Golden Fool
I did not sleep well. Nettle battered at my dreams like a moth trying to destroy itself in a lantern’s flame. I slept, but it was the rest of a man who sleeps with his back braced against a besieged door. I was aware of her. At first she was determined, then angry. Toward morning, she became desperate. Her pleas then were the hardest to hold my walls against. “Please. Please.” That was all she said. But her Skill made it a sweeping wind of pleading against my senses.
I awoke with my head pounding dully. All my senses felt abraded. The yellow candlelight in my room seemed too bright, and any sound too loud. The guilt that gnawed me for ignoring her didn’t improve any of it. It was definitely a morning that deserved a bit of elfbark, and with or without Chade’s approval, I wasn’t going to begin the day without it. I rose, splashed my face, and dressed. The shock of the cold water on my face and the necessity of bending down to fasten my shoes seemed as punishing as a beating.
I left our chambers. Slowly I descended to the kitchens. On my way down, I met Lord Golden’s serving boy. I dismissed Char for the morning, telling him that I would fetch the lord’s breakfast that day. His delighted grin and repeated thanks reminded me that once I had been a boy who could have easily filled any free hour with a dozen activities. It made me feel old. His heartfelt thanks gave me a moment of shame. I wanted to eat alone in our rooms, and fetching Lord Golden’s breakfast was my best pretense for doing so.
The clatter and steam and shouting in the kitchen did nothing for my headache. I filled the tray, including a generous pot of hot water, and headed back up the stairs. I was halfway up the second landing when a panting woman overtook me. “You’ve forgotten Lord Golden’s flowers,” she told me.
“Nevertheless,” she replied with a warm smile that made her a maid again. “There will always be flowers for Lord Golden.” I shook my head at the Fool’s curious particulars. She set a small nosegay on the tray, a confection of stark black twigs with white ribbon stitched into tiny buds on them. The creation was finished with two narrow bows, one white and one black. I thanked her dutifully, but she assured me that it was her pleasure before she went off about her other duties.
When I carried the tray into our chambers, I was surprised to see the Fool up and sitting in a chair by the hearth. He wore one of Lord Golden’s elaborate dressing gowns, but his hair was in loose disarray down to his shoulders. He was not posing as the nobleman right now. It put me off balance. I’d planned on taking food into my room and then rapping on his door to let him know there was food on the table for him. Well, at least Jek was not here. Perhaps I’d finally be able to have private words with him. He turned his head slowly as I came in. “There you are,” he said languidly. He looked as if he’d had a late night.
“Yes,” I agreed shortly. I thunked the tray on the table and went back to latch the door. Then I went to my room for the dishes I’d been gradually purloining from the kitchens, and set up breakfast for both of us at the table. Now that the moment had come to confront him, I couldn’t find a place to begin. I hungered to have this over with. Yet, the first words out of my mouth were “I need a red whistle. On a green string. Do you think you could make one for me?”
“As soon as possible.” My voice sounded flat and hard, even to my own ears. As if it hurt me to ask him this favor. “It isn’t for me. It’s for Thick. He had one once, but someone took it from him and broke it. Evidently just to cause him pain. He’s never forgotten it.”
“Thick,” he said, and then, “He’s an odd one, isn’t he?”
“I suppose,” I conceded stiffly. He seemed not to notice my reserve.
I shrugged. “Lord Golden is not the kindliest noble in the keep, as far as the servants are concerned.”
He took a small breath and sighed it out. “True. A necessary deception, but it pains me to see the man react to it. A red whistle on a green string. As soon as possible, then,” the Fool promised.
“Thank you.” My reply was crisp. His words had reminded me yet again that Lord Golden was only a role he played. I already wished I hadn’t asked anything of him. Asking a favor is a poor way to begin a quarrel. I refused to meet his puzzled gaze. I carried my cup to my room. I shook a measure of elfbark into the bottom of it and then returned to the table. When I got there, the Fool was bemusedly turning his posy in his fingers, his mouth twisted in a small smile. I poured the hot water over my elfbark and over the tea herbs in the waiting pot. As he watched, the smile ran away from his face and eyes.