looking glass, the breakfast things in my hands, I saw a Buckkeep servingman. I gave a short sigh, reminded myself to keep my eyes lowered, and left the room.
Had I feared that on my return to Buckkeep Castle, all would instantly recognize me? The reality was that no one even saw me. A glance at my servant's clothing and lowered eyes and I was dismissed from the mind. I did receive sidelong looks from my fellow servants, but for the most part they were occupied with their own tasks. A few offered hasty greetings, and I accepted their welcome amiably. I would cultivate the servants, for little happens in any great house that the servants do not know about. I returned the dishes to the kitchen and left the castle. The guards passed me through with scarcely a word. I soon found myself on the steep road that led down to the town. It was a fine day and the road was well traveled. Summer seemed determined to linger a time yet. I fell in behind a group of ladies' maids going down to the town with baskets on their arms. They glanced warily back at me twice, and then ignored me. The rest of the way down the hill, I listened hungrily to their gossip, but found no hints there. They were speaking of the festivities that would accompany the Prince's betrothal, and what their mistresses would wear. Somehow the Queen and Chade had been able to disguise the Prince's absence.
In the town, I quickly went about Lord Golden's errands but kept my ears pricked for any word that might pertain to Dutiful. I found the tailor's shop with no difficulty.
As Lord Golden had told me, I knew it of old, when it was Molly's chandlery. It was strange to enter that place. The tailor took my letter of credit with no hesitation, but clucked over Golden's command for haste in the sewing. "Still, he has paid me well enough to make it worth my sleep tonight. Your clothes will be ready by tomorrow." I gathered from his other comments that Lord Golden had patronized him before. I stood silently on a low stool and was measured. No questions were asked of me, for Lord Golden had specified in his note how he wished his servant dressed. I was free to stand silent and wonder if I could still catch the scents of beeswax and scented herbs, or if I deceived myself. Before I departed, I asked the man if he knew of any hedge-witches in Buckkeep. I wanted to ask one if my new position boded well for me. He shook his head at my low-born superstition, but told me to ask about it near the smithy's lane.
This suited me well, for my next errand took me to Croy's. I wondered that Lord Golden knew this man's shop at all, for it was a jackdaw's nest of battered weapons and armor. But again the proprietor took Lord Golden's note without question. I took my time finding a blade I could live with. I wanted a simple, well-made weapon, but of course that is what any true man-at-arms chooses, so that was what Croy had fewest of. After trying to interest me in several remarkable swords that had elaborate guards and nondescript blades, he gave up on me and left me to sort through his collection. I did so, but kept up a constant stream of observations at how Buckkeep had changed since I was last there. It was not hard to get him gossiping, and then to turn his tongue to omens and portents and those who dealt in them. I did not have to mention Jinna by name to hear of her. At length I selected a blade truly worthy of my rusty skills. Croy tutted over it. "Your master has gold and to spare, good man. Choose yourself something with a bit of a sparkle on it, or some style to the basket."
I shook my head. "No, no, I want nothing that will I catch in a man's clothes when the fighting is close and hot. This is the one I'll have. But I'll take a knife to go with it." I This was soon found and I left his shop. I walked through the loud clanging and gusting heat that marked the smithy's lane. The hammers of competing smithies were a stunning counterpoint to the sun's beat. I had forgotten how constant the noise of a city was. I searched my memory as I walked, trying to recall if anything I had said to Jinna would conflict with my newly modified life history. At length, I decided it would have to do. If something did not make sense to her, well, she would just have to believe me a liar. I frowned at how much that disturbed me.
Croy had described a dark green sign with a white hand painted on it. The lines on the hand were all done in red, quite skillfully. From the low eaves of her roof several of her charms tinkled and turned in the sunlight. Luckily for me, none seemed to be against predators. It took me but a moment's pause to guess at their purpose. Welcome. They attracted me to the house and the door. It took a time for anyone to reply to my knock, but then the top half of the door opened and Jinna herself greeted me.
"Badgerlock!" she exclaimed, peering at me, and it was pleasant that neither my warrior's tail nor my new clothes had kept her from knowing me. She instantly swung the lower door open. "Come in! Welcome to Buckkeep Town. Will you let me repay the debt of hospitality I owe you? Do come in."
There is little in life so reassuring as a genuine welcome. She took my hand and drew me into the cool dimness of her home as if I were an expected guest. The ceiling was low and the furnishings modest. There was a round table with several chairs set about it. Nearby shelves held the tools of her trade, including an assortment of draped charms. Dishes and food were on the table; I had interrupted her meal. I halted, feeling awkward. "I did not mean to intrude."
"Not at all. Sit down and share." She took a seat at the table as she spoke and I could scarcely do otherwise. "Now. Tell me what brings you to Buckkeep." She pushed the platter toward me. It held several jam tarts and smoked fish and cheese.
I took a tart to give myself time to think. She must have noticed that I wore servant's garb, but left it to me to tell her what it meant. I liked that.
"I've taken a position at Buckkeep as a manservant to Lord Golden." Even knowing it was false, it was still hard to say those words. I had never realized what a proud fellow I was until I had to masquerade as the Fool's servant. "When I left home, I told Hap to join me when he could. At that time, I was not sure of my plans. I think that when he gets to Buckkeep Town, he may seek you out. May I leave word for him with you, so you can send him on to me?"
I braced myself for all the inevitable questions. Why had I suddenly taken this employment, why hadn't I simply brought Hap with me, how did I know Lord Golden? Instead, her eyes brightened and she exclaimed, "With great pleasure! But what I propose is simpler. When Hap arrives, I'll keep him here and send word up to the keep. There's a little room in the back he can use; it was my nephew's before he grew up and married away. Let the boy have a day or so in Buckkeep Town; he seemed to enjoy it so at Springfest, and your new duties will probably not allow you time to show him about yourself."
"I know he would love that," I found myself saying. It would be far easier for me to maintain my role as Lord Golden's servant if I did not have Hap in the midst of it. "My hope is that here in Buckkeep I'll be able to earn the coin to purchase him a good apprenticeship."
Coming up. A large tawny cat announced this to me at the same moment that he effortlessly elevated onto my lap. I stared at him in surprise. Never had an animal spoken so clearly to me via the Wit save for my own bond-animals. Nor had I ever been so completely ignored by an animal that had just spoken mind to mind with me. The cat stood, hind legs on my lap, front paws on the table, and surveyed the food. A plumy tail waved before my face.
"Fennel! Shame on you, stop that. Come here." Jinna leaned across the table to scoop the cat from my lap. She picked up the conversation as she did so. "Yes, Hap's told me of his ambitions, and it's a fine thing to see a young man with dreams and hopes."
"He's a good boy," I fervently agreed with her. "And he deserves a good chance at making something of himself. I'd do anything for him."
Fennel now stood on Jinna's lap and stared at me across the table. She likes me better than you. He stole a piece of fish from the edge of her plate.
Do cats speak so rudely to strangers? I rebuked him.
He leaned back to bump his head possessively against Jinna's chest. His yellow-eyed stare was daunting. The cats talk however they want. To whomever they want. But only a rude human speaks out of turn. Be quiet. I told you. She likes me better than you. He twisted his head to look up at Jinna's face. More fish?
"That's plain," she agreed. I tried to remember what I had said to her as I watched her give the cat a bit of fish at the edge of the table. I knew Jinna was not Witted. I wondered if the cat was lying to me about all cats talking. I knew little of cats. Burrich had never kept them in the stables. We'd had rat dogs to keep the vermin down.
Jinna misinterpreted my preoccupation. A touch of sympathy came into her eyes as she added, "Still, it must be hard to leave your own home and being your own master to come to town and serve, no matter how fine a man Lord Golden may be. I hope he's as openhanded at paying you as he is when he comes down to Buckkeep Town to trade."
I forced a smile to my face. "You know of Lord Golden, then?"
She bobbed a nod at me. "By coincidence, he was right here in this very room just last month. He wanted a charm to keep moths from his wardrobe. I told him I had never made such a thing before, but that I could attempt one. So gracious he was for such a noble man. He paid me for it, just on my word that I would make one. And then he insisted on looking at every charm I had in my shop, and bought no less than six of them. Six! One for sweet dreams, one for light spirits, another to attract birds oh, and he seemed quite entranced with that one, almost as if he were a bird himself. But when I asked to see his hands, to tune the charms to him, he told me they were all intended as gifts. I told him he might send each recipient to me, to have the charms tuned if they wished, but as yet none of them have come. Still, they will work well enough as I built them. I do like to tune the charms, though. It's all the difference between a charm built by rote, and one created by a master. And I do regard myself as a master, thank you very much!"
These last words she offered with a hint of laughter in her voice in response to my raised brows. We laughed together, and I had no right to feel as comfortable with her as I did at that moment. "You've put my mind at rest," I declared. "I know Hap is a good lad, and little in need of my care anymore. Yet I'm afraid I'm always imagining the worst befalling him."
Don't ignore me! Fennel threatened. He hopped up onto the table. Jinna put him on the floor. He floated back onto her lap. She petted him absently.
"That's just a part of being a father," she assured me. "Or a friend." A strange look came over her face. "I'm not above foolish worries myself. Even when they're none of my business." She gave me a frankly speculative look that evaporated all the ease in my body. "I'm going to speak plainly," she warned me.
"Please," I invited her but every bone in my body wished she would not.
"You're Witted," she said. It was not an accusation. It was more as if she commented on a disfiguring disease. "I travel quite a bit in my trade, more perhaps than you have in the last few years. The mood of the folk has changed toward Witted ones, Tom. It's become ugly everywhere I've been recently. I didn't see it myself, but I heard that in a town in Farrow they displayed the dismembered bodies of the Witted ones they'd killed, with each piece in a separate cage to prevent them coming back to life."
I kept my face still but I felt as if ice were creeping up my spine. Prince Dutiful. Stolen or run away, but in either case vulnerable. Outside the protective walls of Buckkeep where people were capable of such monstrosities, the young Prince was at risk.
"I'm a hedge-witch," Jinna said softly. "I know what it is to be born with magic already inside you. It's not something you can change, even if you want to. More, I know what it's like to have a sister who was born empty of it. She seemed so free to me sometimes. She could look at a charm my father had made, and to her it was just sticks and beads. It never whispered and nagged at her. The hours I spent beside my father, learning his skills, were hours she spent with my mother in the kitchen. When we were growing up, the envy went both ways. But we were a family and we could be taught tolerance of our differences." She smiled at her memories, then shook her head, and her face grew graver. "Out in the wide world, it's different. Folk may not threaten to tear me apart or burn me, but I've seen hatred and jealousy in more than one set of eyes. Folk think either that it isn't fair that I've got something they can never have, or they fear that somehow I'll use what I've got to hurt them. They never stop to think they've got talents of their own that I'll never master. They might be rude to me, jostle me on the street, or try to squeeze me out of my market space, but they won't kill me. You don't have that comfort. The smallest slip could be your death. And if someone provokes your temper… Well. You become a different man altogether. I confess it's been bothering me since the last time I saw you. So, well… to put my own mind at rest, I made you something."
I swallowed. "Oh. Thank you." I could not even find the courage to ask what she had made me. Sweat was leaking down my spine despite the coolness of the dim room. She had not intended to threaten me, but her words reminded me how vulnerable I was to her. My assassin's training went deep, I discovered. Kill her, suggested that part of me. She knows your secret and that makes her a threat. Kill her.
I folded my hands on the table before me.
"You must think me strange," she murmured as she rose and went to a cupboard. "To be interfering in your life so when we have only met once or twice." I could tell she was embarrassed, yet determined to give me the gift she had made.
"I think you are kind," I said awkwardly.
Her rising had displaced Fennel. He sat on the fl
oor, wrapped his tail around his feet and glared up at me. There goes the lap! All your fault.
She had taken a box from the cupboard. She brought it back to the table and opened it. Inside was an arrangement of beads and rods on leather thongs. She lifted it and gave it a shake and it became a necklace. I stared at it, but felt nothing. "What does it do?" I asked.
She laughed lightly. "Very little, I am afraid. I cannot make you seem un-Witted, nor can I make you invulnerable to attack. I cannot even give you something that will help you master your temper. I tried to make something that would warn you of ill feelings toward you, but it became so bulky and large, it was more like a war harness than a charm. You will forgive my saying that my first impression of you was that you were a rather forbidding fellow. It took me a while to warm to you, and if Hap had not spoken so well of you, I would not have given you a moment of my time. I would have thought you a dangerous man. So did many appraise you as they passed us in the market that day. And so, bluntly, did you later show yourself to be. A dangerous man, but not a wicked one, if you will excuse my judging you. Yet the set of your face, by habit, shows folk that darker aspect of yourself. And now, with a blade at your hip and your hair in a warrior's tail, well, it does not give you a friendly demeanor. And it is easiest to hate a man whom you first fear. So. This is a variation on a very old love charm. I have made it, not to attract lovers, but to make people well disposed toward you, if it works as I hope it will. When you try to create a variation on a standard theme, it often lacks strength. Sit still, now."
She walked behind my chair with the dangling necklace. I watched her lower it past my face, and without being told, I bowed my head so she could fasten it at the nape of my neck. The charm made me feel no different, but her cool fingers against my skin sent a prickling chill over me. Her voice came from behind me. "I flatter myself that I got this fit right. It must not be too loose or it will dangle, nor so tight it chokes. Let me see it on you now. Turn around."
