Fool's Errand by Hobb Robin Read Free Book Online Page B

perhaps all these years you had taught me one thing, and done another. I wondered if you thought me so dull I’d never discover it, if you and Starling laughed about it as if it were a joke for me to be so stupid. It built up in my mind until I began to question everything you’d ever taught me about anything.” He looked back at the fire. “It felt horrible, to be so betrayed.”
    I was glad to hear him sort it out this way. Better far that he consider only what it meant to him, rather than how it could cut me. Let him follow his own thoughts where they would lead. My own mind was moving in another direction, creaking like an old cart dragged out of a shed and newly greased for spring. I resisted the turning of the wheels that led me to an inevitable conclusion. Starling was married. Why not? She’d had nothing to lose and all to gain. A comfortable home with her grand lord, some minor title no doubt, wealth and security for her old age, and for him, a lovely and charming wife, a celebrated minstrel, and he could bask in her reflected glory and enjoy the envy of other men.
    And when she wearied of him, she could take to the road as minstrels always did, and have a fling with me, and neither man ever the wiser. Neither? Could I assume there were only two of us?
    “Did you think you were the only one she bedded?”
    A direct-spoken lad, Hap. I wondered what questions he had asked Starling on the ride home.
    “I suppose I didn’t think about it at all,” I admitted. So many things were easier to live with if you didn’t give them much thought. I suppose I had known that Starling shared herself with other men. She was a minstrel; they did such things. So I had excused my bedding her to myself, and indirectly to Hap. She never spoke of it, I never asked, and her other lovers were hypothetical beings, faceless, and bodiless. They were certainly not husbands, however. She was vowed to him, and him to her. That made all the difference to me.
    “What will you do now?”
    An excellent question. One I had been carefully not considering. “I’m not sure,” I lied.
    “Starling said that it was none of my business; that it hurt no one. She said that if I told you, I’d be the cruel one, hurting you, not her. She said that she’d always been careful not to hurt you, that you’d had enough pain in your life. When I said that you had a right to know, she said you had a greater right not to know.”
    Starling’s clever tongue. She’d left him no way to feel right about himself. Hap looked at me now, his mismatched eyes loyal as a hound’s, and waited for me to pass judgment on him. I told him the truth. “I’d rather know the truth from you than have you watch me be deceived.”
    “Have I hurt you, then?”
    I shook my head slowly. “I’ve hurt myself, boy.” And I had. I’d never been a minstrel; I had no right to a minstrel’s ways. Those who make a living with their fingers and tongues have flintier hearts than the rest of us, I suppose. “Sooner a kindly wolverine than a faithful minstrel,” so the saying goes. I wondered if Starling’s husband paid heed to it.
    “I thought you would be angry. She warned me that you might get angry enough to hurt her.”
    “Did you believe that?” That stung as sharply as the revelation.
    He took a quick breath, hesitated again, then said quickly, “You’ve a temper. And I’ve never had to tell you something that might hurt you. Something that might make you feel stupid.”
    Perceptive lad. More so than I had thought. “I am angry, Hap. I’m angry at myself.”
    He looked at the fire. “I feel selfish, because I feel better now.”
    “I’m glad you feel better. I’m glad things are easy between us again. Now. Set all that aside and tell me about the rest of Springfest. What did you think of Buckkeep Town?”
    So he talked and I listened. He’d seen Buckkeep and Springfest with a boy’s eyes, and as he spoke I realized how greatly both castle and town had