In contrast to the days of King Shrewd, when Skillmaster Galen judged that the Skill and all knowledge of its use be confined to as few practitioners as possible, Lady Nettle, from the beginning of her service as Skillmistress, suggested that even those with lesser levels of ability be retained and given whatever tasks they could do. Under her leadership, the summons to Skill-students has been sounded every ten years and coteries formed as soon as practitioners reached journeyman status.
Thus over a dozen coteries now exist in service to the Farseer reign, and nearly a score of Solos. Each of the watchtowers along the coast and Chalcedean borders include a Skilled one among their troops, and every duchy has a coterie devoted to its needs. Skilled ones have been included in diplomatic parties sent to the OutIslands, Bingtown and Jamaillia. The ability to swiftly communicate information about threats to the kingdom has facilitated the dispatching of troops. Flood-destroyed bridges, highwaymen and pirates are but a few of the menaces that have been swiftly met because quick communication was available.
Scribe Tattersall, An Account of Skillmistress Nettle’s Use of the Skill
In my room I found my cooling breakfast and clothing laid out for me. I stared at the food with no appetite, then moved it around a bit so it would appear I had eaten some. Even as I did it, I wondered why I bothered. Did I think Spark or Ash would report that I wasn’t eating? To whom? Ridiculous.
I went down to the Buckkeep steams, my clean clothing under my arm. The steams were a grand tradition in Buckkeep, a place where roaring flames met icy water. There was a chamber for washing, a chamber for steaming and sweating, and then a place to wash off that sweat and clothe oneself. There was a section for guardsmen and servants. And another set of chambers that I had never visited, for nobility, including the royal family. Today I ventured there.
I was both disturbed and annoyed to find there was an attendant waiting to take my garments, both clean and dirty, to pour warm water over me in the bathing pool and offer me soap and a scrubbing cloth, to douse me again to rinse me, and then to offer to dash the water onto the red-hot sides of the iron firebox to create steam for me. I greeted his earnest ministrations with silence for the most part. I tried not to be surly and resentful. It was difficult. The steams had once been a place where I could be alone with my thoughts, or enjoy the rough camaraderie of the guardsmen. Gone.
Clean and dry, I assured the man I could clothe myself and waved him out of the small dressing chamber. There was a bench there, and even a looking-glass and brushes. I put myself into reasonable order.
The antechamber of Dutiful’s audience chamber was a comfortable room with a fire in the hearth and benches and chairs with cushions. Large paintings of hunting scenes in gilt frames enlivened the stone walls. One could smoke or have a cup of tea. Two servants stood ready to bring whatever the waiting guest might request. I was not the only person waiting for time with Dutiful. One elderly woman in a button-cluttered gown and an elaborate hat was already deep in her cups. A simply clad fellow had spread several scrolls out on a table and was adding notes to them as he waited. Two young nobles were seated at opposite ends of a bench and glaring at one another. A dispute for Dutiful to resolve.
Eventually, the door opened and the Duke of Farrow emerged with his adviser. He was greeted by his two serving-men, afforded me a hasty bow and hurried on his way. I was surprised when the page immediately indicated that I should enter, as were the others who were waiting. One cleared his throat loudly, but the page ignored him cheerily and escorted me in.
This chamber was elaborately appointed and featured a more martial aspect than the antechamber had. The paintings were of battles and heroes, and the spaces between were occupied by weapons won in conquest. There was a throne for the king situated in the middle of the room, on a dais. At the other end of the room there was an area with a small table and comfortable chairs arranged around it. It was close to a cosy hearth and light refreshments were set out on the table.
That was not where Dutiful was.
He sat on his throne, robed and crowned, and I could not mistake that my audience was with King Dutiful of the Six Duchies, not my cousin. I advanced slowly into the room. When I glanced back, the page had vanished. But there was no welcoming smile on Dutiful’s face to put me at ease, and no casual greeting.
When I reached what I judged was the proper distance, I bowed. ‘My king.’
‘Prince FitzChivalry.’ The height of the throne was such that, even seated, Dutiful was looking down at me. I waited. He spoke quietly. ‘You found Shine Fallstar and brought her home. My mother has taken charge of her. Her restoration to Lord Chade has brought him much comfort and eased his condition. Thank you for that service.’
I bowed my head. ‘It was part of what I set out to do.’
He replied not to that, but said, ‘Before you secretly left Buckkeep Castle, the last time we convened to discuss the kidnapping, in Verity’s tower, I asked you if you remembered that I was your king.’
I gave a slow nod.
For a time longer, he sat looking at me. Then he slowly shook his head. ‘Prince FitzChivalry, I speak to you as your monarch. I called you here today to remind you, again, that I am your king. To remind you also that you are Prince FitzChivalry, and fully in the public eye. I regret that in the midst of our grief, this is what we must discuss. But I dare not let you continue as you’ve begun!’ He paused and I saw him strive to retain his composure.
‘I repeat what I mentioned yesterday. There is more going on in Buckkeep than our private tragedy. More going on than Lord Chade coming unravelled and you being unpredictable with your Skill. More going on than announcing that Nettle is my cousin, and is married and with child. More than us trying to reconcile Tom Badgerlock and Prince FitzChivalry and dealing with someone trying to kill Lant, and Shine’s stepfather attempting to murder Lord Chade. The Six Duchies and the Mountain Kingdom is a very large gaming board, and there are so many pieces in motion, always. And beyond our borders, we have Chalced, and the OutIslands, Bingtown and Jamaillia. And we have dragons, and each dragon is like dealing with a separate country, when they are interested in negotiating at all.’
His voice had begun to shake. He paused a moment and I sensed that he fought to get his feelings under control. Yet when he spoke again, it was the hurt that came through more than his displeasure with me.
‘Always before, I’ve been able to count on you. To know that you had the best interest of the Six Duchies at heart, and would be honest with me even if it pained me to hear what you had to say. Always I felt I could trust you. At the very least, I knew that you would never do anything to cause me greater difficulties with my reign. I don’t forget what you’ve done for me. How you brought me back from my ill-considered flight to the Old Bloods, and how you accompanied me to free IceFyre and win my queen. I know that you’ve intervened on my behalf with both my mother and with Lord Chade, to assert that I was to be king in truth as well as in name. I hold this throne in part because of your efforts to see me secure upon it.’
He paused. I was looking at the ground between us. He waited until I lifted my eyes to meet his. ‘FitzChivalry Farseer, why did you take this action on your own? You could have challenged my plan, given me your reasons. I would have listened, as you have listened to me. Why did you not entrust me with your plans?’
I told him the truth. ‘I knew you would forbid it. And then I would have to disobey you.’
He sat a little straighter on his throne. ‘You did disobey me. You know that.’
I did. I felt childish as I tempered it with, ‘Not directly.’
He rolled his eyes. ‘Oh, please. This does no honour to either of us. Fitz, you have stepped out of the shadows and into the sunlight where everything you do will be scrutinized. Because you are so newly restored to us, even your smallest action is of great interest and fuel for gossip. I am not Chade, able to invent an instant veil of lies to drape whatever you do in respectability.’ He drew a breath in my silence. ‘Report. Leave nothing out. Tell me all you did not share with my mother and your daughter. Report to me as if I were Chade.’
I forgot myself. ‘How is Chade?’
‘Somewhat better. You may go from here to his chamber and see for yourself. Later. Prince FitzChivalry Farseer, I am not reporting to you. Give me an account of all you did since you decided to leave Buckkeep Castle. Spare me nothing.’
I made my decision quickly. Perhaps it was time my king truly knew me. Perhaps his assassins should not conceal the dirty work they did for the throne. And what I was capable of doing for myself. And so I told him, and left out no detail. I spoke of drugging my companions, and how I had taken both carris seed and elfbark. And then I told him in detail of what I had done to the handsome rapist and to ‘Duke’ Ellik.
He did not interrupt my account. His expression remained impassive. When I finished, he was silent for some time. I tried to be unobtrusive as I shifted my weight. He looked down on me. Did he evaluate me and find me wanting? Did he wish he had never drawn me out of the shadows?
‘Prince FitzChivalry Farseer. You were a witness to my trying to run away from who and what I was. You reminded me of my duty and brought me back to it.
‘I know you have not always been treated as if you were a prince. You have been given duties ill-suited to your bloodlines, trained to tasks that should never have been yours. Or Chade’s. I know it was my grandfather’s will that put both of you on that path.
‘And now it is my will that removes you from it.’ He waited while I tried to make sense of his words. ‘Do you understand me? I see you don’t. Very well. Prince FitzChivalry Farseer. You are never again to consider yourself an assassin. Never to be the one to do the so-called “quiet work” or be the “king’s justice”. My justice will be rendered in daylight, before all. Not by poison nor a knife in the dark. Now do you understand me?’
I nodded slowly. My head was spinning. So many times, over decades of my life, I had protested that I did not want to kill any more. Over and over, I had said that I was no longer an assassin. But now my king snatched the title and those duties away from me, and it felt like a rebuke. I blinked. Not a husband. Scarcely a father. And not an assassin. What was left of me?
Had he sensed my question? ‘You will behave as befits a prince of the Farseer line. With honour and dignity. With courtesy. You will share the wisdom of your years with my sons and assist in guiding them through their early manhood. If I choose to send you on a diplomatic mission, you will go to negotiate, not poison someone! As Prince FitzChivalry Farseer.’
Each time he said my full name with that title attached to it, I almost felt as if he were reciting a magic spell of binding. As if he would set a boundary around me. I found I was nodding slowly. Was this what the Fool had meant? Someone would find a life for me. And what he was describing was not so terrible. So why did it feel so hollow?
He was still staring at me.
I bowed gravely. ‘I understand, my king.’
‘Say it.’ His words were stiff with command.
I drew a breath. The words I spoke seemed almost traitorous. ‘I am no longer your assassin, King Dutiful. I am to comport myself always as Prince FitzChivalry Farseer.’
‘No.’ He spoke precisely. ‘Not “comport”. BE. You are Prince FitzChivalry Farseer.’
I hesitated. ‘Lady Rosemary—’
‘Is Lady Rosemary.’ Finality in that.
Questions darted about in my mind like trapped fish in a barrel.
‘Prince FitzChivalry, I will look forward to seeing you at dinner this evening.’
I winced at the thought of plunging back into court life. He said more quietly, ‘Stand with your family, FitzChivalry. This is something we will bear together.’
That was a dismissal. I bowed again. ‘My king,’ I said, and withdrew.
I was completely distracted as I passed through the antechamber and back into the corridors of Buckkeep Castle. I had no destination in mind when I heard a soft patter of hasty footsteps behind me. I turned to find Spark hurrying to catch up with me. ‘Sir, please, a moment!’ Her cheeks were very pink and I knew a spike of terror. What had happened to the Fool?
But when she caught up to me, her news could not have startled me more. ‘Sir, I wished to let you know that I’ve finished moving your things to your new chambers.’
‘My new chambers?’
‘Rooms more fitting to your, um, new standing, sir.’ Spark was plainly as uneasy with this as I was. She dangled a shining brass key attached to a braided silk fob. ‘You have the Heliotrope apartments now.’
I stared at her.
‘I was told that they were once occupied by Lady Patience and her staff.’
Her staff. One serving-woman. But the suite was substantially larger than my single bedchamber. It was just down the hall from Lord Chade. With no access to the spy-warren. I was staring at Spark still.
‘Of course, they’ve been redone since she lived there. Several times, I imagine. They’re very nice, sir. There’s a splendid view of the sea and you can look down on the gardens.’
‘Yes. I know,’ I said faintly.
‘And your friend is to occupy the chambers once given to Lord Golden. Familiar rooms for him, though I am not to divulge that to anyone save you. I am to serve him, now. As well as you, of course. I’ll have a room that is part of his chambers.’
A room I once occupied. I found my voice. ‘It sounds as if you’ve had a change in occupation as well.’
She shook her head and a curl escaped from her cap to dance on her brow. ‘Oh, no, sir, I’ve been a serving-girl since I came to Buckkeep Castle.’ She smiled but there was worry in her eyes. We shared that anxiety.
‘Of course you have. Thank you.’
‘Oh, your key, sir. Here. To your new chambers.’
‘Thank you.’ I accepted it gravely. ‘I think I shall call on Lord Chade, now.’
‘As you will, sir, I’m sure.’ She curtseyed again, this time with a bit of a flourish, then turned and hurried off. I made my way to Chade’s chambers, suspecting that he was behind these changes, for some arcane reason of his own. I expected he would explain everything to me.
I tapped on the door, and a servant admitted me. I turned toward his bedchamber, but the serving-man waved toward the sitting room instead. I breathed a sigh of relief. He was better, then.
His sitting room was decorated in moss green and acorn brown. A handsome portrait of King Shrewd in his prime hung over the fireplace. A warm and spicy aroma from a steaming pot flavoured the air. Chade, attired in a soft dressing gown, was seated by the fire. Shine sat in a cushioned chair across from him, a cup in her hands. She wore a simple and modest dress, and the green brought out her eyes. Her hair was braided and coiled at the back of her neck. Kettricken’s influence, I was certain. They both looked toward me as I entered. Shine looked apprehensive to see me.
But it was Chade who stopped me in my tracks. He smiled at me benevolently. It was an old man’s gentle, bemused smile. In the short time since I’d last seen him, he’d aged. I could see the shape of his skull beneath the thinning flesh on his face. His eyes looked almost glassy. I wondered for an instant if he recognized me. Then, ‘Oh, there you are, my boy. Just in time. Shine has made us some tea. It’s lovely. Would you care for some?’
‘What kind is it? I don’t recognize the fragrance.’ I advanced slowly into the room. Chade gestured to a chair beside his own, and I cautiously sank into it.
‘Oh, it’s tea, you know. Made from spices and what not. Ginger, I think. Liquorice root, perhaps? It’s sweet. And spicy. Very pleasant on a cold day.’
‘Thank you,’ I said, for Shine had already poured a cup and was offering it to me. I smiled as I took it. ‘It’s almost as if you were expecting me.’
‘Oh, it’s always nice to have company. I was hoping Lant would come by. Have you met my boy Lant?’
‘Yes. Yes I have. You sent him to me at Withywoods, remember? To be a teacher for my little girl. For Bee.’
‘I did? Yes, yes. A teacher. Lant would do well at that. He’s a kind soul. A gentle soul.’
He was nodding as he spoke. No. Not nodding. It was a palsy, a shaking of his head. I glanced at Shine. She met my gaze, but said nothing.
‘Chade. Please,’ I said, not knowing what I asked for. ‘Are you well?’
‘He’s well enough,’ Shine said, warning me. ‘When no one makes him fret. Or brings up unpleasant things.’ I wondered if she were not in much the same state.
I lifted the cup of tea to my mouth and let it lap against my lip as I smelled it. No herbs that I knew as medicine. I watched Shine take a sip of hers. Her gaze met mine. ‘There are some calming herbs in the tea as well. But they are very mild.’
‘Very mild,’ Chade agreed and again gave me an unnervingly genial smile.
I broke my gaze from his and addressed Shine directly. ‘What’s wrong with him?’
She gave me a puzzled look. ‘My father seems fine to me. He’s glad to have me here.’
Chade nodded. ‘I am that,’ he agreed.
Shine spoke quietly. ‘He’s stopped using the Skill to hide his ageing. He mustn’t use it any more, nor the herbs he was using.’
I let my gaze wander the room, trying to suppress the panic that was rising in me. From his portrait, King Shrewd looked down on me. His keen glance and determined Farseer chin only reminded me the more sharply of how his mind had faded and faltered before his time, a victim of his wasting illness, his pain and the drugs he took to suppress it. Something in Shine’s words snagged on my thoughts.
‘How do you know that? That he can’t use the Skill?’
She looked mildly startled, as if I’d asked a rude question. ‘Lady Nettle, the Skillmistress, told me. She explained he had used it to excess, in ways that exceeded his ability to control the magic. She said she could not explain it to me perfectly, as I don’t have that magic. But she said he was vulnerable now. That he must not try to Skill, and no one must try to Skill to him.’
I answered the question she didn’t ask. ‘I’m no danger to him. I drank a very strong elfbark tea, to be sure that Vindeliar could not cloak my thoughts and perceptions. It takes away the ability to Skill. And it has not come back.’
‘Vindeliar,’ she said and went pale. Her calm façade cracked and I saw a brutalized woman clinging fiercely to the reassuring trellis of clean clothing, a warm bed and regular meals. Once one knows what heartless people can do, it cannot be entirely forgotten. It always remains among the possible things that can befall you.
‘You’re safe,’ I said uselessly.
She looked at me. ‘For now,’ she said quietly. ‘But Bee is not. She bit him to set me free. And I fled.’
‘It’s a thing done,’ I said woodenly. ‘Don’t dwell on it.’
Silence fell. Chade smiled on. I wondered what other herbs he’d been using.
Shine spoke suddenly. ‘Badg— Prince FitzChivalry. I want to say I’m sorry.’
I looked aside from her. ‘You already said that, Shine. When we first found you. It wasn’t your fault they took Bee.’
‘I’m sorry for more than that,’ she said quietly.
I reined us away from that topic. ‘Do you know why Bee bit the man holding onto you instead of the White gripping her?’
She shook her head. A silence fell in the room and I let it grow. Some things are not made any better by discussing them.
‘The Skill,’ I said quietly. That brought her eyes back to me. ‘Has anyone spoken to you about it? That as a Farseer, you may have inherited a talent for it?’
She looked startled. ‘No.’
‘Well.’ How did I approach this? Obviously, Chade had not removed the block he had put upon her. Nettle knew she had Skill and knew she was sealed. Was it my place at all to intervene? I took a breath and set myself on the safer path. ‘Well, you might. I am sure that when they feel the time is right, they will test you for the Skill. And if you possess it, they will give you the training to master it.’ I was sure that any such training would be far different from the harsh lessons I’d been subjected to.
‘She has it.’
We both turned to look at Chade. His head was still doing that tiny sideways wobble that was almost like a nod.
‘I do?’ Shine lit suddenly, glowed with excitement.
‘You do. Of course you do. And you are strong in it.’ Chade’s smile grew stronger and for just an instant his green eyes were as piercing as ever as he focused his gaze on her. ‘Do you not recall how you sought me out in my dreams? How you, untrained and unknowing, used your Farseer magic to find me? My … beloved … daughter.’ He spoke each word clearly and separately. His eyes never left Shine’s face. Something passed between them, something special and private and I knew with a lurch what he had done. Her Skill-seal had been words that he was certain only he would ever speak to her. Who else would call her beloved and daughter in the same breath?
Their eyes were locked and I realized they were breathing in unison. Shine’s lips formed an unspoken word. Papa. The stillness in the room felt like a deep pool. I watched them, unable to tell what was happening, unable to decide if it was wonderful or terrible.
I heard the outer door of Chade’s chamber open and Steady’s voice preceded him. ‘You know he isn’t supposed to Skill, Fitz!’
‘It’s not me,’ I said, and saw the shock on his face as he entered the room. He looked from Chade to Shine and then opened his eyes wide and in that instant, I knew that he called for Nettle. His gaze flashed back to me. ‘She should stop! Lady Shine, please, please stop. It may be the death of him.’
‘Stop?’ she said and her voice was that of a dreamer who speaks in her sleep. ‘It’s my papa. I thought he had forgotten about me. Or abandoned me.’
‘Never,’ Chade vowed, and the strength in his voice made me wonder if she was not restoring him rather than destroying him.
‘I don’t know what to do!’ Steady confessed.
‘Nor I,’ I admitted. It seemed a very long time before I again heard Chade’s door open. This time it was Nettle, very pink in her cheeks, and a tall woman I had never met before. She seemed to take it all in at a glance. Nettle glanced at her companion. ‘We separate them. Very gently. I will help Lord Chade restore his walls. See if you can help the girl. Steady, be prepared to help.’ My daughter spared me one glance. ‘It would be better if you were not here. I can feel him plucking at you again, trying to draw you into the current.’
‘I’ll go,’ I said, stifling both my fear and reluctance. I was useless and perhaps worse than useless here. A hindrance to them. I did not doubt what Nettle told me and yet it stung my pride that she dismissed me so that she might do her work. What was Burrich’s old saying? As useless as teats on a bull. That was me. I was becoming very weary of being useless and incompetent.
It was hard to leave the room, and harder still to know where to go. I made my way to my new chambers. The key turned smoothly in the lock and I entered. It was a strange and foreign place. All trace of Patience and Lacey’s time here had long been tidied away. The chambers, like the rest of Buckkeep Castle, were far grander than they had been when I was a boy at Patience’s mercy. Someone had smoothed the bony stone walls with plaster and painted them a soft yellow that reminded me of an old skull. There was a carpet on the floor of the main room, and framed paintings of flowers. The hearth was tidy, with a small fire burning and a hod of logs waiting my need. There were several chairs with embroidered cushions, and a small table with cats’ feet on its legs and nothing at all to suggest that I lived in this room.
In the larger bedchamber, I found my garments neatly stored in a wardrobe. They were the less gaudy attire of Lord Feldspar and a few pieces that Ash had apparently chosen for me. It gave me a turn to see Verity’s sword on the wall above my bed. Truly, the lad thought of everything. Or perhaps it had been Spark, I told myself, and wondered why it was so hard for me to reconcile them into one person. My pack from Withywoods was there, and I was relieved to find that my stores of poisons and small tools and weapons were still left to me, as was Bee’s book. The battered pack held the only items in the room that were truly my own. I lifted it, opened the cedar chest, and concealed the pack beneath the soft woollen blankets.
I paced around the chambers like a wolf examining the limits of his cage. In the servant’s room there was a narrow bedstead, a small chest for clothing and a basin and ewer. The clothing chest was empty. Doubtless Ash and Spark would be more comfortable staying with the Fool.
There was a pleasant little sitting room, much larger than I recalled it. Doubtless Patience’s towers of clutter had diminished the size of the room in my mind’s eye. A cursory examination of the walls showed me no signs of hidden doorways. I did note a small notch in the plaster that might have been the opening for a spy-hole. I sat down on the chair and looked out of the window. But there was nothing here to occupy my mind or my hands, nothing to distract me from the space where Bee was not. What was I to do with all the empty hours left in my life? I left my bland domicile, made my way to the Fool’s chamber, and knocked.
I waited some time before I heard the door unlocked. It was eased open a crack and then with a look of relief, Ash opened it wide for me. ‘I’m so glad you’ve come,’ the greeting rushed from him. ‘He’s in such a state and I don’t know what to do.’
‘What’s wrong?’
As soon as I stepped inside, Ash closed and locked the door behind me. ‘He’s terrified,’ he said simply. ‘He did not wish to leave the hidden apartments, but Lady Rosemary insisted. She’s … I’m no longer apprenticed there. I’m glad to simply work here in Buckkeep Castle as a servant. I know that Lord Chade … but this is not time for me to be worrying you about my situation. All care was taken in moving him here, but he is still in shaking fear for his life. And I don’t know how to reassure him.’
The lad looked up at me and then stepped back from the fury on my features. ‘How dare she!’ I burst out. ‘Where is the Fool?’
‘He’s in the bedchamber. I brought him here by the secret passages, and I’ve done my best to bring everything familiar to him here. Physically, he’s so much better than he was, but this move has upset him so—’
I knew my way through these apartments. When the Fool had masqueraded as Lord Golden, I’d lived here as his servant Tom Badgerlock. The chambers were much more simply furnished than they had been in the extravagant days of Lord Golden. I went to the door of the bedchamber, tapped loudly and said, ‘It’s me, Fitz. I’m coming in.’
There was no response. I opened the door slowly to find the room in semi-darkness. The shutters over the window were closed tightly and only the light from the hearth-fire lit the room. The Fool was sitting in a chair facing the door. He gripped a dagger in his hand. ‘Are you alone?’ he asked in a shaking voice.
‘For now. Ash is right outside the door if we need anything.’ I made my voice as even and calm as I could.
‘I know you all think I’m silly. But Fitz, I assure you the danger is real.’
‘What I think does not matter. What does matter to me is that you feel safe, so that your body can continue to heal. So. Here we are. Our situation has changed. No one acted out of malice, but I can tell you are badly unsettled.’ I kept up a flow of words as I moved closer to him. I wanted him to know where I was as I approached. ‘I was as surprised as you when I was moved out of my old rooms. And today King Dutiful has told me, quite formally, that I am a prince and not an assassin. Changes for me as well, you see. But what matters, as I started to say, is that I want you to feel safe. So tell me. What can I do to make you feel safe?’
His grip on the knife loosened. ‘You aren’t irritated with me? Annoyed at my weakness?’
I was startled. ‘Of course not!’
‘You went away so abruptly. When you didn’t come to tell me yourself, I thought … I thought you had wearied of having me depend on you for everything.’
‘No. That was not it at all. I thought I had a chance to rescue Bee. And I had to take it immediately. If only I had acted a day earlier …’
‘Don’t. You’ll drive yourself mad.’ He shook his head. ‘She can’t just be gone, Fitz. She can’t!’
She could, and we both knew it. I veered my thoughts away from that path. ‘What would make you feel safer?’
‘You do. Being here.’ With an almost convulsive gesture, he abruptly clacked the knife down on a table. ‘There.’
‘I cannot be here all the time, but I will see that I am here often. What else?’
‘Is Ash armed? Has he been taught to fight?’
‘I don’t know. But those are things I can remedy. He is to be your serving-man now, I understand. I can teach him to be your door-soldier as well.’
‘That would be … reassuring.’
‘What else?’
‘Fitz, I need to see. More than anything else, I need to be able to see! Can you use the Skill to restore my sight?’
‘I can’t. Not now, I fear. Fool, I took elfbark. You know that. You were there when I first reported to Dutiful.’
‘But the effects will pass, won’t they? As they did on Aslevjal?’
‘I think so. I already told you that.’ Not the time to tell him what such a healing might cost me. ‘You’ve improved remarkably since Ash gave you the dragon’s blood. Perhaps your vision will come back on its own. How is the pain?’
‘Much less. I can still feel my body … changing. It’s healing but the repairs are changes as much as restoration. Ash has told me that my eyes look different. And my skin.’
‘You look more Elderling,’ I said honestly. ‘It’s not unattractive.’
His expression brightened with surprise. He lifted his hands to his face and touched the smoothed skin then. ‘Vanity,’ he rebuked himself, and I think we were both surprised when we laughed.
‘This is what I would like you to do,’ I proposed. ‘I would like you to eat, and rest, and continue to get better. And when you feel you are ready, and only then I assure you, I’d like to see you moving about Buckkeep Castle. Discovering pleasure in life again. Eating good food, listening to music. Going outside even.’
‘No.’ He spoke softly but forcefully.
I softened my tone. ‘When you are ready, I said. And with me at your side—’
‘No,’ he said more harshly. He pulled himself up straight. When he spoke, his voice was judgmental, almost cold. ‘No, Fitz. Do not coddle me. They took our child. And they destroyed her. And I cower and weep at the change of a room. I have no courage, but it does not matter. Being blind does not matter. I came here sightless, and if I must go sightless to kill them, then I must. Fitz. We must go to Clerres and we must kill them all.’ He set his hands flat and calm on the table before him.
I clenched my teeth. ‘Yes,’ I promised him in a low voice. I found I was as calm as he was. ‘Yes. I will kill them. For all of us.’ I leaned closer and tapped the table as I walked my hand toward him. I took his thin hand in mine. He flinched but did not jerk away. ‘But I would not go to that task with a dull blade. So it makes no sense to take to that task a man who is still recovering from grievous injuries. So hearken to me. We prepare. I have things to do, and so do you. Find your health and your courage will come back to you. Begin to move about Buckkeep Castle. Think who you will be. Lord Golden, again?’
A faint smile hovered. ‘I wonder if his creditors are still as angry as they were when I fled.’
‘I’ve no idea. Shall I find out?’
‘No. No, I think I shall have to invent a new role for myself.’ He paused. ‘Oh, Fitz. What of Chade? What has befallen him, and what will you do without him? I know you had counted on his help. In truth, I had counted on his help in this.’
‘I hope he will recover, and that we will not have to do without him.’ I tried to speak heartily and with optimism. The dismay on the Fool’s face only deepened.
‘I wish I could go and visit him.’
I was surprised. ‘You can. You should. Perhaps tomorrow, we can go together.’
He shook his head wildly. His pale hair had grown a bit longer but did not have enough substance to lie down and the slight motion made it wave about. ‘No. I can’t. Fitz, I can’t.’ He took a deep breath. He stared at me, misery written on his face. Reluctantly he added, ‘And so I must. I know I must begin. Soon.’
I replied slowly, ‘Indeed, you must.’ I waited calmly.
‘Tomorrow,’ he said at last. ‘Tomorrow we will go together to visit Chade.’ He took a deep breath. ‘And now I am off to bed.’
‘No,’ I said pleasantly. ‘It isn’t night and as I’ve nothing to do right now, I’m determined that you will stay awake and talk with me.’ I walked over to the curtained and shuttered windows. I drew back the drapery and then opened wide the old-fashioned internal shutters. Winter daylight streamed in through the thick, whorled glass. ‘It’s a wild day out there. Storm over the water is blowing the spray and every wave is tipped with white.’
He rose and took slow, careful steps, his hand groping the air before him. He felt for me, then linked his arm through mine and stared out sightlessly. ‘I can see light. And I feel the chill off the glass. I remember this view.’ He suddenly smiled. ‘The wall is sheer below this window, is it not?’
‘It is. Unclimbable.’ I stood there until he suddenly sighed and I felt some of the tension leave him. An idea came to me. ‘Do you remember my foster son, Hap?’
‘I never knew him well, but I recall him.’
‘He has come to Buckkeep. To mourn Bee. I have not had much time with him, indeed I’ve scarcely spoken to him. I’ve a mind to ask him to sing for me tonight. Some of the old songs and some of Bee’s favourites.’
‘Music can be very easing to pain.’
‘I’m going to ask him to come here.’
His arm tightened on mine. After a moment, he said faintly, ‘Very well.’
‘And perhaps Kettricken would join us.’
He inhaled unevenly. ‘I suppose that might be pleasant.’ His hand gripped a fold of my sleeve and held it tight.
‘I am sure it will be.’
And the lift of heart I felt surprised me. Patience had once counselled me that the best way to stop pitying myself was to do something for someone else. Perhaps I had accidentally discovered what I would do with my life for at least a short time: bring the Fool out of his terror-stricken state and back to a life in which he had some small pleasures. If I could accomplish that, it might ease my conscience a bit when it came time for me to go. So I spent an hour with him planning for the evening’s gathering. Ash was happy to be sent off to the kitchen to request refreshments, and then to seek out Hap and convey my request. An additional errand sent him down to the old stables to find Perseverance and bring the crow up to the Fool’s rooms. When I finally left the Fool’s room, I encountered the two boys coming up the stairs, the crow riding on Per’s arm as if she were a hawk, and the lads deep in conversation. I decided that introducing Per into his small circle of friends would do all of them good.
I moved slowly down the corridor toward my new room. Hap would meet me there. I felt a sharp stab of remorse. What was wrong with me? Arranging a party in the Fool’s room just days after Bee was lost. My mourning came back like the rising wind that comes before a squall and swept through me, freezing my heart. I mourned but it was the uncertain mourning of one with no proof of death. She had been gone since Winterfest. Lost to me for much longer than a few days.
I searched my heart. Did I truly believe she was dead? She was gone, as Verity was gone from Kettricken. Unreachable and unseen. Somewhere out in the Skill-current that I could no longer navigate, threads of her might linger. I wondered if she would connect somehow with Verity, if her grandfather King Shrewd would know those threads as kin.
A pretty fancy, I chided myself. A childish comfort to offer myself. It had been so hard to believe in Molly’s death. Time would erase my doubts. Bee was gone. The rest of the day passed in drops of time. Hap came to me, and wept into his hands, and showed me the gift he’d been carrying for Bee since the end of summer. It was a doll with a wrinkled apple head and twiggy little hands. I thought it both grotesque and oddly charming with its crooked smile and seashell eyes. He gave it to me and I set it on the stand by my bed. I wondered if I could sleep with it watching me.
That night, in the Fool’s room, he sang the songs Bee had loved best, the old songs, the counting songs, the silly songs that had made her laugh with delight. The crow bobbed his head in time and once shouted, ‘Again, again!’ Kettricken sat beside the Fool and held his bony hand. We had ginger cakes and elderberry wine. A bit too much wine perhaps. Hap congratulated me on becoming a prince instead of a Witted bastard, and I congratulated him on being a famous minstrel instead of an odd-eyed Red Ship bastard. At the time, it seemed terribly funny to us two, but Ash stared at us in horror and Perseverance, who had somehow been invited, looked insulted on my behalf.
I slept that night. The next morning I breakfasted with the Fool, and then received an invitation to game with Integrity and Prosper. I did not wish to go but they would not let me refuse. I knew they meant well and hoped to distract me from my grief. I dressed in fussy clothing. I wore no hidden knives and carried no poison. I rolled dice made of jade and hematite and lost badly in games of chance that I’d never learned. My bets were made with small silver coins instead of the copper ones that crossed tables in the taverns of my youth. That evening I returned to visit the Fool, to find Hap already there entertaining Ash and Per with some very silly songs. I sat and listened with a pleasant expression on my face.
Decisions. No. A decision. The Fool had been right. If I did not choose what to do with what remained of my life, someone else would. I felt like ore, pounded to powder, heated until I’d melted and poured away. And now I was hardening into something I’d never been before. My awareness of what I would be came to me slowly, like numbness wearing off after a heavy blow. Inexorably. In my sleepless nights, my plans took shape. I knew what I would have to do, and in my cold evaluation, I knew I would have to do it alone.
Before I began, I would have to finish, I told myself. Late one night, I found myself smiling sourly as I recalled how the Fool had finished his role as Lord Golden. His plan to exit had not gone exactly as he’d imagined. He’d had to make a headlong flight from his creditors. Mine, I resolved, would be a gentler fading. A kinder vanishing than his had been.
Gradually I blundered into a peculiar normality. I looked at each person I would leave behind and considered well what each needed, as well as how I must prepare for my undertaking. I kept my word to the Fool and took Ash down to the practice grounds and gave him over to Foxglove. When she demanded a training partner of a suitable size for him, I gave her Perseverance, and she started both of them with wooden swords. Foxglove penetrated Ash’s disguise far more swiftly than I had. The second day she had the lads she drew me aside and obliquely asked me if I had noticed anything ‘odd’ about Ash. I replied that I knew how to mind my own business, and that made her smile and nod. If she varied Ash’s training at all, I did not notice.
I gave my guard over in Foxglove’s keeping. The few remaining Rousters accepted her hammering discipline and began to be useful. She demanded they surrender their Rouster colours and that they integrate with my guard. Privately, I asked her to make them available for any special duty that Lord Chade might require of them. With his network of spies and errand runners tattering away, I wondered if he might not require a guard of his own, something the old assassin had never supplied to himself. She nodded her head gravely and I left it in her very capable hands.
The next time Prosper and Integrity invited me to game, I countered with an invitation to the practice yards, and there I took my cousins’ measures. They were not the pampered castle cats that some might have thought them, and it was there, wooden blade against wooden blade, that I began to know them as men and kin. They were good men. Prosper had a sweetheart and looked forward to her being announced as his intended. Integrity did not bear the weight of the crown of the King-in-Waiting, and had a dozen ladies vying to ride and game and drink with him. What I gave to them was as much as I could give of what Verity had supplied to me. I became the man older than their father, telling them the stories of their grandfather that I thought they should hear.
I allowed myself my own farewells. Winter at Buckkeep Castle took me back to the days of my childhood. It was true that if I had wanted, I could have joined the lords and ladies elegantly attired and perfumed, rolling dice or playing other games of chance. There were singers from Jamaillia and poets from the Spice Islands. But still, in front of the Great Hearth, huntsmen fletched arrows and women brought their spinning or embroidery. There the working folk of the castle listened to the younger generation of minstrels or watched apprentices endlessly rehearse their puppetry while doing their tasks by firelight. When I was a lad, even a bastard had been welcomed there.
I took comfort there, coming and going quietly, enjoying the music, the awkward courtships among the younger staff, the pranks of the boys and girls and the soft firelight and slower pace. More than once I saw Ash there and Perseverance, and twice I saw Spark there, watching Ash’s friend from a distance with a pensive look on her face.
Chade remained genially vague. He took his meals in his room. He was welcoming when I called on him but never addressed me in a way that indicated he clearly recalled who I was and what we had been to one another. He always had an attendant. Often it was Steady or Shine. Sometimes it was a pretty Skill-apprentice named Welcome. He delighted in her attention and she seemed fond of him. I walked in once to find her combing out his white hair and singing a song about seven foxes. The few times I contrived to be alone with him by asking her to run some small errand, she went quickly and returned before I had more than the briefest opportunity to try to jostle some true response from Chade.
Kettricken had taken Shine in hand. The girl dressed more sedately yet elegantly and was always occupied whenever I glimpsed her. Nettle began her Skill-lessons. Shine seemed content to be at court and to be part of Kettricken’s circle. No young men were allowed to court her and Kettricken chose industrious and intelligent young women to be her companions. Shine blossomed in the light of the queen’s interest. I could not be certain, but I wondered if some of her calm was due to herbal teas. Having found her father and his doting affection, she seemed to accept that Lant was lost to her as a suitor. In darker moments, I wondered if her experiences at the hands of the Chalcedeans had dampened her enthusiasm for the company of men. My even darker conclusion was that if it was so, there was nothing I could do about it.
I knew I’d have to wring from her a fuller account of her experiences with her kidnappers. I made my request to Nettle, as I feared answering upsetting questions might trigger some sort of Skill-storm with her. Nettle agreed immediately that we must know everything we could of her experience. Kettricken was less willing to subject her to a detailed interrogation, but when the matter was placed before Dutiful, he agreed it was necessary but suggested it be done as gently as possible. I prepared a list of questions, but it was Kettricken who asked them, with Nettle present in the room to monitor Shine’s level of distress. I was there also, but behind the wall, back in my old spy-hole, where I could listen and take my notes without my presence increasing her anxiety.
It went well, but not at all as I had expected. Kettricken summoned Shine to help in sorting out a large basket of brightly dyed yarn that had become mingled. Nettle joined them, seemingly by chance and, as women seem always to do, joined in the task of sorting and rewinding the yarn. Their talk wandered until I thought I would go mad with waiting for my information. But somehow Kettricken shepherded Shine’s thoughts to that terrible day when she had been snatched out of her old life. Then she did nothing but listen, with occasional exclamations of sympathy or a soft word or two that invited the girl to confide more in them.
I think Shine was almost relieved to tell what had befallen her. Her words were hesitant at first, and then came in a torrent. I learned the names of some of her captors, and listened in sick horror to how they had neglected my child in her grave illness. It was only when Shine mentioned Bee’s shedding of her skin that I recognized what had happened. Just as it had with the Fool, it seemed that as she approached whatever it was she was fated to do, her colour darkened. Only to hear Shine tell it, Bee had become paler. I pushed all implications of that aside, stubbornly telling myself that I must stay fixed on Shine’s every word. Later, I would think of what it meant to me. And would mean to the Fool.
I took careful note of every painful detail and became ever gladder that neither the handsome rapist nor Duke Ellik had reached a gentle end at my hands. But as Shine wound the tale to an end, to my horror she confided to both of them her pain at discovering that the man she had regarded as a suitor was actually her brother. She wept then, a girl’s broken-hearted weeping that even when her long nightmare was over, she had awakened to the fact that the man she loved could never be hers in the way she had desired.
Nettle covered her shock and Kettricken said simply that there was no way either of them could have known. Neither woman offered any rebuke or advice. They allowed her to weep herself clean and when she fell asleep in the big cushioned chair, Nettle simply covered her and left her there while Kettricken went on with her yarn tasks.
FitzVigilant did not, however, take the revelation that he and Shine were siblings in stride. To my surprise, he did not discard his bastard’s name to take Chade’s surname. He subjected us all to several weeks of morose quiet. When seated near Shine at table, he kept his eyes on his food and contributed nothing to conversation. I was grateful that Chade took most of his meals in his room and that Shine frequently joined him there, for the old Chade would have quickly discerned Lant’s discomfort. The looks he sent after her when they passed in the corridors were too transparent for my comfort. I dreaded stepping in but just when I was certain I must, Riddle intervened.
One evening he steered Lant firmly to a seat between us and demanded he discuss the virtues of his favourite taverns in Buckkeep Town. That led to a late-night expedition to visit three of them. At the end of the night, all three of us staggered back to Buckkeep Castle together. At one point as we all but groped our way up the dark and icy road, Lant burst out with a wail of ‘but no one understands what happened or how I feel!’ Riddle rounded on him and said bluntly, ‘And that is the most fortunate thing that can befall you, or any of those you care about. Put it behind you, and think about it again in twenty years. Whatever it was, you can’t change it. So stop clinging to it, and let time and distance do their work.’
I trudged along beside them in the dark. The night was cold enough that my face felt a stiff mask. I tried to think, but then Riddle began singing the old song about the woodcutter’s son, and after the second verse, both Lant and I joined in. When Lant came to the table the next night, he announced he had spent the day fishing in an open boat and had caught a flat fish the size of a small child. I was unendingly pleased when I saw Nettle give Riddle a very special smile over Lant’s bent head as he set upon his food with an appetite we had not seen since Winterfest.
So the slow moons of winter ticked past us all. I was more alone than I had ever been in my life and it suited me. It was a solitude that I cultivated. I let nothing touch me too deeply. Alone, I made my plans. With a hunter’s heart, I waited for winter to fade and better travelling weather to come. I wrote several very long letters, one for Hap, one for Kettricken and another to Nettle and Riddle. I considered writing one to my unborn grandchild and decided I was wallowing in sentiment. The one to Chade was hardest, for I wondered if he would ever read it with a whole mind. As Verity had done, I signed and secured my missives and set them by.
I endured each day, waiting, as slowly broken things began to heal. My Skill came back to me, in tickles of chance thought, and then in whispers. I used it as little as possible at first, respecting my daughter’s advice and wishes in that regard. Then I exercised it, but rigorously, in tight sendings to Thick, or a general comment to Nettle. I became aware of the various coteries within Buckkeep, and shamelessly listened in when their sendings were careless. I built my Skill-discipline as systematically as I rebuilt the muscles of my body and my fighting skills. By day, I took my bruises in the practice yard, and by night I practised throwing knives and materializing poison from my cuff. I watched for the weather to grow kinder for travel and I waited for myself to grow deadlier.
Every creature entrusted to my care, I settled into safekeeping. The crow was a jocund addition to the Fool’s chamber, for Perseverance brought her daily to see him. She was company for the Fool in a way no human could be, and at times I almost wondered if they did not share a thread of the Wit. She picked up words from him as a pigeon pecks up corn. Despite his blindness, he endeavoured to teach her tricks, and I was never so astonished as I was on the day when he told her to ‘take Fitz’s spoon’ and she promptly hopped across the table and stole it for him. Motley did not seem to respond to my Wit, but her language and responsiveness were that of a Wit-bonded animal. She puzzled me.
As for Fleeter, I had little use for a horse while I lived in the castle. I still visited her sporadically in the stables. Several times, I found Patience leaning on the door of her stall, apparently admiring the horse. So I was not surprised on the day that Fleeter swung her head toward me.
My boon?
Ask it.
I’ve found my partner. See that I stay with her.
Done.
And that was it. After that, Fleeter disdained me completely. Perseverance bridled a bit when I asked the girl to take over Fleeter’s exercise and grooming, but I refused to be moved. I saw the light in the girl’s eyes when I gave her the duty and knew that she would enjoy the horse with an open heart that I could not offer her. I visited the stables less and less often, and as I saw Fleeter bond to her, I did not intervene. The beautiful partner I had spurned lavished herself on another. I deserved the regret that stung me. It was too late to change it, and I would not if I could have.
The Fool continued to heal but very slowly. The evening that he came to join me at the hearth in the Great Hall, I felt a lift of relief. Ash had obviously chosen his garments, for I saw him pleased with the stir they caused. The Fool wore a long robe of black in a style half a century old, spangled with moons and stars cut from other fabric and quilted onto the garment. He wore the slouch hat that had once belonged to Lord Feldspar, now adorned with green buttons and charms of brass and tin. His walking stick carved with serpents and dragons was his own handiwork, and I was glad to see he had taken up his old pastime. Motley rode on his shoulder and contributed to his peculiar appearance. Ash guided him to a seat beside me, and to those who greeted him, he introduced himself as Grey, a traveller from far Satine. He claimed no title of lord, but presented himself as a foreign mage come to Buckkeep to study the legendary magic of the Farseers. His garments and accoutrements were peculiar enough that his gold eyes and scarred face seemed appropriate to them. That first evening, he did not stay long but, as winter passed, he began to move about Buckkeep Castle. He courted no new friends as Mage Grey but did begin to call on those who had known him. I saw him taking a small pleasure in this new role, and both Ash and Spark seemed to take great enjoyment in assisting him in it. The two youngsters, I thought, would care well for my old friend. So even from the Fool, I caged my feelings and thoughts.
I watched Nettle grow heavier with the child she carried and Riddle became ever more solicitous of her. Both Kettricken and Elliania could not contain their joy for her. I took comfort that she was surrounded by their love even as I kept a careful distance. If I let no one depend on me, I could fail no one.
On most nights, sleep eluded me. I did not really care. In the dark of night, the libraries of Buckkeep were empty save for me and my lamp. I began a careful combing of them. At one time, Chade had developed a fascination with what he had called the religion of the White Prophet. I found the scrolls he had collected. Some I translated afresh and others I renewed with painstaking pen-work. Here I finally found the references I sought. Clerres was distant, further away than ever I had travelled. The accounts of travelling there were old and sometimes contradictory. I discussed my work with no one. The slow gathering of information consumed me.
I made time to go down to Buckkeep Town, and to frequent several of the taverns where the sailors gathered. I sought out those who had come furthest to Buckkeep’s port and asked of them for any news of a place called Clerres. Three had heard of the place, but only one claimed to have ever visited that far port. He’d been a boy, on one of his earliest voyages. The garrulous old man did his best to tell me of nearby ports, but time, a harsh life and much rum had eroded his memory. ‘Go to the Spice Isles,’ he told me. ‘There’s folk there that trade with the White Island Servants. They’ll put you on the right tack.’ A tiny clue but one that gave shape to the journey to come.
I was relieved that my assassin’s skills no longer belonged to my king. I even told Dutiful how relieved I was, at a private dinner one evening in Chade’s rooms. My old mentor picked listlessly at his food as our king explained his decisions to move us into open view. ‘I know it was uncomfortable for you, Fitz, but your status demanded appropriate chambers. And a son of the Farseer reign should not be lurking in hidden passageways and spying on his people.’ He set down his fork with a sigh and gave me a weary smile. ‘Fitz, I am finished with secrets. Look where it has brought us. Consider how it twisted childhood for Shine and Lant, let alone yourself. And the near-disaster of their meeting when they were unaware of their kinship.’
I chewed slowly, my eyes on my food, wondering how he had acquired that bit of insight and hoping that the meaning had slipped past Chade.
‘Think of your crown and my father’s last letter to you, hidden for years and known only to Chade. If he had perished in the Red-Ship Wars, none would have known of Verity’s wishes for you. I look at Chade as he is now, smiling and nodding, and I wonder what else he knew and has now forgotten, what key bits of Farseer history will never be revealed by him.’
I raised my eyes to see how Chade was receiving such a rebuke, but he seemed intent on sorting his peas into two separate piles on his plate. He became aware of my gaze and looked up to meet me. His left eyelid slowly dropped and then opened again. I stopped chewing. Had he winked at me? Or was it part of the drooping of his features? Our glances met but his green eyes were as opaque as seawater.
Dutiful was still speaking. ‘I know it was hard for the Fool, but I think it was the wise decision. Perhaps he will never be as gay as he was when he was Lord Golden, but he no longer cowers in the dark. Surely that is better for him than hiding away in Chade’s dark old den.’
‘What will become of those rooms?’
‘Oh, eventually, we will move the wardrobe in Lady Thyme’s chamber and restore the door to them. Lady Rosemary has begun to sort what is there. She told me that some of it must be handled carefully. There is no rush. An empty room or five in this rambling old castle is not as large a concern as a dragon in Bearns. Have you given any thought as to what might be done about the dragon Baliper?’
‘I should be happy to help with the tidying of the old den. Rosemary is correct when she says there are items there that must be disposed of with great caution. I will see to some of them.’ And many items that would be very useful to me. Already I was planning that I would do that as soon as possible. I knew of several entries to the spy-labyrinth. But now was not the time to dwell on that lest Dutiful discern the direction of my thoughts. I put a thoughtful expression on my face.
‘And as to your dragon, well, there is always killing him. But as he can speak to some humans, and as he has kin among the dragons of Kelsingra, that might not be our best solution.’
‘Indeed, it’s to be our last resort. If we kill one, my dukes will see it as the easiest solution. Right now I have forbidden any warlike actions against any dragon.’
‘Well, then the only solution is to treat him as you would any ill-mannered guest. Choose what you will give him, offer it freely, and hope he is satisfied with it. Do not make him comfortable. Hope he stays only a short time.’ I tried to think of a fresh solution. ‘Contrast the farms they raid with the ones they leave alone. Find out what conditions they prefer and don’t create them.’
‘They eat so much,’ Dutiful muttered in dismay.
‘Too much!’ Chade suddenly agreed. We both turned to him. His eyes were bright with anger. He looked directly at me. ‘There’s too much rosemary on this fowl! I can’t stomach it. What is worse than a journeyman cook who thinks she knows better than the master! Heavy-handed! That’s what she is!’
‘Lord Chade, this is not fowl but good venison. And I taste no rosemary in it at all!’ Dutiful spoke gently but uselessly to his complaint.
‘Pah!’ Chade pushed his plate aside. He pointed at me with a finger gone knobbly. ‘My boy would agree with me, I think! He never liked her stirring the pot, Fitz did not.’ He slowly surveyed the room. ‘Where is Fitz? Where is my boy?’
‘I’m right here,’ I said hopelessly.
He swung his gaze back to me. ‘Oh, I doubt that,’ he said. He took a slow drink of his wine. As he set it down, he looked at me again and said, ‘I know my boy. He’d know his duty. He’d be long gone by now, he would.’
I found a smile and patted his hand. ‘The impulsive boy that ran through Buckkeep Castle with a bared sword? He’s long gone indeed, Lord Chade.’
Chade twitched. For a single moment, his green eyes locked with mine. Then he smiled vacuously. ‘Just as well,’ he sighed slowly, ‘though sometimes I miss him.’