“Marriage seems to agree with you, my prince,” I said inanely.

That flustered him. “In some ways,” he conceded as a boyish flush rose on his cheeks. He turned back quickly to his window. “Come and see my ships,” he commanded.

It was my turn to be baffled. I stepped to the window beside him and looked out over the harbor, and then over the sea itself. “Where?” I asked in bewilderment. He took me by the shoulders and turned me toward the shipyard. A long barn of a building of new yellow pine had been erected there. Men were coming and going from it as smoke rose from chimneys and forges there. Dark against the snow were several of the immense timbers that had been Kettricken’s bride offering to him.

“Sometimes, when I stand up here on a winter morning, I look out to sea and I can almost see the Red-Ships. I know they must come. But sometimes, too, I can see the ships we shall have to meet them. They will not find their prey so helpless this spring, my boy. And by next winter I intend to teach them what it is to be raided.” He spoke with a savage satisfaction that would have been frightening, had I not shared it. I felt my grin mirror his as our eyes met.

And then his look changed. “You look terrible,” he offered. “As bad as your clothes. Let’s go somewhere warmer and find you some mulled wine and something to eat.”

“I’ve eaten,” I told him. “And I’m much better than I was a few months ago, thank you.”

“Don’t be prickly,” he admonished me. “And don’t tell me what I already know. Nor lie to me. The climb up the stairs has exhausted you, and you’re shivering as you stand there.”

“You’re using the Skill on me,” I accused him, and he nodded.

“I’ve been aware of your approach for some days now. I tried several times to Skill to you, but could not make you aware of me. I was concerned when you left the road, but I understand Burrich’s concern. I am pleased that he has looked after you so well; not just in bringing you home safe, but in all that went on at Jhaampe. I am at a loss as to how to reward him. It would have to be subtle. Given who was involved, a public recognition would not do. Have you any suggestions?”

“Your word of thanks would be all he would accept. He would bridle that you thought he needed more. My own feelings are that no object you gave him would be a match for what he did for me. The way to handle him is to tell him to take his pick of the likely two-year-olds, for his horse is growing old. He’d understand that.” I considered it carefully. “Yes. You might do that.”

“Might I?” Verity asked me dryly. There was an acid edge to the amusement in his voice.

I was suddenly amazed at my own boldness. “I forgot myself, my prince,” I said humbly.

A smile curved his lips and his hand fell on my shoulder in a heavy pat. “Well, I asked you, did I not? For a moment I would have sworn it was old Chivalry instructing me in handling my men, rather than my young nephew. Your trip to Jhaampe has quite changed you, boy. Come. I meant what I said about a warmer spot and a glass of something. Kettricken will be wanting to see you later in the day. And Patience, too, I imagine.”

My heart sank as he heaped the tasks before me. Buckkeep Town pulled at me like a lodestone. But this was my king-in-waiting. I bowed my head to his will.

We left the tower and I followed him down the stairs, speaking of inconsequential things. He told me to tell Mistress Hasty I needed new clothes; I asked after Leon, his wolfhound. He stopped a lad in the corridor and asked him to bring wine and meat pies to his study. I followed him, not up to his chambers, but to a lower room at once familiar and strange. The last time I had been in it, Fedwren the scribe had been using it to sort and dry herbs and shells and roots for the making of his inks. All signs of that had been cleared from it. A fire burned low in the small hearth. Verity poked this up and added wood as I looked around. There was a large carved oak table and two smaller ones, a variety of chairs, a scroll rack, and a battered shelf littered with miscellaneous objects. Spread out on the table was the beginnings of a map of the Chalced States. The corners of it were weighted with a dagger and three stones. Various scraps of parchment that littered the tabletop were covered with Verity’s hand and preliminary sketches with notes scratched across them. The friendly litter that covered the two smaller tables and several of the chairs seemed familiar. After a moment I recognized it as the layer of Verity’s possessions that had previously been scattered about his bedchamber. Verity rose from awakening the fire and smiled ruefully at my raised eyebrows. “My queen-in-waiting has small patience with clutter. ‘How,’ she asked me, ‘can you hope to create precise lines in the midst of such disorder?’ Her own chamber has the precision of a military encampment. So I hide myself away down here, for I quickly found that in a clean and sparse chamber I could get no work done at all. Besides, it gives me a place for quiet talk, where not all know to seek me.”