Golden Fool

Title: Golden Fool
Author: Robin Hobb
Published: 2003 by Bantam Books. Ooh, hard cover!
Genre: Fantasy
Pages: 520


*grabs Fitz by the collar and slaps him around* Oh Fitz, you idiot. I don't think there's a person he cares for deeply who he didn't royally piss off in this here book. It's the second book of the Tawny Man trilogy, and things are heating up! The Witted have been divided to the Piebalds -and I'm glad I read the Willful Princess and the Piebald Prince, for I now get all these references!- who seek to be acknowledged by the non-Witted with violence, or worse. Then there are the Old Blood ones, who just would like to live life in peace, thank you. The rest of the Six Duchies are also divided, to those who want all Witted killed, and those who just kind of wish they would go away.

If that wasn't enough, the little prince's betrothal is happening like, right now, and Bingtown is calling for help with their war against a common enemy. Fitz is pretty much forced into becoming a teacher of the Skill, not to mention spying on pretty much everyone. There's not a quiet moment, and the pages just flyyyy by. So, onward to the third book! I've got 13 days to read 600+ pages...


... He suddenly looked about frantically. I found the brandy bottle and set it within his reach. He didn't even bother to pour. He uncorked it and drank from the bottle. When he set it down, I reached over and took it.
   "That won't help anything," I told him severely.
   He gave me a loose-lipped smile. "You see. We're trapped. I've trapped you, my friend. My beloved."
   I tried to fit my mind around what he was telling me. "If we lose, I die," I said.
   He nodded. "If you die, we lose. It's all the same."
   "What happens if I live?"
   "Then we win. Not much chance of that, now. Not much chance and getting worse all the time, I'd say. Most likely we lose. You die and the world spirals down into darkness. And ugliness. Despair."
   "Stop being so cheerful." This time I drank out of the bottle. Then I passed it to him. "But what if I do live? What if we win? What then?"
   He parted the bottle's mouth from his. "What then? Ah." He smiled beatifically. "Then the world goes on, my friend. Children run down muddy streets. Dogs bark at passing carts. Friends sit and drink brandy together."
   "Doesn't sound much different from what we have," I observed sourly. "To go through all this and make no difference at all."