He paused then. I wondered what he expected. That the Queen would thank him for his sympathy and concern? I saw Chade’s tension. Despite what the Old Blood claimed to ‘know’, Chade had counselled Kettricken not to admit to them that her son was Witted. The Queen skirted the issue nicely, telling her that she shared his concern for children that must grow up in an atmosphere of secrecy, their talents uneducated.

And so it went for that long evening. Web was the only one who seemed not only willing but insistent to share information about himself and his Wit. I began to recognize the distance that the Old Blood folks kept from him. It was as much confusion as awe. Like many a man labelled either god-touched or mad, folk were unsure what to make of him. He made them uneasy; they were not sure if they should emulate him or drive him from their midst. I swiftly deduced that alone of the folk there, he had come on his own. No community had selected him to represent them; he had simply heard of the Queen’s summoning and answered it. The woman in the forest had seemed to set great store by him, but I was not at all sure that every Witted person in the room shared her high regard. And then he won my queen.

‘A man with nothing to lose,’ he said at one point, ‘is often in the best position to sacrifice himself for the gain of others.’

That set Kettricken’s eyes to shining at him, and I knew that both Chade and I wished that he had chosen any other word but ’sacrifice’.

The talk lasted until the evening meal. Chade and the Queen left them to eat in privacy, but I did not scruple to watch them remove their hoods and masks. I saw no one I recognized either from my contacts with Rolf’s Old Bloods or from the Piebalds I had hunted. They ate well, commenting freely on how good the food was. One small Wit-beast that had passed by me unnoticed now emerged. A woman had a squirrel that came out and scampered about on the table, foraging amongst the serving dishes without remonstrance from anyone. This meal and the casual conversation were what the Queen and Chade truly wished me to witness. I was not surprised when Chade soon joined me at my post.

Silently we listened to our guests discuss the direction of the conversation and if they thought the Queen was truly listening to them. There were two Old Bloods, a man calling himself Boyo and a woman using the name Silvereye, who were particularly vocal. I sensed that they knew one another well, and perceived themselves as the leaders of this group. They attempted to rally the others into taking a firm stance with the Queen. Boyo recited a list of demands they should make, with Silvereye enthusiastically nodding to each one. Several were unrealistic and others raised difficult questions. Boyo claimed descent from a noble family which had been stripped of title and estates during the time of the Piebald Prince frenzy. He wanted all restored to him, with the promise that those who helped him insist on it would be made welcome as dwellers and workers on his family lands. Surely all could see that a noble of acknowledged Old Blood could improve conditions for all of them. I myself did not see that clear connection, but some of them nodded at his words.

Silvereye had more vengeance then restitution in mind. She proposed that those who had executed Witted ones should themselves receive the same treatment. Both were adamant that the Queen must offer reparations for old wrongs before any discussion of how Witted and unWitted could live peaceably alongside one another.

My heart sank at these words. In the dim light of our hooded candle, Chade looked weary. I knew the Queen had hoped to take the opposite approach and attempt to solve today’s problems and eliminate tomorrow’s rather than go back scores of years and try to render justice. Chade leaned over close to me to whisper in my ear, ‘If they hold that line, then all of this will have been for naught. Three days will not suffice even to discuss such things. And even a presentation of such demands will drive the dukes to equally stringent demands of their own.’

I nodded. I set my hand upon his wrist. Let us hope they are but two, and that calmer heads will prevail. That Web, for instance. He did not seem bent on revenge.

Chade’s brow had furrowed when I began my Skill-attempt. After I had finished, he nodded his head slowly. I got the gist of his returned thought Where… Web?

In the far corner. Just watching them all.

And indeed he was. It appeared almost as if he were dozing, but I suspected that he was watching and listening as carefully as we were. For a time longer, Chade and I crouched there together. Then he suggested to me quietly, ‘Go and eat. I’ll keep watch while you’re gone. We shall want you to remain at this post as long as you can this evening.’

And so I did. When I returned, I brought more cushions and a blanket, a bottle of wine and a handful of raisins for the ferret who accompanied me. Chade gave a sniff, plainly indicating that he thought I indulged myself, and then vanished. The Old Bloods re-masked themselves before they allowed the servants into the room to clear away. Musicians and jugglers followed, and the Queen and Chade joined them for this entertainment. Also included were the dukes’ representatives. These were all fairly young men and they did not make a good showing. They clustered together, plainly uneasy at the thought of spending the evening in the company of Witted folk, and spoke mostly amongst themselves. They were supposed to join the Queen and Chade in a discussion tomorrow with the Old Bloods. I foresaw that little progress would be made and felt some concern for my prince.

I reached for him, and in a moment felt his acknowledgment. Where are you and what are you doing?

I’m sitting and listening to an Old Blood minstrel sing songs from olden days. We’re at a sort of shelter at the head end of a valley. From the look of it, I would say it was thrown together especially for this purpose. I guess they did not want to take us to any of their real homes for fear of later reprisals.

Are you comfortable?

A bit cold, and the food is very basic. But it’s no worse than an overnight hunt would be. They are treating us well. Let my mother know I am safe.

I shall.

And how goes it at Buckkeep?

Slowly. I’m sitting behind a wall watching Old Bloods watch a juggler. Dutiful, I doubt that any real progress will be made in the next three days.

I suspect you are right. I think we should take the attitude of one old man here. He keeps telling everyone it will be a triumph if we have these talks at all without bloodshed. And that will be more than any Farseer has offered Old Blood in his lifetime.

Hmm. Perhaps he has something there.

The Old Bloods I watched made an early night of it. Doubtless they were weary both from the journey and from the tension. I was glad to seek my own bed but first decided on a trip down to the guardroom to see what gossip might be offered. The guardroom, I had long ago discovered, was the best place to hear rumour and innuendo, and to judge the temper of the folk at large.

On my way there, I was shocked to encounter Web wandering about in the quiet night halls of the castle. He greeted me warmly by name. ‘Are you lost?’ I asked him courteously.

‘No. Only curious. And my head too full of thoughts to sleep. Where are you going?’

‘To find a late meal,’ I told him, and he suddenly decided that was the very thing he needed himself. I was reluctant to take one of our Old Blood emissaries into the guardroom, but he refused the suggestion that he find a quiet hearth in the Great Hall and wait there for me. As he walked beside me, dread rose in me that we might face some sort of encounter there, but he seemed immune to such fears, asking me endless questions about the tapestries, banners and portraits we passed.