The elation of the Skill flooded me as our minds met and matched. With him, I could hear the muted roar of Skill-thoughts like the carousing of a flood river in the distance. Come away from that I counselled him, and somehow drew him back from that brink. It was unnerving to feel his fascination with it. Once, I too had felt that drawn to the great Skill-current. It still exerted a tremendous attraction on me, but I also knew its dangers, and that made a balance. The Prince was like a baby reaching towards a candle flame. I drew him back from it, put myself between it and him, and at last sensed him curtaining his mind against the Skill-murmur.
‘Dutiful.’ I spoke his name aloud at the same time I Skilled it. ‘It’s time to stop now. This is enough for one day, and far too much for the first lesson.’
‘But … I want …’ His spoken words were little more than a whisper, but I was pleased he said them aloud.
‘Enough,’ I said, and took my hand from his shoulder. He leaned back in his chair with a sigh, rolling his head back. I fought temptations of my own. Could I share strength with him, to help him recover? Could I set walls for him, to protect him until he was better able to navigate the Skill-currents? Could I remove the Skill-induced command I had given him not to fight me?
When I had first been offered the chance to learn to Skill, I had seen it as a double-edged blade. There was great opportunity to learn the magic, but matched against it was always the danger that Galen the Skillmaster might learn I was Witted and destroy me. I had never approached the Skill as openly and eagerly as Dutiful did. Very quickly danger and pain had blunted my curiosity about the royal magic. I had used it with reluctance, drawn to it by its addictive lure yet frightened at how it threatened to consume me. When I had discovered that drinking elfbark tea could deaden me to the Skill’s call, I had not hesitated to use it despite the drug’s evil reputation. Now, with that drug cleared from my body, the Prince’s excitement and the access to the Skill-scrolls an enthusiasm that I had thought long dead was rekindled in me. As much as Dutiful did, I longed to plunge back into that intoxicating current. I steeled my will. I must not let him feel that from me.
A glance at the climbing sun told me that our time together was nearing an end. Dutiful had recovered much of his colour but his hair was flat with sweat.
‘Come, lad, pull yourself together.’
‘I’m tired. I feel as if I could sleep the rest of the day.’
I did not mention my burgeoning pain. ‘That’s to be expected, but it’s probably not a good idea. I want you to stay awake. Go do something active. Ride, or practise with your blade. Above all, rein your thoughts away from this first lesson. Don’t let the Skill tempt you to come near it again today. Until I’ve taught you to balance focusing on it with resisting it, it’s a dangerous thing for you. The Skill is a useful magic, but it has the power to draw a man as honey draws a bee. Venture there alone, be distracted by it, and you’ll be gone to a place from which no one, not even I, can recall you. Yet here your body must remain, as a great drooling babe that takes no notice of anything.’
I cautioned him repeatedly that he must not try to use the Skill without me, that all his experiments with it must be made in my company. I suppose I lectured overlong on this point, for he finally told me, almost angrily, that he, too, had been there and knew he was lucky to have returned in one piece.
I told him I was glad he realized that, and on that note we parted. Yet at the door, he lingered, turning back to look at me.
‘What is it?’ I asked him when his silence had grown too long.
He suddenly looked very awkward. ‘I want to ask you something.’
I waited, but had to finally say, ‘And what did you want to ask me?’
He bit his lower lip and turned his gaze to the tower window. ‘About you and Lord Golden,’ he said at last. And halted again.
‘What about us?’ I asked impatiently. The morning was wearing on, and I had things to do. Such as somehow dampening the headache that now assailed me full force.
‘Do you … do you like working for him?’
I knew instantly it was not the question he wanted to ask. I wondered what was troubling him. Was he jealous of my friendship with the Fool? Did he feel excluded somehow? I made my voice gentle. ‘He has been my friend for a long time. I told you that before, in the inn on our way home. The roles we play now, master and man, are only for convenience. They afford me an excuse to attend occasions where a man such as myself would not be expected. That’s all.’
‘Then you don’t truly … serve him.’
I shrugged a shoulder. ‘Only when it fits my role, or when it pleases me to do a favour for him. We’ve been friends a long time, Dutiful. There is very little I wouldn’t do for him, or him for me.’
The look on his face told me I had not laid to rest whatever was troubling him but I was willing at that point to let it go. I could wait until he found words for whatever it was. He also seemed willing to let it rest, for he turned away from me to the door. But with his hand on the handle, he spoke again, his voice harsh, the words wrung from him against his will. ‘Civil says that Lord Golden likes boys.’ When I said nothing, he added painfully, ‘For bedding.’ He kept staring at the door. The back of his neck grew scarlet.
I suddenly felt very tired. ‘Dutiful. Look at me, please.’
‘I’m sorry,’ he said as he turned, but he couldn’t quite meet my eyes. ‘I shouldn’t have asked.’
I wished he hadn’t. I wished I hadn’t discovered that the gossip was widespread enough to have reached his ears. Time to lay it to rest. ‘Dutiful. Lord Golden and I do not bed together. In truth, I have never known the man to bed anyone. His actions towards Civil were a ploy, to provoke Lady Bresinga into asking us to leave her hospitality. That was all. But you cannot, of course, let Civil know that. It remains between you and me.’
He drew a deep breath and sighed it out. ‘I did not want to think it of you. But you seem so close. And Lord Golden is, of course, a Jamaillian, and all know that they care little about such things.’
I debated for an instant about telling him the truth of that. I decided there was such a thing as burdening him with too much knowledge. ‘It would probably be for the best if you didn’t discuss Lord Golden with Civil. If the topic comes up, turn the conversation. Can you do that?’
He gave me a crooked smile. ‘I, too, have been Chade’s student,’ he pointed out.
‘I had noticed that you had become cooler towards Lord Golden of late. If that was the reason behind it, well, you create a loss for yourself in not getting to know him better. Once he is your friend, no man can ask for a truer one.’
He nodded, but said nothing. I suspected I had not dispelled all his doubts, but I had done the best I could.
He left the tower by the door, and I heard him turn the key in the lock before he descended the long, spiralling stair. If asked, he would tell folk that he had chosen the tower as his new place for dawn meditation. It seemed unlikely any would ask. He, Chade and I were the only ones prone to come here.
I glanced about the room again, and resolved to stock it against dangers such as we had had this morning. A bottle of brandy, in case Dutiful needed restoration. And we’d need a supply of wood for the hearth as winter gained more bite. I did not hold with Galen’s austere teaching that students must be uncomfortable in order
