return until the night falls,’ Miskya told me. ‘Oh, Fennel, stop being a pest. Come here.’ She took the cat from my arms, tsk-ing over the coating of tawny hair that clung to my jerkin.
‘No matter that, I assure you. But, oh, this is awkward,’ I apologized, and told her that my master had suddenly decided to take a journey and I must accompany him. I left with her the letter Chade had written for Hap, along with a note from me to my boy. Nighteyes would not be pleased to reach the city and find me gone. Nor would he relish lingering there, waiting for me. I belatedly realized I was leaving Jinna not just my son, but a wolf, a pony and a cart to tend until my return. I wondered if Chade could be of any help with that. I had no coin to leave for their keep, only my greatest thanks and deepest assurances that I would make good any expenses she encountered on their behalf.
‘So you’ve told me, Tom Badgerlock.’ Miskya smiled at me in gentle rebuke, obviously humouring my worry. Fennel tucked his head under her chin and regarded me severely. ‘Three times now you’ve told me that you’ll be back soon and pay us well. Rest comfortable, your son will be in good hands and welcome here, pay or not. I doubt you asked coin of my aunt when you welcomed her to your home.’
At Miskya’s words, I realized I had been clucking on like an apprehensive hen. With an effort, I stopped myself from explaining again just how sudden and urgent my errand was. By the time I had conveyed my awkward thanks, I felt completely disorganized and bemuddled. Scattered, as if parts of me were at my abandoned home and with Nighteyes and Hap, and even in the tower room at Buckkeep. I felt vulnerable and exposed. ‘Well, goodbye,’ I offered Miskya.
Sleeping in the sun is nicer. Take a nap with the cat, Fennel suggested as Miskya told me, ‘Travel well.’
As I walked away from Jinna’s house, guilt gnawed at me. I was leaving my responsibilities for strangers to deal with. I rigorously denied my disappointment at not seeing Jinna again before I left. The single kiss she had given me hung waiting, like a conversation unconcluded, but I refused to contemplate where it might lead. As complicated as things were, adding another tangle to my life was the last thing I should consider. Yet I had looked forwards to seeing her again, and being denied that dimmed my excitement at the journey.
For I was excited to be on my way. The guilt that I felt at leaving Hap’s welfare to someone else was an odd reflection of how freed I felt by this undertaking. In a short time the Fool and I would ride off together into El knew what, with only ourselves to look after. It promised to be a pleasant ride in fair weather with a good companion. There was more of holiday to it than errand. My fears for Prince Dutiful had been largely laid to rest by last night’s dream. The boy had been in no physical danger. Intoxicated with the night and the woman he pursued, the only danger was to his young heart, and no one could shield him from that. Truth to tell, I did not see my task as particularly difficult. We knew where to look for the lad, and with or without my wolf, I had always been a good tracker. If Lord Golden and I did not immediately flush the young prince from Galekeep, then I would track him down in the surrounding hills. Doubtless we would not be gone long. With that reassuring thought, I salved my conscience and went on to the smithy.
I had not expected much of a horse. Almost, I had feared that the Fool’s sense of humour would express itself through Lord Golden’s selection of horseflesh. I found the smith’s girl cooling herself with water from the rain barrel and told her I had come to fetch the horse Lord Golden had left for shoeing. She bobbed her head in understanding, and I waited where she left me standing. The day was warm enough. I had no desire to enter the inferno of noise and heat that was the blacksmith’s shop.
The girl was back soon enough, leading a rangy black mare. I walked round her once and looked up to find she was regarding me with the same wary gaze I was giving her. She appeared sound and unscarred by misuse. I quested lightly towards her. She snorted and would not look at me, refusing the contact. She had no interest in being friends with a human.
‘She was a nasty bit to shoe,’ the smith informed me loudly as he came sweating from his shop. ‘No manners about lifting her feet for a man to handle. And she’ll kick if she gets the chance, so mind that. Tried to take a nip out of my girl, too. But it was only while we were shoeing her. The rest of the time, she minded her manners well enough.’
I thanked him for his warnings and gave him the promised purse from Lord Golden. ‘Has she a name that you know?’ I asked him.
The smith pursed his lips and shook his head. ‘Never saw her afore this morning. If she had a name, she likely lost it in the horse-trade. Call her what you will; likely she’ll ignore it.’ I set the issue of her name aside. Her worn halter went with her, and by that I led her down to a saddler. I purchased plain, serviceable tack and despite my best bargaining efforts, I was still outraged at what they charged for it. The man’s expression plainly said he thought me unreasonable. As I went outside with the tack I had selected, I wondered if I truly were. I had never had to purchase tack before; perhaps Burrich’s obsession with repairing tack had been founded on how much the stuff cost.
The mare had been restive as I had tried several saddles on her, and when I tried to mount her, danced sideways. Once I was up, she answered the reins and my knees, but sloppily. I scowled at that but schooled myself to patience with her. Perhaps after we had taken one another’s measures she would serve me better. And if she did not, well, patience was required to unteach any horse’s bad habits. I had best accustom myself to that now. As I rode her carefully up the steep streets of Buckkeep Town, I reflected that perhaps I had been far more spoiled in my youth than I had ever known. Excellent horses, good tack, fine weapons, decent clothing, plentiful food: I had taken so much for granted.
A horse? I could teach a horse whatever it needs teaching. Why do you need a horse?
Nighteyes had slipped into my mind so easily I’d scarce been aware of him sharing my thoughts. I have to go somewhere. With the Scentless One.
Must it be on horseback? He didn’t allow me time to reply. I sensed his annoyance. Wait for me. I’m nearly there.
Nighteyes, no, don’t come to me. Stay with the boy. I’ll be back soon enough.
But he was gone, and my own thought was left hanging unanswered. I quested towards him but found only fog. He wouldn’t argue with me. He simply wouldn’t hear me telling him to stay with Hap.
The guards at the gate scarcely gave me a glance. I frowned and resolved to speak about that to Chade. Just because I was wearing blue clothing did not mean I had legitimate business in the castle. I rode up to the stable doors, dismounted, and then halted, heart hammering. From inside the stable came the voice of a man genially instructing someone in how to correctly clean a horse’s hooves. Years had deepened the voice, but I still recognized it. Hands, my boyhood friend and now the Stablemaster at Buckkeep, was just inside the open doors. My mouth went dry. The last time he had seen me, he had regarded me as either a ghost or a demon, and run shouting for the guards. That had been years ago. I was much changed, I told myself, but could put no faith in the years as my sole disguise. I took refuge in becoming Tom Badgerlock.
‘Here, boy,’ I summoned a lad loitering outside the stable. ‘Put this horse up for me. She belongs to Lord Golden, so see she is well treated.’
‘Yes, sir,’ he replied. ‘He sent us word to watch for Tom Badgerlock and a black mare, and to saddle up his own horse as soon as you returned. He said to tell you that you’re wanted up in his rooms as soon as you show.’ With that, he took my mare away without another word. I breathed out, relieved at how easily I had passed that hurdle, and turned away from the stable. Before I had gone a dozen steps, a man hurried past me, evidently on an errand of his own. As he passed me he gave me not a glance. I stared after Hands. He had put on girth with the years, but then, so had I. His dark hair was thinning on his head, but bristled thicker than ever on his brawny arms. In a moment he turned a corner and was out of sight. I stood staring after him, feeling as if I truly were a ghost, invisible in his world. Then I took a breath and hurried on my own way. In time, I reflected, he would catch a glimpse of Tom Badgerlock here and there about the keep, and by the time we stood face to face, I would have assumed that name and identity so completely that he would not