Fool's Errand (Tawny Man, #1)(76)

I grinned at him. “In all our years together, I can't recall a more ominous greeting from you.” ?

“It's an ominous time, my boy. Come, sit down, eat. We've always reasoned best over food. I've so much to tell you, and you may as well hear it with a full belly.”

“Your messenger did not tell me much,” I admitted, taking a place at the small lavishly spread table. There were cheeses, pastries, cold meats, fruit that was fragrantly ripe, and spicy breads. There was both wine and brandy, but Chade began with tea from an earthenware pot warm at the edge of the fire. When I reached for the pot, a gesture of his hand warded me off.

“I'll put on more water,” he offered, and hung a kettle to boil. I watched the set of his mouth as he sipped the dark brew in his cup. He did not seem to relish it, yet he sank back in his chair with a sigh. I kept my thoughts to myself.

As I began to heap my plate, Chade noted, “My messenger told you as much as he knew, which was nothing. One of my greatest tasks has been to keep this private. Ah, where do I begin? It is hard to decide, for I don't know what precipitated this crisis.”

I swallowed a mouthful of bread and ham. “Tell me the heart of it, and we can work backward from there.”

His green eyes were troubled. “Very well.” He took breath, then hesitated. He poured us both brandy. As he set mine before me he said, “Prince Dutiful is missing. We think he might have run on his own. If he did, he likely had help. It is possible that he was taken against his will, but neither the Queen nor I think that likely. There.” He sat back in his chair and watched for my reaction.

It took me a moment to marshal my thoughts. “How could it happen? Whom do you suspect? How long has he been gone?”

He held up a hand to halt my flow of questions. “Six days and seven nights, counting tonight. I doubt he will reappear before morning, though nothing would please me better. How did it happen? Well. I do not criticize my Queen, but her Mountain ways are often difficult for me to accept. The Prince has come and gone as he pleased from both castle and keep since he was thirteen. She seemed to think it best that he get to know his people on a common footing. There have been times when thought that was wise, for it has made the folk fond of him. I myself have felt that it was time he had a guard of his own to accompany him, or at the least a tutor of the wellmuscled sort. But Kettricken, as you may recall, can be as unbending as stone. In that, she had her way. He came and went as he wished, and the guards had their orders to let him do so.”

The water was boiling. Chade still kept teas where he always had, and he made no comment as I rose to make my tea. He seemed to be gathering his thoughts, and I let him, for my own thoughts were milling in every direction like a panicky flock of sheep. “He could already be dead,” I heard myself say aloud, and then could have bitten my tongue out at the stricken look on Chade 's face.

“He could,” the old man admitted. “He is a hearty, healthy boy, unlikely to turn away from a challenge. This absence need not be a plot; an ordinary accident could be at the base of it. I thought of that. I've a discreet man or two at my beck, and they've searched the base of the sea cliffs, and the more dangerous ravines where he likes to hunt. But I think that if he were injured, his little hunting cat might still have come back to the castle. Though it is hard to say with cats. A dog would, I think, but a cat might just revert to being wild. In any case, unpleasant as the idea is, I have thought to look for a body. None has been discovered.”

A hunting cat. I ignored my jabbing thought to ask, “You said run away, or possibly taken. What would make you think either one likely?”

“The first, because he's a boy trying to learn to be a man in a court that makes neither easy for him. The second, because he's a prince, newly betrothed to a foreign princess, and rumored to be possessed of the Wit. That gives several factions any number of reasons to either control him or destroy him.”

He gave me several silent minutes to digest that. Several - , days would not have been enough. I must have looked as sick as I felt, for Chade finally said, softly, “We think that even if he has been taken, he is most valuable to his kidnappers alive.”

I found a breath and spoke through a dry mouth. “Has anyone claimed to have him? Demanded ransom?” “No.”

I cursed myself for not staying abreast of politics in the Six Duchies. But had not I sworn never to become involved in it again? It suddenly seemed a child's foolish resolve never to get caught in the rain again. I spoke quietly, for I felt ashamed. “You are going to have to educate me, Chade, and swiftly. What factions? How does it benefit their interests to have control of the Prince? What foreign princess? And” êand this last question near choked meê“why would anyone think Prince Dutiful was Witted?”

“Because you were,” Chade said shortly. He reached again for his teapot and replenished his cup. It poured even blacker this time, and I caught a whiff of a treacly yet bitteredged aroma. He gulped down a mouthful, and swiftly followed it with a toss of brandy. He swallowed. His green eyes met mine and he waited. I said nothing. Some secrets still belonged to me alone. At least, I hoped they did.

“You were Witted,” he resumed. “Some say it must have come from your mother, whoever she was, and Eda forgive me, I've encouraged that thinking. But others point back a time, to the Piebald Prince and several other oddlings in the Farseer line, to say, 'No, the taint is there, down in the roots, and Prince Dutiful is a shoot from that line.'” “But the Piebald Prince died without issue; Dutiful is not of his line. What made folk think that the Prince might be Witted?”