I felt suddenly weary and weak again. Without a word, I rolled the feathers up in the cloth again. Carrying them in my fist, I went back into my chamber and shut the door behind me. I opened the secret door, closed it behind me, and began the long climb back up to my workroom.
I was shaking with weariness by the time I reached my bed. Without undressing, I crawled back under the covers. After a time, I fell into a deep sleep. When I awoke hours later, I was hungry and the fire had almost burned out. Waking up, eating and feeding the fire: none of it seemed worth the effort. I shouldered deeper into the bed and fled back into unconsciousness.
The next time I awoke, it was because someone was bending over me. I came awake with a yell of alarm and had seized the Prince by the throat before I knew it was he. An instant later, I was sitting back on my bed, panting as my panic subsided. ‘Sorry, sorry,’ I managed.
The Prince stood well away from the bed, rubbing his throat and staring at me. ‘What is the matter with you?’ he croaked, caught between anger and alarm.
I gulped air in a dry throat, feeling sweaty and shaky. My eyes and mouth were sticky. ‘Sorry,’ I managed again. ‘You woke me too suddenly. I was startled.’ I struggled free of my blankets and staggered out of bed. I could not catch my breath. My alarm seemed a continuation of a nightmare I could not recall. I felt bleary and disoriented as I looked about my chamber. Thick was sitting in Chade’s chair, his shoes stretched out towards the fire. His tunic and trousers were servant-blue, but they looked new and as if they had been cut to fit him. How long ago had I intended to get him shoes and better clothing? Chade must have done it. The fire burned merrily on the hearth and there was a tray of food on the table.
‘Did you do this? Thank you.’ I made my way to the table and poured wine into a glass,
The Prince shook his head in confusion. ‘Do what?’
I lowered the glass I had drained. My mouth still felt dry. I poured another glass of wine and drank it down, then drew a breath. ‘The food and the fire,’ I explained. ‘The wine.’
‘No. That was there when we came in.’
My senses were gradually coming back to me and my heart was resuming its normal rhythm. Chade must have come and gone while I was asleep. Then, as it dawned on me, ‘How did you get here?’ I demanded of the Prince.
‘Thick brought me.’
At his name, the simpleton turned his head. He and the Prince exchanged conspiratorial grins. I sensed something pass between them, too swift and controlled for me to follow. Thick chuckled and turned back to the fire with a sigh.
‘You are not supposed to be here,’ I said heavily. I sat down at the table and poured more wine. I put my hand on the covered pot of soup on the tray. It was barely warm. Eating it seemed like too much trouble anyway. I drank the wine.
‘Why shouldn’t I be here? Why shouldn’t I know the secrets of the castle where I shall some day be King? Am I considered too young, too stupid or too untrustworthy?’
That was a sorer point than I had expected to touch. I suddenly realized I had no good answer to his query. I said mildly, ‘I thought Chade didn’t want you up here.’
‘He probably doesn’t.’ He came to sit down beside me at the table as I poured more wine. ‘There are probably a lot more things that Chade would just as soon keep to himself. That man loves secrets. He has stuffed Buckkeep full of secrets like a magpie collecting shiny pebbles. And for the same reason, solely that he loves to have them.’ He regarded me critically. ‘The scars are back. Did the Skill-healing wear off, then?’
‘No. Chade and I put them back. We judged it the most sensible thing to do. Fewer questions, you know.’
He nodded, but continued to stare at me. ‘You look both better and worse than you did. You shouldn’t be drinking all that wine before you’ve eaten.’
‘The food’s cold.’
‘Well, it’s simple enough to heat it.’ He spoke with impatience for my stupidity. I thought he would put Thick to the task. Instead, he took up the pot himself, gave it a stir and covered it again. As if well practiced at such things, he attached it to the hook and swung it over the fire again. He tore the small loaf of bread in half, and set it on a plate near the flames to warm. ‘Do you want water for tea? It would do you more good than all that wine you’re slogging down.’
I set my empty glass down on the table but did not fill it again. ‘You amaze me sometimes. The things you know, for a prince, are surprising.’
‘Well, you know how my mother is. Servant of the people. When I was younger, she wished me educated in the way her people educate their Sacrifice, that is, that I should know how to do the most common tasks as well as any peasant boy would. When she had a hard time teaching me all she wished to know at Buckkeep, she decided to foster me out, away from servants who leapt to my every desire. She wished to send me to the Mountains for a time, but Chade urged her to keep me in the Six Duchies. That left her only one choice, she decided. And so when I was eight, she sent me to Lady Patience, to page for her for a year and a half. Needless to say, I was not treated like a coddled princeling there. For the first two months, she kept forgetting my name. Yet Lady Patience taught me a wonderful array of things.’
‘You didn’t learn cooking skills from Lady Patience,’ I observed before I could guard my tongue.
‘Ah, but I did,’ he replied with a grin. ‘It was by necessity. She would want something heated, late at night in her room, and if left to herself, she burned it and filled the apartments with smoke. I learned a great deal from her, actually, but you are right. Cooking was not her strongest talent. Lacey taught me how to warm a meal at a hearth. And other things, as well. I can crochet better than half the ladies of the court.’
‘Can you?’ I asked in a voice of neutrally friendly interest. His back was to me as he stirred the pot. It suddenly smelled good. My small lapse had passed unnoticed.
‘Yes, I can. I’ll teach you some day, if you like.’ He fished the soup back from the flames, stirred it again, and brought it back to the table with the bread. As he set it before me as if he were my page, he observed, ‘Lacey said that you never learned as a boy. That you were too impatient to sit still that long.’
I had taken up my spoon. I set it down again. He went back to the hearth and checked the teakettle. ‘Not quite hot enough yet,’ he said, and then added, ‘Lacey always told me that the steam should stand out a full handspan from the spout if the tea is to be brewed well. But I’m sure she said as much to you. Both Lady Patience and Lacey told many tales about you. I’d heard little about you here at Buckkeep. You were mentioned as often with a curse here as with regrets. But when I got there, it was as if they couldn’t help themselves, even though it often made Patience break down and weep. That’s the one thing I don’t understand about all this. She thinks you are dead and she mourns you. Every single day. How can you let her do that? Your own mother.’
‘Lady Patience is not my mother,’ I said weakly.
‘She says she is. Was,’ he corrected himself sourly. ‘She was always telling me what I actually wanted to eat or do or wear. And if I protested that my true preference was different, she would declare, “Don’t be ridiculous. I know what you want. I know about boys! I had a son of my own, once.” She meant you,’ he added heavily in case the inference had escaped me.
I sat there, silent. I told myself that I was not a well man yet, that the cold, painful days in the prison and the Skill-healing and the remaking of my scars, and yes, even the Fool’s rejection of my overtures of peace had weakened and drained me. Thus I trembled and my throat closed and I could not think what to do when a secret so well and truly kept was suddenly spoken aloud. A terrible darkness engulfed me, worse than anything elfbark had ever produced. Tears welled in my eyes. Perhaps, I thought, if I do not blink, they will not spill. Perhaps if I sat very still long enough, somehow my eyes would re-absorb the tears.