Fool's Quest (The Fitz and The Fool Trilogy #2)

No sooner had I closed the hidden door behind me than I heard a forceful rap at the chamber door. “A moment,” I called, and Riddle spoke through the door, saying, “That’s a moment more than I’m to give you.” As I opened the door, he told me, “I’ve been sent to fetch you and bring you down to dinner regardless of objections or appearance. But actually, I think you’ve done very well with yourself.”

“And you,” I returned his barbed compliment, for truly Riddle looked little like his normal self. His white shirt was cuffed and collared in purple. Kettricken’s Mountain colors. His trousers were black. He was allowed to wear simple boots. I felt envy.

He lifted his chin and showed me his profile. “You don’t think I look more noble-blooded already? It’s Kesir Riddle now, which Kettricken explains would translate more as ‘servant’ than ‘lord,’ given the Mountain Kingdom philosophy on the duties of rulers. But tonight they will call me Kesir Riddle and I will sit at the high table.”

“Were you sent to escort me there, lest I fail to arrive on time? Or am I to be seen with you to impart my paternal approval of your marriage to my daughter?”

“Both, perhaps. Though I will admit it seems a bit odd that you should be in that role when you actually appear to be younger than I am.”

I had just shut the door behind me and locked it, or I think I would have insisted he stand beside me before the looking-glass. I turned my gaze on him and studied him in silence. Riddle was Riddle, and so I had seen him through the years. While he was scarcely a graybeard, when I surveyed him I noted the lines that now framed his mouth and that his hair was retreating from his brow. He grinned suddenly.

“You’ve missed your moment to charitably disagree with me, Tom. Oh. It’s time to abandon that, too, isn’t it? Come, Prince FitzChivalry Farseer. It’s time to descend and face the hordes of well-wishers.” He linked his arm through mine and marched me off with him as if he were escorting me to the gallows. As we walked the corridor and descended the stair, I pulled my awareness in. Prince FitzChivalry Farseer. Hero. Humble hero, coming out of a long exile in Withywoods after spending decades amongst the mythical Elderlings. I was the son of Chivalry Farseer, nephew to Verity. Cousin to King Dutiful. Defender of the crown. What would the folk, common and noble, want to see in this handcrafted hero?

By the time we were striding past folk in the halls, I knew that I was taciturn, but not too grave. I would be as interested in people as Web was, and whenever possible I would turn the conversation to who they were and what they had done. I would talk little and listen well. Modesty about my exploits would serve me until Chade and I could take counsel and decide exactly which ones were for public discussion.

Ah, that evening. I had made us all tardy, and I realized belatedly that I had significantly heightened Nettle’s anxiety by doing so. I walked at her left side and Riddle on her right, and as we processed through the corridors to the Great Hall, she whispered to me that I must come to the dawn meetings in Verity’s tower if I was to understand what was happening in Buckkeep Castle. For tonight, follow Chade’s lead and if in doubt, Skill to her for direction. I successfully concealed my amusement at her dictatorial tone by watching Riddle endeavoring to master his nervousness.

The Great Hall had been rearranged for the occasion. There was the high table, on its dais so all might watch the king and queen dine. A second, lower dais had been erected before it for chosen favorites and the dukes and duchesses in attendance. I found it reassuring, as it might act as a sort of barricade for any lesser assassin who might try to eliminate me. In the center of the hall, there was a third dais, bedecked with evergreen and holly thick with berries, as if we were just now commencing to celebrate Winterfest. Starling was seated there, before her harp, in the most extravagant minstrel’s garb that I had ever seen. As we entered, she struck a series of chords connected by stair steps of notes. She continued to play as we were seated, softening her volume when a page announced each of us as we took our places on the dais. I was introduced after Nettle and before Riddle, so the ripple of talk at my name muffled any astonishment there might have been to hear him named as not only a landed noble but wed to Lady Nettle.

The food was brought to us swiftly. I am sure it was excellent, though I barely noticed. I ate little and drank less and looked around with wide eyes as if I had never seen the Great Hall before. And in truth, I had not ever seen it from that vantage point. As the dishes were being cleared and wine and brandy brought, Starling struck up her harp more aggressively, and soon launched into a second rendition of last night’s song. I noted that she had modified it somewhat, and wondered if that had been Chade or Kettricken’s work. This night, there was mention of King Shrewd’s jester and how he had aided Kettricken’s escape and accompanied her on her flight to her father’s house. The Fool was given credit for rescuing me when I was injured and restoring me to Kettricken’s side. He was even mentioned as helping me wake the stone dragons that had risen to Verity’s aid. It pleased me to hear him given his due before such an august company, and I wished he had been there to hear it.