Fool's Errand

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 moth-eaten 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.

"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 Js-

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 u

But as I passed one doorway, I saw a young man chivying a maid to stay and talk with him a moment longer. Her eyes were bright and her smile merry as she shook her dark curls at him in sweet rebuke. Raindrops jeweled their cloaks. He looked so earnest and so young in his entreaties that I averted my eyes and hurried past. In the next moment, my heart ached as I realized that Prince Dutiful would never know a moment like that, would never taste the sweetness of a stolen kiss, or the elation and suspense of wondering if the lady would grant him another moment of her company. No. His wife had been chosen for him, and the freshest years of his manhood would be spent in waiting for her to grow to womanhood. I dared not hope they would be happy. The best I could manage was that they would not make one another miserable.

These were my thoughts as I found my way down the winding little street that led to Ji

Within, I heard the scrape of a chair, and the thud of a cat landing on the floor. Then Ji

"Fit… Tom Badgerlock." I cursed my awkward tongue. "Look, I'm sorry to call so late, I've been away, and thought I should check on»

"Tom!" The door was flung wide to my hasty excuses, nearly hitting me as it opened. "Tom Badgerlock, come in, come in!" Ji

"That would be I didn't mean to intrude, I only meant to check on Hap and see how»

"Here, let me take your wet cloak. Ah, it's drenched! I'll hang it here. Well, sit down, you'll have to wait, for the young scamp isn't here. Truth to tell, I've been thinking to myself that the sooner you came back and had a word with the lad, the better for him. Not that I wish to be telling tales on him, but he wants someone taking a hand with him."