“Kettricken,” I agreed with him after a moment. I cleared my throat. “She was closer to Nighteyes than I realized. She mourns him, too.”

“As do I.”

I thought about my next words before I said them. I wondered if they were necessary, feared that they might hurt him. But I spoke them. “In a different way. Kettricken mourns Nighteyes as I do, for himself, and for what he was to her. You . . .” I faltered, unsure how to put it.

“I loved him through you. Our link was how he became real to me. So, in a sense, I do not mourn Nighteyes as you do. I grieve for your grief.”

“You have always been better with words than I am.”

“Yes,” he agreed. Then he sighed and crossed his arms on his chest. “Well. I am glad that someone could help you. Even as I envy Kettricken.”

That made no sense. “You envy her, that she mourns?”

“I envy her, that she could comfort you.” Then, before I could even think of any reply, he added briskly, “I’ll leave it to you to clear the dishes away to the kitchen. Take care to be a bit surly when you return them, as if your master had just harshly rebuked you. Then you may be off to Laurel and Buckkeep Town. I plan to spend a quiet day today, in my own pursuits. I’ve let it out that my ankle pains me and that I wish to rest, without visitors. Later this afternoon, I am invited to gaming with the Queen’s favored. So if you do not find me here, look for me there. Will you be back in time to help me limp down to dinner?”

“I expect so.”

His spirits seemed suddenly dampened, as if he were truly in pain. He nodded gravely. “Perhaps I will see you then.” He rose from the table and went to his private room. Without another word he opened the door. He shut it quietly but firmly behind him.

I gathered the dishes onto the tray. Despite his words about my incompetence as a servant, I took care to straighten the room. I returned the tray to the kitchens, and then fetched wood and water for our chambers. The door to the Fool’s personal room remained shut. I wondered if he were ill. I might have ventured to tap at the door if noon had not been upon me. I went to my room and buckled on my ugly sword. I took some of the coins from the purse Kettricken had given me and put the rest under the corner of my mattress. I checked my hidden pockets, took my cloak from its hook, and headed down to the stables.

With the influx of people for Prince Dutiful’s betrothal, the regular stable was filled to capacity with the horses of our guests. In these circumstances, the beasts of lesser folk like me had been moved to the “Old Stables,” the stables of my childhood. I was just as content with the arrangement. Far less chance that I might encounter Hands there or any who might recall a boy who had once dwelt with the Stablemaster Burrich.