"Why?" Chade asked quickly.

"Um, it was a long time ago. Gage. He's a man-at-arms. He came to Burrich one night, a bit drunk, a bit cut up. He'd had a fight with Galen, and Galen hit him in the face with a little whip or something. Gage asked Burrich to fix him up, because it was late, and he wasn't supposed to have been drinking that night. His watch was coming up, or something. Gage told Burrich that he'd overheard Galen say that Regal was twice as royal as Chivalry or Verity, and it was a stupid custom that kept him from the throne. Galen had said that Regal's mother was better born than Shrewd's first queen. Which everyone knows is true. But what angered Gage enough to start the fight was that Galen said Queen Desire was more royal than Shrewd himself, for she'd Farseer blood from both her parents, and Shrewd's was just from his father. So Gage swung at him, but Galen sidestepped and struck him in the face with something."

I paused.

"And?" Chade encouraged me.

"And so he favors Regal, over Verity or even the King. And Regal, well, accepts him. He's friendlier with him than he usually is with servants or soldiers. He seems to take counsel of him, the few times I've seen them together. It's almost funny to watch them together; you'd think Galen was aping Regal, from the way he dresses and walks as the Prince does. Sometimes they almost look alike."

"They do?" Chade leaned closer, waiting. "What else have you noticed?"

I searched my memory for more firsthand knowledge of Galen. "That's all, I guess."

"Has he ever spoken to you?"

"No."

"I see." Chade nodded as if to himself. "And what do you know of him by reputation? What do you suspect?" He was trying to lead me to some conclusion, but I could not guess what.

"He's from Farrow. An Inlander. His family came to Buckkeep with King Shrewd's second queen. I've heard it said that he's afraid of the water, to sail or to swim. Burrich respects him, but doesn't like him. He says he's a man who knows his job and does it, but Burrich can't get along with anyone who mistreats an animal, even if it's out of ignorance. The kitchen folk don't like him. He's always making the younger ones cry. He accuses the girls of getting hair in his meals or having dirty hands, and he says the boys are too rowdy and don't serve food correctly. So the cooks don't like him either, because when the apprentices are upset, they don't do their work well." Chade was still looking at me expectantly, as if waiting for something very important. I racked my brains for other gossip.

"He wears a chain with three gems set in it. Queen Desire gave it to him, for some special service he did. Um. The Fool hates him. He told me once that if no one else is around, Galen calls him freak and throws things at him."

Chade's brows went up. "The Fool talks to you?"

His tone was more than incredulous. He sat up in his chair so suddenly that his wine leaped out of his cup and splashed on his knee. He rubbed at it distractedly with his sleeve.

"Sometimes," I admitted cautiously. "Not very often. Only when he feels like it. He just appears and tells me things."

"Things? What kind of things?"

I realized suddenly that I had never recounted to Chade the fitz-fits-fats riddle. It seemed too complicated to go into just then. "Oh, just odd things. About two months ago he stopped me and said the morrow was a poor day to hunt. But it was fine and clear. Burrich got that big buck that day. You remember. It was the same day that we came up on a wolverine. It tore up two of the dogs badly."

"As I recall, it nearly got you." Chade leaned forward, an oddly pleased look on his face.

I shrugged. "Burrich rode it down. And then he cursed me down as if it were my fault, and told me that he'd have knocked me silly if the beast had hurt Sooty. As if I could have known it would turn toward me." I hesitated. "Chade, I know the Fool is strange. But I like it when he comes to talk to me. He speaks in riddles, and he insults me, and makes fun of me, and gives himself leave to tell me things he thinks I should do, like wash my hair, or not wear yellow. But…"

"Yes?" Chade prodded as if what I were saying was very important.

"I like him," I said lamely. "He mocks me, but from him, it seems a kindness. He makes me feel, well, important. That he could choose me to talk to."

Chade leaned back. He put his hand up to his mouth to cover a smile, but it was a joke I didn't understand. "Trust your instincts," he told me succinctly. "And keep any counsel the Fool gives you. And, as you have, keep it private that he comes and speaks to you. Some could take it amiss."

"Who?" I demanded.

"King Shrewd, perhaps. After all, the Fool is his. Bought and paid for."

A dozen questions rose to my mind. Chade saw the expression on my face, for he held up a quelling hand. "Not now. That's as much as you need to know right now. In fact, more than you need to know. But I was surprised by your revelation. It's not like me to tell secrets not my own. If the Fool wants you to know more, he can speak for himself. But I seem to recall we were discussing Galen."

I sank back in my chair with a sigh. "Galen. So he is unpleasant to those who cannot challenge it, dresses well, and eats alone. What else do I need to know, Chade? I've had strict teachers, and I've had unpleasant ones. I think I'll learn to deal with him."

"You'd better." Chade was deadly earnest. "Because he hates you. He hates you more than he loved your father. The depth of emotion he felt for your father unnerved me. No man, not even a prince, merits such blind devotion, especially not so suddenly. And you he hates, with even more intensity. It frightens me."

Something in Chade's tone brought a sick chill stalking up from my stomach. I felt an uneasiness that almost made me sick. "How do you know?" I demanded.

"Because he told Shrewd so when Shrewd directed him to include you among his pupils. 'Does not the bastard have to learn his place? Does not he have to be content with what you have decreed for him?' Then he refused to teach you."

"He refused?"

"I told you. But Shrewd was adamant. And he is King, and Galen must obey him now, for all that he was a queen's man. So Galen relented and said he would attempt to teach you. You will meet with him each day. Beginning a month from now. You are Patience's until then."

"Where?"

"There is a tower top, called the Queen's Garden. You will be admitted there." Chade paused, as if wanting to warn me, but not wishing to scare me. "Be careful," he said at last, "for within the walls of the garden, I have no influence. I am blind there."

It was a strange warning, and one I took to heart.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Smithy

THE LADY PATIENCE ESTABLISHED her eccentricity at an early age. As a small child, her nursemaids found her stubbornly independent, and yet lacking the common sense to take care of herself. One remarked, "She would go all day with her laces undone because she could not tie them herself, yet would suffer no one to tie them for her." Before the age of ten, she had decided to eschew the traditional trainings befitting a girl of her rank, and instead interested herself in handicrafts that were very unlikely to prove useful: pottery, tattooing, the making of perfumes, and the growing and propagation of plants, especially foreign ones.

She did not scruple to absent herself for long hours from supervision. She preferred the woodlands and orchards to her mother's courtyards and gardens. One would have thought this would produce a hardy and practical child. Nothing could be further from the truth. She seemed to be constantly afflicted with rashes, scrapes, and stings, was frequently lost, and never developed any sensible wariness toward man or beast.