I stared at her incredulously. “The one from the tavern? He had little enough to tell me.”

She smiled. “Him, and a few others. More than a little I have learned from our good Chade through the years. And informants love to be paid. A few were clever enough to move up the chain and come to me with empty palms waiting. A few coins and they are mine now, Fitz, and with them all they know.” A steaming pot and two cups had been waiting on the table. She wore a little cat-smile as she poured a bit, considered the color, and then filled our cups. As she set one before me, she blushed and said, “Tell me you are proud of me.”

“Always. And astounded!”

Her hand was more delicate than Verity’s but her work as precise. She had noted that sailing into Wortletree at low tide was inadvisable, and a few other snippets of information.

We had finished our tea when she asked suddenly, “You don’t expect to come back, do you?”

I gaped at her. Then I demanded, “How did you know?”

“You’ve the look that Verity had when he was carving his dragon. He knew he’d begun something that he would not return from.”

We both fell silent for a time. Then she spoke in a husky whisper. “Thank you for my son.”

I lifted my eyes from the map. I just looked at her.

“I’ve known for years. How it was done.”

I didn’t ask how she knew. Starling had possibly told her. Perhaps Verity himself.

“Your body. Verity’s will.”

“I wasn’t there, Kettricken. I spent that night inhabiting Verity’s body.”

“He’s Verity’s son. I know.”

And we left it there, and I was not certain if I felt better for her knowing and letting me know she knew or if I felt even odder about it. I only asked her, “Are you telling me this because you don’t think I’ll come back?”

She met my gaze. “I think you left when you lost Bee, and you haven’t truly been here since. Go find out, Fitz. Come back to us if you can. But go do what you must.”

The farewell feast happened the next evening. It was interminable, with more food than anyone should possibly try to eat at a single meal, and far too much to drink. There were many toasts to me and a tableful of farewell gifts and tokens that would have required a baggage train. It was all well meant and the food I managed to eat was delicious, but ever since I had announced my departure, it had felt as if every event were an obstacle to be overcome on my way to finally leaving. Chade was there but not truly present. The Fool did not come.

It was very late when we processed away from the table. There was another round of farewells in Dutiful’s sitting room. Nettle wept and Chade dozed off and Elliania gave me a kerchief and asked me to dip it in the blood of any I slew, that she might bury it in the soil of her motherhouse so their souls would never know peace. I think she was a bit crazy, and wondered if my leaving would help her find calm again. Thick was morose. The little man had not been well since he’d returned from Withywoods, and his Skill-song that evening was almost a dirge. Both the princes promised me that if I called for them to come to my aid, they would bring the might of Buckkeep and the Narwhal Clan with them. Shine and Lant were there, flanking their father. Shine promised to take excellent care of Chade in my absence. Lant looked at me like a woeful hound. He had presented himself to me two days earlier, asking again to go with me. I’d refused him again. “What will my father say of this?” he demanded in an effort to sway me when his own demands failed. I was heartless. “I suppose you will find out when you tell him,” I’d said. From Chade’s calm demeanor, I doubted they’d had that discussion. It was not my problem. When tomorrow came and I was gone and Lant was not, then he and Chade could deal with it.

When finally I insisted I must sleep so that I could make an early departure, Riddle walked me to the door. “I’ll ride with you and your guard tomorrow,” he told me. “But for now, I want you to have this. It’s been lucky for me.” His token was a knife, not much longer than my hand, with the blade sharpened on both sides and a blood-groove down the center.

“It goes in easy and pulls out easy and it’s quiet,” he told me as he passed it to me in its well-worn sheath. And I left wondering if I knew Riddle as well as I’d believed I did.

I found Ash and Perseverance loitering in the corridor outside my door. Motley was on Ash’s shoulder. “Good night,” I told them.

“It’s not right to leave him,” Ash told me bluntly. “He’s despondent. He’s been saying wild things, and I fear what he may do if you go without him. In all his stories, you two are together. How can you leave him?”