Golden Fool (Tawny Man Series #2)

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Overview

Prince Dutiful has been rescued from his Piebald kidnappers and the court has resumed its normal rhythms. There FitzChivalry Farseer, gutted by the loss of his wolf bondmate, must take up residence at Buckkeep as a journeyman assassin.
 
Posing as a bodyguard, Fitz becomes the eyes and ears behind the walls, guiding a kingdom straying closer to civil strife each day. Amid a multitude of problems, Fitz must ensure that no one betrays the ...

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Golden Fool (Tawny Man Series #2)

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Overview

Prince Dutiful has been rescued from his Piebald kidnappers and the court has resumed its normal rhythms. There FitzChivalry Farseer, gutted by the loss of his wolf bondmate, must take up residence at Buckkeep as a journeyman assassin.
 
Posing as a bodyguard, Fitz becomes the eyes and ears behind the walls, guiding a kingdom straying closer to civil strife each day. Amid a multitude of problems, Fitz must ensure that no one betrays the Prince’s secret—one that could topple the throne: that he, like Fitz, possesses the dread “beast magic.” Only Fitz’s friendship with the Fool brings him solace. But even that is shattered when devastating revelations from the Fool’s past are exposed. Bereft of support and adrift in intrigue, Fitz finds that his biggest challenge may be simply to survive.
 
Praise for Robin Hobb and Golden Fool
 
“Fantasy as it ought to be written . . . Robin Hobb’s books are diamonds in a sea of zircons.”—George R. R. Martin
 
“[Robin Hobb] ranks near the top of the high fantasy field. . . . [She] juggles all the balls with aplomb, besides providing spot-on characterizations.”Publishers Weekly
 
“Solid storytelling with warmth and heart.”The Kansas City Star

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Editorial Reviews

From Barnes & Noble
With Prince Dutiful returned safely to the Farseer fold, FitzChivalry returns to spying and magic. In this land of secrets, intrigue abounds; but success draws Fitz only deeper into danger and isolation. Even his friendship with the Fool is severed. This continuation of Hobb's Tawny Man series maintains the standards of her Farseer trilogy.
From the Publisher
Praise for Robin Hobb and Golden Fool
 
“Fantasy as it ought to be written . . . Robin Hobb’s books are diamonds in a sea of zircons.”—George R. R. Martin
 
“[Robin Hobb] ranks near the top of the high fantasy field. . . . [She] juggles all the balls with aplomb, besides providing spot-on characterizations.”Publishers Weekly
 
“Solid storytelling with warmth and heart.”The Kansas City Star
Publishers Weekly
Blindness comes in many forms. For angst-ridden FitzChivalry Farseer, the blindness isn't physical but rather an inability to gauge character. Fitz, the hero of this second volume in the trilogy that began with Fool's Errand (2002), reluctantly returns, disguised as a servant, to Buckkeep town in the Six Duchies to be skill-master to Prince Dutiful, the king-in-waiting. Fitz is mourning the loss of his wolf bondmate Nighteyes, hating his disguise, worrying about his foster son's behavior in Buckkeep and frantically trying to learn enough about the Skill to stay ahead of the prince during their training sessions. Fitz jumps from crisis to crisis like a bowling ball tossed onto a trampoline-his failure to look deeply at others' motivations plunges him into a morass of poorly thought-out actions and badly managed confrontations. The harder Fitz tries, the worse his situation gets. The author juggles all the balls with aplomb, besides providing spot-on characterizations. The intrigue and double-dealing of the Farseer royal court are spider webs of interconnections, while the plot itself keeps the reader bouncing from one theory to another, right up to the somewhat abrupt ending. The writing may not be quite as fine as that in Hobb's Assassins series (Assassin's Apprentice, etc.), but this latest nonetheless shows why she ranks near the top of the high fantasy field. (Jan. 7) FYI: Robin Hobb is the pseudonym of Megan Lindholm. Copyright 2002 Cahners Business Information.
VOYA
Book two in The Tawny Man series, this novel continues the story of FitzChivalry Farseer, illegitimate cousin in the ruling Farseer dynasty. Possessed of the rare combination of Wit, or animal magic, and the more orthodox Skill magic, FitzChivalry is the trusted spy-confidant of Queen Kettricken, her son Prince Dutiful, and their councilor, Chade. Under the alias Tom Badgerlock, FitzChivalry must navigate numerous court intrigues. The prince's betrothal to a haughty foreigner, delegations from a dragon, and Witted assassins in the palace are but a few of the forces Tom must balance as he endeavors to serve the queen and his own interests. Tom's fight with assassins and his preparations to join Prince Dutiful on a quest for a frozen dragon bring the book to a satisfactory close with the promise of further adventures. Hobb's second installment is a great improvement over the first book in the series, Fool's Errand (Bantam, 2002/VOYA February 2002). He maintains excellent control over a complex plot, while managing to create memorable characters with believable emotions and motivation. Readers will not forget the servant Thick, with his constant refrain of "Dogstink!" or the aged Chade's delusions of grandeur. FitzChivalry comes into his own in this book, successfully balancing his doubts and recriminations with the immediacy of his present agenda. Although lengthy, the book delivers a satisfying fantasy with greater dramatic tension and emotion than the first book. For libraries with older fantasy fans, both books are solid choices with teen appeal. VOYA Codes: 4Q 3P S A/YA (Better than most, marred only by occasional lapses; Will appeal with pushing; Senior High, defined as grades 10 to12; Adult and Young Adult). 2003, Bantam Spectra, 528p,
— Caitlin Augusta
Library Journal
After the death of his wolf bondmate, FitzChivalry Farseer seeks to hide himself from the world and mourn his loss. His responsibilities as Prince Dutiful's skill master (assassin), however, require him to remain at Buckkeep Castle to keep an eye out for trouble brewing in the kingdom. The sequel to Fool's Errand continues the tale of an unlikely hero trying to serve his kingdom in a land wracked by internal and external strife. The author of the "Farseer" and "Liveship Traders" series once again demonstrates her storytelling expertise as well as her knack for creating genuinely believable characters. A good choice for most fantasy collections. Copyright 2003 Cahners Business Information.
Kirkus Reviews
The second part of Hobb's new trilogy (Fool's Errand, 2001) continues the story of FitzChivalry Farseer, royal bastard and trained killer, as Hobb maneuvers her characters through a complex maze of intrigue and shaky relationships. Returning to Buckkeep Castle, where he spent his youth, Fitz now poses as bodyguard to the extravagant Lord Golden, formerly the King's Fool. At the same time, he gathers intelligence for Chade, the royal assassin. Fitz faces the continued threat of the Piebalds, a rebel group who commune with animals. Plus, Prince Dutiful, heir to the throne, needs training in the Skill, the magical discipline by which the kings of the Farseer line protected their kingdom. The prince is supposed to marry a young princess from the Outislands, but both royals appear reluctant, and Fitz's own son Hap, apprenticed to a local tradesman, is staying out late at night with a girl whose parents disapprove. Finally, Fitz's relationship with the Golden/Fool is shaken by the revelation of his friend's activities while he was traveling in a foreign country. The narrative can bog down in the mundane at times, but, still, Hobbs generates a number of surprises and a cliff-hanging close: another solid fantasy with strong characters.
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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9780553582451
  • Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
  • Publication date: 12/9/2003
  • Series: Tawny Man Series , #2
  • Format: Mass Market Paperback
  • Pages: 736
  • Sales rank: 136,654
  • Product dimensions: 4.19 (w) x 6.88 (h) x 1.25 (d)

Meet the Author

Robin Hobb

Robin Hobb is the author of the Farseer Trilogy, the Liveship Traders Trilogy, the Tawny Man Trilogy, the Soldier Son Trilogy, and the Rain Wilds Chronicles. She has also written as Megan Lindholm. She is a native of Washington State.

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Read an Excerpt

Piebalds

The Piebalds always claimed only to want freedom from the persecution that has been the lot of the Witted folk of the Six Duchies for generations. This claim can be dismissed as both a lie and a clever deceit. The Piebalds wanted power. Their intent was to mold all of the Witted folk of the Six Duchies into a united force that would rise up to seize control of the monarchy and put their own people into power. One facet of their ploy was to claim that all kings since the abdication of Chivalry were pretenders, that the bastardy of FitzChivalry Farseer was wrongly construed as an obstacle to his inheriting the throne. Legends of the "True-hearted Bastard" rising from the grave to serve King Verity in his quest proliferated beyond all common sense, ascribing powers to FitzChivalry that raised the Bastard to the status of a near-deity. For this reason, the Piebalds have also been known as the Cult of the Bastard.

These ridiculous claims were intended to give some sort of legitimacy to the Piebald quest to overthrow the Farseer monarchy and put one of their own on the throne. To this end, the Piebalds began a clever campaign of forcing the Witted to either unite with them or risk exposure. Perhaps this tactic was inspired by Kebal Rawbread, leader of the Outislanders during the Red Ship War, for it is said that he drew men to follow him, not by his charisma, but by fear of what he would do to their homes and families if they refused to fall in with his plans.

The Piebalds' technique was a simple one. Either families tainted with the Wit magic joined their alliance or they were exposed by public accusations that led to their execution. It is said that the Piebalds often began an insidious attack on the fringes of a powerful family, exposing first a servant or a less affluent cousin, all the while making it clear that if the head of the stalwart house did not comply with their wishes, he too would eventually meet such an end.

This is not the action of folk who wish to bring an end to persecution of their kin. This is the act of a ruthless faction determined to gain power for themselves, first by subjugating their own kind.
—rowell's "the piebald conspiracy"

The watch had changed. The town watchman's bell and cry came thin through the storm, but I heard it. Night had officially ended and we were venturing toward morning and still I sat in Jinna's cottage waiting for Hap to return. Jinna and I shared the comfort of her cozy hearth. Jinna's niece had come in some time ago and chatted with us briefly before she sought her bed. Jinna and I passed the time, feeding log after log to the fire and gossiping of inconsequential things. The hedge-witch's little house was warm and pleasant, her company congenial, and waiting for my boy became an excuse that allowed me to do what I wished, which was simply to sit quietly where I was.

Conversation had been sporadic. Jinna had asked how my errand had gone. I had replied that it had been my master's business and that I had but accompanied him. To keep that from sounding too brusque, I added that Lord Golden had acquired some feathers for his collection and then chatted to her about Myblack. I knew Jinna had no real interest in hearing about my horse, but she listened amiably. The words filled the small space between us comfortably.

In truth, our real errand had had nothing to do with feathers, and had been more mine than Lord Golden's. Together, we had recovered Prince Dutiful from the Piebalds who had first befriended and then captured him. We had returned him to Buckkeep with none of his nobles the wiser. Tonight the aristocracy of the Six Duchies feasted and danced, and tomorrow they would formalize Prince Dutiful's betrothal to the Outisland Narcheska Elliania. Outwardly, all was as it had been.

Few would ever know how much the seamless continuation of their normality had cost the Prince and me. The Prince's Wit cat had sacrificed her life for him. I had lost my wolf. For close to a score of years, Nighteyes had been my other self, the repository of half my soul. Now he was gone. It was as profound a change in my life as the snuffing of a lamp makes in an evening room. His absence seemed a solid thing, a burden I must carry in addition to my grief. Nights were darker. No one guarded my back for me. Yet I knew I would continue to live. Sometimes that knowledge seemed the worst part of my loss.

I reined back before I plunged completely into self-pity. I was not the only one who was bereaved. Despite the Prince's briefer bond with his cat, I knew he suffered deeply. The magic link that the Wit forms between a human and an animal is a complex one. Severing it is never trivial. Yet the boy had mastered his grief and was stalwartly going through the motions of fulfilling his duties. At least I did not have to face my betrothal tomorrow night. The Prince had been plunged immediately back into his routine since we returned to Buckkeep yesterday afternoon. Last night he had attended the ceremonies that welcomed his bride-to-be. Tonight, he must smile and eat, make conversation, accept good wishes, dance, and appear well pleased with what fate and his mother had decreed for him. I thought of bright lights and skirling music and laughter and loud conversations. I shook my head in sympathy for him.

"And what makes you shake your head like that, Tom Badgerlock?"

Jinna's voice broke in on my introspection, and I realized that the silence had grown long. I drew a long breath and found an easy lie. "The storm shows no sign of dying, does it? I was pitying those who must be out in it this night. I am grateful that I am not one of them."

"Well. To that, I'll add that I am thankful for the company," she said, and smiled.

"And I the same," I added awkwardly.

To pass the night in the placid companionship of a pleasant woman was a novel experience for me. Jinna's cat sat purring on my lap, while Jinna's hands were occupied with knitting. The cozy warmth of the firelight reflected in the auburn shades of Jinna's curly hair and the scattering of freckles on her face and forearms. She had a good face, not beautiful, but calm and kind. Our conversation had wandered wide this evening, from the herbs she had used to make the tea to how driftwood fires sometimes burned with colored flames, and beyond to discussing ourselves. I had discovered she was about six years younger than I truly was, and she had expressed surprise when I claimed to be forty-two. That was seven years past my true age; the extra years were part of my role as Tom Badgerlock. It pleased me when she said that she had thought I was closer to her age. Yet neither of us really gave our minds to our words. There was an interesting little tension between us as we sat before the fire and conversed quietly. The curiosity suspended between us was like a string, plucked and humming.

Before I had left on my errand with Lord Golden, I had spent an afternoon with Jinna. She had kissed me. No words had accompanied that gesture, no avowals of love or romantic compliments. There had been just the one kiss, interrupted when her niece had returned from marketing. Right now, neither of us quite knew how to return to the place where that moment of intimacy had been possible. For my part, I was not sure that I wished to venture there. I was not ready even for a second kiss, let alone what it might bring. My heart was too raw. Yet I wanted to be here, sitting before her fireside. It sounds a contradiction, and perhaps it was. I did not want the inevitable complications that caresses would lead to, yet in my Wit bereavement, I took comfort in this woman's company.

Yet Jinna was not why I had come here tonight. I needed to see Hap, my foster son. He had just arrived at Buckkeep Town and had been staying with Jinna. I wished to be sure his apprenticeship with Gindast the woodworker was going well. I must also, much as I dreaded it, give him the news of Nighteyes' death. The wolf had raised the lad as much as I had. Yet even as I winced at the thought of telling him, I hoped it would, as the Fool had said, somehow ease the burden of my sorrow. With Hap, I could share my grief, however selfish a thing that might be. Hap had been mine for the last seven years. We had shared a life, and the wolf's companionship. If I still belonged to anyone or anything, I belonged to my boy. I needed to feel the reality of that.

"More tea?" Jinna offered me.

I did not want more tea. We had already drunk three pots of it, and I had visited her backhouse twice. Yet she offered the tea to let me know I was welcome to stay, no matter how late, or early, the hour had become. So, "Please," I said, and she set her knitting aside, to repeat the ritual of filling the kettle with fresh water from the cask and hanging it from the hook and swinging it over the fire again. Outside the storm rattled the shutters in a fresh surge of fury. Then it became, not the storm, but Hap's rapping at the door. "Jinna?" he called unevenly. "Are you awake still?"

"I'm awake," she replied. She turned from putting the kettle on. "And lucky for you that I am, or you'd be sleeping in the shed with your pony. I'm coming."

As she lifted the latch, I stood up, gently dumping the cat off my lap.

Imbecile. The cat was comfortable. Fennel complained as he slid to the floor, but the big orange tom was too stupefied with warmth to make much of a protest. Instead he leapt onto Jinna's chair and curled up in it without deigning me a backward glance.

The storm pushed in with Hap as he shoved the door open. A gust of wind carried rain into the room. "Whew. Put the wood in the hole, lad," Jinna rebuked Hap as he lurched in. Obediently he shut the door behind him and latched it, and then stood dripping before it.

"It's wild and wet out there," he told her. His smile was beatifically drunken, but his eyes were lit with more than wine. Infatuation shone there, as unmistakable as the rain slipping from his lank hair and running down his face. It took him a moment or two to realize that I was there, watching him. Then, "Tom! 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.

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Table of Contents

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First Chapter

Piebalds

The Piebalds always claimed only to want freedom from the persecution that has been the lot of the Witted folk of the Six Duchies for generations. This claim can be dismissed as both a lie and a clever deceit. The Piebalds wanted power. Their intent was to mold all of the Witted folk of the Six Duchies into a united force that would rise up to seize control of the monarchy and put their own people into power. One facet of their ploy was to claim that all kings since the abdication of Chivalry were pretenders, that the bastardy of FitzChivalry Farseer was wrongly construed as an obstacle to his inheriting the throne. Legends of the "True-hearted Bastard" rising from the grave to serve King Verity in his quest proliferated beyond all common sense, ascribing powers to FitzChivalry that raised the Bastard to the status of a near-deity. For this reason, the Piebalds have also been known as the Cult of the Bastard.

These ridiculous claims were intended to give some sort of legitimacy to the Piebald quest to overthrow the Farseer monarchy and put one of their own on the throne. To this end, the Piebalds began a clever campaign of forcing the Witted to either unite with them or risk exposure. Perhaps this tactic was inspired by Kebal Rawbread, leader of the Outislanders during the Red Ship War, for it is said that he drew men to follow him, not by his charisma, but by fear of what he would do to their homes and families if they refused to fall in with his plans.

The Piebalds' technique was a simple one. Either families tainted with the Wit magic joined their alliance or they were exposed by public accusations that led to their execution. Itis said that the Piebalds often began an insidious attack on the fringes of a powerful family, exposing first a servant or a less affluent cousin, all the while making it clear that if the head of the stalwart house did not comply with their wishes, he too would eventually meet such an end.

This is not the action of folk who wish to bring an end to persecution of their kin. This is the act of a ruthless faction determined to gain power for themselves, first by subjugating their own kind.
--rowell's "the piebald conspiracy"

The watch had changed. The town watchman's bell and cry came thin through the storm, but I heard it. Night had officially ended and we were venturing toward morning and still I sat in Jinna's cottage waiting for Hap to return. Jinna and I shared the comfort of her cozy hearth. Jinna's niece had come in some time ago and chatted with us briefly before she sought her bed. Jinna and I passed the time, feeding log after log to the fire and gossiping of inconsequential things. The hedge-witch's little house was warm and pleasant, her company congenial, and waiting for my boy became an excuse that allowed me to do what I wished, which was simply to sit quietly where I was.

Conversation had been sporadic. Jinna had asked how my errand had gone. I had replied that it had been my master's business and that I had but accompanied him. To keep that from sounding too brusque, I added that Lord Golden had acquired some feathers for his collection and then chatted to her about Myblack. I knew Jinna had no real interest in hearing about my horse, but she listened amiably. The words filled the small space between us comfortably.

In truth, our real errand had had nothing to do with feathers, and had been more mine than Lord Golden's. Together, we had recovered Prince Dutiful from the Piebalds who had first befriended and then captured him. We had returned him to Buckkeep with none of his nobles the wiser. Tonight the aristocracy of the Six Duchies feasted and danced, and tomorrow they would formalize Prince Dutiful's betrothal to the Outisland Narcheska Elliania. Outwardly, all was as it had been.

Few would ever know how much the seamless continuation of their normality had cost the Prince and me. The Prince's Wit cat had sacrificed her life for him. I had lost my wolf. For close to a score of years, Nighteyes had been my other self, the repository of half my soul. Now he was gone. It was as profound a change in my life as the snuffing of a lamp makes in an evening room. His absence seemed a solid thing, a burden I must carry in addition to my grief. Nights were darker. No one guarded my back for me. Yet I knew I would continue to live. Sometimes that knowledge seemed the worst part of my loss.

I reined back before I plunged completely into self-pity. I was not the only one who was bereaved. Despite the Prince's briefer bond with his cat, I knew he suffered deeply. The magic link that the Wit forms between a human and an animal is a complex one. Severing it is never trivial. Yet the boy had mastered his grief and was stalwartly going through the motions of fulfilling his duties. At least I did not have to face my betrothal tomorrow night. The Prince had been plunged immediately back into his routine since we returned to Buckkeep yesterday afternoon. Last night he had attended the ceremonies that welcomed his bride-to-be. Tonight, he must smile and eat, make conversation, accept good wishes, dance, and appear well pleased with what fate and his mother had decreed for him. I thought of bright lights and skirling music and laughter and loud conversations. I shook my head in sympathy for him.

"And what makes you shake your head like that, Tom Badgerlock?"

Jinna's voice broke in on my introspection, and I realized that the silence had grown long. I drew a long breath and found an easy lie. "The storm shows no sign of dying, does it? I was pitying those who must be out in it this night. I am grateful that I am not one of them."

"Well. To that, I'll add that I am thankful for the company," she said, and smiled.

"And I the same," I added awkwardly.

To pass the night in the placid companionship of a pleasant woman was a novel experience for me. Jinna's cat sat purring on my lap, while Jinna's hands were occupied with knitting. The cozy warmth of the firelight reflected in the auburn shades of Jinna's curly hair and the scattering of freckles on her face and forearms. She had a good face, not beautiful, but calm and kind. Our conversation had wandered wide this evening, from the herbs she had used to make the tea to how driftwood fires sometimes burned with colored flames, and beyond to discussing ourselves. I had discovered she was about six years younger than I truly was, and she had expressed surprise when I claimed to be forty-two. That was seven years past my true age; the extra years were part of my role as Tom Badgerlock. It pleased me when she said that she had thought I was closer to her age. Yet neither of us really gave our minds to our words. There was an interesting little tension between us as we sat before the fire and conversed quietly. The curiosity suspended between us was like a string, plucked and humming.

Before I had left on my errand with Lord Golden, I had spent an afternoon with Jinna. She had kissed me. No words had accompanied that gesture, no avowals of love or romantic compliments. There had been just the one kiss, interrupted when her niece had returned from marketing. Right now, neither of us quite knew how to return to the place where that moment of intimacy had been possible. For my part, I was not sure that I wished to venture there. I was not ready even for a second kiss, let alone what it might bring. My heart was too raw. Yet I wanted to be here, sitting before her fireside. It sounds a contradiction, and perhaps it was. I did not want the inevitable complications that caresses would lead to, yet in my Wit bereavement, I took comfort in this woman's company.

Yet Jinna was not why I had come here tonight. I needed to see Hap, my foster son. He had just arrived at Buckkeep Town and had been staying with Jinna. I wished to be sure his apprenticeship with Gindast the woodworker was going well. I must also, much as I dreaded it, give him the news of Nighteyes' death. The wolf had raised the lad as much as I had. Yet even as I winced at the thought of telling him, I hoped it would, as the Fool had said, somehow ease the burden of my sorrow. With Hap, I could share my grief, however selfish a thing that might be. Hap had been mine for the last seven years. We had shared a life, and the wolf's companionship. If I still belonged to anyone or anything, I belonged to my boy. I needed to feel the reality of that.

"More tea?" Jinna offered me.

I did not want more tea. We had already drunk three pots of it, and I had visited her backhouse twice. Yet she offered the tea to let me know I was welcome to stay, no matter how late, or early, the hour had become. So, "Please," I said, and she set her knitting aside, to repeat the ritual of filling the kettle with fresh water from the cask and hanging it from the hook and swinging it over the fire again. Outside the storm rattled the shutters in a fresh surge of fury. Then it became, not the storm, but Hap's rapping at the door. "Jinna?" he called unevenly. "Are you awake still?"

"I'm awake," she replied. She turned from putting the kettle on. "And lucky for you that I am, or you'd be sleeping in the shed with your pony. I'm coming."

As she lifted the latch, I stood up, gently dumping the cat off my lap.

Imbecile. The cat was comfortable. Fennel complained as he slid to the floor, but the big orange tom was too stupefied with warmth to make much of a protest. Instead he leapt onto Jinna's chair and curled up in it without deigning me a backward glance.

The storm pushed in with Hap as he shoved the door open. A gust of wind carried rain into the room. "Whew. Put the wood in the hole, lad," Jinna rebuked Hap as he lurched in. Obediently he shut the door behind him and latched it, and then stood dripping before it.

"It's wild and wet out there," he told her. His smile was beatifically drunken, but his eyes were lit with more than wine. Infatuation shone there, as unmistakable as the rain slipping from his lank hair and running down his face. It took him a moment or two to realize that I was there, watching him. Then, "Tom! 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.

Copyright 2003 by Robin Hobb
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Customer Reviews

Average Rating 4.5
( 127 )
Rating Distribution

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(90)

4 Star

(26)

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See All Sort by: Showing 1 – 20 of 127 Customer Reviews
  • Posted October 16, 2011

    more from this reviewer

    I Also Recommend:

    A Classic in the Making!

    Hobb is my ultimate fall-back author. If ever I find myself in need of a guaranteed good read, I pick up a FitzChivalry novel. I love that the story evolves and that I every time I read it, I am immediately immersed right back into the world. I think these should be on the must-read list for any sci-fi / fantasy lover. Great characters, great story, and overall: extremely memorable! If you liked this book, I bet you will also like the "Magician" series by Raymond E. Feist (Particularly from book 3 on...) as well as his "Conclave of Shadows" series. I also think you would like "Dragon Weather" by Lawrence Watt-Evans, "A Shadow in Summer" by Daniel Abraham, and "Thief's Gamble" by Juliet E. McKenna.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted March 15, 2009

    more from this reviewer

    Sombody wake me up

    As in many trilogies, book two is just filler between the beginning and the end. So is the case here. I was hoping to at least resolve the issue as to wheather the Fool is a woman, (dissapointing), or a man. As much as I like Robin Hobb's work, I found myself saying, "just what the heck was that chapter about?". The character plots meander all over the place, the story line seems to bog down with too many loose ends, awaiting book three. I managed to finish it, because of my devotion to Hobb, and anticipate satisfying endings to all the issues in book three. Having said that, If you like Hobb, you will find enough to make this a satisfying, if skimpy meal.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted March 2, 2004

    LOVE IT LOVE IT LOVE IT!!!

    Robin Hobb is by far one of the greatest writers I have ever read. This installment of the Farseer saga is definitely the best so far; it was almost physical agony to put it down! From the beginning, in Assassin's Apprentice, I was drawn in by Hobb's portrayal of her characters; they are so real, so human...I genuinely feel affection for and a deep connection with Fitz and the rest of the cast (I didn't feel as strongly about the Liveship characters, perhaps because they were experienced through the third person perspective). It was heart-wrenching watching Fitz as he became distanced from those whom he loves most; the fight with the Fool nearly brought tears to my eyes! But that is part of what makes these novels so enchanting...Hobb's characters are far from perfect and make mistakes just like you and me. And if deeply detailed, complex characters aren't enough for you, the plot has enough twists and turns to keep your attention riveted for hours on end. I definitely recommend reading the Farseer and Liveship Trader trilogies before starting the Tawny Man series, as Golden Fool loses a lot of its impact otherwise. I was clearly too enraptured with the plot and inter-person relationships of the book to catch the slip made with Malta; she is Althea's niece, not her sister. However, considering that everything else about this book is perfect, I do not think that the mistake warrants a two-star deduction. I have already started reading the next book, Fool's Fate. Normally, I wait for the paperback edition, but there was no way I wouldn't have been able to wait a few hours to follow my friends on their adventure, much less the many months before the paperback was released. But, I digress...the point I want to convey is that this book, this author, is as magnificent as they come. You absolutely MUST read these novels; you will not be disappointed!

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted December 14, 2013

    THIS SERIES IS GOLDEN !!!!

    ONE OF ROBIN'S BEST SERIES YET!!!!! THEY ARE ALL WONDERFUL BUT THIS SERIES IS ONE OF A KIND. THIS SERIES WRAP'S THEM ALL TOGETHER, WHAT A GIFT SHE HAS GIVEN US.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted July 26, 2013

    Better than Game of Thrones

    Excellent

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  • Posted September 22, 2011

    Captivating

    Robin Hobb, a breath of fresh air that you cannot get enough of.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted December 5, 2003

    VERY GOOD!

    Anyone who can pursuade me to buy a book while it is still in hardback is a GREAT author indeed(for I am very cheap). The story was awesome...and uh, I thought that Malta WAS Althea's little sister(she was such a brat before she became an elderling girly)...Im pretty sure Robin didn't make any mistakes... I can't wait for the next one to come out!! I really cannot wait!!!

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  • Anonymous

    Posted October 2, 2003

    Absolutely Astonished

    I would just like to say that Robin Hobb is one of my very favorite authors of all time. With every story that she writes, she manages to mesmerize me with her excellent plot and touch my heart with her wonderful characters. Ms. Hobb is truly one of a kind, and it will be a sad, sad day when she publishes her last book in the world of the Farseers. I HIGHLY recommend reading the first three Farseer books and then the Liveship Traders books before reading the Tawny Man books; they are all strongly interwoven and much can be gained from reading them in order. It's been a joy reading these magnificent stories, and I can't wait for more! If you like to read at all (regardless of what genre), Ms. Hobb's stories will capture your imagination and leave you with unforgettable memories, I promise.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted April 10, 2003

    A exciting and wonderful ride

    I have been reading Robin Hobb for some years now, starting with the Farseer Trilogy. I have yet to be dissappointed. The twining of her two series in this, her third, works wonderfully to further the stories of both. The only caveat here is that the enjoyment factor for this new trilogy rises exponentially with the pre-requisite reading of the Farseer Trilogy and the Liveship Traders Trilogy. I am sure people could jump in and read the new series but the breadth of character and emotion would be lost. One more thing in answer to a critical post in this thread complaining that Robin Hobb can't keep track of her characters because she mistakenly referred to Malta as Althea's sister. Well.. the fact is that Malta Vestrit IS Althea Vestrits sister, as anyone who has read the Liveship Trader series will tell you. So the criticism is without any merit at all. Just wanted to clarify that.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted March 27, 2003

    Can't wait for the next book

    Ms. Hobb's greatest strength is her ability to create great characters. In science fiction and fantasy, characters are usually interesting, but Ms. Hobb makes them REAL. I am eagerly awaiting the next volume because I want very much to see what happens to Fitz, the Fool, and everyone else.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted March 18, 2003

    Brilliant

    I have never come across a better author then Mrs. Robin Hobb. I extremely enjoyed this book and eagerly awaiting the next (Fool's fate). I love the fool and fitz and the whole of Six duchies and the plot is so brilliantly written.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted March 17, 2003

    Recommended but not as good as

    others i've read recently, namely kingdom alliance which is why i give this 3 stars. mostly i would have rather read that book again than read this but in the end i think 'golden fool' is okay but not great.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted March 4, 2003

    Excellant

    Although I'm not sure why someone would dock Hobb two stars because she may have goofed up a name... I suppose that person doesn't realize that in the UK edition, this book was missing an entire chapter, so mistakes do happen, but its not entirely the author's fault. But besides all that, Robin Hobb did an excellant job, although I cann't see how she'll be able to finish this series in just three books... I'm hoping for a fourth! Robin Hobb is one of the best writers I have ever come across, and her style and flare is unique and fun!

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  • Anonymous

    Posted January 17, 2003

    Incredible Author=Awsome Books

    I bought this book from the UK, I was so anxious to read it--the hardest part of reading is the waiting, and, in this case, it was just too painful, so I went ahead and paid the few extra shipping costs. And it was worth it, every cent. Robin Hobb is amazing, absolutely... brilliant, just PURE GENIUS. I have no idea how she manages to come up with all the plots and twists throughout her trilogies, especially the subtle undercurrents and hints that one sees in the earlier books and finds playing a large part in the latter ones. If it weren't for the clarity of Fitz's memory, from whose perspective she writes/wrote the Tawny Man and Farseer trilogies (and for the obvious fantasy) I could find myself believing that it did all happen. The only complaint I can make is that Fitz's life can seem terribly depressing--partly because it is so realistic, but a lot of stuff does just turn out badly for him. And, from GF's hints, will continue to do so, or will reach a climax and then, maybe, give him a Happily-Ever-After, or as close to it as any real person has a right to expect. My vote is on the latter... I'm hoplessly in love with the guy!

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  • Anonymous

    Posted January 18, 2003

    Great story but she made a MAJOR blunder...

    that makes me question the book. In the Golden Fool, she brings up some characters from her previeous trilogy, Ship of Destiny. Here, she mistakenly identifies Malta as Althea's sister. What kind of author screws up the identies of her main characters from a book she written less than two years ago??? I wonder...

    0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted December 9, 2008

    more from this reviewer

    enjoyable fantasy

    It has been many years since FitzChivalry Farseer has been in Buckkeep or had anything to do with his legitimate relatives but when the Piebalds kidnap Prince Dutiful, Fitz mounts a successful rescue operation. Now he is permanently ensconced in the keep, posing as a bodyguard to a man with more personas then fingers, acting as a spy to his former mentor, Chade the Assassin. Fitz uses the alias Tom Badgerlock because if his real name and identity became known, many people will want him executed for crimes and actions he never committed. Tom has many difficult tasks to perform including teaching the Prince how to use Wit and Skill (forms of magic) when he is only learning how to use it himself. He must also keep himself and his Prince safe from the Piebalds, open practitioners of magic who think they should be the ones residing in the seats of power. The prince and Fitz must also be prepared for a quest that might cost them their lives if they complete it. The hero of GOLDEN FOOL is one of the most likable protagonists to grace a fantasy novel. Unlike most heroes, Fitz isn¿t very heroic but that doesn¿t stop him from trying to do the right thing even if he occasionally makes errors. His concern for the well being of his Farseer relatives is another reason that readers will gather him into their hearts. The next installment in this exciting trilogy will take place on the island where the Prince must undertake a quest if he is to stay engaged to the girl who he hopes win one day be his wife so stay tuned to this series. Harriet Klausner

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    Posted January 28, 2010

    No text was provided for this review.

  • Anonymous

    Posted January 4, 2011

    No text was provided for this review.

  • Anonymous

    Posted December 14, 2010

    No text was provided for this review.

  • Anonymous

    Posted May 28, 2010

    No text was provided for this review.

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