“Do you think I’d be stupid enough to trust him if he did?” The Prince was both flustered and angered by my question. “I’m not an idiot, Tom. No. In fact, Civil has told me that I must not bond with any creature until at least a year has passed. That is the Old Blood custom. There is a set time of mourning. It is to be sure that when the human next takes a partner, it is based on a true attraction between them, not as a replacement for one who has been lost.”

“It sounds to me as if Civil has been telling you a great deal about the Old Blood ways.”

For a moment, Prince Dutiful was silent. Then he said coldly, “You declined to teach me, Tom. Yet I knew, in my guts, that this was something I had to know. Not just to protect myself, but to master my own magic. I will not be ashamed of my Wit, Tom. Conceal it I must, because of the unjust hatred many bear for it. But I will not be ashamed nor walk away from it.”

There seemed very little I could do or say about that. A traitorous thought whispered that the boy was right. How much better would it have been for Nighteyes and me if I had been educated in my magic before I took up with him? Eventually, I replied stiffly, “I am sure that my prince will do as he thinks best then.”

“Yes. I will,” he agreed. And then, as if he had won some point, he shifted his tactic and asked me suddenly, “So I will pretend that I know nothing. And what will you do? For I fear you are in as great a danger as I am. No, greater. My name will protect me, to some extent. They would have to prove me Witted before they could move against me. But you, I fear, you could be bludgeoned in an alley in Buckkeep Town and folk might think it just another incident. You have no name to protect you, Tom.”

I nearly smiled. The very fact that my name was unknown was what protected me, and it was that shield I must strive to maintain. “I have to go seek Chade. Right away. If you wish to do anything to aid me today, you might let the kitchen know that you’ve a fancy for pink sugar cakes today.”

He nodded gravely. “Is there no other way I can help?”

The offer was sincere, and that moved me. He was my prince, and yet he offered to serve me. I could have refused him. But I think he valued it more when I said, “Actually, yes, you can. Besides the pink sugar cake, I need a large bunch of nice raisins, a red neck scarf, a good sheath knife, and a peacock feather.” As the Prince’s eyes grew round at this odd list, I impetuously added, “A bowl of nuts and some sweets would also be a good idea. If you can bring them here with no one noticing, that would be very helpful. From here, I can take them to Chade’s den.”

“They are all for Thick? You will buy his loyalty?” He sounded outraged.

“Yes. They are for Thick. But not to buy him. At least, not exactly. I need to win him to us, Dutiful. We will start with gifts and attentions. I think that the attentions will be more important, eventually, than the gifts. You heard from him what his life has been like. Why should he feel any loyalty to anyone? Let me tell you something from experience, my prince. Anyone, even a king, can begin to buy a man with gifts. And at first it may seem no more than that between them. But eventually, loyalty and even deep regard can spring up. For when we are cared for by someone, or when we care for someone, that is the beginning of the bond.” My mind wandered for an instant, not just to King Shrewd and myself, but also to what Hap and I shared, and on to what had grown between Burrich and me, and then Chade and myself. “So. We begin with the simple gifts that might ease a simple heart.”

“A bath wouldn’t hurt him, either. And some whole clothes.” The Prince spoke thoughtfully, not sarcastically.

“You’re right,” I said quietly. I doubt that he knew how I meant my words. Let him be the one who puzzled out how to win Thick’s heart. For in the end, the bond I sought to forge must be between these two. I suddenly shared Chade’s conviction that the Prince must have a coterie. There might come a time when “Don’t see him, don’t see him” would keep a rope away from his neck.

We parted to our separate tasks. I hurried through the labyrinth of corridors to emerge in my bedchamber. From thence, I went straight through the Fool’s rooms without even pausing to see if he was awake. A few moments later, I was striding up the stairs to the part of the castle where the Queen’s most favored councilor had his chambers. I wished there was a more subtle way for me to contact him, but I had resolved that if anyone stopped me, I would simply lie and say I was delivering a message from Lord Golden.

Despite all that had happened, it was still early morning. Most of the folk moving quietly within Buckkeep were servants, busy with the tasks that would make their masters’ mornings go more smoothly. Some hauled buckets of wash water, and others carried breakfast trays. A healer carrying a tray of lint and pots of salve hastened past my long-legged stride. The little woman was trotting doggedly, her cheeks red, as if hurry were of the utmost importance. I surmised she might be going to Chade’s chambers to treat his burns. When she suddenly halted in front of me, I nearly stumbled over her. I caught my balance by clapping a hand to the wall, and then apologized.