Fool's Fate - Page 339/343

“You can put her in there,” he said, gesturing to a stall. They went about their work as I cared for Myblack. I watered her and grained her lightly and left her clean and dry. Chivalry came to look over the door of the stall at her, and I wondered if my work would pass his inspection. “Nice horse,” was all he said.

“Yes. She was a gift from a friend. The same one who sent Malta to your father when he knew he wouldn't need her anymore.”

“Now there's a mare!” Chivalry exclaimed, and I followed him down the stalls to look at her. I saw Brusque, a four-year-old stallion out of Ruddy that Chivalry had wanted to use to stud her. And I visited Ruddy. I think the old stallion almost remembered me. He came and rested his head against my shoulder for a time. He was old and getting tired.

“This will probably be the last foal he sires,” I said quietly. “I think that's why Burrich wanted to use him. One last chance to get that cross of bloodlines. He was a fine stud in his day.”

“I remember when he first came. Barely. Some woman came down the hill with two horses and just gave them to my father. We didn't even have a barn then, let alone a stable. Papa moved all the wood out of the woodshed that night so the horses wouldn't be left outside.”

“I'll bet Ruddy was glad to see him.”

Chivalry gave me a puzzled look.

“You didn't know Ruddy was your father's horse, long before that? Verity gave him the pick of the two-year-olds. He chose Ruddy. He'd known this horse since the day his dam dropped him. The night the Queen had to flee Buckkeep for her life, Burrich put her on this horse. He carried her all the way to the Mountains. Safely.”

He was properly amazed. “I didn't know that. Papa didn't talk much about his days at Buckkeep.”

And so I ended up helping with the mucking out and the feeding before ever I went in to see Molly. I told stories of horses I had known and Chivalry walked me through the barns with pardonable pride. He'd done a good job of keeping it all up and I told him so. He showed me the mare with the infected hoof, sound now, and then I walked through the shed to the milk cow and the dozen chickens.

By the time Chivalry led me back to the cottage with the lads trooping behind us, I felt I had acquitted myself well with them. “Mother, you've a visitor,” Chivalry called as he pushed open the door. I stamped snow and manure from my feet and followed him in.

She had known I was out there. Her cheeks were pink and her shortened hair smoothed back. She saw me looking at it and lifted a self-conscious hand to it. In that moment, we were both reminded of why it was shortened and Burrich's shadow stepped between us.

“Well, chores are done and I'm off to Staffman's,” Chivalry announced before I could even greet her.

“I want to go, too! I want to see Kip and play with the puppies,” Hearth announced.

Molly bent down to the boy. “You can't always go with Chivalry when he goes to visit his sweetheart,” she admonished him.

“He can today,” Chivalry announced abruptly. He gave me a sideways glance, as if making sure I knew he was doing me a vast favor. “I'll put him up behind me; his pony can't deal with this snow. Hurry up and get ready.”

“Would you like a cup of tea, Fitz? You must be cold.”

“Actually, there's nothing like stable chores for warming a man after a long ride. But yes, I would.”

“The boys put you to work in the stable? Oh, Chiv, he's a guest!”

“He knows his way around a shovel,” Chivalry said, and it was a compliment. Then, “Hurry up, Hearth. I'm not going to wait all day for you.”

There were a few moments of noisy chaos that seemed necessary for preparing a six-year-old boy to go anywhere, although no one but me was astonished at it. It made the guards' mess seem a calm place by comparison. By the time the two were out of the door, Steady had already retreated to the loft while Just and Nimble had seated themselves at the table. Nimble pretended to be cleaning his nails, while Just stared at me frankly.

“Fitz, please, sit down. Nimble, move your chair over, make room. Just, I could do with more kindling.”

“You're just sending me outside to get me out of the way!”

“How perceptive of you! Now go. Nimble, you may help him. Clear some of the snow from the wood stack, and move some of it into the woodshed to dry.”

They both went out, but not quietly or graciously. When the door had closed behind them, Molly took a deep breath. She removed a kettle from the fire, poured hot water over spice tea in a large pot and then brought it to the table. She set out cups for us, and a pot of honey. She sat down across from me.