And for a time, I put my life and time back in the old man’s hands. It would not be fair to say that I forgot my grief at losing Molly or stopped worrying about Bee or resigned myself to the Fool’s declining health. What I did was to step outside of my real life and step back into one in which all I had to do was obey Chade’s directives and report back to him what I had learned. There was deep comfort in that. It was almost healing to discover that despite all I had been through, all my losses and all my daily fears and worries, I was still Fitz and this was something I was still very good at.
When he had finished informing me for my task, he tilted his head toward the Fool’s bed. ‘How is he?’
‘Not himself. In pain and emotionally frail. I upset him and he went back to his bed. And immediately fell asleep.’
‘Not surprising. You’re wise to let him sleep.’ He picked up Bee’s parcel, weighed it in his hand and smiled indulgently. ‘I doubt that any child in Buckkeep Castle will get a heftier sack of holiday loot than this. I’ve an excellent courier. He’ll ride out tonight with this.’
‘Thank you,’ I said humbly.
He wagged a dismissive finger at me and then left, taking the package with him. I descended the hidden staircase to the room that had been mine when I was young and closed the door behind me. I halted there briefly to admire the staging of the room. There was a travelling case, of good quality, but dusty and battered as if it had come a long way. It was open and partially unpacked, with items of clothing draped carelessly over the chair. Several of the new-appearing items featured a plenitude of buttons. I made a cursory examination of the trunk’s contents. In addition to a selection of clothes that would fit me and were not obviously new, there was all that a man would be likely to pack for an extended stay. Anyone who sought to slip the lock on my room and inspect my things would most likely be convinced that I was indeed Lord Feldspar, right down to my monogrammed kerchiefs. I tucked one of those into my pocket and descended to the merrymaking of Winterfest Eve in Buckkeep.
And, oh, how I loved it. There was music and excellent food and drink of all manner flowed freely. Some people were enjoying smoke in tiny braziers at their tables. Young ladies in their best dresses flirted outrageously with young men in bright and impractical garb. More buttons. And I was not the only one in heeled slippers with twirled toes. Indeed my footwear was among the more modest in that regard. It made the lively dances of Winterfest a true contest of agility, and more than one youngster was brought low by an untimely slip.
I had only one bad moment, and that was when I glimpsed Web across the room. I became aware of Buckkeep’s Witmaster in a way that I can’t describe. I think as he quested toward me with his Wit, wondering why I seemed familiar, I somehow became aware of the magic’s touch on me. I turned away and made an excuse to leave that area of the room. I did not see him again that evening.
I located those Chade had bid me find, and insinuated myself into conversations. I appeared to drink a great deal more than I really did, and thoroughly enjoyed playing the role of a mildly inebriated lordling who bragged indiscreetly about the newfound wealth of his holdings. I moved among the merchants and tradesfolk rather than near the dais where the nobility and royalty congregated to socialize with trade delegates from Bingtown, Jamaillia and Kelsingra. I caught only passing glimpses of Lady Kettricken, dressed in a simple gown of pale yellow with trim of Buckkeep blue.
King Dutiful and Queen Elliania passed through the chamber, pacing sedately, accepting and bestowing greetings from the lesser nobles and well-placed merchants. King Dutiful was appropriately solemn and kingly. He had recently begun to cultivate a well-groomed beard which added to his gravitas. The queen smiled, and her hand rode on the back of Dutiful’s forearm. Her crown rode on a short crop of black curls not much longer than mine; I’d heard she had not allowed her hair to grow since she had lost a girl infant. This marked sign of her continued mourning troubled me even as I too well understood it, but I was glad to see her at the gathering.
The wild girl I had once watched leaping her pony over obstacles was a child no longer. She was small and dark and one might have expected tall, blonde Kettricken, the former Queen of the Six Duchies, to dominate the festivities. But she did not. The two had come into an accord years ago, and balanced one another well. Whereas Kettricken urged the kingdom to embrace new ways, new trading partners and new ways of doing things, Elliania was a traditionalist. Her matriarchal upbringing in the OutIslands had imbued her with confidence in her right to rule. Her two sons walked behind her, impeccably attired in Buckkeep blue, yet every silver button on their garments featured their mother’s leaping narwhal. I’d known them as babies and as small boys. Those days were long gone now. They were young men now, and Prince Integrity wore the simple crown of the King-in-Waiting. Prince Prosper favoured his OutIslander mother but had developed the Farseer brow. I smiled as the royal family passed, tears of pride stinging my eyes. Our doing, the Fool’s and mine. Peace between the Six Duchies and the OutIslands at last. I feigned a cough to dab at my watering eyes. I turned aside hastily and pushed my way deeper into the crowd. That sort of behaviour would never suit Lord Feldspar. Control yourself, Fitz.
Lord Feldspar, Chade and I had decided, bore a greedy merchant’s heart beneath his noble title. He would have no tender feelings toward his rulers, only a stony resolve to retain as much of his tax-money as he could. I played my role well. To every minor noble that deigned introduce himself to me, I muttered disconsolately over how much of my taxes had gone to fund these festivities and snarled at the thought of my money used to subsidize meat herds for dragons. Dragons! Those with the bad fortune to live near the dragons’ hunting territories should feed them. Or move. It was not up to me to pay for their poor choices! I insinuated myself into conversations near my targets, and made sure my complaints were audible.
I had expected that one of our noble guests would be the one to propose bypassing the tax collectors of the Six Duchies, but when I was finally targeted it was by a young man from Farrow. He was not a lord or a merchant, but the son of a man who operated freight barges on the river. He smiled and spoke me fair and made a dedicated effort to ply me with stronger drink. He was not one of Chade’s targets, but his sly hints that there was money to be made by a man who knew how to bypass the taxing agents at the river and sea-ports made me think that he was a thread that would bear following. I used the Skill to reach out mentally to Chade and became aware that my old mentor was using Thick’s strength to help him be fully aware not only of King Dutiful but of several of the coterie members. I kept my sending to him private and small as I drew his attention to my drinking partner.
Ah. Well done. That was all he Skilled back to me, but I shared his sense of satisfaction and knew I had given him the bit of information that made sense of some puzzle he had been working to solve.
I separated myself from the young man and mingled and wandered for several hours more. Winterfest was a significant holiday and the dukes and duchesses of all the Six Duchies were in attendance. I saw and was not seen as I recognized many an old friend or acquaintance from my earlier years. Duchess Celerity of Bearns had aged gracefully. Several lifetimes ago she had taken a fancy to FitzChivalry. I hoped she had had a good life. The little lad trotting at her heels was probably a grandson. Perhaps even a great-grandson. There were others, not just nobles but serving folk and tradesmen. Not as many as I would have recognized a score of years ago. Time’s nets had dragged many of them from this life.
The night grew deep, and the room was warm with the press of bodies and the sweat of the dancers. I was not surprised when the young river trader sought me out to introduce me to a very friendly sea captain from Bingtown. He introduced himself as a New Trader, and immediately shared with me that he had little patience for the Bingtown system of tithes and levies on foreign goods. ‘The Old Traders are wedged in their ways. If they will not shake off the past and realize they must open their doors to less restricted trade, well, there are those who will find a window.’ I nodded to him and asked if I might call on him the day after Winterfest. He gave me a small shingle of wood with the name of his ship and