There was a large cushion in a sturdy basket near the hearth. The hair that clung to it was short, yet fine. The stoutly woven basket bore the marks of errant claws. I did not need the wolf’s nose to smell cat in the room. I lifted the cushion, and found playthings beneath it: a rabbitskin tied to a length of heavy twine, and a canvas toy stuffed with catmint. I raised my eyebrows to that, wondering if hunting cats were affected by it as mousing cats were.
The room yielded me little else: no hidden journal of princely thoughts, no defiant runaway’s final note to his mother, nothing to suggest that the Prince had been spirited away against his will. I retreated quietly from his rooms, leaving all as I had found it.
My route took me past the door of my old boyhood room. I paused, tempted. Who stayed there now? The hallway was empty and I yielded to the impulse. The lock on the door was the one I had devised, and it demanded my rusty skills to get past it. It was so stiff I was persuaded it had not turned in some time. I shut the door behind me and stood still, smelling dust.
The tall window was shuttered, but the shutters were, as they had always been, a poor fit. Daylight leaked past them, and after a few moments, my eyes adjusted to the dusky light. I looked around. There, my bedstead, with cobwebs embroidering the familiar hangings. The cedar clothing chest at the foot of it was thick with dust. The hearth, empty, black, and cold. And above it, the faded tapestry of King Wisdom treating with the Elderlings. I stared at it. When I was a boy of nine, it had given me nightmares. Time had not changed my opinion of the oddly elongated forms. The golden Elderlings stared down on the lifeless and empty room.
I suddenly felt as if I had disturbed a grave. As silently as I had entered the chamber, I left it, locking the door behind me.
I had thought to find Lord Golden in his chambers, but he was not there. “Lord Golden?” I inquired, and then advanced to tap lightly at the door of his private chamber. I swear I did not touch the catch, but it swung open at my touch.
Light flooded out. The small chamber had a window, and the setting sun filled it with gold. It was a pleasant, open room that smelled of wood shavings and paint. In the corner, a plant in a tub climbed a trellis. Hanging on the walls, I recognized charms such as Jinna made. On the worktable in the middle of the room, amongst the scattered tools and paint pots, there were pieces of rod, string, and beads, as if he had disassembled a charm. I found I had taken a step into the room. There was a scroll weighted flat on the table, with several charms drawn on it. They were unlike anything I had seen in Jinna’s shop. Even at a glance, the sketches were oddly unsettling. I remember that, I thought, and then, when I looked closer, I was absolutely certain I had never seen the like before. A shiver ran down my back. The little beads had faces; the rods were carved with spinning spirals. The longer I stared, the more they disturbed me. I felt as if I could not quite get my breath, as if they were pulling me into them. “Come away.” The Fool spoke softly from behind me. I could not reply.
I felt his hand on my shoulder and it broke the spell. I turned at his touch. “I’m sorry,” I said instantly. “The door was ajar and I—”
“I did not expect you back so soon, or it would have been latched.”
That was all he said, and then he drew me from the room and shut the door firmly behind us.
I felt as if he had pulled me back from a precipice. I drew a shaky breath. “What were those?”
“An experiment. What you told me of Jinna’s charms made me curious, so when I reached Buckkeep Town, I resolved to see them for myself. Once I had, I wanted to know how they worked. I wanted to know if the charm could only be made by a hedge-witch, or if the magic was in the way they were assembled. And I wanted to know if I could make them work better.” His voice was neutral, “How can you stand to be around them?” I demanded. Even now, the hair on the back of my neck was standing.
“They are tuned to humans. You forget that I am a White.”
The statement left me as speechless as the insidious little sketches had. I looked at the Fool and for one blink I could see him as if for the first time. As attractive as his coloring was, I had never seen any other person with it. There were other differences, the way his wrists attached his hands to his arms, the airiness of his hair… but when our eyes met, I was looking at my old friend again. It was like jolting back to the earth after a fall. I suddenly recalled what I had done. “I’m sorry. I didn’t intend to… I know you need your privacy—” I felt shamed and hot blood rushed to my face.
He was silent for a moment. Then he said justly, “When I came to your home, you hid nothing from me.” I sensed that the statement reflected his idea of what was fair rather than his emotions on the topic.
“I won’t go in there again,” I promised fervently.
That brought a small smile to his face. “I doubt that you would.”
I suddenly wanted to change the subject, but the only thought that came to me was, “I saw Jinna today. She made this for me.” I opened the collar of my shirt.
He stared, first at the charm, then up at my face. He seemed struck dumb. Then a wide and fatuous grin spread over his face.
“It’s supposed to make people feel kindly toward me,” I explained. “To counteract my grim appearance, I think, though she was not so unkind as to say that directly.”
He took a breath. “Cover it,” he begged, laughing, and as I did so, he turned away from it. He walked almost hastily to the chamber window and looked out. “They are not tuned to my bloodlines, but that does not mean I am completely impervious against them. You often remind me that in some ways I am still very human.”
I unfastened it from my throat and held it out to him. “You can take it and study it if you like. I’m not entirely sure I like wearing it. I think I’d rather know what people honestly think of me.”
“Somehow I doubt that,” he muttered, but he returned to take the charm from my hand. He held it out in the air between us, studied it, and then glanced at me. “Tuned to you?” he guessed.
I nodded.
“Intriguing. I would like to keep it, for a day or so. I promise not to take it apart. But after that, I think you should wear it. Always.”
“I’ll think about it,” I promised, but felt no inclination to don it again.
“Chade wanted to see you as soon as you came in,” he suddenly said, as if he had only then remembered it.
And there we had left it, and I felt that I was, if not excused, at least forgiven for going where I had no business being.
Now as I followed Chade through the narrow passageway, I asked him, “How was all this built? How can a labyrinth like this that winds all through the castle be kept secret?”
He carried a candle and walked before me. He spoke over his shoulder, softly. “Some was built into the bones of the keep. Our ancestors were never trusting folk. Part of it was intended as a system of bolt-holes. Some of it has always been used for spying. Some of it used to be servants’ stairs, incorporated into the secret passages during a phase of intense reconstruction following a fire. And some was created deliberately, in your lifetime. When you were small, do you remember when Shrewd ordered that the hearth in the guardroom be rebuilt?”