‘No.’ Thick was shuffling toward the door.

‘Try that tune you Skill to yourself. The one that goes la-da-da-da-de—’ Even as I tried to mimic back to him the music I had come to know by heart, Thick spun around to face me. Outrage glittered in his little eyes.

‘Mine!’ He roared. ‘My song! My Mum’s song!’ He came at me with murder in his eyes. He lifted the whistle as if it were a knife that he could plunge into my heart.

‘I’m sorry, Thick. I didn’t realize that was private.’ But I should have, I suddenly knew. I gave ground before him. His body was thick, his limbs short and awkward, his belly pudgy. I knew that in a physical struggle, I could master him. I also knew it would involve hurting him, because that would be the only way to defeat him. I didn’t want to do that. I needed his goodwill. I darted behind the table.

‘My song!’ Thick repeated. ‘Dog poop stink stealer!’

An unwilling bubble of laughter burst from the Prince’s lips. I think he was both horrified and fascinated by the spectacle of the dimwit attacking me over a song. Then a sudden frown divided his brow. Even as I circled the table, trying to keep it between Thick and me until I could find a way to calm him, the Prince suddenly claimed, ‘I know that song!’ He hummed a short bit of it, making Thick’s scowl deepen. ‘It’s the first thing that I always hear when I try to Skill. It comes from you?’ His question was incredulous.

My song!’ Thick asserted again. ‘My Mum’s song! You can’t hear it. Only me!’ He diverted his steps and suddenly charged the Prince in a wild run. As he went, he caught up the brandy bottle, lifting it like a club heedless of the liquor that galloped out of it and down his arm. The Prince’s eyes went wide, but he was too foolishly proud to retreat before Thick’s onslaught. He stood his ground, dropping into the fighter’s crouch I’d taught him. His hand moved to his belt knife. In response, I felt Thick’s mind-numbing cloud of Don’t see me, don’t see me, don’t see me even as he closed on the Prince. I saw Dutiful struggle against the little man’s Skill and felt him begin to mount a blast of his own to thrust through it.

‘No!’ I roared in dismay. ‘Don’t hurt each other!’

And my command shimmered with an edge of Skill. I saw them both flinch at it, saw them both spin to confront me, arms upraised as if that would ward off the magic. I could almost see it rebound from them, but just for an instant it dizzied them both. The backwash of my command as they instinctively repulsed it giddied me, but I recovered faster than they did. The Prince staggered back a step, while Thick lifted his pudgy hands to cover his eyes. I was horrified at what I had done, yet when they stood still and for a moment docile, I added, ‘That’s enough. You must never attack one another that way. Not if you are going to work together to master the Skill.’ I was proud that I kept my voice from shaking.

Dutiful shook his head and then spoke in a dazed voice. ‘You did it again! You dared to use the Skill against me!’

‘That I did,’ I admitted, and then demanded, ‘What else would you have me do? Watch you blast the sense from one another? Have you ever met your cousin August, Dutiful? That drooling, doddering old man? What happened to him was an accident. Yet there have been instances of Skill-users maiming one another in a battle such as you both nearly engaged in. Yes, and there have been deaths as well, deaths that seared the ones who wrought them almost as severely as the ones that died.’

Dutiful leaned against the table. Thick lowered his hands from his eyes slowly. He’d bitten his tongue and it dripped blood. Dutiful spoke to both of us. ‘I am your prince. You are sworn to me. How dare you attack me?’

I took a breath and reluctantly stepped up to the task Chade had laid upon me. ‘Not here.’ I said quietly. ‘It is true that I am sworn to the Farseers. I serve them, as best I may. And to serve them best in this, know this well, Dutiful. In this room, you are not my prince but my student. And just as your swordmaster deals you bruises with a blunt blade to teach you, so will I use whatever force is necessary.’ I swung my eyes to Thick, who was pouting sourly at us both. ‘In this room, Thick is not a servant. Here, he is my student.’ I looked from one to another and buckled them into the harness they must share. ‘Here you are equals. Students. I will respect you as such, and I will demand that you respect each other as such. But make no mistake. Within this chamber, during the hours of our lessons, my authority is absolute.’ I looked from one to the other. ‘Do you both understand this?’

The Prince looked stubborn, and Thick suspicious. ‘Not a servant?’ he asked slowly.

‘Not if you choose to be a student here. To learn what I have to teach. So that, eventually, you can help the Prince.’

He scowled, working through it slowly. ‘Help the Prince. Work for him. Servant. More work for Thick.’ His little eyes glittered maliciously as he exposed what he thought was my hidden intention.

I shook my head again. ‘No. Help the Prince. As his coterie. His friend.’

‘Oh, please,’ Dutiful groaned disdainfully.

‘Not a servant,’ This obviously pleased Thick. It gave me yet another insight into him. I would have thought him too dull to care what his position was in the world. Yet plainly, he would prefer not to be a servant.

‘Yes. But only if you are a student. If you do not come here, every day, and try to learn what I teach, then you are not a student. Thick is the servant again. Haul the wood, fetch the water.’

He set the empty bottle down on the table. Hastily he looped the string of the whistle around his neck. ‘I’m keeping the whistle,’ he insisted, as if that were an important part of the bargain.

‘Servant or student, the whistle belongs to Thick.’ I told him. This seemed to set back his understanding of the situation. His fat little tongue pushed farther out of his mouth as he considered it.

‘You cannot be serious,’ the Prince said in an undertone. ‘That is to be a member of my coterie?’

I knew both an instant of sympathy for him and a strong irritation with his disdain for Thick. I spoke levelly. ‘He is the best candidate that Chade and I have discovered so far. Unless, of course, you have encountered others with his natural predilection for the Skill?’

He stood silent, then shook his head unwillingly. In some corner of my mind, I was amused that he was more distressed at the idea of Thick being his fellow student than he was by my declaration that I would treat them both the same during our lessons. I decided to take advantage of his temporary distraction. ‘Good. That’s settled, then. And I believe we’ve all learned enough for one morning. I shall expect you both to be on time tomorrow. For now, you are dismissed.’

Thick was just as happy to leave. Still clutching his whistle, he scuttled for the mantel door. As he shut it behind him, the Prince asked in a low voice, ‘Why are you doing this to me?’

‘Because I am sworn to the Farseer reign. To serve it as best I can. And you, Dutiful, are now dismissed.’

I hoped he would turn toward the door, but he did not. Not until there was a sharp rap at it. We both startled. I glanced at the Prince, who called out loudly, ‘What is it?’

The voice of a young page reached us through the stout timbers of the door. ‘A message for you, Prince Dutiful, sir, from Councillor Chade. He bade me beg your pardon, but also said to let you know it was urgent.’

‘A moment.’

I faded back to a corner of the room as the Prince went to the door, unlatched it, opened it a crack and accepted a small, sealed scroll. As I watched him, I reflected sourly that despite all else Skillmaster Galen had been he had been right in several areas. No students of his would ever have dared attack one another, let alone question his authority over them. He had immediately reduced all his students to a harsh equality, though I had been the exception to that; all had known that he regarded me as beneath them. As much as it choked me, I needed to emulate at least some of his attitudes even as I refused his harsh techniques. Discipline is not the same as punishment, I thought, and recognized it as an echo of some old words of Burrich’s.