“But Starling was there. And Lord Golden.”
She shook her head. “Not for all of it. And neither of them loved him as we did.” Then, candle in hand, she stooped and kissed my brow. “Go to sleep, FitzChivalry.” And when she kissed my mouth, it was like a long drink of cool water, and I knew the kiss was not for me, but for the man we both had lost. “Rest and grow strong again,” she admonished me, then rose and left by the secret doorway. She took the mug and the bowl with her, leaving behind no trace of herself save her lingering scent in the darkness. I sighed, and sank into a sleep that was deep, but almost normal.
Chapter XXI
CONVALESCENCE
The Witness Stones have stood on the cliffs near Buckkeep Castle for as long as Buckkeep Castle has existed, and likely for longer. Tall and black, the four Stones thrust up in a quadrangle from the rocky earth. Either time or the hands of men have obscured the markings that once graced each side of each standing Stone. The runes are unreadable now. The stone itself appears very similar to the black blocks of Buckkeep Castle, save for silvery threads that run like flaws through each pillar. No one knows whence came the tradition of calling the Stones to witness either a vow or the truth of what a man was saying. Sometimes combats are fought before the Stones, in the belief that invoking their presence will enable the fighter whose cause is just to prevail. Many superstitions are associated with the space at the center of the four. Some say that a barren woman can conceive a child there; others, that there a woman can ask the Stones to take away that which grows in her womb.
— LADY CLARINE’S “CUSTOMS OF BUCK DUCHY”
I rose from my sickbed the next day. In the blackness of my closed chamber, I walked the three steps to my clothing chest. Then I fell and could not find the strength to get up. I lay still, resolving not to call out for help but to wait until I could muster the energy to return to my bed. But almost immediately, the door to my room opened, admitting light and air and Lord Golden. He stood limned in the doorway and looked down on me with aristocratic disapproval. “Tom, Tom,” he said, shaking his head. “Must you always be so annoyingly stubborn? Back to your bed until Lord Chade says you are free of it.”
As always, the strength in his slender body surprised me. He did not help me to my feet but lifted me bodily and set me back on my bed. I groped for my blanket. He caught up the corner of one and flipped it over me. “I can’t just lie here for days and days,” I complained.
Lord Golden looked amused. “I’d like to see you try to do anything else, for obviously you can’t. I’ll leave the door open so you have some light. Do you wish a candle as well?”
I shook my head slowly, chilled by his impersonal yet tolerantly kindly manner. He left me, but the door remained open. I could see the fire burning in his tidily swept hearth. He resumed his seat at a small writing desk and took up his quill again. It scratched energetically over the paper.
In a short time, there was a tap at the door, and at his invitation to enter, his serving boy came in bearing a breakfast tray. Char set it down on the table and carefully unloaded it. When he was finished, there remained several bowls and a mug on the tray. He picked it up and started toward my door but Lord Golden, without looking away from his writing, said, “Leave it on the table, Char.” The boy left, and still Lord Golden scribbled at his writing. A short time later, there was another knock on the door. This time, the boy carried in buckets of water. A man with him had an armload of firewood. Lord Golden ignored them both as they went about their tasks. When they had both left, he sighed, stood up from his desk, and went to the door and latched it. Then he spoke to me again.
“Will you eat in your room or at the table, Tom?”
For answer, I sat up in my bed. There was a new blue woolen robe across the foot of my bed. I pulled it on over my head, and then stood up. The low bed made this more difficult than it should have been, and for a moment I stood still, my head reeling. Then I began my cautious walk to the table. I paused once in the doorway, clinging to the jamb as I caught my breath, then moved on to the table. Lord Golden had already seated himself and was uncovering the dishes the boy had set out for him. After a moment, I lowered myself into the chair opposite him.
They had given me an invalid’s meal, of broth and runny porridge and bread in milk. On Lord Golden’s side of the table, there were shirred eggs and sausages, bread and butter and preserves and everything else I desired. I knew a moment of irrational fury at him. Then I ate everything they had given me, and washed it down with a cup of lukewarm chamomile tea. Afterward, I rose and went back to my bed. We had not exchanged a single word. After a time, boredom lulled me into sleep.