He took a breath. “Cover it,” he begged, laughing, and as I did so, he turned away from it. He walked almost hastily to the chamber window and looked out. “They are not tuned to my bloodlines, but that does not mean I am completely impervious against them. You often remind me that in some ways I am still very human.”

I unfastened it from my throat and held it out to him. “You can take it and study it if you like. I'm not entirely sure I like wearing it. I think I'd rather know what people honestly think of me.”

“Somehow I doubt that,” he muttered, but he returned to take the charm from my hand. He held it out in the air between us, studied it, and then glanced at me. “Tuned to you?” he guessed.

I nodded.

“Intriguing. I would like to keep it, for a day or so. I promise not to take it apart. But after that, I think you should wear it. Always.”

“I'll think about it,” I promised, but felt no inclination to don it again.

“Chade wanted to see you as soon as you came in,” he suddenly said, as if he had only then remembered it.

ROBIN HOBB And there we had left it, and I felt that I was, if not excused, at least forgiven for going where I had no business being.

Now as I followed Chade through the narrow passageway, I asked him, “How was all this built? How can a labyrinth like this that winds all through the castle be kept secret?”

He carried a candle and walked before me. He spoke over his shoulder, softly. “Some was built into the bones of the keep. Our ancestors were never trusting folk. Part of it was intended as a system of boltholes. Some of it has always been used for spying. Some of it used to be servants' stairs, incorporated into the secret passages during a phase of intense reconstruction following a fire. And some was created deliberately, in your lifetime. When you were small, do you remember when Shrewd ordered that the hearth in the guardroom be rebuilt?”

“Vaguely. I did not pay much attention at the time.”

“No one did. You may have noticed that a wooden facade was added to two walls.”

“The cupboard wall? I thought it was built so that Cook had a bigger larder, one that kept rats out. It made the room smaller, but warmer as well.”

“And above the cupboards, there is a passageway, and several viewing slits. Shrewd liked to know what his guards were thinking of him, what they feared, what they hoped.”

“But the men who built it would have known of it.”

“Different craftsmen were brought in to do different parts of the job. I myself added the viewing slits. If any of them thought it odd that the ceilings of the cupboards were so sturdily built, they said nothing. And here we are. Hush.”

He lifted a tiny leather flap on the wall and peered into the revealed hole. After a moment, he whispered, “Come.”

The silent door admitted us into a privy chamber. There we paused again, while Chade again peered througha peephole, then tapped lightly at the door. “Enter,” Kettricken responded quietly.

I followed Chade into a small sitting room off the Queen's bedchamber. The connecting door to the bedchamber was closed and a bolt in place. The room was decorated sparsely in the Mountains' severe but restful way. Fat scented candles gave us light in the windowless chamber. The table and chairs were of bare pale wood. The woven mat on the floor and the wall hangings were made of grass worked into a scene of waterfalls tumbling down a mountainside. I recognized Kettricken's own handiwork. Other than that, the chamber was bare. All this I noticed peripherally, for my Queen stood in the center of the room.

She was waiting for us. She wore a simple gown of Buck blue, with a white and gold kirtle. Her gold hair was dressed close to her head, and crowned only with a simple band of silver. She was emptyhanded. Another woman would have brought her needlework or had set out a platter of food, but not our Queen. She was waiting for us but I did not sense impatience or anxiety. I suspected she had been meditating, for an aura of stillness still clung to her. Our eyes met, and the small lines at the corners of her mouth and eyes seemed lies, for in the gaze we shared no time had passed at all. The courage I had always admired still shone there, and her selfdiscipline was like an armor she wore. Yet, “Oh, Fitz!” she cried low on seeing me, and in her voice there was warm welcome and relief.

I bowed low to her, and then sank on one knee. “My Queen!” I greeted her.

She stepped forward and touched my head, her hand a benediction. “Please rise,” she said quietly. “You have been at my side through too many trials for me ever to want to see you on your knees before me. And as I recall, you once called me Kettricken.”