I closed my eyes.

A time of bright morning and a knock at the door. I could not sleep, nor could I stay awake for the fever that racked me. I had drunk willowbark tea until my belly was sloshing. Still my head pounded, and I was always shivering or sweating. The knock came again, louder, and Kettle set down the cup she had been plaguing me with. The Fool was at his worktable. He put aside his carving tool, but Kettle called "I'll get it!" and opened the door, even as he was saying, "No, let me."

Starling pushed in, so abruptly that Kettle exclaimed in surprise. Starling came past her, into the room, shaking snow from her cap and cloak. She shot the Fool a look of triumph. The Fool merely nodded cordially at her as if he had been expecting her. He turned back to his carving without a word. The bright sparks of anger in her eyes grew hotter, and I sensed her satisfaction in something. She shut the door loudly behind her and came into the room like the north wind herself. She dropped to sit cross-legged on the floor beside my bed. "So, Fitz. I'm so glad to finally see you again. Kettle told me you were hurt. I'd have come to see you before, but I was turned away at the door. How are you today?"

I tried to focus my mind. I wished she would move more slowly and speak more softly. "It's too cold in here," I complained petulantly. "And I've lost my earring." I had only discovered the loss that morning. It fretted me. I could not recall why it was so important, but my mind would not let go of it either. The very thought made my headache worse.

She stripped off her mittens. One hand was bandaged still. She touched my forehead with the other. Her hand was blessedly cold. Odd that cold could feel so good. "He's burning up!" she accused the Fool. "Haven't you the sense to give him willowbark tea?"

The Fool shaved off another curl of wood. "There's a pot of it there by your knee, if you haven't overset it. If you can get him to drink any more of it, you're a better man than I." Another curl of wood.

"That would not be hard," Starling said in an ugly little voice. Then, in a kinder tone, to me, "Your earring isn't lost. See, I have it right here." She took it from the pouch at her belt. One small part of me worked well enough to notice that she was warmly dressed in the Mountain style now. Her hands were cold and a bit rough as she put the earring back in my ear for me. I found a question.

"Why did you have it?"

"I asked Kettle to bring it to me," she told me bluntly. "When he would not let me in to see you. I had to have a token, something to prove to Kettricken that all I told her was true. I have been to her and spoken to her and her counselor, this very day."

The Queen's name broke through my wandering thoughts and gave me a moment of focus. "Kettricken! What have you done?" I cried in dismay. "What have you told her?"

Starling looked startled. "Why, all she must know so that she will help you on your quest. That you are truly alive. That Verity is not dead, and that you will seek him. That word must be sent to Molly that you are alive and well, so that she shall not lose heart but will keep your child safe until you return. That…"

"I trusted you!" I cried out. "I trusted you with my secrets and you have betrayed me. What a fool I've been!" I cried out in despair. All, all was lost.

"No, I am the Fool." He broke into our conversation. He walked slowly across the room and stood looking down on me. "The more so that I had believed you trusted me, it seems," he went on, and I had never seen him so pale. "Your child," he said to himself. "A true child of Farseer lineage." His yellow eyes flickered like a dying fire as they darted from Starling to me. "You know what such tidings mean to me. Why? Why lie to me?"

I did not know what was worse, the hurt in the Fool's eyes, or the triumph in the glance Starling gave him.

"I had to lie, to keep her mine! The child is mine, not a Farseer heir!" I cried out desperately. "Mine and Molly's. A child to grow and love, not a tool for a kingmaker. And Molly must not hear I am alive from any save me! Starling, how could you have done this to me? Why was I such an idiot, why did I talk of such things at all to anyone?"

Now Starling looked as injured as the Fool. She stood up stiffly and her voice was brittle. "I but sought to help you. To help you do what you must do." Behind Starling, the wind gusted the door open. "That woman has a right to know her husband is alive."

"To which woman do you refer?" asked another icy voice. To my consternation, Kettricken swept into the room with Chade at her heels. She regarded me with a terrible face. Grief had ravaged her, had carved deep lines beside her mouth and eaten the flesh from her cheeks. Now anger raged in her eyes as well. The blast of cold wind that came with them cooled me for an instant. Then the door was closed and my eyes moved from face to familiar face. The small room seemed crowded with staring faces, with cold eyes looking at me. I blinked. There were so many of them and so close, and all stared at me. No one smiled. No welcome, no joy. Only the savage emotions that I had wakened with all the changes I had wrought. Thus was the Catalyst greeted. No one wore any expression I'd hoped to see.

None save Chade. He crossed the room to me in long strides, stripping off his riding gloves as he came. When he threw back the hood of his winter cloak, I saw that his white hair was bound back in a warrior's tail. He wore a band of leather across his brow, and centered on his forehead was a medallion of silver. A buck with antlers lowered to charge. The sign Verity had given to me. Starling moved hastily from his path. He gave her not a glance as he folded easily to sit on the floor by my bed. He took my hand in his, narrowed his eyes at the sight of the frostbite. He held it softly. "Oh, my boy, my boy, I believed you were dead. When Burrich sent me word he had found your body, I thought my heart would break. The words we had when last we parted… but here you are, alive if not well."

He bent and kissed me. The hand he set to my cheek was callused now, the pocks scarcely visible on the weathered flesh. I looked up in his eyes and saw welcome and joy. Tears clouded my own as I had to demand, "Would you truly take my daughter for the throne? Another bastard for the Farseer line… Would you have let her be used as we have been used?"

Something grew still in his face. The set of his mouth hardened into resolve. "I will do whatever I have to do to see a true hearted Farseer on the Six Duchies throne again. As I am sworn to do. As you are sworn also." His eyes met mine.

I looked at him in dismay. He loved me. Worse, he believed in me. He believed that I had in me that strength and devotion to duty that had been the backbone of his life. Thus he could inflict on me things harder and colder than Regal's hatred of me could imagine. His belief in me was such that he would not hesitate to plunge me into any battle, that he would expect any sacrifice of me. A dry sob suddenly racked me and tore at the arrow in my back. "There is no end!" I cried out. "That duty will hound me into death. Better I were dead! Let me be dead then!" I snatched my hand away from Chade, heedless of how much that motion hurt. "Leave me!"

Chade didn't even flinch. "He is burning with fever," he said accusingly to the Fool. "He doesn't know what he's saying. You should have given him willowbark tea."

A terrible smile crooked the Fool's lips. Before he could reply, there was a sharp shredding sound. A gray head was forced through the greased hide window, flashing a muzzle full of white teeth. The rest of the wolf soon followed, oversetting a shelf of potted herbs onto some scrolls set out below them. Nighteyes sprang, nails skittering on the wood floor, and slid to a halt between me and the hastily standing Chade. He snarled all round. I will kill them all for you, if you say so. I dropped my head down to my pillows. My clean, wild wolf. This was what I had made of him. Was it any better than what Chade had made of me?