“A moment.”

I faded back to a corner of the room as the Prince went to the door, unlatched it, opened it a crack, and accepted a small, sealed scroll. As I watched him, I reflected sourly that, despite all else Skillmaster Galen had been, he had been right in several areas. No students of his would ever have dared attack one another, let alone question his authority over them. He had immediately reduced all his students to a harsh equality, though I had been the exception to that; all had known that he regarded me as beneath them. As much as it choked me, I needed to emulate at least some of his attitudes, even as I refused his harsh techniques. Discipline is not the same as punishment, I thought, and recognized it as an echo of some old words of Burrich’s.

The Prince had shut the door behind him and picked the wax off the scroll. Then he frowned as he unrolled it to reveal a second, sealed scroll within it. “I think this must be for you,” he said uneasily. In a script I would never have recognized as Chade’s, the word “teacher” was written on the outside of the scroll. At the sight of my own charging Farseer buck impressed in the wax, I took the scroll from the Prince’s hand.

“It is,” I agreed shortly. I turned aside from him, broke the wax, and read the single sentence. Then as the Prince watched, I consigned it to the fire.

“What was it?” the Prince demanded.

“A summons,” I said shortly. “I must go now. But I expect to see you on time tomorrow, and ready to learn. Good day, my prince.”

His stunned silence followed me as I squeezed behind the fireplace mantel and shut and latched the little door behind me. Once within the narrow passageway, I hurried as much as I could. I silently cursed the low ceilings, the corners I must squeeze past, and the labyrinthine wandering of the burrows when I wished to run as fast as I could in the straightest possible line.

When I arrived at my peephole outside the Queen’s private audience chamber, my mouth was parched and I was panting like a hound. I took several deep breaths, forced myself to stand still until my breathing was steady and silent again. Then I flung myself down on the little stool and applied my eye to the tiny peephole. I was late. Chade and Queen Kettricken were already there, the Queen seated while the Councilor stood at her shoulder. Their backs were to me. A gangly boy of perhaps ten years stood before them. His dark curls were sweated to his skull, and the hem of his cloak dripped muddy snow water on the floor. The low shoes he wore had never been intended for winter travel. Caked snow was still melting on his leggings and feet. Wherever he had come from, he must have walked all night. His dark eyes were immense but he met his Queen’s gaze steadily. “I see,” she said quietly.

Her answer seemed to embolden him. I wished I had heard the entire conversation. “Yes, ma’am,” he agreed. “And so, hearing that you would not tolerate what was being done to the Witted, I came to you. Maybe here in Buckkeep I can just be what I am and not get beat for it. I promise I’ll never use it to any low end. I will vow myself to the Farseers and serve you well in any way you ask of me.” He lifted his eyes to meet the Queen’s, not a bold stare but an honest, direct look from a boy confident that he had chosen the right path. I stared at Burrich’s son, seeing Molly mingled in the boy’s cheekbones and lashes.

“And your father approved of this?” Chade asked, stern but gentle.

The boy looked aside at that. When he spoke, his voice was softer. “My father doesn’t know, sir. I just left when I knew that I couldn’t take it anymore. I won’t be missed. You saw our home. He has other sons, good sons who are not Witted.”

“That does not mean he won’t miss you, Nim.”

For the first time, the boy looked annoyed. “I’m not Nim. Nimble doesn’t have the Wit. I’m Swift, the other twin. See, that’s another reason that my father won’t miss me. He already has one of me that’s perfect.”

A shocked silence followed his words. I am sure he mistook the cause of it. When Kettricken spoke, she tried to mend it.

“I knew Burrich, years ago. However much he may have changed, I am still certain that, Witted or no, he will miss you.”

Chade added, “When I spoke with Burrich, he seemed very fond and proud of all his children.”

For a moment, I thought the boy would break. Then he took a breath and said matter-of-factly, “Well, yes, but that was before.” Chade must have looked at him blankly, for the boy painfully elaborated, “Before the taint come out in me. Before he knew I had the Wit.”

I saw the Queen and Chade turn to one another and silently confer. After a moment, the Queen said softly, “Then, Swift, Burrich’s son, I say this to you. I am willing to take you into my service. But I think it best that I do so with your father’s consent. He must be told of your whereabouts. It is unfair to let your parents fear that you have come to a bad end.”