Fool's Errand (Tawny Man, #1)(91)

I felt his hand on my shoulder and it broke the spell. I turned at his touch. “I'm sorry,” I said instantly. “The door was ajar and I ”

“I did not expect you back so soon, or it would have been latched.”

That was all he said, and then he drew me from the room and shut the door firmly behind us.

I felt as if he had pulled me back from a precipice. I drew a shaky breath. “What were those?”

“An experiment. What you told me of Jinna's charms made me curious, so when I reached Buckkeep Town, I resolved to see them for myself. Once I had, I wanted to know how they worked. I wanted to know if the charm could only be made by a hedgewitch, or if the magic was in the way they were assembled. And I wanted to know if I could make them work better.” His voice was neutral, “How can you stand to be around them?” I demanded. Even now, the hair on the back of my neck was standing.

“They are tuned to humans. You forget that I am a White.”

The statement left me as speechless as the insidious little sketches had. I looked at the Fool and for one blink I could see him as if for the first time. As attractive as his coloring was, I had never seen any other person with it. There were other differences, the way his wrists attached his hands to his arms, the airiness of his hair . . . but when our eyes met, I was looking at my old friend again. It was like jolting back to the earth after a fall. I suddenly recalled what I had done. “I'm sorry. I didn't intend to ... I know you need your privacy ” I felt shamed and hot blood rushed to my face.

He was silent for a moment. Then he said justly, “When I came to your home, you hid nothing from me.” I sensed that the statement reflected his idea of what was fair rather than his emotions on the topic.

“I won't go in there again,” I promised fervently.

That brought a small smile to his face. “I doubt that you would.”

I suddenly wanted to change the subject, but the only thought that came to me was, “I saw Jinna today. She made this for me.” I opened the collar of my shirt.

He stared, first at the charm, then up at my face. He seemed struck dumb. Then a wide and fatuous grin spread over his face.

“It's supposed to make people feel kindly toward me,” I explained. “To counteract my grim appearance, I think, though she was not so unkind as to say that directly.”

He took a breath. “Cover it,” he begged, laughing, and as I did so, he turned away from it. He walked almost hastily to the chamber window and looked out. “They are not tuned to my bloodlines, but that does not mean I am completely impervious against them. You often remind me that in some ways I am still very human.”

I unfastened it from my throat and held it out to him. “You can take it and study it if you like. I'm not entirely sure I like wearing it. I think I'd rather know what people honestly think of me.”

“Somehow I doubt that,” he muttered, but he returned to take the charm from my hand. He held it out in the air between us, studied it, and then glanced at me. “Tuned to you?” he guessed.

I nodded.

“Intriguing. I would like to keep it, for a day or so. I promise not to take it apart. But after that, I think you should wear it. Always.”

“I'll think about it,” I promised, but felt no inclination to don it again.

“Chade wanted to see you as soon as you came in,” he suddenly said, as if he had only then remembered it.

ROBIN HOBB And there we had left it, and I felt that I was, if not excused, at least forgiven for going where I had no business being.

Now as I followed Chade through the narrow passageway, I asked him, “How was all this built? How can a labyrinth like this that winds all through the castle be kept secret?”

He carried a candle and walked before me. He spoke over his shoulder, softly. “Some was built into the bones of the keep. Our ancestors were never trusting folk. Part of it was intended as a system of boltholes. Some of it has always been used for spying. Some of it used to be servants' stairs, incorporated into the secret passages during a phase of intense reconstruction following a fire. And some was created deliberately, in your lifetime. When you were small, do you remember when Shrewd ordered that the hearth in the guardroom be rebuilt?”

“Vaguely. I did not pay much attention at the time.”

“No one did. You may have noticed that a wooden facade was added to two walls.”

“The cupboard wall? I thought it was built so that Cook had a bigger larder, one that kept rats out. It made the room smaller, but warmer as well.”

“And above the cupboards, there is a passageway, and several viewing slits. Shrewd liked to know what his guards were thinking of him, what they feared, what they hoped.”

“But the men who built it would have known of it.”

“Different craftsmen were brought in to do different parts of the job. I myself added the viewing slits. If any of them thought it odd that the ceilings of the cupboards were so sturdily built, they said nothing. And here we are. Hush.”

He lifted a tiny leather flap on the wall and peered into the revealed hole. After a moment, he whispered, “Come.”

The silent door admitted us into a privy chamber. There we paused again, while Chade again peered througha peephole, then tapped lightly at the door. “Enter,” Kettricken responded quietly.