Golden Fool Read Free Page A

Tom, you’ve finally come back!” He flung his arms wide in a drunkard’s ebullience for the ordinary, and I laughed and stepped forward to accept his wet hug.
    “Don’t get water all over Jinna’s floor!” I rebuked him.
    “No, I shouldn’t. Well. I won’t, then,” he declared, and dragged off his sodden coat. He hung it on a peg by the door and peeled off his wool cap to drip there as well. He tried to take his boots off standing, but lost his balance. He sat down on the floor and tugged them off. He leaned far to set them by the door under his wet coat and then sat up with a blissful smile. “Tom. I’ve met a girl.”
    “Have you? I thought you’d met a bottle from the smell of you.”
    “Oh, yes,” he admitted unabashedly. “That, too. But we had to drink the Prince’s health, you know. And that of his intended. And to a happy marriage. And for many children. And for as much happiness for ourselves.” He gave me a wide and fatuous smile. “She says she loves me. She likes my eyes.”
    “Well. That’s good.” How many times in his life had folk looked at his mismatched eyes, one brown and one blue, and made the sign against evil? It had to be balm to meet a girl who found them attractive.
    And I suddenly knew that now was not the time to burden him with any grief of mine. I spoke gently but firmly. “I think perhaps you should go to bed, son. Won’t your master be expecting you in the morning?”
    He looked as if I had slapped him with a fish. The smile faded from his face. “Oh. Yes, yes that’s true. He’ll expect me. Old Gindast expects his apprentices to be there before his journeymen, and his journeymen to be well at work when he arrives.” He gathered himself and slowly stood up. “Tom, this apprenticeship hasn’t been what I expected at all. I sweep and carry boards and turn wood that is drying. I sharpen tools and clean tools and oil tools. Then I sweep again. I rub oil finishes into the completed pieces. But not a tool have I had in my hand to use, in all these days. It’s all ‘Watch how this is done, boy,’ or ‘Repeat back what I just told you’ and ‘This isn’t what I asked for. Take this back to the wood stock and bring me the fine-grained cherry. And be quick about it.’ And Tom, they call me names. Country boy and dullard.”
    “Gindast calls all his apprentices names, Hap.” Jinna’s placid voice was both calming and comforting, but it was still strange to have a third person include herself in our conversation. “It’s common knowledge. One even took the taunt with him when he went into business for himself. Now you pay a fine price for a Simpleton table.” Jinna had moved back to her chair. She had taken up her knitting but not resumed her seat. The cat still had it.
    I tried not to show how much Hap’s words distressed me. I had expected to hear that he loved his position and how grateful he was that I had been able to get it for him. I had believed that his apprenticeship would be the one thing that had gone right. “Well. I warned you that you would have to work hard,” I attempted.
    “And I was ready for that, Tom, truly I was. I’m ready to cut wood and fit it and shape it all day. But I didn’t expect to be bored to death. Sweeping and rubbing and
fetching . . . I might as well have stayed at home for all I’m learning here.”
    Few things have such sharp edges as the careless words of a boy. His disdain for our old life, spoken so plainly, left me speechless.
    He lifted his eyes to mine accusingly. “And where have you been and why have you been gone so long? Didn’t you know that I’d need you?” Then he squinted at me. “What have you done to your hair?”
    “I cut it,” I said. I ran a self-conscious hand over my mourning-shortened locks. I suddenly did not trust myself to say more than that. He was just a lad, I knew, and prone to see all things first in how they affected himself. But the very brevity of my reply alerted him that