Despite all that had happened, it was still early morning. Most of the folk moving quietly within Buckkeep were servants, busy with the tasks that would make their masters mornings go more smoothly. Some hauled buckets of wash water, and others carried breakfast trays. A healer carrying a tray of lint and pots of salve hastened past my long-legged stride. The little woman was trotting doggedly, her cheeks red, as if hurry were of the utmost importance. I surmised she might be going to Chade’s chambers to treat his burns. When she suddenly halted in front of me, I nearly stumbled over her. I caught my balance by clapping a hand to the wall, and then apologized. ‘No need, no need. Just open this door for me. please.’

It wasn’t Chade’s door. I had long ago made certain that I knew where his chamber was. But my curiosity was piqued, so as I set my hand to the door, I earnestly exclaimed, ‘I do hope Lady Modesty is not badly injured. You carry many supplies.’

The healer shook her head irritably. ‘This is not Lady Modesty’s chamber. Lady Rosemary is the one who needs my services. A fall of soot in her chimney last night ignited right in her face, poor thing. She has burned both her hands, and quite scorched her beautiful hair. Open the door, man.’

I gawked as I did so, and then risked a hasty glance inside before I pulled it shut. Lady Rosemary’s cheeks and brow were as red as Chade’s had been. She was garbed in a yellow wrapper and sat in a chair near the window as a maid busily snipped the singed ends from her hair. She held her hands on front of her, draped in wet cloths, as if they pained her. Then the door closed, shutting off my glimpse.

I swayed slightly where I stood as I put it together. I’d uncovered one too many secrets this morning. Lady Rosemary was Chade’s new apprentice. Well, and why not? Regal had given little Rosemary her basic assassin’s training years ago. Why waste a trained spy? Somehow the very practicality of it saddened me. Yet I had heard more than one Farseer say it: the weapon you discard today can be used against you tomorrow. Better to keep Lady Rosemary well in hand than to chance someone else might use her against us.

I walked more slowly as I went on to Chade’s room. What I had discovered did not give my present mission any less urgency, yet I felt my mind was crowded with too many thoughts to follow any of them clearly. I knocked and a lad of about ten opened the door to me. I spoke in a loud and jovial tone. ‘Good morn, young sirruh! Tom Badgerlock, servant to Lord Golden I am, with a message to deliver to Councillor Chade.’

The boy blinked up at me. He had not been awake for long. ‘My master is not well today,’ he said at last. He will see no one.’

I smiled at him affably. ‘Oh, I need not see him, young master. He only needs to hear me for me to pass the message. May I not speak to him?’

‘I’m afraid not. I can take the message from you if you wish.’

‘Oh, he didn’t write it down, young master. He just trusted me to repeat his words.’ I boomed out the message, heedless of the quiet of the corridors behind me and the silence of the dim and shuttered chamber. The boy cast a glance towards a closed door behind him. That would be Chade’s bedroom then. My heart sank. The old man could well have gone back to bed after his injury. And if he slept behind a closed door, his hearing damped by his mishap, I had small chance of him hearing my voice and coming out.

‘And that message would be?’ the young page asked me firmly. He smiled pleasantly but stood solidly in the doorway, barring my access. Obviously I was like many a man-at-arms around Buckkeep: not very bright to begin with, and not improved by a few blows to the head over the years.

I cleared my throat, and bobbed a bow in his direction. ‘Lord Golden of Jamaillia invites Lord Chade of Buckkeep, chief councillor to Queen Kettricken of the Six Duchies, this morning for breakfast and to share a most amusing game of risk. It is a game he has only recently learned, and believes the Councillor will find it most intriguing. “Laudwine” they call it, in its place of origin. Each player receives a single hand of markers, and his entire fate depends on beating the other players at taking chances before the time runs out. There’s been some word of it being played down in Buckkeep Town, though my master has not heard exactly where.’

The little page’s jaw was beginning to hang open. He had been well schooled, I am sure, in relaying verbal messages exactly, but not ones of this length. I kept smiling and pitching my voice to carry through the closed doors. ‘But the most intriguing part of this game is that it was traditionally played only on Wash-days. Fancy that! Now it can be played on almost any day, but the stakes wagered are always the highest on Wash-day.’

‘I’ll tell him,’ the page interrupted. ‘That he is invited to play a game of Laudwine in Lord Golden’s chambers. But I fear he will decline. As I have told you, he is not feeling well today.’

‘Well, that’s not up to you and me, now is it? We’re only the ones who have to be sure the messages are passed on. Thank you now and good morning to you.’

I turned and went off down the hall humming to myself. I tried not to look as if I were in a hurry. I went to the kitchens and loaded a very ample meal onto a tray. To keep up the pretence that Lord Golden would be entertaining Councillor Chade in his chambers, I took extra plates and cups as well, and then carried it up to his chamber. I reached the door of the room just in time to intercept Chade’s page. The lad had come bringing Chade’s apologies that he could not attend, due to a terrible headache. I promised to pass his regrets on to my master. I had scarcely entered the room and latched the door behind me and set the tray down on the table before Chade stepped out of my bedroom. ‘What’s this about Laudwine?’ he demanded.

He looked, if anything, worse. The reddened skin on his brow and cheeks was peeling now, giving him a leprous look. At least he was speaking in closer to normal tones, I tested him, asking, ‘Is your hearing coming back?’ in a low voice.

He scowled at me. ‘It’s somewhat better, but I’ll still need you to speak up for me to hear you clearly. Enough of that. What is this about Laudwine?’

At that moment, Lord Golden emerged from his chamber, still tying the belt of his morning robe. ‘Ah. Good morning, Councillor Chade. This is an unexpected pleasure, but I see that my servant has greeted you and supplied breakfast for both of us. Please, be seated.’

Chade glowered at him, and then transferred the scowl to me. ‘Enough! I don’t care what your grievances with one another are right now. This is a threat to the Farseer throne, and I won’t tolerate any nonsense. Fool, keep quiet. FitzChivalry, report.’

The Fool shrugged and dropped into the chair opposite Chade. Without any ceremony, he began dishing up food for my old mentor. It stung me that he would revert to being his old self for Chade, but not for me. I sat down at table with them. The Fool had left my plate empty. I served myself as I spoke. I reported the morning thoroughly. Chade’s expression grew more alarmed as I progressed, but he did not interrupt. To pay the Fool back in kind, I didn’t even glance at him as I spoke. When I finished at last, I poured tea for Chade and myself and attacked my food, discovering I was ravenous.

After a long moment of silence, Chade asked me, ‘Have you planned an action?’

I shrugged with a casualness I didn’t feel. ‘It seems obvious. Keep Thick close so he can’t give the game away. Keep the Prince safe within doors today and tomorrow. Find out from Thick where he’s been going to report. Investigate the place. Go in and kill as many as possible, making sure that Laudwine dies this time.’ I kept my voice steady, yet I felt a sudden revulsion for my own words. So it begins again, I thought. Not the killing in battle or under attack, but the quietly planned assassinations for the Farseers. Had I said I was not an assassin, would never be one again? I wondered if I had been a liar or an idiot to voice such words.