Fool's Errand (Tawny Man #1)

Fool's Errand (Tawny Man #1) Page 232

I wondered whom he thought to deceive. The Prince would know that my heart had no interest in anything but grief just now. In the Piebald camp, he had seen Lord Golden give way to my command and leave with the wolf. Nevertheless, I loudly thanked my master for his permission, and left the room. Perhaps it was a play we all acted for each other. I went slowly down the stairs. Laurel was coming up as I descended. She gave me a curious look. I tried to think of some words, but nothing came to me. I passed her silently, intending no slight but unable to care if she took offense. I heard her pause on the stair behind me as if she would speak to me, but I continued down.

The common room was crowded. Some had probably come for the music, for Starling's reputation was grand now, but many others looked to be folk trapped by the downpour and unable to afford a room. They would shelter here for the night, and when the music stopped, doze the storm away at the tables and benches. I managed to get both food and a mug of beer on my assurances that my master would pay for it on the morrow. Then I walked to the hearth end of the room, and crowded myself into a corner table just behind Starling's elbow. I knew it was no coincidence she was here. She had been watching for us to return, and likely she had access to a bird to pass word of us on to Buckkeep. So I was not surprised when she feigned not to notice me, and kept playing and singing.

After three more songs, she declared she needed to rest her voice and wet her pipes. The servingboy who brought her wine set it on the corner of my table. When she sat down beside me to drink, I passed her Lord Golden 's note under the table. Then I tossed off the last mouthful of beer in my mug and went out to the backhouse.

She was waiting for me under the dripping eaves when I returned to the inn. “The message has been sent,” she greeted me.

“I'll tell my master.” I started to walk past her, but she caught my sleeve. I halted.

“Tell me,” she said quietly.

Ancient caution guarded my tongue. I did not know how much information Chade had given her. “We completed our errand.”

“So I guessed,” she replied tartly. Then she sighed. “And I know better than to ask you what Lord Golden's errand was. But tell me of you. You look terrible . . . your hair chopped short, your clothes in rags. What happened?”

Of all I had been through, only one event was mine to share or not as I pleased. I told her. “Nighteyes is dead.”

Rainfall filled her silence. Then she sighed deeply and put her arms around me. “Oh, Fitz,” she said quietly. She leaned her head against my scratched chest. I could see the pale part in her dark hair, and I smelled her scent and the wine she had drunk. Her hands moved softly on my back, soothingly. “Alone again. It isn't fair. Truly it isn't. You've the saddest song of any man I've ever known.” The wind gusted and rain rode it to spatter against us, but still she held me, and a small warmth gathered between us. She said nothing more for a long time. I lifted my arms and put them around her. Just as it once had, it seemed inevitable. She spoke against my chest. “I've a room to myself. It's at the river end of the inn. Come to me. Let me take your hurt away.”

“I ... thank you.” That won't mend it, I wanted to tell her. If she had ever known me at all, she would know that now. But words would not make her understand it if she could not sense it on her own. I suddenly appreciated the Fool's silence and distance. He had known. No other closeness could make up for the lack of my wolf.

The rain went on falling. She loosened her hold on me and looked up into my face. A frown divided her fine brows. “You aren't going to come to me tonight, are you?” She sounded incredulous.

Strange. I had been wavering in my resolve, but the very way she phrased the question helped me to answer it correctly. I shook my head slowly. “I appreciate the invitation. But it wouldn't help.”

“Are you sure of that?” She tried to make her voice light and failed. She moved, her breasts brushing against me in a way that might have been accidental but was not. I stepped a little back from her, my arms falling to my sides.

“I'm sure. I don't love you, Starling. Not that way.”

“It seems to me that you told me that once before, a long time ago. But for years, it did help. It did work.” Her eyes searched my face. She smiled confidently.

It hadn't. It had only seemed to. I could have told her that, but it would have been an unnecessary honesty. So I only said, “Lord Golden expects me. I have to go up to him.” She shook her head slowly. “What a grievous end to a sad tale. And I am the only one who knows the whole of it, and still I am not allowed to sing it. What a tragic lay it would make. You are the son of a king, who sacrificed all for his father's family, only to finish as the illused servant of an arrogant foreign noble. He doesn't even dress you well. The ignominy must cut you like a blade.” She looked deep into my eyes, seeking . . . what? Resentment? Outrage?