Assassin's Quest

Nighteyes was in his element, racing ahead and then galloping back to us, to trot purposefully along beside Kettricken for a time. Then he would go ranging off again. At one time he came dashing back to the Fool and me, tongue lolling, to announce that tonight we would hunt wild pig, for their sign was plentiful. I relayed this to the Fool.

"I did not lose any wild pigs. Therefore, I shall not hunt for any," he replied loftily. I rather agreed with his sentiments. Burrich's scarred leg had made me more than wary of the great tusked animals.

Rabbits, I suggested to Nighteyes. Let us hunt rabbits.

Rabbits for rabbits, he snorted disdainfully, and dashed off again.

I ignored the insult. The day was just pleasantly cool for hiking and the verdant forest smells were like a homecoming to me. Kettricken led us on, lost in her own thoughts, while Kettle and Starling followed us, caught up in talk. Kettle still tended to walk more slowly, though the old woman seemed to have gained stamina and strength since our journey had begun. But they were a comfortable distance behind us when I quietly asked the Fool, "Why do you allow Starling to believe you are a woman?"

He turned to me, waggled his eyebrows and blew me a kiss. "And am I not, fair princeling?"

"I'm serious," I rebuked him. "She thinks you are a woman and in love with me. She thought that we had a tryst last night."

"And did we not, my shy one?" He leered at me outrageously.

"Fool," I said warningly.

"Ah." He sighed suddenly. "Perhaps the truth is, I fear to show her my proof, lest ever afterward she find all other men a disappointment." He gestured meaningfully at himself.

I looked at him levelly until he grew sober. "What does it matter what she thinks? Let her think whatever is easiest for her to believe."

"Meaning?"

"She needed someone to confide in and, for a time, chose me. Perhaps it was easier for her to do that if she believed I was a woman, also." He sighed again. "That is one thing that in all my years among your folk I have never become accustomed to. The great importance that you attach to what gender one is."

"Well, it is important …" I began.

"Rubbish!" he exclaimed. "Mere plumbing, when all is said and done. Why is it important?"

I stared at him, at a loss for words. It all seemed so obvious to me as to not need saying. After a time, I said, "Could you not simply tell her you are a man and let the issue be laid to rest?"

"That would scarcely lay it to rest, Fitz," he replied judiciously. He clambered over a fallen tree and waited for me to follow. "For then she would need to know why, if I am a man, I do not desire her. It would have to be either a fault in me, or something I perceived as a fault in her. No. I do not think anything needs to be said on that topic. Starling, however, has the minstrel's failing. She thinks that everything in the world, no matter how private, should be a topic for discussion. Or better yet, made into a song. Ah, yes!"

He struck a sudden pose in the middle of the forest trail. His stance was so artfully reminiscent of Starling when she readied herself to sing that I was horrified. I glanced back at her as the Fool launched into sudden, hearty song:

"Oh, when the Fool pisses

Pray tell, what's the angle?

Did we take down his pants

Would he dimple or dangle?"

My eyes darted from Starling to the Fool. He bowed, an embroidery of the elaborate bow that often marked the end of her performances. I wanted at once to laugh aloud and to sink into, the earth. I saw Starling redden and start forward, but Kettle caught at her sleeve and said something severely. Then they both glared at me. It was not the first time that one of the Fool's escapades had embarrassed me, but it was one of the most keenly edged ones. I made a helpless gesture back at them, then rounded on the Fool. He was capering down the path ahead of me. I hastened to catch up with him.

"Did you ever stop to think you might hurt her feelings?" I asked him angrily.

"I gave it as much thought as she gave to whether such an allegation might hurt mine." He rounded on me suddenly, wagging a long finger. "Admit it. You asked that question with never a thought as to whether it would hurt my vanity. How would you feel if I demanded proof that you were a man? Ah!" His shoulders slumped suddenly and he seemed to lose all energy. "Such a thing to waste words on, with all else we must confront. Let it go, Fitz, and I will as well. Let her refer to me as `she' as much as she wishes. I will do my best to ignore it."

I should have left it alone. I did not. "It is only that she thinks that you love me," I tried to explain.

He gave me an odd look. "I do."

"I mean, as a man and a woman love."

He took a breath. "And how is that?"

"I mean …" It half-angered me that he pretended not to understand me. "For bedding. For …"

"And is that how a man loves a woman?" he interrupted me suddenly. "For bedding?"

"It's a part of it!" I felt suddenly defensive but could not say why.