Golden Fool Read Free Page B

there was much I had not said.
    His eyes wandered over my face. “What’s happened?” he demanded.
    I took a breath. No help for it now. “Nighteyes is dead,” I said quietly.
    “But . . . is it my fault? He ran away from me, Tom, but I did look for him, I swear I did, Jinna will tell you—”
    “It wasn’t your fault. He followed and found me. I was with him when he died. It was nothing you did, Hap. He was just old. It was his time and he went from me.” Despite my efforts, my throat clenched down on the words.
    The relief on the boy’s face that he was not at fault was another arrow in my heart. Was being blameless more important to him than the wolf’s death? But when he said, “I can’t believe he’s gone,” I suddenly understood. He spoke the exact truth. It would take a day, perhaps several, before he realized the old wolf was never coming back. Nighteyes would never again sprawl beside him on the hearthstones, never nudge his hand to have his ears scratched, never walk at his side to hunt rabbits again. Tears rose in my eyes.
    “You’ll be all right. It will just take time,” I assured him thickly.
    “Let’s hope so,” he responded heavily.
    “Go to bed. You can still get an hour or so of sleep before you must rise.”
    “Yes,” he agreed. “I suppose I’d better.” Then he took a step toward me. “Tom. I’m so sorry,” he said, and his awkward hug took away much of the earlier hurt he had dealt me. Then he lifted his eyes to mine to ask earnestly, “You’ll come by tomorrow night, won’t you? I need to talk to you. It’s very important.”
    “I’ll come by tonight. If Jinna does not mind.” I looked past Hap’s shoulder at her as I released him from my embrace.
    “Jinna won’t mind at all,” she assured me, and I hoped only I could hear the extra note of warmth in her voice.
    “So. I’ll see you tonight. When you’re sober. Now to bed with you, boy.” I rumpled his wet hair, and he muttered a good night. He left the room to seek his bedchamber and I was suddenly alone with Jinna. A log collapsed in the fire and then the small crackling of its settling was the only sound in the room. “Well. I must go. I thank you for letting me wait for Hap here.”
    Jinna set down her knitting again. “You are welcome, Tom Badgerlock.”
    My cloak was on a peg by her door. I took it down and swirled it around my shoulders. She reached up suddenly to fasten it for me. She pulled the hood of it up over my shorn head, and then smiled as she tugged at the sides of the hood to pull my face down to hers. “Good night,” she said breathlessly. She lifted her chin. I put my hands on her shoulders and kissed her. I wanted to, and yet I wondered that I allowed myself to do it. Where could it lead, this exchange of kisses, but to complications and trouble?
    Did she sense my reservations? As I lifted my mouth from hers, she gave her head a small shake. She caught my hand in hers. “You worry too much, Tom Badgerlock.” She lifted my hand to her mouth and put a warm kiss on the palm of it. “Some things are far less complex than you think they are.”
    I felt awkward, but I managed to say, “If that were true, it would be a sweet thing.”
    “Such a courtier’s tongue.” Her words warmed me until she added, “But gentle words won’t keep Hap from running aground. You need to take a firm hand with that young man soon. Hap needs some lines drawn or you may lose him to Buckkeep Town. He wouldn’t be the first good country lad to go bad in a town.”
    “I think I know my own son,” I said a bit testily.
    “Perhaps you know the boy. It’s the young man I fear for.” Then she dared to laugh at my scowl and add, “Save that look for Hap. Good night, Tom. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
    “Good night, Jinna.”
    She let me out, and then stood in her doorway watching me walk away. I glanced back at her, a woman watching me from a rectangle of warm yellow light. The wind stirred her curly hair,