I knew that a quiet meeting of the Queen and Chade with Blackwater and Bloodblade had followed the formal banquet. It had been hastily arranged and lasted into the early hours of the morning. The behavior of the wayward Prince and Narcheska had doubtless been discussed, but more important, the Prince’s quest had now metamorphosed into but one element of an extended visit to the Out Islands. Chade told me later that the slaying of the questionable dragon had not been discussed so much as the schedule for the Prince to meet not only the Hetgurd of the Out Islands but to visit the motherhouse of Elliania’s family. The Hetgurd was a loose alliance of headmen and tribal chiefs who functioned more as trade negotiators than any sort of a government. Elliania’s motherhouse was a different matter. Chade told me later that Peottre had seemed very uneasy when Blackwater had calmly assumed that it must be a part of Dutiful’s visit to the Out Islands, almost as if he would have refused it if he could. The Prince and his entourage would depart for the Out Islands in the spring. My private response to that was that it gave Chade precious little time for his information-gathering.

I was not a witness to that hastily convened negotiation, nor to any of the farewell events. Lord Golden, much to Chade’s annoyance, still begged off from any public appearances, citing his health. I was just as glad not to go. I was cramped and stiff from an evening spent wedged in a wall peering through a spyhole. A nice stormy ride down to Buckkeep Town and back was not alluring.

In the wake of the departure of the Outislanders, many of the lesser lords and ladies of the Six Duchies began to leave the court also. The festivities and occasions of the Prince’s betrothal were over, and they had many stories to share with the folks at home. Buckkeep Castle emptied out like an upended bottle. The stables and servants’ quarters suddenly became roomier, and life settled into a quieter winter routine.

To my dismay, the Bingtown Traders lingered on. This meant that Lord Golden continued to keep to his rooms lest he be recognized, and that at any hour I might encounter Jek visiting with him. Propriety meant nothing to her. She had grown up rough, the daughter of fisherfolk, and had kept the carefree ways of that people. Several times I met her in the halls of Buckkeep Castle. Always she grinned at me and gave me a jovial good-day. Once, when our steps were carrying us in the same direction, she thumped me on the arm and told me not to be so somber all the time. I made some neutral reply to that, but before I could get away, she clamped her hand on my forearm and drew me to one side.

She glanced all about us to be sure the hall was deserted and then spoke in a low voice. “I suppose this will get me into trouble, but I can’t stand to see the two of you like this. I refuse to believe you don’t know ‘Lord Golden’s secret.’ And knowing it—” She paused a moment, then said quietly and urgently, “Open your eyes, man, and see what could be yours. Don’t wait. Love such as you could have doesn’t—”

I cut her off before she could say anything more. “Perhaps ‘Lord Golden’s secret’ is not what you think it is. Or perhaps you have lived among Jamaillians for too long,” I suggested, offended.

At my sour look, she had only laughed. “Look,” she said, “you might as well trust me. ‘Lord Golden’ has, for years now. Believe in my friendship for both of you, and know that, like you, I can keep a friend’s secrets, when they deserve to be kept.” She turned her head and regarded me as a bird looks at a worm. “But some secrets beg to be betrayed. The secret of undeclared love is like that. Amber is a fool not to voice her feelings for you. It does neither of you any good to ignore such a secret.” She stared into my eyes earnestly, her hand still gripping my wrist.

“I don’t know what secret you refer to,” I replied stiffly, even as I wondered uneasily just how many of my secrets the Fool had shared with her. At that moment, two serving maids appeared at the end of the hall and continued toward us, gossiping merrily.

She had dropped my wrist, sighed for me and shaken her head in mock pity. “Of course you don’t,” she replied, “and you won’t even see what is put right on the table before you. Men. If it was raining soup, you’d be out there with a fork.” She slapped me on the back, and then our ways parted, much to my relief.

After that, I began to long to have things out with the Fool. Like an aching tooth, I jiggled over and over what I would say to him. The frustration was that he excluded me from his bedchamber, even as he seemed to welcome Jek in for private talks. Not that I rapped at his door and demanded entrance. I had been maintaining a sullen silence toward him, waiting hungrily for him to demand just what ailed me. The problem was that he did not. He seemed focused elsewhere; it was as if he did not notice my silence or my surliness. Is there anything more provoking than waiting for someone to open the lowering quarrel? My mood became ever darker. That Jek believed the Fool was some woman named Amber did nothing to soothe my irritation. It only made the situation ever more bizarre.