Then, like two rivers merging, another force crashed against me, sent me spinning with its current. Boy! Contain yourself. It was as if strong hands steadied me and established me as a separate strand in the twisting rope we were forming. Father. I am here. Are you in need?

No. No. All is as it has been for some time. But Verity…

Yes. I am here.

Bearns is no longer true to us. Brawndy harbors Red-Ships there, in exchange for protection for his own villages. He has turned on us. When you come home, you must…

The thought wandered, lost strength.

Father. Whence come these tidings? I sensed Verity’s sudden desperation. If what Shrewd spoke was true, there was no hope for Buckkeep to stand the winter.

Regal has spies. They bring word to him, and he comes to me. This must remain a secret, for a time, until we have the strength to strike back at Brawndy. Or until we decide to abandon him to his Red-Ship friends. Yes. That is Regal’s plan. To hold the Red-Ships off from Buck, and then they will turn on Brawndy and punish him for us. Brawndy even sent a false call for help, in the hopes of luring our warships to their destruction.

Can this be so?

All Regal’s spies confirm it. And I fear we can no longer trust your foreign wife. While Brawndy was here, Regal marked how she dallied with him, and made many excuses for private talk. He fears that she plots with our enemies to overthrow the throne.

THIS IS NOT SO! The force of this denial went through me like a sword’s point. For an instant I was drowning again, lost, selfless, in the flood of Skill passing through me. Verity sensed it, steadied me again. We must be careful of the boy. He has not the strength to be used like this. Father. I beg you. Trust my queen. I know she is not false. And be wary of what Regal’s spies report to you. Put spies upon the spies, before you act on any of their reports. Consult with Chade. Promise me this.

I am not a fool, Verity. I know how to hold my throne.

Good. Good then. Make sure the boy is tended to. He is not trained for this.

Someone snatched my hand back then, as if from a burning stove. I sagged forward, put my head down between my knees while the world spun around me. Next to me, I could hear King Shrewd panting for his breath as if he had run a race. The Fool pushed a glass of wine into my hand, then went back to urging small sips of wine into the King. And over all, suddenly, Wallace’s voice, demanding, “What have you done to the King?”

“It is both of them!” There was a sharp edge of fear to the Fool’s voice. “They were talking together, quite calmly, then suddenly this! Take the damned Smoke censers away! I fear you have killed them both!”

“Silence, Fool! Do not accuse my healing of this!” But I heard the hurry in Wallace’s step as he made the rounds of the room, pinching out the burning twists in each censer or capping them with brass cups. In a moment the windows were thrown wide to the icy winter night. The cool air steadied me. I managed to sit up and take a sip of the wine. Gradually my senses came back to me. Even so, I was still sitting there when Regal came bustling into the room, demanding to know what had happened. He addressed the question to me, as the Fool was helping Wallace put the King to bed.

I shook my head at him dumbly, and the giddiness was not all pretended.

“How is the King? Will he recover?” he called to Wallace.

Wallace immediately came hurrying to Regal’s side. “He seems to be steadying, Prince Regal. I do not know what overcame him. There was no sign of a struggle, but he is as wearied as if he had run a race. His health will not stand this sort of excitement, my prince.”

Regal turned an appraising glance on me. “What did you do to my father?” he growled.

“I? Nothing.” That at least was truthful. Whatever had happened, it had been the King’s doing and Verity’s. “We were talking quietly. Suddenly I felt overwhelmed. Dizzy. Weak. As if I were losing consciousness.” I turned my gaze to Wallace. “Could it have been the Smoke?”

“Perhaps,” he conceded unhappily. He looked nervously at Regal’s darkening stare. “Well, it seems every day I must make it stronger, for it to have any effect at all. And still he complains that—”

“SILENCE!” Regal cut him off with a roar. He gestured at me as if I were offal. “Get him out of here. Then get back here to tend the King.”

At that moment Shrewd moaned in his sleep, and I felt again the feather-soft brushing of the Skill against my senses. My hair hackled.

“No. Go to the King now, Wallace. Fool. You get the Bastard out of here. And see that this is not spoken of amongst the servants. I shall know if I am disobeyed. Hurry up, now. My father is not well.”