Golden Fool

The man turned, stared at me, eyes narrowed, and then strode angrily toward me. I came to my feet as he drew near, but prudently kept the table between us. He thudded both his fists on the scarred wood, and then demanded, “Where are they?”

“Who?” I asked, but with a sinking heart, I knew to whom he referred. Svanja had her father’s brow.

“You know who. The keeper says you’ve met them here before. My daughter Svanja and that demon-eyed country whelp who has lured her away from her parents’ hearth. Your son, is what the keeper says.” Master Hartshorn made the words an accusation.

“He has a name. Hap. And yes, he is my son.” I was instantly angry, but it was a cold anger, clear as ice. I shifted my weight very slightly, clearing my hip. If he came across the table at me, my knife would meet him.

“Your son.” He spoke the word with contempt. “I’d be shamed to admit it. Where are they?”

I suddenly heard the desperation as well as the fury in his voice. So. Svanja wasn’t at home, and neither she nor Hap was here. Where could they be on a snowy, dark night like this? Little question of what they were doing. My heart sank, but I spoke quietly. “I don’t know where they are. But I feel no shame to claim Hap as my son. Nor do I think he ‘lured’ your daughter into anything. If anything, it is the reverse, with your Svanja teaching my son town ways.”

“How dare you!” he roared and drew back a meaty fist.

“Lower your voice and your hand,” I suggested icily. “The first to spare your daughter’s reputation. The second to spare your life.”

My posture drew his eyes to my ugly sword at my hip. His anger did not die, but I saw it tempered with caution. “Sit down,” I invited him, but it was as much command as suggestion. “Take control of yourself. And let us speak of what concerns us both, as fathers.”

Slowly he drew out a chair, his eyes never leaving me. I was as slow to resume my seat. I made a gesture at the keeper. I did not like the eyes of the other customers fixed on us, but there was little I could do. A few moments later, a boy scuttled over to our table and clapped down a mug of beer before Master Hartshorn and then scurried away. Svanja’s father glanced at the beer contemptuously. “Do you really think I will sit here and drink with you? I need to find my daughter, as swiftly as possible.”

“Then she is not at home with your wife,” I concluded.

“No.” He folded his lips. The next words he spoke were barbed, with bits of his pride torn free with them. “Svanja said she was going up to her bed in the loft. Some time later, I noticed a task she had left undone. I called to her to come back down and finish her work. When she did not reply, I climbed the ladder. She is not there.” The words seemed to disarm his anger, leaving only a father’s disappointment and fear in him. “I came here directly.”

“Without even a hat or cloak. I see. Is there nowhere else she might be? A grandmother’s house, a friend’s home?”

“We have no kin in Buckkeep Town. We only arrived here last spring. And Svanja is not the kind of girl who makes friends with other girls.” With every word, he seemed to have less fury and more despair.

I suspected then that Hap was not the first young man to claim her fancy, nor that this was the first time her father had sought for her after dark. I kept the observation to myself. I picked up my beer and drained it off. “I know of only one other place to seek them. Come. We’ll go there together. It’s where my son boards while I work up at the keep.”

He left his beer untouched, but rose as I did. Eyes followed us as we left the tavern together. Outside in the darkness, snow had begun to swirl more swiftly. He hunched his shoulders and crossed his arms on his chest. I spoke through the wind, asking the question I dreaded but must. “You completely oppose Hap’s courtship of your daughter?”

I could not see his face in the dimness but his voice was bright with outrage. “Oppose? Of course I do! He has not even had the courage to come to me, to say his name to me and declare his intent! And even if he did, I would oppose it. He tells her he is an apprentice . . . well then, why does not he live at his master’s house, if that is true? And if it is true, what is he thinking, to court a woman before he can even make his own living? He has no right. He is completely unsuitable for Svanja.”

Nothing Hap could do would redeem himself in this man’s eyes.

It was a short walk to Jinna’s door. I knocked, dreading encountering her as much as I dreaded finding that Hap and Svanja were not there. It took a moment before Jinna called through the closed door, “Who’s there?”