Golden Fool (Tawny Man #2)

Golden Fool (Tawny Man #2) Page 24

“Such is my good fortune, Mistress Laurel,” I greeted the Queen’s Huntswoman. She was dressed in forest green, in the tunic and leggings of a hunter, but her figure gave them an entirely different air. Her hair was bundled out of the way in a most unfeminine way that somehow only made her more womanly. The stableman abruptly offered me a short bow and let me take the horses from him. When he was out of earshot, Laurel smiled at me and asked quietly, “And how is our prince?”

“In good health, I am sure, Mistress Laurel.” I apologized with my eyes, and she did not seem to take my careful words amiss. Her glance flickered over the goodwill charm at my throat. Jinna had used her hedge-witch magic to make it for me. It was supposed to make folk regard me kindly. Laurel’s smile grew warmer. I casually turned up my collar to conceal more of the charm.

She glanced aside from me and then spoke with more formality, Huntswoman to serving man. “Well. I hope you enjoy your ride today. Please pass on my greetings to Lord Golden.”

“That I shall, mistress. A good day to you as well.” As she walked away, I grumbled to myself over the role that I must wear as a shirt to my back. I would have liked more talk with her, but in the middle of the stableyard was not the place for private conversation.

I led the horses around to the great front door of the hall and waited there.

And waited there.

The Prince’s gelding seemed accustomed to such delays, but Malta was plainly put out, and Myblack tested my patience with tactics from a quick tug on her reins to a steady even pull. I’d need to put in more hours with her if I expected to make a good mount of her. I wondered where I would find those hours, cursed the time that was being wasted now, and then dismissed the thought. A servant’s time belonged to his master; I had to behave as if I believed that. I was beginning to feel chilled as well as annoyed before a commotion alerted me to stand straight and put an obliging expression on my face.

A moment later, both the Prince and Lord Golden emerged, surrounded by well-wishers and hangers-on. I did not see Dutiful’s intended or any Outislanders among this party. I wondered if that was odd. There were several young women, including one pouting with disappointment. Doubtless she had hoped the Prince would invite her along for the ride. Several of his male companions also looked a bit disgruntled. Dutiful wore a pleasant expression, but the pinch at the corners of his mouth and eyes let me know that he held it in place with an effort. Civil Bresinga was there, on the outskirts of the circle of admirers. Chade had said he was expected to arrive today. He gave me one dark glance, and I perceived that he maneuvered to stand closer to the Prince, but on the side away from Lord Golden. His presence sent a prickle of both irritation and fear up my spine. Would he leave this farewell and hasten to let others know that I had ridden out with the Prince? Did he spy for the Piebalds, or was he as innocent as had been claimed?

It was obvious to me that the Prince wished to make a swift departure, but even so we lingered some time longer, as he made individual farewells and promised his later time and attention to many of them. All of this he managed graciously and well. It came to me that it was the thread of Skill between us that made me aware of his impatience and irritation with all the finely dressed nobility that surrounded them. As if he were a restive horse, I found myself sending thoughts of calm and patience to him. He glanced at me, but I could not be sure he was aware of my reaching toward him.

One of his companions took his horse’s head from me, and held the animal while the Prince mounted. I held Malta for Lord Golden and then, at a nod from him, mounted my own horse. There was yet another round of farewells and good wishes, as if we were setting off on a long journey rather than merely an afternoon ride. Finally, the Prince firmly reined his gelding to one side and touched heels to him. Lord Golden followed him and then I let Myblack go. A chorus of good-byes rained down behind us.

Despite Chade’s advice, I had little chance to suggest any route for our afternoon ride. The Prince led and we followed to the gates of Buckkeep, where again we had to pause to allow the guards to formally salute and then pass their young prince through the gate. The moment we cleared the gate, Dutiful put his heels to his horse. The pace he set precluded any conversation. He soon turned off the road onto a lesser-traveled trail, and then kicked his gray to a canter. We followed, and I felt Myblack’s satisfaction in the chance to stretch her muscles. She was not so pleased that I held her back, for she knew that she could easily outdistance both Malta and the gray if given her head.

The Prince’s route led us out onto the sunny hillsides. Once there had been forest here, and Verity had hunted deer and pheasant. Now sheep grudgingly ambled out of our way as we crossed open pasturage, and then ventured into the wilder hills beyond. And all this time, we rode in silence. When we left the flocks behind, Dutiful gave his gray a free head and we galloped through the hills as if fleeing an enemy. Myblack had lost a little of her edginess when the Prince finally pulled in his mount. Lord Golden moved up to ride behind him as the walking horses snorted and blew. I kept my place behind them until the Prince turned in his saddle and irritably waved me up beside him. I let Myblack move up and the Prince greeted me coldly with, “Where have you been? You promised me that you would teach me, and I haven’t even seen you since we returned to Buckkeep Castle.”