“Burrich. I do not think you failed anyone.” Kettricken spoke softly. “And I do not see the Wit as a flaw in your son. Leave him here with me. Please.”

Burrich shook his head slowly and heavily. “You would not say that if he were your son. If he walked daily in danger of folk discovering what he was.”

I saw Kettricken’s shoulders rise as she drew breath and knew she was about to tell him that her own son was Witted. Chade realized the danger as well, for he cut in smoothly with “I see your point, Burrich. I do not agree with it, but I see it.” He paused, then asked, “What will you do to the boy?”

Burrich stared at him. Then he gave a brief bark of laughter. “What? Do you fear I’ll take the hide off him? No. I’ll take him home, and keep him well away from animals, and daily work him until he is so tired that he falls asleep before he gets into his bed at night. No worse than that. His mother’s tongue will probably flay him worse than a cane ever could. Nor will his sister easily forgive him for the worry he’s given us.” Then suddenly he scowled more blackly than ever. “Did the lad tell you he was in fear of life or limb from me? For that’s a lie, and he knows it, and for that he might get the back of my hand.”

“He said nothing of the kind,” Kettricken said quietly. “Only that he could not stand it anymore, to live at home and be forbidden the Wit.”

Burrich snorted. “No one dies from being forbidden the Wit. There’s a loneliness to giving it up, and well do I know that. But no one dies from avoiding the Wit. Using the Wit is how one dies from it.” Burrich abruptly rose from his chair. I heard his bad knee crackle as he rose and he winced at it. “My lady queen, forgive me, but if I sit too long, I’ll stiffen, and this day’s ride home will be all the harder for me.”

“Then take a day here, Burrich. Go to the steams to ease that leg of injuries twice taken in defending a Farseer’s life. Eat well, and sleep in a soft bed tonight. Tomorrow is soon enough for your journey home.”

“I cannot, my lady.”

“You can. Must I command this comfort to you, also?” The Queen’s voice was fond.

Burrich met her gaze squarely. “My lady queen, would you command me to break my word to my own lady?”

Kettricken gravely bowed her head to him. “Good man, your honor is the only thing as stiff as your stubbornness. No, Burrich, I would never command you to break your word. Too often has my own life depended upon it. I will let you go then, as you please. But you shall delay long enough to allow me to pack such gifts as I wish you to take back to your family. And while I do so, you may as well eat a hot meal and warm yourself at the hearth.”

Burrich was silent for a moment. Then, “As you wish, my lady.” Again, he went ponderously and painfully down upon one knee.

When he rose and waited her permission, Kettricken sighed. “You may go, my friend.”

When the door had closed behind him, Kettricken and Chade sat silently for a time. They were the only people left in the chamber. Then Chade turned and looked toward my peephole. He spoke softly. “You have a little time while he eats. Think hard. Shall I summon him back to this chamber? You could be alone here with him. You could put his heart at ease.” He paused. “This is your decision, my boy. Neither Kettricken nor I will make it for you. But . . .” His words died away. Perhaps he knew just how much I did not want his advice on this. In a soft voice, he added, “If you wish me to ask Burrich to come back to this chamber, tell Lord Golden to send me a message. If you do not, then . . . do nothing.”

Then the Queen arose, and Chade escorted her from the audience chamber. She gave one pleading backward glance at my wall before she left the room.

I don’t know how long I sat there in the dust and dimness. When my candle began to drown in its own wax, I rose and made my way back to my own small chamber. The corridor seemed long and dreary. I walked unseen, through dust and cobwebs and mouse droppings. Like a ghost, I smiled stiffly to myself. Just as I walked through my life.

In my room, I took my cloak from its hook. I listened a moment at the door, then stepped out into the central chamber of Lord Golden’s apartments. He sat alone at the table. He had pushed his breakfast tray aside. He did not appear to be doing anything. He gave me no greeting. I spoke without preamble.

“Burrich is here. He followed his son Swift, Nimble’s twin. Swift is Witted, and sought asylum in the Queen’s service. Burrich refused to let her have the boy. He’s taking him home with him, to teach him not to use the Wit. He still thinks the Wit is evil. He blames it for my death. He also blames himself, that he did not beat it out of me.”