LITMIR.BIZ

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Town, but I didn’t expect to wait this long.’

      ‘It’s changed,’ I said lamely.

      ‘Haven’t we all?’ he replied, and for a moment there was an echo of pathos in his voice. But in an instant it was gone. He tidied his gleaming hair fussily and picked a leaf from his stocking. He pointed at his cushion again. ‘Pick that up and follow me. Hurry along. We are expected.’ His air of petulant command mimed perfectly that of a foppish dandy of the noble class. He plucked a handkerchief from his sleeve and patted at his upper lip, erasing imaginary perspiration.

      I had to smile. He assumed the role so deftly and effortlessly. ‘How are we going in?’

      ‘By the front gate, of course. Have no fear. I’ve put word about that Lord Golden is very dissatisfied with the quality of servants he has found in Buckkeep Town. None have suited me, and so today I went to meet a ship bringing to me a fine fellow, if a bit rustic, recommended to me by my second cousin’s first valet. By name, one Tom Badgerlock.’

      He proceeded ahead of me. I picked up his cushion and followed. ‘So. I’m to be your servant?’ I asked in wry amusement.

      ‘Of course. It’s the perfect guise. You’ll be virtually invisible to all the nobility of Buckkeep. Only the other servants will speak to you, and as I intend that you will be a down-trodden, overworked, poorly-dressed lackey of a supercilious, overbearing and insufferable young lord, you will have little time to socialize at all.’ He halted suddenly and looked back. One slender, long-fingered hand clasped his chin as he looked down his nose at me. His fair brows knit and his amber eyes narrowed as he snapped, ‘And do not dare to meet my eyes, sirrah! I will tolerate no impertinence. Stand up straight, keep your place, and speak no word without my leave. Are you clear on these instructions?’

      ‘Perfectly,’ I grinned at him.

      He continued to glare at me. Then suddenly the glare was replaced by a look of exasperation. ‘FitzChivalry, the game is up if you cannot play this role and play it to the hilt. Not just when we stand in the Great Hall of Buckkeep, but every moment of every day when there is the remotest chance that we might be seen. I have been Lord Golden since I arrived, but I am still a newcomer to the Queen’s Court, and folk will stare. Chade and Queen Kettricken have done all they could to help me in this ruse, Chade because he perceived how useful I might be, and the Queen because she feels I truly deserve to be treated as a lord.’

      ‘And no one recognized you?’ I broke in incredulously.

      He cocked his head. ‘What would they recognize, Fitz? My dead white skin and colourless eyes? My jester’s motley and painted face? My capers and cavorting and daring witticisms?’

      ‘I knew you the moment I saw you,’ I reminded him.

      He smiled warmly. ‘Just as I knew you, and would know you when first I met you a dozen lives hence. But few others do. Chade with his assassin’s eyes picked me out, and arranged a private audience at which I made myself known to the Queen. A few others have given me curious glances from time to time, but no one would dare to accost Lord Golden and ask him if fifteen years ago he had been King Shrewd’s jester at this self-same court. My age appears wrong to them, as does my colouring, as does my demeanour, as does my wealth.’

      ‘How can they be so blind?’

      He shook his head and smiled at my ignorance. ‘Fitz, Fitz. They never even saw me in the first place. They saw only a jester and a freak. I deliberately took no name when first I arrived here. To most of the lords and ladies of Buckkeep, I was just the Fool. They heard my jokes and saw my capers, but they never really saw me.’ He gave a small sigh. Then he gave me a considering look. ‘You made it a name. The Fool. And you saw me. You met my eyes when others looked aside, disconcerted.’ I saw the tip of his tongue for a second. ‘Did you never guess how you frightened me? That all my ruses were useless against the eyes of a small boy?’

      ‘You were just a child yourself,’ I pointed out uneasily.

      He hesitated. I noticed he did not agree or disagree with me when he went on. ‘Become my faithful servant, Fitz. Be Tom Badgerlock, every second of every day that you are at Buckkeep. It is the only way you can protect both of us. And the only guise in which you can aid Chade.’

      ‘What, exactly, does Chade need of me?’

      ‘That would be better heard from his lips than mine. Come. It grows dark. Buckkeep Town has grown and changed, as has Buckkeep itself. If we try to enter after dark, we may well be turned away.’

      It had grown later as we talked and the long summer day was fading around us. He led and I followed as he took me round about to the steep road that led to Buckkeep Castle’s main gate. He lingered in the trees to let a wine merchant round a bend before we ourselves stepped out on the road. Then Lord Golden led and his humble servant Tom Badgerlock trudged behind him, bearing his embroidered cushion.

      At the gate he was admitted without question and I followed at his heels, unnoticed. The guard on the gate wore Buckkeep’s blue and their jerkins were embroidered with the Farseer leaping buck. Small things like that twisted my heart unexpectedly. I blinked and then coughed and rubbed my eyes. The Fool had the kindness not to look back at me.

      Buckkeep had changed as much as the town that clung to the cliffs below it. Overall, the changes were ones I approved. We passed a new and larger stable. Paving stones had been laid where once muddy tracks had run. Although more folk thronged the castle than I recalled, it seemed cleaner and better maintained. I wondered if this was Kettricken’s Mountain discipline applied to the keep, or simply the result of peace in the land. All the years that I had lived in Buckkeep had been years of the Outislander raids and eventually outright war. Relative peace had brought a resumption of trade, and not just with the countries to the south of the Six Duchies. Our history of trading with the Out Islands was as long as our history of fighting with them. I had seen the Outislander ships, both oared and sailed, in Buckkeep’s harbour when I arrived.

      We entered through the Great Hall, Lord Golden striding imperiously along while I hastened, eyes down, at his heels. Two ladies detained him briefly with greetings. I think it was hardest then for me to keep my guise of serving-man in place. Where once the Fool had inspired unease or outright distaste, Lord Golden was greeted with fluttering fans and eyelashes. He charmed them both with a score of elegantly-woven compliments on their dresses, their hair, and the scents they wore. They parted with him reluctantly, and he assured them he was as loath to leave, but he had a servant to be shown his duties, and certainly they knew the drudgery of that. One simply could not get good servants any more, and although this one came with a high recommendation, he had already proven to be a bit slow-witted and woefully countrified. Well, one had to make do with what one could get these days, and he hoped to enjoy their company on the morrow. He planned to stroll through the thyme gardens after breakfast, if they cared to join him?

      They would, of course, with great delight, and after several more rounds of exchanged pleasantries, we were allowed to go our way. Lord Golden had been given apartments on the west side of the keep. In King Shrewd’s day, these had been considered the less desirable rooms, for they faced the hills behind the keep and the sunset, rather than the water and the sunrise. In those days, they had been furnished more simply, and were considered suitable for lesser nobility.

      Either the status of the rooms had improved, or the Fool had been very lavish with his own money. I opened a heavy oak door for him at his gesture, and then followed him into chambers where both taste and quality had been indulged in equal measure. Deep greens and rich browns predominated in the thick rugs underfoot and the opulently cushioned chairs. Through a door I glimpsed an immense bed, fat with pillows and featherbed, and so heavily draped that even in Buck’s coldest winter, no draught would find the occupant. For the summer weather, the heavy curtains had been roped back with tasselled cords, and a fall of lace sufficed to keep all flying insects at bay. Carved chests and wardrobes stood casually ajar, the volume of garments within threatening to cascade out into the room. There was an air of rich and pleasant disorder, completely unlike the Fool’s ascetic tower room that I recalled of old.

      Lord Golden

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