cheek. “I should shave,” I said to myself, dreading the idea. I hadn't touched a blade to my face since we'd left Galekeep.

“Indeed you should. I'd like us to look as presentable as possible when we return to Buckkeep.”

I thought of my catshredded shirt, but nodded acquiescence. Then I recalled the feathers. “I've something I want to show you,” I began, reaching under the pillow, but just then the Prince drew a deeper breath and opened his eyes.

“Good morning, my Prince,” Lord Golden greeted him. “ ”Morning,“ he acknowledged wearily. ”Lord Golden, Tom Badgerlock." He looked and sounded marginally better than he had at the end of yesterday's ride. His formality toward me was back in place. I felt relief.

“Good morning, my Prince,” I greeted him. And so the day began. We ate in our room. Our cleaned and mended clothing arrived shortly after our breakfasts. Lord Golden looked almost restored to his former glory, and the Prince looked tidy if not exactly royal. As I had suspected, washing had done little to make my clothing more presentable. I begged a needle and thread from the servant who brought our food, saying I wished to tighten the sleeve in my mended shirt. The reality was that I required a pocket in it. Lord Golden looked at me and sighed. “Keeping you decently clothed may become the most expensive part of keeping you as a servant, Tom Badgerlock. Well, see what you can do with the rest of yourself.”

I was the only one with any need to shave. Lord Golden commanded hot water and a razor and glass for me. He sat by the window, gazing out over the little landing town as I worked. I had scarcely begun my task when I became aware of the Prince's scrutiny. For a time, I ignored his intense fascination. The second time I nicked myself, I suppressed a curse, but did demand, “What? Have you never seen a man shave himself before?”

He colored slightly. “No.” He looked away as he added, “I have spent little time in the company of men. Oh, I've dined with our nobles, and hawked with them, and taken my sword lessons with the other lads of good houses. But ...” He seemed at a loss suddenly.

Just as abruptly, Lord Golden arose from his window seat. “I've a mind to see a bit of this town before we depart it. I think I shall take a stroll about it. With my Prince's permission.”

“Of course, Lord Golden. As you will.” When he left, I expected the Prince to go with him. Instead, he lingered with me. He watched me finish shaving, and when I rinsed the last of the soap from my smarting face, he asked with intense curiosity, “It hurts, then?”

“Stings some. Only if you hurry, as I always seem to do, and cut myself in the process.” My mourningshortened hair stuck up in thickets. Starling would have cut it for me, I thought, and then damned the thought and plastered it down to my head with water.

“It won't stay. Once it dries, it will just stick up again,” the Prince pointed out helpfully. “I know that. My Prince.” “Do you hate me?”

He asked it so casually, it set me completely off balance. I set aside the towel and met his earnest gaze. “No. I do not hate you.”

“Because I would understand if you did. Because of your wolf and all.” “Nighteyes.”

“Nighteyes.” He said the name carefully. Then he looked aside from me suddenly. “I never knew my cat's name.” I knew tears threatened to choke him. I sat carefully still and silent, waiting for him. After a moment, he drew a deep breath. “I don't hate you, either.”

“That's good to know,” I admitted. Then I added, “The cat told me to kill her.” Despite my effort, the words sounded defensive.

“I know. I heard her.” He sniffed a little, then tried to disguise it as a cough. “And she would have forced you to kill her. She was completely determined.”

“I think I knew that,” I replied ruefully, and touched the renewed bandages at my throat. The Prince actually smiled, and I found myself returning the smile.

He asked the next question quickly, as if it were impor' tant to ask, so important that he feared the answer. “Will you be staying?” “Staying?”

“Will I see you around Buckkeep Castle?” He sat down suddenly at the table across from me and met my eyes directly with Verity's blunt stare. “Tom Badgerlock. Will you teach me?”

Chade, my old master, had asked me and I'd been able to say no. The Fool, my oldest friend, had asked me to return to Buckkeep, and I'd refused him. If the Queen herself had asked me, I could have said no. The best I could manage with this Farseer heir was, “I don't know that much to teach. What your father taught me, he taught me in secret, and he seldom had time for lessons.”