He proffered the rolled paper to me. I opened it carefully. My silence was awe. “Every detail,” I finally said aloud in slow amazement.
He chuckled his delight at my realization of what he had handed me. “Every Skill-portal is marked. The engraving on the Elderling map there was fading, but I copied all I could see, Fitz. It will tell you what was graven on each face of every pillar. The destinations available to you. I intended to transfer it all to my new map, but my vision is fading. And I no longer feel inclined to share my hard-won secrets with those who do not appreciate the risks I ran to get them. If they wish to think me a foolish and reckless old man, then let them.”
“Oh, Chade. This is—” His flapping hand interrupted my gratitude. He had never been good at accepting thanks.
“You take it, my boy. Finish my work.”
He went suddenly into a coughing fit and gestured wildly for water, but when I brought it to him he coughed so badly he could not drink it at first. Once he could, he seemed to choke on it, and then finally to gasp in a free breath. “I’m fine,” he wheezed. “Don’t delay here. Take it and go before Shine comes back. Curious as a cat is that one! Be away now. If she sees you carry anything out of here, she will natter me with questions until I cannot think. Go, Fitz. But bid me farewell before you leave. And come to me first when you return.”
“I will.” And moved by what impulse I do not know, I stooped and kissed his brow.
He hooked his bony hand around the back of my head and for a moment held me close. “Oh, my boy. The best mistake Chivalry ever made was you. Go on now.”
And I did. I carried the map case under my arm, but the bone cylinder had gone up my sleeve as soon as Chade had said it was mine. Back in my fine new chamber, I found the fire burning brightly, my bed spread smoothly, and my other boots polished to a sheen by the wardrobe. Someone had placed a decanter of amber brandy on my mantelpiece with two fine little glasses beside it. Servants gave one very little privacy. It took some thinking to come up with two different hiding places that might withstand scrutiny and tidying. I stitched a loop to the back of a tapestry and secured Chade’s pillar-map there. The other map case was larger, but I found a spot atop the trim that held up the bed curtains. It was reassuringly dusty and I hoped it would remain so.
That done, I sat down by myself for the first time since I’d returned from Withywoods. I toed off my boots and peeled the damp stockings from my feet. I sat and felt the heat of the fire penetrate my body. The brandy proved to be of an excellent quality and I reflected wearily that drinking it on an empty stomach was not my best idea today.
Fitz. Da? I’ve heard you are back at Buckkeep Castle. Both Dutiful and I are very anxious to sit down with you. Will you join us in my sitting room, please?
Of course. When?
Now, please. Dutiful had rather expected you would come to see him as soon as you’d returned.
Of course. I should have. I was concerned for the Fool.
And Chade, too.
I found him better than I expected, I admitted, and wondered a bit woefully how she knew so clearly of all my movements since I had returned.
He has good days, and some that are not so good. Will you come now, please? The king has taken this time for us from a very busy schedule.
Immediately.
Dry socks. I started to pull on the cleaned boots and then looked at myself. Rumpled shirt. Weather-stained trousers. I opened the wardrobe and found an array of new shirts, variously afflicted with buttons. I’d never owned so many clothes in my life and I wondered who was arranging these for me. Ash? Nettle? Some poor servant in charge of dressing bastards elevated to noble status?
They fit me well enough, though there was room for more paunch than was flattering. I’d chosen a blue shirt and I paired it with dark trousers. I added the vest that had been hung with the shirt. There was a ribbony thing with it that I didn’t know how to wear. I hoped it wasn’t important. The vest was long, hanging almost to my knees.
Neither the shirt nor the vest had any hidden pockets. As I went to my meeting with little more than the knife in my boot, I wondered how I would defend either of them if danger threatened. I felt oddly naked. I hurried down the corridors to Nettle’s chambers, stood outside her door, and hesitated. Then I knocked.
A serving boy opened it and said, “Oh! Prince FitzChivalry!” and then hit his head on the corner of the door as he dived into a low bow. I caught his elbow before he hit the floor and steadied him as he repeatedly apologized. I was still holding on to him when Nettle came to the door and demanded, “What goes on here?”
“He hit his head on the door frame,” I explained, and the boy babbled, “Yes, my lady, that was exactly what happened!” in such a panicked voice that I scarcely believed him, let alone Nettle. She gave me a horrified look and I tried to release the boy gently. He still sat down flat on the floor.