I awoke to Lord Golden opening the door. I rolled from the bed to my feet, feeling sodden with sleep yet eager to leave. He shut the door behind him and in response to my look, replied grimly, “It is proving socially difficult to extricate us. There were guests at today's luncheon, and not just those we hunted with. The Bresingas seem determined to exhibit me to all their wealthy neighbors. They have planned dinners and teas and more hunts with half the countryside in attendance. I have been unable to invent a pressing enough reason for us to leave. This is damnably inconvenient. Would that I could go back to my motley and a more honest form of juggling and ropewalking.”

“We're not leaving yet,” I observed stupidly.

"No. There is a large dinner in my honor this evening. For us to abruptly leave before that would be insult. And?

when I hinted that I might have to cut my visit short and leave tomorrow morning, I was told that Lord Crias from across the river had planned a morning hunt for me, and an afternoon repast at his manor."

“They delay you on purpose. The Bresingas are involved in the Prince's disappearance. I am sure they provided food for him and the cat last night. And Nighteyes is certain that the cat who attacked him is aware he is bonded to someone. They tried to flush me out.”

“Perhaps. But even if we were sure, I could scarcely fling accusations about. And we are not positive. Perhaps they but seek social advancement at Court, or to show me their various marriageable daughters. I gather that is why the girl was at dinner last night.”

“I thought she was Civil's companion.” “She was at great pains during the hunt to tell me that they were childhood friends with absolutely no romantic interest in one another.” He sighed and sat down at the small table. “She told me that she too collects feathers. Tonight after dinner she wishes to show me her collection. I am certain it is an invention to spend more time with me.” Had my own needs not been so pressing, I would have smiled at his dismay.

“Well, I shall have to deal with it as best I may. And perhaps it can even be turned to our advantage, now that I think of it. Oh, I've an errand for you. It seems that while we were hunting today, I lost a silver chain. At lunch I noticed it was missing. It is one of my favorites. You will have to retrace our steps and see if you can find it. Take your time.”

As he spoke, he drew a necklace from his pocket, wrapped it in his kerchief, and handed it to me. I pocketed it. He opened his clothing case, shot me an accusing look at the compressed jumble inside it, and then fished about until he discovered the pot of salve. He handed it to me. “Shall I lay out your clothing for dinner before I go?” He rolled his eyes mockingly at me as he drew a crumpled shirt from his clothing bag. "I think you've already done jsÊ

enough for me, Badgerlock. Just go.“ As I moved toward the door, his voice stopped me. ”Does the horse suit you?"

“The black is fine,” I assured him. “A good healthy beast and fleet, as we proved. You chose a good horse.”

“But you would rather have chosen your own mount.”

I nearly said yes. But then, as I considered it, I realized that was not true. If I had been choosing the horse, I would have sought for a companion to bear me through the years. It would have taken me weeks, if not months, to select one. And now that I was reluctantly confronting the wolf's mortality, I felt a strange hesitance to offer that much of myself to an animal. “No,” I replied honestly. “It was much better that you chose one for me. She's a good horse. You chose well.”

“Thank you,” he said quietly. It seemed to matter to him a great deal. If the wolf had not been waiting, it would have given me pause.

The Tawny Man 2 - Golden Fool

The Tawny Man 2 - Golden Fool

The Tawny Man 1 - Fools Errand

Chapter XVIII

FOOL'S KISS

Marry are the tales told oj Wilted taking on their beasts' shapes to wreak havoc upon their neighbors. The bloodier legends are of Wilted in wolves' skins, who in thai guise rend their neighbors' families as well as their flocks. Less sanguine are the tales that depict Willed suitors taking on the shapes of birds, or cats, or even dancing bears to gain access to a bedchamber in the course of a seduction.

All such tales are imaginative nonsense, perpetuated by those who seek to fuel hatred of the Wilted. Although a Willed person can share the mind of his beast and, hence, its physical perceptions, he cannot metamorphose his human form into that of an animal. It is true that some Wilted who have been long in a partnership with their animal sometimes take on some of their habits of posture, diet, and mannerisms. But a man who eats, dens, scavenges, and smells like a bear does not become a bear. If that myth of shapechanging could be vanquished, it would go far to reestablishing trust between the Wilted and unWitted.