I looked again at the list of the dead. There was one other name on there, Nat of the Fens. He might have been someone I had met once when I was staying with Black Rolf. I could not be sure. I drummed my fingers on the table, wondering if I dared visit the Witted community near Crowsneck. To do what? Ask them if they had sent the Queen a note threatening my life? That didn’t seem the best strategy. Perhaps it had only been a bluff. If I went there and they saw me, it would confirm to them that I did still live, even after all the years. At the very least, I’d be a valuable hostage to them, an embarrassment to the Farseers whether I was displayed dead or alive. No. This was not a time for confrontations. Perhaps in truth Chade had taken the best action. He had removed me from where I had been, whilst outwardly behaving as if the threat had no teeth in it. My annoyance with him faded. Nonetheless, I must convince him that this withholding of truth from me was a poor idea. What had he feared? That I would not come to the Prince’s aid, that I would flee the country to begin life elsewhere? Was that what he thought of me?

I shook my head to myself. Plainly it was time I had it out with Chade. He needed to accept that I was a man now, in full control of my own life and capable of making my own decisions. And with Kettricken. I’d have Chade arrange a meeting with her, so that I could tell her myself my fears for my daughter, and ask her promise that Nettle be left alone. And the Fool. Best to settle that festering as well. Those were my thoughts as I left Chade’s tower and sought my bed for the night.

I did not sleep well. Nettle battered at my dreams like a moth trying to destroy itself in a lantern’s flame. I slept, but it was the rest of a man who sleeps with his back braced against a besieged door. I was aware of her. At first she was determined, then angry. Towards morning, she became desperate. Her pleas then were the hardest to hold my walls against. ‘Please. Please.’ That was all she said. But her Skill made it a sweeping wind of pleading against my senses.

I awoke with my head pounding dully. All my senses felt abraded. Yellow candlelight in my room seemed too bright, and any sound too loud. The guilt that gnawed me for ignoring her didn’t improve any of it. It was definitely a morning that deserved a bit of elfbark, and with or without Chade’s approval, I wasn’t going to begin the day without it. I rose, splashed my face and dressed. The shock of the cold water on my face and the necessity of bending down to fasten my shoes seemed as battering as a beating.

I left our chambers. Slowly I descended to the kitchens. On my way down, I met Lord Golden’s serving-boy. I dismissed Char for the morning, telling him that I would fetch the lord’s breakfast that day. His delighted grin and repeated thanks reminded me that once I had been a boy who could have easily filled any free hour with a dozen activities. It made me feel old and his heartfelt thanks gave me a moment of shame. I wanted to eat alone in our rooms, and fetching Lord Golden’s breakfast was my best pretence for doing so.

The clatter and steam and shouting in the kitchen did nothing for my headache. I filled the tray, including a generous pot of hot water, and headed back up the stairs. I was halfway up the second landing when a panting woman overtook me. ‘You’ve forgotten Lord Golden’s flowers,’ she told me.

‘But it’s winter,’ I grumbled as I reluctantly halted. ‘There are no flowers to be found anywhere.’

‘Nevertheless,’ she replied with a warm smile that made her a maid again. ‘There will always be flowers for Lord Golden.’ I shook my head at the Fool’s curious particulars. She set a small nosegay on the tray, a confection of stark black twigs with white ribbon stitched into tiny buds on them. The creation was finished with two narrow bows, one white and one black. I thanked her dutifully, but she assured me that it was her pleasure before she went off about her other duties.

When I carried the tray into our chambers, I was surprised to see the Fool up and sitting in a chair by the hearth. He wore one of Lord Golden’s elaborate dressing gowns, but his hair was in loose disarray down to his shoulders. He was not posing as the nobleman right now. It put me off balance. I’d planned on taking food into my room and then rapping on his door to let him know there was food on the table for him. Well, at least Jek was not here. Perhaps I’d finally be able to have private words with him. He turned his head slowly as I came in. ‘There you are,’ he said. He looked as if he’d had a late night.

‘Yes,’ I agreed shortly. I thunked the tray on the table and went back to latch the door. Then I went to my room for the dishes I’d been gradually purloining from the kitchens, and set up breakfast for both of us at the table. Now that the moment had come to confront him, I couldn’t find a place to begin. I hungered to have this over with. Yet, the first words out of my mouth were, ‘I need a red whistle. On a green string. Do you think you could make one for me?’

He rose, a pleased but puzzled smile on his face. He came slowly to the table. ‘I suppose so. Do you need it soon?’

‘As soon as possible.’ My voice sounded flat and hard, even to my own ears. As if it hurt me to ask him this favor. ‘It isn’t for me. It’s for Thick. He had one once, but someone took it from him and broke it. Evidently just to cause him pain. He’s never forgotten it.’

‘Thick,’ he said, and then, ‘He’s an odd one, isn’t he?’

‘I suppose so,’ I conceded stiffly. He seemed not to notice my reserve.

‘Whenever I encounter him, he stares at me. But if I look back at him at all, he scuttles away like a whipped dog.’

I shrugged. ‘Lord Golden is not the kindliest noble in the keep, as far as the servants are concerned.’

He took a small breath and sighed it out. ‘True. A necessary deception, but it pains me to see the man react to it. A red whistle on a green string. As soon as possible, then,’ the Fool promised

‘Thank you.’ My reply was crisp. His words had reminded me yet again that Lord Golden was only a role he played. I already wished I hadn’t asked anything of him. Asking a favor is a poor way to begin a quarrel. I refused to meet his puzzled gaze. I carried my cup to my room. I shook a measure of elfbark into the bottom of it and then returned to the table. When I got there, the Fool was bemusedly turning his posy in his fingers, his mouth twisted in a small? smile. I poured the hot water over my elfbark and over the herbs in the waiting pot. As he watched, the smile ran away from his face and eyes.

‘What are you doing?’ he asked softly.

I groaned, then spoke briskly. ‘Headache. Nettle was rattling my shutters all last night. It’s getting harder and harder to keep her out.’ I lifted my cup and swirled the water. Inky black tendrils were rising from the steeping elfbark. The brew darkened and I sipped at it. Bitter. But the throbbing in my head quieted almost immediately.

‘Should you be doing that?’ the Fool asked me evenly.

‘If I didn’t think so, I wouldn’t be doing it,’ I pointed out pleasantly.

‘But Chade—’

‘Chade has not the Skill, and does not know the pains of it, nor understand the remedies for those pains.’ I spoke more sharply than I intended, from a well of unexpected annoyance. I realized then that I was still angry with Chade for withholding from me the full content of the note. As he always had, he was still trying to control my life. It is strange to find that an emotion you thought you had set aside is still simmering under the surface. I took a second mouthful of the bitter brew. As elfbark always did, it would plunge my spirits into a low even as it fired me with restlessness. It was a bad combination, but better than trying to wade through the day with a Skill headache hammering through my skull.