“It was faster than kindling candles. Besides, what I am showing you cannot be seen, only felt. There. Feel that?”

“I think so.” It was a very slight unevenness in the stone.

“Measure it off with your hand, or whatever you want to do to learn where it is.”

I obliged him, discovering that it was about six of my handspans from the corner of the room, and at the height of my chin. “Now what?”

“Push. Gently. It does not take much.”

I obeyed and felt the stone shift very slightly beneath my hand. A small click sounded, but not from the wall before me. Instead, it came from behind me.

“This way,” the Fool told me, and in the darkness led me to the opposite wall of the small chamber. Again, he set my hand to the wall and told me to push. The darkness gave way on oiled hinges, the seeming stone no more than a facade that swung away at my touch. “Very quiet,” the Fool observed approvingly. “He must have greased it.”

I blinked as my eyes adjusted to a subtle light leaking down from high above. In a moment I could see a very narrow staircase leading up. It paralleled the wall of the room. A corridor, equally narrow, snaked away into darkness, following the wall. “I believe you are expected,” the Fool told me in his aristocratic sneer. “As is Lord Golden, but in far different company. I will excuse you from your duties as my valet, at least for tonight. You are dismissed, Tom Badgerlock.”

“Thank you, master,” I replied snidely. I craned my neck to peer up the stairs. They were stone, obviously built into the wall when the castle was first constructed. The gray quality of the light that seeped down suggested daylight rather than lamplight.

The Fool's hand settled briefly on my shoulder, delaying me. In a far different voice he said, “I'll leave a candle burning in the room for you.” The hand squeezed affectionately. “And welcome home, FitzChivalry Farseer.”

I turned to look back at him. “Thank you, Fool.” We nodded to one another, ah oddly formal farewell, and I began to climb the stair. On the third stair, I heard a snick behind me, and looked back. The door had closed.

I climbed for quite a distance. Then the staircase turned, and I perceived the source of the light. Narrow openings, not even as wide as arrow slits, permitted the set' ting sun to finger in. The light was growing dimmer, and I suddenly perceived that when the sun set, I would be plunged into absolute darkness. I came to a junction in the corridor at that time. Truly, Chade's rat warren of tunnels, stairs, and corridors within Buckkeep Castle were far more extensive than I had ever imagined. I closed my eyes for a moment and imagined the layout of the castle. After a brief - hesitation, I chose a path and went on. As I traveled, from time to time I became aware of voices. Tiny peepholes gave me access to bedchambers and parlors as well as providing slivers of light in long dark stretches of corridor. A wooden stool, dusty with disuse, sat in one alcove. I sat down on it and peered through a slit into a private audience chamber that I recognized from my service with King Shrewd. Evi' dently the magnificent woodwork that framed the hearth furnished this spy post. Having taken my bearings from this, I hastened on.

At last, I saw a yellowish glow in the secret passageway far ahead of me. Hurrying toward it, I found a bend in the corridor, and a fat candle burning in a glass. Far down another stretch, I glimpsed a second candle. From that point on, the tiny lights led me forward, until I climbed a very steep stair and suddenly found myself standing in a small stone room with a narrow door. The door swung open at my touch, and I found myself stepping out from behind the wine rack into Chade's tower room.

I looked about the chamber with new eyes. It was uninhabited at the moment, but a small fire crackling on the hearth and a laden table told me I was, indeed, expected. The great bedstead was overladen with comforters, cushions, and furs as it had always been, yet an elaborate spider J!rÊ

web constructed amidst the dusty hangings spoke of disuse. Chade used this room still, but he no longer slept here. ventured down to the workroom end of the chamber, past the scrollladen racks and the shelves of arcane equipment. Sometimes, when one goes back to the scene of one's childhood, things seem smaller. What was mysterious and the sole province of adults suddenly seems commonplace and mundane when viewed with mature eyes.

Such was not the case with Chade's workroom. The little pots carefully labeled in his decisive hand, the blackened kettles and stained pestles, the spilled herbs and the, lingering odors still worked their spell on me. The Wit and the Skill were mine, but the strange chemistries that Chade practiced here were a magic I had never mastered. Here was still an apprentice, knowing only the basics of my master's sophisticated lore.