Fool’s Assassin

I had never seen Revel flush pink with pleasure, but he did now. His brown eyes suddenly twinkled at me, and to my shock I realized I’d made him my friend. I turned from him to my father. I had come seeking him, intending to ask him for new winter boots and some longer tunics. But I now perceived that I must not ask for those things in front of the servants. I looked round at them, Careful and Revel and the man installing the bed hangings. He was nearly finished now, and Careful was stepping forward and giving a final tug to make them hang straight. I had known Revel all my life, but I had lived like the feral kitten, slipping past the tall house steward without a word. What possible interest could such a dignified and important adult have in me? And yet here he was, taking absolute joy in creating this room for me.

And now Careful would obviously become part of my world. All of the enlarged ranks of folk that would populate Withywoods would now be people I must encounter and speak to every day. And there would be other children, larger than me but equal in years, in the schoolroom with me every day. So many people were becoming part of my world. How would I deal with so many people?

Part of my world, but not part of my family. My father was my family. And he and I must stand back-to-back, always, and defend ourselves against all gossip and speculation. I was not sure why that was so … and then I knew. They might call me Bee Badgerlock, but I knew that in truth I was Bee Farseer. That knowledge was like a brick being set in place to fill up a chink in a wall. I was a Farseer. Like my father. So I smiled and took care to speak clearly as I said, “I came to ask when the tutor might be ready to begin my lessons, Father. I am very eager to start.”

I saw understanding dawn in my father’s eyes, and he played to our audience as well. “He has said that he thinks he could begin in two days. He is finally feeling recovered from his journey.”

His beating, I thought. Such a polite pretense we were all sharing, but enough had seen his battered face when he arrived to know why our new tutor was keeping to his rooms and bed.

“That is wonderful, then.” I looked slowly around my new room, smiling large to be sure that all would see and know how pleased I was with it. “The room is finished? I may sleep here tonight?”

Revel smiled. “As soon as the bedding is smoothed on the bed, mistress.”

“Thank you. I’m sure I will love being here. There are some things in my old room that I will want to bring here. I’ll fetch them.”

“Oh, little need, Lady Bee, I assure you!” Revel strode to the chest at the foot of my new bed and flung it open. He went down on one knee and beckoned me over as his long fingers crawled down the stack of folded fabrics. “An extra blanket of yellow and cream, for when the nights are very cold. And here, a lap rug for when you want to sit in your window. A new red shawl with a hood. Now, as we had to dispose of so much of your wardrobe, I had Seamstress Lily fashion you some new tunics. Looking at you, I fear we have made them too large, but they will suffice until we have time to get a proper fitting done. See, here is a brown one with yellow trim, and here a green one. This one is a bit plain; would you like some embroidery done round the hems? Never mind, of course you would. I’ll send it to the seamstresses.”

I had stopped listening. Revel was wallowing in his enjoyment. His words flowed past me. I did not know how to feel. All this new clothing, all at once, and none of it made by my mother’s hands. No one had held it up against me to check the length, or asked if I would have flowers or scrolls round the hem. I knit my brow and tried to comprehend my mother’s death, all over again. Every time I thought I had mastered it, some new manifestation of it would overwhelm me.

Revel had finished. I was smiling. Smiling, smiling, smiling. I looked at my father desperately and managed to stammer out, “It’s all so lovely. Still, there are a few things I will bring from my other room. Thank you all so much.”

Then I fled. I hoped I exited gracefully, but once I was out of the room, I ran. I skittered past two servants carrying in a rolled-up rug, turned down the hall, and found the door of my old room. I bolted inside and shut the door behind me.

The hearth was swept, empty, and cold. The stripped bed frame looked skeletal. I made myself go to the door of the maid’s room and peer in. It was as bare. The heavy bedstead was still pushed into the corner, the headboard neatly obscuring the subtle joins in the woodwork that concealed my entrance. That, at least, was still safe.