The Complete Tawny Man Trilogy: Fool’s Errand, The Golden Fool, Fool’s Fate

Stop thinking that you are dealing with a young prince. You are not. Nor is it the cat we must fear. This is something deeper and stranger, my brother, and we are best to go very, very carefully.

He drank the rest of my water. Then I left him there under the oaks, though I did not like to. I did not attempt to follow their trail, but returned to the Bresinga manor at Galeton, found the feather-case, and rode back to the hunt. They had moved on, but it was easy enough to track them. When I presented the case to Lord Golden, he observed, ‘You were a long time bringing it, Badgerlock.’ He looked round at his hunting companions and added, ‘Well, at least it is not as I had feared. I almost thought you had taken my words to mean that you must bring the case, even if you had to go all the way to Buckkeep Castle for it.’ There was a general laugh at my supposed dullness.

I bobbed my head in docile agreement. ‘My apologies, master, for the delay in finding it. It was not where I expected it to be.’

He accepted my apology with a nod, then handed me the case again. ‘Collect the feathers from Huntswoman Laurel. See that you put them in carefully.’

Laurel had a substantial handful of feathers. The red case opened like a book. Within, the case was lined with felted wool to cushion the feathers against hurts. I held the case while she carefully arranged each feather in its place. The other hunters rode on, seeming to pay no attention to us. ‘The cats hunt well?’ I asked as she positioned feathers.

‘Very well. They are amazing to watch. I had seen the Prince’s mistcat hunt before, but this is my first experience of gruepards. They have set the cats twice on birds and once on hares since you left us.’

‘Think you they will hunt much longer?’

‘I doubt it. Lord Golden confided that the midday sun is too harsh on his skin and may give him a headache. I think they will turn back soon.’

‘That would suit me well, also.’ The others were now a distance away from us, talking amongst themselves. She closed the feather-case and handed it back to me. We rode side by side until we caught up with the hunting party. She turned in her saddle to look at me and met my eyes as she said, ‘Last night, Tom Badgerlock, you looked a different man. You should take more care with your daily appearance. The effect is well worth your effort.’

Her words left me speechless. She smiled to see me struck dumb, then left me behind with the other attendants as she spurred her horse forwards to ride at Lord Golden’s stirrup. I do not know what, if any, words passed between them, only that soon the hunting party decided to return to Galekeep. The game-bags were heavy, the beat of the sun overhead was becoming oppressive, and the cats seemed irritable and less interested in the hunt.

This being so, the nobles turned their horses and set spurs to them, hastening back to the welcome cool of Galekeep’s thick stone walls. The rest of us followed as best we might. Myblack easily kept their pace, though I had to ride in their dust.

Nobility retired to their chambers to wash the dust away and don fresh clothing while others cared for their sweated horses and cranky cats. I followed Lord Golden as he strode ebulliently through the halls. I hastened to open the door for him, and then to shut it behind us after he had passed through. I fastened the latch quietly.

I turned to find him already laving the dust from his face and hands. ‘What happened?’ he asked me.

I told him.

‘Will he be all right?’ he asked anxiously.

‘The Prince? I hardly know.’

‘Nighteyes,’ the Fool clarified impatiently.

‘As well as he may be. I’ll take him more water and meat when I return. He was in pain but not like to die of his injuries.’ Though I had not liked the look of the inflamed scratches. The Fool almost seemed to answer my thoughts.

‘I’ve a salve that may soothe his hurts, if he will let you use it.’

I had to smile. ‘I doubt that he will, but I will be glad to take it all the same.’

‘Well. There but remains for me to manufacture a reason for the three of us to depart Galekeep immediately after lunch. We dare not let his trail grow cold. Nor do I think it likely that we will be returning here.’ As he spoke, he was changing his jacket, brushing dust from his trousers and wiping a cloth over his boots. He considered his reflection in the mirror, then hastily ran a brush through his fine hair. The pale strands floated after the brush and clung to it. The shorter pieces at his temples stood out like a cat’s whiskers. He exclaimed in annoyance, and refastened the heavy silver clip that he used to secure his hair at the base of his neck. ‘There. That will have to do. Pack us up, Tom Badgerlock. Be prepared to leave by the time I return from my meal.’ And he was gone.

There was fruit and cheese and bread on the table from the night before. The bread was a bit stale but I was hungry enough that it did not matter. I ate as I hastily packed my own things. Lord Golden’s wardrobe presented me with more problems. I could not recall how he had fitted so much clothing into such a small bag. At length, I managed to cram it all in, though I wondered what the fine shirts would look like when they emerged again.

The midday meal was still in progress when I finished. I took advantage of that and slipped down to the kitchen for cold beer and spicy sausages. My old skills served me in good stead, for when I left several thick slices off a cold joint were concealed in the breast of my servant’s tunic.

I returned to our rooms and spent the early afternoon impatiently awaiting Lord Golden’s return. I longed to reach for the wolf, and dared not. Every passing moment might be carrying the Prince further away. The afternoon was flowing away from me. I flung myself down on my bed to wait. Despite my anxiety, I must have dozed off.

I awoke to Lord Golden opening the door. I rolled from the bed to my feet, feeling sodden with sleep yet eager to leave. He shut the door behind me and in response to my look, replied grimly, ‘It is proving socially difficult to extricate us. There were guests at today’s luncheon, and not just those we hunted with. The Bresingas seemed determined to exhibit me to all their wealthy neighbours. They have planned dinners and teas and more hunts with half the countryside in attendance. I have been unable to invent a pressing enough reason for us to leave. This is damnably inconvenient. Would that I could go back to my motley and a more honest form of juggling and rope-walking.’

‘We’re not leaving yet,’ I observed stupidly.

‘No. There is a large dinner in my honour this evening. For us to abruptly leave before that would be insult. And when I hinted that I might have to cut my visit short and leave tomorrow morning, I was told that Lord Crias from across the river had planned a morning hunt for me, and an afternoon repast at his manor.’

‘They delay you on purpose. The Bresingas are involved in the Prince’s disappearance. I am sure they provided food for him and the cat last night. And Nighteyes is certain that those who attacked him are aware he is bonded to someone. They tried to flush me out.’

‘Perhaps. But even if we were certain, I could scarcely fling accusations about. And we are not certain. Perhaps they but seek social advancement at court, or to show me their various marriageable daughters. I gather that is why the girl was at dinner last night.’

‘I thought she was Civil’s companion.’

‘She was at great pains during the hunt to tell me that they were childhood friends with absolutely no romantic interests in one another.’ He sighed and sat down at the small table. ‘She told me that she, too, collects feathers. Tonight after dinner she wishes to show me her collection. I am certain it is an invention to spend more time with me.’

Had my own needs not been so pressing, I would have smiled at his dismay.

‘Well, I shall have to deal with it as best I may. And perhaps it can even be turned to our advantage, now that I think of it. Oh, I’ve an errand for you. It seems that while we were hunting today, I lost a silver chain. At lunch I noticed it was missing. It is one of my favourites. You will have to retrace our steps and see if you can find it. Take your time.’

As he spoke, he drew a necklace from his pocket, wrapped it in his kerchief, and handed it to me. I pocketed it. He opened his clothing-case, shot me an accusing look at the compressed jumble inside it, and then fished about until he discovered the pot of salve. He handed it to me.

‘Shall I lay out your clothing for dinner before I go?’

He rolled his eyes mockingly at me as he drew a crumpled shirt from his clothing bag. ‘I think you’ve already done enough for me, Badgerlock. Just go.’ As I moved towards the door, his voice stopped me. ‘Does the horse suit you?’

‘The black is fine,’ I assured him. ‘A good healthy beast and fleet, as we proved. You chose a good horse.’

‘But you would rather have chosen your own mount.’

I nearly said yes. But then, as I considered it, I realized that was not true. If I had been choosing the horse, I would have sought for a companion to bear me through the years. It would have taken me weeks, if not months, to select one. And now that I was unwillingly confronting the wolf’s mortality, I felt a strange reluctance to offer that much of myself to an animal. ‘No,’ I replied honestly. ‘It was much better that you chose one for me. She’s a good horse. You chose well.’

‘Thank you,’ he said quietly. It seemed to matter to him a great deal. If the wolf had not been waiting, it would have given me pause.

EIGHTEEN Fool’s Kiss (#ulink_03f46134-d32b-5ff1-b899-6a6c9f9c0854)

Many are the tales told of Witted taking on their beasts’ shapes to wreak havoc upon their neighbours. The bloodier legends are of Witted in wolves’ skins, who in that guise rend their neighbours’ families as well as their flocks. Less sanguine are the tales who depict Witted suitors taking on the shapes of birds, or cats, or even dancing bears to gain access to a bedchamber in the course of a seduction.

All such tales are imaginative nonsense, perpetuated by those who seek to fuel hatred of the Witted. Although a Witted person can share the mind of his beast, and hence, its physical perceptions, he cannot metamorphose his Human form into that of an animal. It is true that some Witted who have been long in a partnership with their animal sometimes take on some of their habits of posture, diet, and mannerism. But a man who eats, dens, scavenges and smells like a bear does not become a bear. If that myth of shapechanging could be vanquished, it would go far to re-establishing trust between the Witted and unWitted.

Badgerlock’s Old Blood Tales

The wolf was not where I had left him. It rattled me, and I took some few moments convincing myself that I had not mistaken the spot. But there were the spatters of his blood where he had sprawled on last year’s leaves, and here were the spatters in the dust where he had lapped water from my hands. He had been here and now he was not.

It is one thing to track two shod horses with riders. It is another to follow the spoor of a wolf over dry ground. He had left no trace of his passage, and I feared to reach out towards him. I followed the tracks of the horses, believing that he would have done the same. As I trailed them through the sun-drenched hills, their tracks went down into a draw and crossed a small stream. They had stopped here to let the horses water. And then in the muddy bank was a wolf’s paw-print atop the horse’s hoof-mark. So. He was tracking them.

Three hills later, I caught up with him. He knew I was coming. He did not pause to wait for me, but moved on. That gait caught my eyes. It was not his purposeful trot. He walked. Myblack was not especially pleased to approach the wolf, but she didn’t fight me. As I drew closer, he stopped in the shelter of some trees and awaited me.

‘I brought meat,’ I told him as I dismounted.

I felt his awareness of me, but he sent no thought towards me. It was eerie. I took the meat out of my shirt and gave it to him. He wolfed it down and then came to sit beside me. I took the salve out of my pouch. He sighed and lay down.

The claw-swipes along his belly were livid ridges of lacerated flesh, and hot to the touch. When I applied the salve, the pain became an edged thing between us. I was as gentle as I could be and still be thorough. He tolerated it, but not gladly. I sat for a time beside him, my hand resting on his ruff. He sniffed at the salve I had applied. Honey and bear grease, I told him. He licked the long scratch and I let him. His tongue would push the ointment deeper into the wound and do him no harm. Besides, there was no way I could have stopped him. He already knew that I would have to go back to Galekeep.