Fool's Errand (Tawny Man, #1)(205)

I think poor Laurel was baffled by the change in the young man. He seemed to have recovered his spirits entirely, and set behind him his misfortune among the Piebalds. I do not know if she heard the brittleness at the edges of his laughter, or marked how well Lord Golden carried the conversation during the times when the Prince could not seem to keep his mind on it. I did. I was relieved that the boy had latched on to Lord Golden so firmly. So I rode alone until, in the early afternoon, the Huntswoman dropped back to ride beside me, leaving the Prince and Lord Golden to their newfound companionship.

“He seems a different young man entirely,” she observed quietly.

“He does,” I agreed. I tried to keep any cynicism from my voice. With both Dutiful and Lord Golden occupied, she deigned to speak to me again. I knew I should not fault her for choosing wisely where to let her attention and fondness come to rest. For Lord Golden to honor her with his attention was no small coup for her. I wondered if she would try to continue their connection when we returned to Buckkeep Castle. She would be the envy of the ladies if she did. I even wondered how deep his affection for her went. Was my friend honestly losing his heart to her? I considered her silent profile as she rode alongside me. He could do far worse. She was healthy and young and a good hunter. I abruptly heard the echo of the wolf's values in my thoughts. I caught my breath for a moment, and then let the pain pass. She was more astute than I had realized. “I'm sorry.” She spoke softly, and her words barely reached me. “You know I do not have the Old Blood myself. Somehow it passed me, to settle on my brothers and sister instead. Nonetheless, I can guess what you suffer. I saw what my mother went through when her gander died. That bird was forty years old, and had outlived my father. . . . Truth to tell, it is why I think Old Blood as much a curse as a blessing. And I confess, when I consider the risk and the pain, I do not know why you practice this magic. How can anyone let an animal seize his heart so completely, when their lives are so short? What can you gain that is worth all the pain each time your partner dies?”

I had no answer to that. In truth, it was a rockhard sympathy she gave me.

“I'm sorry,” she said again when some little time had passed. “You must think me heartless. I know my cousin Deerkin does. But all I can say to him is what I've said to you. I do not understand. And I cannot approve. I will always think Old Blood a magic better left alone.”

“If I had a choice, perhaps I would feel the same,” I replied. “But I am as I was born.”

“As is the Prince,” she said after a long moment's consideration. “Eda save us all, and keep his secret safe.”

“Amen to that,” I said heavily. “And mine, as well.” I gave her a sideways glance.

“I do not think Lord Golden would betray you. He values you far too highly as a servant,” she replied. It was a reassurance that she never even considered I might be thinking of her tongue wagging. A moment later, she set my thoughts on a different trail when she delicately added, “And may my bloodlines not become common talk.”

I replied as she had. “I am certain that as Lord Golden values you, both as a friend and as the Queen's devoted Huntswoman, he would never breathe a word that might discredit or endanger you.”

She gave me a sidelong glance, then asked shyly, “As his friend? Do you think so?”

Something in her eyes and at the corners of her mouth warned me not to answer that question lightly. “So it would appear to me,” I said, somewhat stiffly.

Her shoulders lifted as if I had offered her a gift. “And you have known him well and long,” she embroidered my words. I refused to confirm that speculation. She looked away from me for a time, and after that we did not speak much, but she hummed as she rode. She seemed light of heart. Ahead of me, I marked that the Prince's voice had faltered to a halt. Lord Golden chatted on, but the Prince rode looking ahead, and silent.

Buckkeep Castle was a dark silhouette on the black stone cliffs against a bank of dark clouds when we reached Buckkeep Town. The Prince had pulled his hood well up over his face and dropped back to ride beside me. Laurel rode by Lord Golden now, and seemed well pleased with the change. Dutiful and I spoke little, each busy with our own thoughts. Our journey back to Buckkeep would take us up the steep path to the lesserused West Gate. As we had left, so would we enter. We passed once more the scattering of cottages at the bottom of the climb. When I saw the first drape of greenery on a door lintel, I thought it was but an overeager celebrant. But then I saw another, and as we rode on, we eventually came to a group of workmen setting up a celebratory arch. Nearby, townsfolk busily plaited ivy with heffelwhite vines, ready to drape the arch. “A bit early, aren't you?” Lord Golden called to them congenially as we passed.

A guardsman spat and laughed aloud. “Early, milord? We're damn near too late! All thought the storms would delay the betrothal ship, but the Outislanders seemed to have used them to fly here with the wind's own wings. The treaty galleys arrived at noon with the Princess's honor guard. We've heard she'll make landfall before the sun sets, and all must be ready.”

“Really?” Lord Golden enthused. “Well, I dare not be late for the festivities.” He turned his smile on Laurel. “My lady, I fear we must ride as swift as we can. You lads may follow at your own pace.” And with that he set his heels to Malta, and she plunged nimbly forward. Laurel matched him. The Prince and I accompanied, but at a more sedate gait. As we trailed them up the winding road to Buckkeep Castle, Lord Golden and Laurel continued up the main road and entered at the gate. But in a thicker patch of woods, I turned Myblack's head from the path and motioned for the Prince to follow. There was little more than a game trail, but I pushed Myblack through the tangles of brush, along a path I scarcely remembered, and Dutiful fell behind. We shadowed the keep wall until we came to the place the wolf had shown me so long ago. Thick thistles still covered that old breach in the wall, but I had my suspicions. In the shadow of the keep wall, we dismounted.