“Fitz,” Chade said, and I started at his voice, my thoughts having carried me so far afield. “Don't worry so. If Web meant to do us harm, there'd be little advantage in tipping his hand. He's going with us on the Prince's quest, so we can keep an eye on him. And talk to him. You, especially, should seek him out. Pretend you wish to learn more of the Wit. That will win him over to you.”
I sighed softly. I was sick of deception. I said as much to Chade. He snorted callously.
“You were born for deception, Fitz. Born for it. Just as I was, just as all bastards are. We're tricky things, sons but not heirs, royal but not princes. I would have thought that by now you would have accepted that.”
I only said, “I'll try to get to know Web better on the voyage and see what he's about.”
Chade nodded sagely. “A ship's a good place to do that. Little for men to do but talk on a voyage. And if he proves to be a danger to us . . . well.”
He didn't have to say that many mishaps could befall a man at sea. I wished he had said nothing at all. But he was talking on.
“Did you put it into Starling's head to go with us? For she asked. Gave the Queen a long-winded speech about how a minstrel should go to bring home a clean telling of the Prince's adventure.”
“Not I. Did the Queen give her permission?”
“I refused it, saying that all the places on the Prince's ship were already spoken for, and that the minstrel Cockle had already claimed a spot. Why? Do you think she'd be useful?”
“No. I fear this may be like the last quest I went on; the less truth that comes home with us, the better.” I was relieved that Chade had refused Starling, and yet some sneaking part of me was mildly disappointed. That feeling shamed me too much to examine it closely.
The next day, I managed to see Hap. It was only a brief visit, and we talked while he worked. One of the journeymen was doing an inlay project, and had asked Hap to do the sanding of the pieced bits. It looked deadly dull to me, but Hap seemed absorbed in the work when I approached him. He smiled wearily when I greeted him, and gravely accepted the small gifts and mementos I'd brought him. When I asked how he was, he didn't pretend to misunderstand. “Svanja and I are still together, her parents still don't know, and I'm still juggling that with my duties as an apprentice. But I think I'm managing it. My hope is that if I apply myself here, I can make journeyman quickly. Once I have that status, I think I can present myself to Svanja's father as a likely marriage prospect for his daughter.” He sighed. “I'm so tired of the sneaking about, Tom. I think Svanja relishes it, that it makes it more exciting for her. But for me, well, I like things settled and done right. Once I'm a journeyman, I can make everything as it should be.”
I bit my tongue before saying that apprenticeships lasted years, not months. We both knew that. What mattered was that Hap was not shirking his training, but delving into it in the hopes of realizing his dreams. What more could I ask of him? So I embraced my son and told him I would be thinking of him. The hug he returned me was fierce. “I won't shame you, Tom. I promise I won't shame you.”
With the rest of the guardsmen, I loaded my sea chest onto a wagon and followed it down to the docks. Buckkeep Town was decked for Spring Fest. Flowers garlanded door lintels and banners fluttered. The doors to taverns and common houses stood open, with song and the smell of holiday food wafting from them. Some of the men grumbled about missing the holiday but the first day of spring was a fortuitous day for beginning a journey.
Tomorrow morning, we'd make a show of escorting the Prince aboard. Today we boarded the Maiden's Chance and jostled companionably for space on the lower deck allotted to us. Our area was dark, airless, and thick with the stink of men in close quarters and the bilge below us. I hit my head twice on the low joists, and after that walked hunched. We would be crowded cheek by jowl, with little privacy and no quiet. The smoke-darkened timbers seemed to breathe out a miasma of oppressiveness. The water lapped loudly against the outside of the hull as if to remind me that only a plank of wood stood between the cold, wet sea and me.
I stowed my gear quickly, already anxious to be out of there. I little cared where my trunk was lashed down; I resolved to spend as much time above deck in the open air as I could. About half the guard were veterans of this sort of journey. They made much of the fact that we had an area separate from the working sailors, whom they despised as drunks, thieves, and brawlers. Personally, I suspected the seamen regarded the guardsmen in much the same light.
