This was Chade’s curmudgeonly observation as we sat over wine one evening. He was out of sorts for a number of reasons. Starling had tried to give him a note to pass to me. She had done it privately, but even so, it was indiscreet in the extreme for her to acknowledge that she knew he and I were connected. Somehow, that was my fault. When he had refused, she had said, ‘Then just tell him that I’m sorry. I’d quarrelled with my husband, and I wanted the comfort of his friendship. I’d been drinking at the keep before I started down to town to finish my drink. I know I shouldn’t have said those things.’

While I was still gaping, he’d asked delicately if Starling and I had any sort of ‘an arrangement’ and when I angrily replied that it was no one else’s business if we did, but we didn’t, he had surprised me by saying that only a foolish man would deliberately provoke a minstrel to anger.

‘I didn’t provoke her to anger. All of this is because I’ve refused to have her in my bed since I discovered she was married. I think I have a right to decide with whom I’ll sleep. Don’t you?’

I’d expected him to be shocked at this revelation. Almost, I hoped that it would be enough to embarrass him and make him resolve not to pry into my personal affairs any more. He only slapped his forehead. ‘Of course. Well, she should have expected you to shake her out of your sheets once you discovered she was married, but… Fitz, do you understand what it means to her? Think.’

Had he not been so intent on teaching me something, I think I would have been offended. Yet his air was so familiar I could not accept his question as anything other than the opening to a lesson. Thus he had often spoken to me when trying to teach me to see all the possible motivations for a man to do something, rather than just the first ones that sprang to mind. ‘She is ashamed because my finding out she was married and yet still sleeping with me had lowered my opinion of her?’

‘No. Think, boy. Did it really lower your opinion of her?’ Reluctantly, I shook my head. ‘I only felt stupid. Chade, in some way I was not even surprised. Starling has always allowed herself to do such things. I’ve known that since I first met her. I didn’t expect her to change her minstrel ways. I simply didn’t want to be a party to it.’

He sighed. ‘Fitz, Fitz. Your biggest blind spot is that you cannot imagine anyone seeing you in a different way from how you see yourself. What are you, who are you to Starling?’

I shrugged a shoulder. ‘Fitz. The bastard. Someone she has known for fifteen years.’

A very small smile played across his face. He spoke softly. ‘No. You are FitzChivalry Farseer. The unacknowledged prince. She’d made a song about you before she’d even met you. Why? Because you’d captured her imagination. The bastard Farseer. Had Chivalry acknowledged you, you’d have had a chance at the throne and ignored by your father, you were still loyal, still the hero of the battle at Antler Island Tower. You died in ignominy in Regal’s dungeons, and rose as a vengeful ghost to plague Regal through his days as a pretender. She accompanied you on a quest to save your King, and though it did not come out as any of us intended, still there was triumph at the end. And she not only witnessed it, she was a part of it.’

‘It seems a fine tale, to hear you tell it that way, with none the dirt and pain and misfortune.’

‘It is a fine tale, even with the dirt and pain and misfortune. A fine and glorious tale, one that would make any minstrel’s reputation for life, did she ever sing it. Yet it is one Starling can never sing. Because it has been forbidden to her. Her great adventure, her wonderful song, locked up in a secret. Still, at least she knows she was part of it, and she was a part of that royal bastard’s life. She became his lover, a party to his secrets. I think she expected that when you returned to Buckkeep some day, you would be again in the centre of intrigue and wondrous events. And she expected to be part of that also, to turn heads and bask in that shared glory. The Witted Bastard’s minstrel mistress. If she could not sing the song herself, least she was guaranteed a place in that tale, if it should ever he told. And don’t doubt that she has composed it somewhere, as song or a poem. She saw herself as a part of your tale, touched by your wild glory. Then, you took that from her. You not only walked away from her, you returned to Buckkeep as an ignominious servant. You are not only ending your tale on a disappointing note; you are making her of no consequence by doing it. She is a minstrel, Fitz. How did you think she’d react to that? Gracefully?’

I saw her suddenly in a different light. Her cruelty to Hap, her offence at me. ‘I don’t think of myself like that, Chade.’

‘I know you don’t,’ he said more gently. ‘But do you see that she could? And that you crashed her dreams down around her?’

I nodded slowly. ‘But there’s nothing I can do about it. I won’t take a married woman into my bed. And I can’t come back as FitzChivalry Farseer. I’d still face a noose around my neck if I did.’

‘That’s most likely true. I agree that you cannot be known as FitzChivalry again. As to the other… well. Let me remind you that Starling knows a great many things. We are all vulnerable to her. I expect you to maintain her goodwill towards us.’

Before I could think of a reply to that, he demanded to know why I had cancelled all of the Prince’s Skill lessons until after the Bingtown representatives had left. The Prince had already asked that question. I said to Chade what I’d told Dutiful: that I feared the scaled boy in the Bingtown party had some sensitivity to the Skill, and that until the Traders departed, we would limit our lessons to translating scrolls together. The Prince was not patient with these more mundane studies. My suspicion of the veiled Trader intrigued both him and Chade. Thrice Chade had chewed over Selden Vestrit’s conversation with me. Neither of us could find any meat in it. I was learning that sometimes it was easier to keep Chade uninformed than to give him bits of information he could not confirm. Such as telling him about Narechka’s tattoos.

I know he spent some hours of his own time at the spyhole without glimpsing her tattoos. As she had not made any complaint about her health, he could not send the healer to her rooms to confirm what I had seen. Elliania had pointedly refused several invitations to ride or game with the Prince, so Dutiful could make no observations on whether or not she seemed to be in pain. And the Queen dared not make too many pressing invitations lest it appear that the Six Duchies desired the betrothal to proceed more than the Out Islands did. In the end, all they had was my account of what I had seen. It baffled all of us, as did her handmaid, Henja.

The woman remained a complete cipher to us. Her references to a Lady were unclear, unless she referred to an older female relative with authority over Elliania. Discreet inquiries in that area availed us nothing. Chade’s spies had failed us as well. Twice Henja had been followed down into Buckkeep Town. Each time she had vanished from their scrutiny, once in a market crowd, and once simply by turning a corner. We had no idea who she saw there, or even if it was of any significance. The arcane punishment of the searing tattoos bespoke a magic that neither of us knew. Perhaps we should have felt glad of an unseen power urging the Narcheska to make strong her betrothal to the Prince. Instead, we both were dismayed by the dark cruelty of it. ‘Are you sure Lord Golden could not cast some light on this?’ Chade demanded abruptly. ‘I recall him telling several people at a dinner that he had once made quite a hobby of studying the Out Island history and culture.’

I shrugged eloquently.

Chade snorted. ‘Have you asked him yet?’

‘No,’ I replied shortly. Then, as he lowered his brows at me, I added, ‘I told you. He has taken to his bed and scarcely comes out. Even his meals are taken in to him. He has the curtains drawn, both across his windows and about his bed.’