Golden Fool (27 page)

“Stones?” I interrupted him.

He sighed again. “I made myself a game cloth and playing pieces. I thought I could get better at it by playing against someone besides you.”

I strangled back an objection. Was there any reason why he should not introduce his friends to the game? None that I could think of. Yet it disgruntled me.

“I had played a game or two with Civil, which he lost. As he should and did expect to, for no one plays a game well the first few times one is shown it. But he had declared he had had enough of it for now, that it was not the sort of game he relished, and he got up from the table and went over to the hearth to talk to someone else. Well, Lady Vance had been watching us play earlier in the evening, and had said she wanted to learn, but we were in the midst of the game then, so there had been no place for her. But she had been standing by our table, watching us play, and when Civil left, instead of following him as I thought she would, for she had seemed very attentive to him, she sat down in his place. I had been putting the cloth and pieces away, but she reached over and seized my hand and commanded that I should set the game out afresh, for now it was her turn.”

“Lady Vance?”

“Oh, you wouldn’t have met her. She’s, let me see, about seventeen and she’s quite nice. Her full name is Advantage, but she thinks it’s too long. She’s very friendly and tells funny stories and, well, I don’t know, she’s just more comfortable to be around than most girls. She doesn’t always seem to be, you know, so aware that she is a girl. She acts just like anybody else. Lord Shemshy of Shoaks is her uncle.” He shrugged a shoulder, dismissing my concern over who she was. “Anyway, she wanted to play, and even when I warned her that she’d likely lose the first few games, she said she didn’t care, that in fact if I would play her five straight games, she’d wager she’d win at least two of them. One of her friends overheard that and came close to the table, and asked what the wager was on the bet. And Lady Vance said that if she won, she wanted me to go riding with her on the morrow—that’s today—and that if I won, well, I could name my own stakes. And the way she said it was, well, daring me to make her bet something that might be a bit, well, improper or . . .”

“Like a kiss,” I suggested, my heart sinking. “Or something of that sort.”

“You know I wouldn’t go that far!”

“So how far did you go?” Did Chade know anything of this? Or Queen Kettricken? How late last night had it happened? And how much wine had been involved?

“I said if she lost, she had to bring breakfast for Civil and me to Mirror Hall and serve it to us herself, owning up that what had been said earlier was true, that Stones is not a game that a girl can master.”

“What? Dutiful, this game was taught to me by a woman!”

“Well—” He had the grace to look uncomfortable. “I didn’t know that. You had said it was part of your Skill training. I thought my father had taught it to you.
So . . . wait. Then a woman helped train you in the Skill? I’d thought it had only been my father who taught you.”

I cursed my carelessness. “Leave that,” I commanded him crossly. “Finish your story.”

He snorted, and gave me a glance that promised he’d come back to his question later. “Very well. And besides, it wasn’t I that said that to Elliania, it was Civil, and—”

“Said what to Elliania?” Dread clutched at me.

“That it wasn’t a game for a girl’s mind. Civil said it to her. Civil and I were playing, and she came up and said that she’d like to learn. But . . . well, Civil doesn’t like Elliania much. He says she is just like Sydel, that girl that insulted him and trampled his feelings, that Elliania is only interested in making a good match. So. He doesn’t like her to stand near us when we talk or are playing games of chance.” He flinched before my scowl, and added grumpily, “Well, she’s not like Lady Vance. Elliania is always being a girl, she’s always so aware of what are proper manners and what courtesies are due between folk. She’s so correct that she’s always wrong. If you see what I mean?”

“It sounds to me as if she is a foreigner at the court, intent on complying with our customs. But go on with the story.”

“Well. Civil knows that about her, that she always strives to be absolutely correct in her manners. So he knew that the fastest way to be rid of her was to tell her that in the Six Duchies, Stones was considered a man’s occupation. He explained it to her in a way that seemed like he was being kind, but at the same time it was horribly funny, in a cruel sort of way, because she doesn’t speak the language well enough or know our customs well enough to realize how ridiculous his excuse was . . . Don’t look at me like that, Tom.
I
didn’t do it. And once he had begun to do it, there was no way I could put a stop to it without making it worse. So. Anyway. He had told her that the Stone game wasn’t for girls, and Elliania had left us and gone off to stand near her uncle’s shoulder. He was playing toss-bones with her father, at a table way on the other side of the hall. So. She wasn’t anywhere near us when Lady Vance sat down. Well. I set up the game and we began to play. The first two games went exactly as I had supposed they would. On the third game, I made a silly mistake, and she won. The fourth game, I won. And now—I think I deserve credit for this—halfway through the fifth game, I realized how it might be seen as improper when she lost if she actually did come to serve breakfast to Civil and me. I mean, even Duke Shemshy might see it as an insult, his niece acting as a servant to us, even if it didn’t bother Elliania or Mother. So. I decided it might be better to let her win. I’d still have to take her riding, but I could make sure there were others with us, perhaps even Elliania.”

“So you let her win.” I said the words heavily.

“Yes. I did. And by then, because she had been quite excited when she won the third game, laughing and shouting and calling out to all that she had bested me, well, by then there was quite a group of people gathered around us, watching us play. So, when she won the final game, she was crowing over her victory, and one of her friends said to me, ‘Well, my lord, it seems you were badly mistaken earlier when you said this was not a game a girl could master.’ And I said . . . I only meant to be clever, Tom, I swear, not to offer insult. I said—”

“What did you say?” I asked harshly as he faltered.

“Only that no girl could master it, but perhaps a beautiful woman could. And everyone laughed, and lifted glasses to drink a toast to that. So we drank, and then it was cups down. And only then did I realize that Elliania was standing there, at the edge of the crowd. She hadn’t drunk with us, and she didn’t say a word. She just stared at me, with her face very still. Then she turned and walked away. I don’t know what she said to her uncle, but he stood up immediately, and gave over the game to her father, even though there was quite a stack of coins riding on the outcome. And the two of them left the gaming hall and went directly to their chambers.”

I leaned back in my chair, striving to think my way through it. Then I shook my head and asked, “Does your lady mother know of this yet?”

He sighed. “I do not think so. She excused herself early from the gaming last night.”

“Or Chade.”

He winced, already dreading the councilor’s opinion of his rashness. “No. He too left the tables early. He seems weary and distracted of late.”

Too well did I know that. I shook my head slowly. “This is not something that can be solved with the Skill, lad. Wiser to take it immediately to those who know diplomacy the best. And then do whatever they say.”

“What do you think they will demand of me?” There was dread in his voice.

“I don’t know. I think a direct apology might be a mistake; it would only confirm that you had insulted her. But . . . Oh, I don’t know, Dutiful. Diplomacy has never been my talent. But perhaps Chade will know something you can do. Some special attention from you to confirm that you do think Elliania is beautiful and a woman.”

“But I don’t.”

I ignored his bitter little contradiction. “And above all, do not go out riding alone with Lady Vance. I suspect you’d be wise to avoid her company entirely.”

He slapped his hand on the table in frustration. “I can’t back out on paying my wager!”

“Then go,” I snapped. “But if I were you, I’d be sure that Elliania rode at my side, and that your conversation was with her. If Civil is as good a friend as you say he is, perhaps he can help you. Ask him to distract Lady Vance’s attention from you, make it appear as if he is the one accompanying her on the ride.”

“What if I don’t want her attention distracted from me?”

Now he sounded simply stubborn and contrary, as vexing as Hap the last time I had seen him. I simply looked at him, flat and level, until he cast his eyes aside. “You’d best go now,” I told him.

“Will you go with me?” His voice was very soft. “To speak to Mother and Chade?”

“You know I cannot. And even if I could, I think you’d best do this on your own.”

He cleared his throat. “This morning, when we ride. Will you go with me then?”

I hesitated, then suggested, “Invite Lord Golden. That isn’t a promise to be there, only that I’ll think it over.”

“And do what Chade thinks is best.”

“Probably. He’s always been better than I at these niceties.”

“Niceties. Pah. I’m so sick of them, Tom. It’s why Lady Vance is so much easier to be with. She’s just herself.”

“I see,” I said, but I reserved judgment on that. I wondered if Lady Vance was just a woman who had set her cap for a prince, or someone else’s playing piece, positioned to set Kettricken’s game awry. Well. We’d all find out soon enough.

The Prince left me, locking the door behind him. I stood, silent and considering in the tower room, listening to the sound of his footsteps on the stone steps fade away. I caught the raised voice of the guard’s greeting at the bottom of the steps. I cast my eyes around the room, blew out the candle on the table, and then left, carrying another taper to light my way.

I stopped by Chade’s tower room on the way back to my servant’s chamber. I stepped out of the secret door, then halted, surprised to find both Chade and Thick in the room. Chade had evidently been waiting for me. Thick looked sullen and sleepy, his heavy-lidded eyes even droopier than usual.

“Good morning,” I greeted them, and, “Yes, it is,” Chade responded. His eyes were bright and he appeared well pleased about something. I waited for him to share it with me, but instead he said, “I’ve asked Thick to be here early this morning. So we could all talk.”

“Oh.” I could think of no more to say than that. Now wasn’t the time to tell Chade I’d wished he had warned me first. I would not talk over Thick’s head in his presence. I remembered too well how I had once underestimated the cunning of a little girl and spoken too freely. Rosemary had been Regal’s treacherous little pet. I doubted that Thick was anyone’s spy, but what I didn’t say in front of him, he could not repeat.

“How is the Prince this morning?” Chade asked me suddenly.

“He’s well,” I replied guardedly. “But there is something he’ll wish to see you about, something rather urgent. You might wish to be, uh, where you can easily be found. Soon.”

“Prince sad,” Thick confirmed dolorously. He shook his heavy head commiseratingly.

My heart sank, but I resolved to test him. “No, Thick, the Prince isn’t sad. He’s merry. He has gone to have a fine breakfast with all his friends.”

Thick scowled at me. For an instant, his tongue stuck out even farther than usual, and his lower lip sagged pendulously. Then, “No. Prince is a sad song today. Stupid girls. A sad song. La-la-la-le-lo-lo-lo-o.” The dimwit sang a mournful little dirge.

I glanced at Chade. He was watching our exchange closely. His eyes never left me as he asked Thick, “And how is Nettle today?”

I kept my face expressionless. I tried hard to breathe normally, but suddenly I could not quite remember how.

“Nettle is worried. The dream man won’t talk to her anymore, and her father and brother argue. Yah, yah, yah, yah, her head hurts with it, and her song is sad. Na-na-na-na, na-na-na-na.” It was a different tune for Nettle’s sadness, one fraught with tension and uneasiness. Then suddenly Thick stopped in mid-note. He looked at me and then jeered triumphantly, “Dogstink doesn’t like this.”

“No. He doesn’t,” I agreed flatly. I crossed my arms on my chest and moved my glare from Thick to Chade. “This isn’t fair,” I said. Then I clenched my jaw over how childish that sounded.

“Indeed, it isn’t,” Chade agreed blandly. Then, “Thick, you may go if you wish. I think you’ve finished your chores here.”

Thick pursed his lips thoughtfully. “Bring the wood. Bring the water. Take the dishes. Bring the food. Fix the candles.” He picked his nose. “Yes. Chores done.” He started to go.

“Thick,” I said, and when he halted, scowling, I asked, “Do the other servants still hit Thick, take his coins? Or is it better now?”

He frowned at me, his brow wrinkling. “The other servants?” He looked vaguely alarmed.

“The other servants. They used to ‘hit Thick, take his coins,’ remember?” I tried to copy his inflection and gesture. Instead of jogging his memory, it made him draw back from me in panic. “Never mind,” I said hastily. My effort to remind him that perhaps he owed me a favor had instead worsened his opinion of me. Thrusting out his lower lip, he backed away from me.

“Thick. Don’t forget the tray,” Chade reminded him gently.

The serving man scowled, but he came back for a tray of dishes that held the remains of Chade’s breakfast. He took it up and then crabbed hastily from the room as if I might attack him.

When the wine rack swung back into place behind him, I sat down in my chair. “So?” I asked Chade.

“So, indeed,” he replied agreeably. “Were you ever going to tell me?”

“No.” I leaned back in my chair, and then decided there was nothing more to say about it. Instead, I settled on a distraction. “Earlier I told you that Dutiful has something urgent to speak about with you. You should be available.”

“What is it?”

I gave him a look. “I think what my prince wishes to tell you would come best directly from him.” I bit down on my tongue before I could add, “Of course, you could always ask Thick what it is about.”