‘Wouldn’t that seem very odd? Lord Golden’s personal bodyguard riding out with the Queen’s Guard on such a delicate mission?’

‘It would, but for one thing. By then, you will have left Lord Golden’s service, and taken a position with the Queen’s Guard.’

‘Won’t that be a rather abrupt change? How do we explain that? And when did you decide that, you old fox?’

‘Easily enough. Captain Fairgood will be anxious to secure your services, as he was so impressed with your ability to slay three men merely for attempting to steal your master’s pouch. A man that good with a blade would always be a welcome addition to the Queen’s Guard. If anyone asks, you can say that they offered you excellent wages, and that Lord Golden was only too willing to gain favor with the Queen by allowing her to hire his man away from him. Perhaps he is now comfortable enough at our court to see that he never needed a bodyguard at all.’

Chade stacked his logic nicely. I suspected he had a stronger motive than simply to have more access to me as a spy. I wondered if he wanted to separate me from Lord Golden lest he make any inroads on my loyalty to the Farseers. I edged around the question, asking him, ‘Why is it so essential to you that I ride with the Queen’s Guard now?’

‘Well, for one thing, it will make it much easier to explain why you are chosen to accompany the Prince to the Out Islands in spring. You’ll be one of the lucky ones whose lot is chosen for the honor. But mostly because the Witted have asked that, as a token that we mean them no harm, Prince Dutiful ride out as part of their escort.’

I was instantly distracted. ‘Do you think that’s safe? It could be a trap to lure him into danger.’

He smiled grimly. ‘Why do you think I want you riding at his heels? Of course, it’s possible it’s a trap. But the Witted must fear the same thing, must they not? So they ask for him, knowing that we would not risk the sole Farseer heir if there were any chance of a skirmish.’

‘Old Blood,’ I told him. ‘You must learn to say “Old Blood” not “Witted”. Then you’ll send him out to escort them in?’

Chade scowled and admitted, ‘He has little choice in that, as little as I do. The Queen has already promised it to them.’

‘In spite of your disapproval.’

Chade gave a snort of disdain. ‘My approval or disapproval means little to the Queen these days. She thinks, perhaps, that she has outgrown her need for me as a councillor. Well. We shall see.’

I could think of nothing to say to that. Truth to tell, and though it cost me a pang of disloyalty, I secretly rejoiced in my queen’s assertion of her strength.

The days to come were so full that the tensions of them almost crowded from my mind my concerns for the Fool. Despite the fragility of my health, Chade, Thick, Dutiful and I began to meet every morning in the Seawatch Tower. The Fool was not included in our meetings. Chade made no comment on this; given what I had told him, perhaps he viewed it as more desirable that the Fool not be a part of our coterie. I never brought the topic up. Only we four gathered, and there we pursued the Skill with an avidity that frightened me and enthused the rest of them. We made progress, careful and controlled progress that satisfied no one except me. Thick learned to confine his music, though it seemed to distress him in a way he could not explain. Dutiful became better at directing his Skill-messages to individuals. Chade, as was to be expected, lagged behind the other two pupils. If we were physically touching, he could reach my mind faintly, and I his. Thick could direct an onslaught at him that would catch his attention but convey nothing. Dutiful could not seem to find him. Or Chade couldn’t be aware of him. I could not tell which problem it was so we worked on both. The mornings were exhausting and nerve-wracking. I still got headaches, though they did not compare to the ones that had previously afflicted me.

Under Chade’s strict directions, I ate a nourishing meal of bland and healthful food every noon. I might have taken control of his Skill-magic, but he still remained my mentor and believed he knew best where my physical health was concerned. It was at this time that he confronted me about the elfbark and carryme that he had found and removed from my room when I was recovering from my ‘healing’. It was a sharp quarrel between us, and uncomfortable for us both. He maintained that I had a duty not to do anything that might injure or inhibit my Skill, especially now that I was Skillmaster to the Prince and his coterie. I maintained that I had a right to the privacy of my possessions. Neither of us either conceded or apologized. It simply became an area we avoided discussing.

Lord Golden had dismissed me from his service shortly after Chade had suggested he might. I was offered employment with the Queen’s Guard and accepted it with alacrity. They accepted me into their midst with an equanimity that surprised me. Evidently I was not the first odd man that Chade had slipped into their ranks. I wondered how many of them were more than what they seemed. They asked me few questions, but measured me instead with their routine drills and practices. Early afternoons I spent with the Queen’s Guard on the practice grounds. I was often found lacking, and wore the bruises to show for it.

Ostensibly, I had a bunk in the barracks with the rest of the guards but as often I slept in my workroom. If anyone wondered at my oddly loose attachment to the Queen’s Guard, no one commented on it to me. When I encountered Wim at the practice court, he congratulated me on ‘being an honest fighter again’. In dress, I went back to the plain blue of a Buck guardsman, with a purple and white tunic for the times when I must show myself as belonging to the Queen. I derived an inordinate amount of pleasure from openly wearing her fox badge on my breast. It matched the fox pin I wore within my shirt and above my heart.

I seemed to weary more swiftly and heal much more slowly than I ever had before, but despite Chade’s suggestions I did not attempt to use the Skill to speed that process. Late afternoons, while Chade was busy with diplomacy, Thick raided the kitchens for me. Together we gorged ourselves on sweets and rich pastries and fat meat. We discovered that Gilly loved raisins as much as Thick did. The ferret’s pleading dance for them could reduce Thick to tears of laughter. We all began to put on flesh, Thick probably more than was good for him. He became as round and his hair as glossy as a noble lady’s fat little lapdog. Blessed now with food, care and acceptance, a placid and sweet nature sometimes showed in the little man. I enjoyed those simple hours with him.

I even managed several evenings with Hap. We did not go to the Stuck Pig, but to a quiet alehouse, relatively new, called the Wrecked Red Ship. There we ate cheap and greasy tavern food and talked like the old friends we were becoming. It reminded me of my days with Burrich in the time just before Regal killed me. We recognized one another as men now. On our best evening, he regaled me with a long account of how Starling had swept into the woodshop, dazzled Master Gindast with her charm and fame, and carried him off for a day in Buckkeep Town. ‘It was so strange, Tom,’ he told me in a sort of wonder. ‘She behaved as if there had never been any quarrel nor hard words between us. And so what could I do, save do the same? Do you think she has actually forgotten what she said to me?’

‘I doubt she has forgotten,’ I told him thoughtfully. ‘A forgetful minstrel soon starves to death. No. With Starling, I think she believes that if she pretends hard enough that something is so, it becomes so. And, as you have seen, sometimes it works for her. Have you forgiven her, then?’

He looked nonplussed for a moment. Then, with a wry grin, he asked, ‘Would she notice if I hadn’t? She was so adept at persuading Gindast that she was all but a mother to me that I was half-convinced myself.’