Fool’s Quest

“And your friend is to occupy the chambers once given to Lord Golden. Familiar rooms for him, though I am not to divulge that to anyone save you. I am to serve him now. As well as you, of course. I’ll have a room that is part of his chambers.”

A room I once occupied. I found my voice. “It sounds as if you’ve had a change in occupation as well.”

She shook her head and a curl escaped from her cap to dance on her brow. “Oh, no, sir, I’ve been a serving girl since I came to Buckkeep Castle.” She smiled but there was worry in her eyes. We shared that anxiety.

“Of course you have. Thank you.”

“Oh, your key, sir. Here. To your new chambers.”

“Thank you.” I accepted it gravely. “I think I shall call on Lord Chade now.”

“As you will, sir, I’m sure.” She curtsied again, this time with a bit of a flourish, then turned and hurried off. I made my way to Chade’s chambers, suspecting that he was behind these changes, for some arcane reason of his own. I expected he would explain everything to me.

I tapped on the door, and a servant admitted me. I turned toward his bedchamber, but the serving man waved toward the sitting room instead. I breathed a sigh of relief. He was better, then.

His sitting room was decorated in moss green and acorn brown. A handsome portrait of King Shrewd in his prime hung over the fireplace. A warm and spicy aroma from a steaming pot flavored the air. Chade, attired in a soft dressing gown, was seated by the fire. Shine sat in a cushioned chair across from him, a cup in her hands. She wore a simple and modest dress, and the green brought out her eyes. Her hair was braided and coiled at the back of her neck. Kettricken’s influence, I was certain. They both looked toward me as I entered. Shine seemed apprehensive to see me.

But it was Chade who stopped me in my tracks. He smiled at me benevolently. It was an old man’s gentle, bemused smile. In the short time since I’d last seen him, he’d aged. I could see the shape of his skull beneath the thinning flesh on his face. His eyes looked almost glassy. I wondered for an instant if he recognized me. Then, “Oh, there you are, my boy. Just in time. Shine has made us some tea. It’s lovely. Would you care for some?”

“What kind is it? I don’t recognize the fragrance.” I advanced slowly into the room. Chade gestured to a chair beside his own, and I cautiously sank into it.

“Oh, it’s tea, you know. Made from spices and whatnot. Ginger, I think. Licorice root, perhaps? It’s sweet. And spicy. Very pleasant on a cold day.”

“Thank you,” I said, for Shine had already poured a cup and was offering it to me. I smiled as I took it. “It’s almost as if you were expecting me.”

“Oh, it’s always nice to have company. I was hoping Lant would come by. Have you met my boy Lant?”

“Yes. Yes, I have. You sent him to me at Withywoods, remember? To be a teacher for my little girl. For Bee.”

“I did? Yes, yes. A teacher. Lant would do well at that. He’s a kind soul. A gentle soul.”

He was nodding as he spoke. No. Not nodding. It was a palsy, a shaking of his head. I glanced at Shine. She met my gaze, but said nothing.

“Chade. Please,” I said, not knowing what I asked for. “Are you well?”

“He’s well enough,” Shine said, warning me. “When no one makes him fret. Or brings up unpleasant things.” I wondered if she were not in much the same state.

I lifted the cup of tea to my mouth and let it lap against my lip as I smelled it. No herbs that I knew as medicine. I watched Shine take a sip of hers. Her gaze met mine. “There are some calming herbs in the tea as well. But they are very mild.”

“Very mild,” Chade agreed and again gave me an unnervingly genial smile.

I broke my gaze from his and addressed Shine directly. “What’s wrong with him?”

She gave me a puzzled look. “My father seems fine to me. He’s glad to have me here.”

Chade nodded. “I am that,” he agreed.

Shine spoke quietly. “He’s stopped using the Skill to hide his aging. He mustn’t use it anymore, nor the herbs he was using.”

I let my gaze wander the room, trying to suppress the panic that was rising in me. From his portrait, King Shrewd looked down on me. His keen glance and determined Farseer chin only reminded me the more sharply of how his mind had faded and faltered before his time, a victim of his wasting illness, his pain and the drugs he took to suppress it. Something in Shine’s words snagged on my thoughts.

“How do you know that? That he can’t use the Skill?”

She looked mildly startled, as if I’d asked a rude question. “Lady Nettle, the Skillmistress, told me. She explained he had used it to excess, in ways that exceeded his ability to control. She said she could not explain it to me perfectly, as I don’t have that magic. But she said he was vulnerable now. That he must not try to Skill, and no one must try to Skill to him.”

I answered the question she didn’t ask. “I’m no danger to him. I drank a very strong elfbark tea, to be sure that Vindeliar could not cloak my thoughts and perceptions. It takes away the ability to Skill. And it has not come back.”