I soon learned it was not an accident. Perhaps the first one had been, but in the days of our journey, Thick managed enough Skill-stumbles for me that any thought of coincidence soon vanished. If I was aware of him, I could sometimes counter it, but if he saw me first, I'd only know of it when the boat seemed to lurch under me. I'd try to catch my balance, and instead stumble to the deck or walk into a railing. But at that time, I dismissed it as my own clumsiness.

I went to find Chade and Dutiful. We had a greater degree of privacy on that journey than we had previously had on all our travels. Peottre and the Narcheska and her guards were on the other vessel. The Boar clansmen who operated our vessel seemed little interested in how we socialized, and fewer pretences were needed.

So it was that I went directly to the Prince's cabin and knocked. Chade admitted me. 1 found them both well settled, including a meal set out on a table. It was Outislander fare, hut at least there was plenty of it. The wine with it was of a decent quality, and I was pleased when a nod from Dutiful invited me to join them.

'How is Thick?' he asked without preamble. It was a relief, almost, to give a detailed report on that, for I had dreaded that he would immediately demand that I explain Nettle. I detailed the small man's discomfort and unhappiness and ended up with, 'Regardless of his Skill-strength, I do not see how we can force him to continue. With every ship we embark on, he dislikes me more and becomes more intractable. We risk stirring an enmity in him that we can never quell, one that will make him set his Skill against all our endeavours. If it can safely be done, I propose that we leave him on Zylig while we go on to Aslevjal.'

Chade set his glass down with a thud. 'You know it can't be done, so why ask it?11 knew his irritation masked his own guilt and regret when he added, 'I swear, I never thought it would be so hard on him. Is there no way to make him understand the importance of what we do?'

'The Prince might be able to convey it to him- Thick is so angry with me right now, I don't think he'll truly hear anything 1 say.'

'He isn't the only one who is angry with you,' Dutiful observed coolly. The calmness with which he addressed me warned me that his anger had gone very deep indeed. He controlled it now as a man controls his blade- Waiting for an opening.

'Shall I leave you two alone to discuss this?' Chade rose a shade too hastily.

'Oh, no. As you know nothing of Nettle and her dragon, I'm sure this will be as enlightening to you as it is to me.'

Chade sank slowly back into his chair, his retreat severed by the Prince's sarcasm. I knew abruptly that the old man was not going to help me at all. That, if anything, Chade relished my being cornered this way.

'Who is Nettle?' Dutiful's question was blunt.

So was my answer. 'My daughter. Though she does not know it.'

He leaned back in his chair as if I'd doused him with cold water. There was a long moment of silence. Chade, damn him, lifted his hand to cover his mouth, but not before I'd seen his smile. I shot him a look of pure fury. He dropped his hand and grinned openly.

'I see,' Dutiful said after a time. Then, as if it were the most important conclusion he could reach, 'I have a cousin. A girl cousin! How old is she? How is it that I've never met her? Or have I? When was she last at court? Who is her lady mother?'

I could not find my tongue, but I hated Chade speaking for me. 'She has never been to court, my prince. Her mother is a candle maker. Her father . . . the man she thinks is her father is Burrich, formerly the Stablemaster at Buckkeep Castle. She is sixteen now, I believe.' He halted there, as if to give the Prince time to puzzle it out.

'Swift's father? Then ... is Swift your son? You spoke of having a foster-son, but . . .'

'Swift is Burrich's son. And Nettle's half-brother.' I took a long breath, and heard myself ask, 'Have you any brandy? Wine isn't enough for this tale.'

'I can see that.' He stood up and fetched it for me, more nephew than prince in that moment, and ready to be enraptured by ancient family history. It was hard for me to tell that old tale, and somehow Chade nodding sympathetically made it worse. When the convoluted connections were finally all traced for him, Dutiful sat shaking his head.

'What a mare's nest you made of it, FitzChivalry. With this piece in place, the tale my mother told me of your life makes much more sense. And how you must hate Molly and Burrich, that they could both set you aside and faithlessly forget you and find comfort in one another.'

It shocked me that he could speak of it that way. 'No,' 1 said firmly. 'That isn't how it was. They believed me dead. There was nothing faithless about them going on living. And, if she had to give herself to someone, then . . . then I am glad that she chose a man worthy of her. And that he finally found a bit of happiness for himself. And that together they protected my child.' It was getting

harder to speak as my throat tightened. I loosened it with a slug of brandy, and then wheezed in a breath.

'He was the better man for her,' I managed to add. I had told myself that so often, through the years.

'I wonder if she would have thought so,' the Prince mused, and then, at the look on my face, added hastily, 'I beg your pardon. It's not my place to wonder such things. But - . .'but I am still shocked that my mother allowed this. Often she has spoken with me, forcefully, about how much rests on me as the sole heir to the throne.'

'She gave way to Fitz's feelings in that. Against my counsel/ Chade explained. I could hear the satisfaction he took in finally vindicating himself.

'I see. Well, actually, I don't see, but for now the question is, how have you been teaching her to Skill? Did you live near her before or ... V

'I haven't been teaching her. What she knows of it, she has mastered on her own.'

'But I was told that was horribly dangerous!' Dutiful's shock seemed to deepen. 'How could you allow her to be risked this way, knowing all she means to the Farseer throne?' That question was for me, and then he accusingly demanded of Chade, 'Did you prevent her coming to court? Was this your doing, some silly effort at protecting the Farseer name?'

'Not at all, my prince,' he denied smoothly. He turned his calm gaze on me and told Dutiful, 'Many times, I have asked Fitz to allow Nettle to be brought to Buckkeep, so that she could both learn her own importance to the Farseer line and be instructed in the Skill. But, again, this was an area in which FitzChivalry's feelings had their way. Against the counsel of both the Queen and myself.'

The Prince took several deep breaths. Then, 'This is unbelievable,' he said quietly. 'And intolerable. It will be remedied. I'll do it myself.1

'Do what?' I demanded.

'Tell that girl who she is! And have her brought to court and treated as befits her birth. See her educated in all things, including the Skill. My cousin is being raised as a country girl, dipping candles

and feeding chickens! What if the Farseer throne required her? I still cannot grasp that my mother allowed this!'

Is there anything more chilling than looking at a righteous fifteen-year-old and realizing he has the power to unravel your entire life? I felt queasy with vulnerability. 'You have no idea what that would do to my life,' I pleaded quietly.

'No. I don't,' he admitted easily, but with growing outrage. 'And neither do you. You go around making these monumental decisions about what other people should know or not know about their own lives. But you don't really have any more idea how it will turn out than I do! You just do what you think is safest and then crawl around hoping no one will find out and blame you later if things go wrong!1 He was building up to a frenzy, and I suddenly suspected that this was not entirely about Nettle.