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t。 I took a chair at the small table in his room； and without asking me if I were hungry； he served me food with his own hand and sat down across from me to eat himself。 The gesture was not lost on me； but even so I could not bring myself to eat much。 He spoke only of the food； and said nothing of bargains or loyalty or keeping one's word。 When he saw I had finished eating； he pushed his own plate away。 He shifted unfortably。
〃It was my idea；〃 he said suddenly； almost harshly。 〃Not his。 He never approved of it。 I insisted。 When you're older； you'll understand。 I can take no chances； not on anyone。 But I promised him that you'd know this right from me。 It was all my own idea； never his。 And I will never ask him to try your mettle in such a way again。 On that you have a king's word。〃
He made a motion that dismissed me。 And I rose； but as I did so I took from his tray a little silver knife； all engraved； that he had been using to cut fruit with。 I looked him in the eyes as I did so； and quite openly slipped it up my sleeve。 King Shrewd's eyes widened； but he said not a word。
Two nights later； when Chade summoned me； our lessons resumed as if there had never been a pause。 He talked； I listened； I played his stone game and never made an error。 He gave me an assignment； and we made small jokes together。 He showed me how Slink the weasel would dance for a sausage。 All was well between us again。 But before I left his chambers that night； I walked to his hearth。 Without a word； I placed the knife on the center of his mantel shelf。 Actually； I drove it； blade first； into the wood of the shelf。 Then I left without speaking of it or meeting his eyes。 In fact； we never spoke of it。
I believe that the knife is still there。
CHAPTER SIX
Chivalry's Shadow
THERE ARE TWO TRADITIONS about the custom of giving royal offspring names suggestive of virtues or abilities。 The one that is most monly held is that somehow these names are binding； that when such a name is attached to a child who will be trained in the Skill； somehow the Skill melds the name to the child； and the child cannot help but grow up to practice the virtue ascribed to him or her by name。 This first tradition is most doggedly believed by those same ones most prone to doff their caps in the presence of minor nobility。
A more ancient tradition attributes such names to accident； at least initially。 It is said that King Taker and King Ruler； the first two of the Outislanders to rule what would bee the Six Duchies； had no such names at all。 Rather that their names in their own foreign tongue were very similar to the sounds of such words in the Duchies' tongue； and thus came to be known by their homonyms rather than by their true names。 But for the purposes of royalty； it is better to have the mon folk believe that a boy given a noble name must grow to have a noble nature。
〃Boy！〃
I lifted my head。 Of the half dozen or so other lads lounging about before the fire； no one else even flinched。
The girls took even less notice as I moved up to take my place at the opposite side of the low table where Master Fedwren knelt。 He had mastered some trick of inflection that let all know when boy meant 〃boy〃 and when it meant 〃the bastard。〃
I tucked my knees under the low table and sat on my feet； then presented Fedwren with my sheet of pith paper。 As he ran his eyes down my careful columns of letters； I let my attention wander。
Winter had harvested us and stored us here in the Great Hall。 Outside； a sea storm lashed the walls of the keep while breakers pounded the cliffs with a force that occasionally sent a tremor through the stone floor beneath us。 The heavy overcast had stolen even the few hours of watery daylight that winter had left us。 It seemed to me that a darkness lay over us like a fog； both outside and within。 The dimness penetrated my eyes； so that I felt sleepy without feeling tired。 For a brief moment I let my senses expand and felt the winter sluggishness of the hounds where they dozed and twitched in the corners。 Not even there could I find a thought or image to interest me。
Fires burned in all three of the big hearths； and different groups had gathered before each。 At one； fletchers busied themselves with their work； lest tomorrow be a clear enough day to allow for a hunt。 I longed to be there； for Sherf's mellow voice was rising and falling in the telling of some tale； broken frequently with appreciative laughter from her listeners。 At the end hearth； children's voices piped along in the chorus of a song。 I recognized it as the Shepherd's Song； a counting tune。 A few watchful mothers tapped toes as they tatted at their lacemaking while Jerdon's withered old fingers on the harp strings kept the young voices almost in tune。
Here； at our hearth； children old enough to sit still and learn letters did so。 Fedwren saw to that。 His sharp blue eyes missed nothing。 〃Here；〃 he said to me； pointing。 〃You've forgotten to cross their tails。 Remember how I showed you？ Justice； open your eyes and get back to your pen work。 Doze off again and I'll let you bring us another log for the fire。 Charity； you can help him if you smirk again。 Other than that〃…and his attention was suddenly back on my work again〃your lettering is much improved； not only on these Duchian characters； but on the Outislander runes as well。 Though those can't really be properly brushed onto such poor paper。 The surface is too porous； and takes the ink too well。 Good pounded bark sheets are what you want for runes；〃 and he ran a finger appreciatively over the sheet he was working on。 〃Continue to show this type of work； and before winter's out I'll let you make me a copy of Queen Bidewell's Remedies。 What do you say to that？〃
I tried to smile and be properly flattered。 Copy work was not usually given to students； good paper was too rare； and one careless brushstroke could ruin a sheet。 I knew the Remedies was a fairly simple set of herbal properties and prophecies； but any copying was an honor to aspire to。 Fedwren gave me a fresh sheet of pith paper。 As I rose to return to my place he lifted a hand to stop me。 〃Boy？〃
I paused。
Fedwren looked unfortable。 〃I don't know who to ask this of； except you。 Properly； I'd ask your parents； but 。。。〃 Mercifully he let the sentence die。 He scratched his beard meditatively with his inkstained fingers。 〃Winter's soon over； and I'll be on my way again。 Do you know what I do in summer； boy？ I wander all the Six Duchies； getting herbs and berries and roots for my inks； and making provisions for the papers I need。 It's a good life； walking free on the roads in summers and guesting at the keep here all winter。 There's much to be said for scribing for a living。〃 He looked at me meditatively。 I looked back； wondering what he was getting at。
〃I take an apprentice； every few years。 Some of them work out； and go on to do scribing for the lesser keeps。 Some don't。 Some don't have the patience for the detail； or the memory for the inks。 I think you would。 What would you think about being a scribe？〃
The question caught me pletely off guard； and I stared at him mutely。 It wasn't just the idea of being a scribe； it was the whole notion that Fedwren would want me to be his apprentice； to follow him about and learn the secrets of his trade。 Several years had passed since I had begun my bargain with the old King。 Other than the nights I spent in Chade's pany or my stolen afternoons with Molly and Kerry； I had never thought of anyone finding me panionable； let alone good material for an apprentice。 Fedwren's proposal left me speechless。 He must have sensed my confusion； for he smiled his genial young…old smile。
〃Well； think on it； boy。 Scribing's a good trade； and what other prospects do you have？ Between the two of us； I think that some time away from Buckkeep might do you good。〃
〃Away from Buckkeep？〃 I repeated in wonder。 It was like someone opening a curtain。 I had never considered the idea。 Suddenly the roads leading away from Buckkeep gleamed in my mind； and the weary maps I had been forced to study became places I could go。 It transfixed me。
〃Yes；〃 Fedwren said softly。 〃Leave Buckkeep。 As you grow older Chivalry's shadow will grow thinner。 It will not always shelter you。 Better you were your own man； with your own life and calling to content you before his protection is entirely gone。 But you don't have to answer me now。 Think about it。 Discuss it with Burrich； perhaps。〃
And he handed me my pith paper and sent me back to my place。 I thought about his words； but it was not Burrich I took them to。 In the feeble hours of a new day； Chade and I were crouched； head to head； I picking up the red shards of a broken crock that Slink had overset while Chade salvaged the fine black seeds that had scattered in all directions。 Slink clung to the top of a sagging tapestry and chirred apologetically； but I sensed his amusement。
〃e all the way from Kalibar； these seeds； you skinny little pelt！〃 Chade scolded him。
〃Kalibar；〃 I said； and dredged out； 〃a day's travel past our border with Sandsedge。〃
〃That's right； my boy；〃 Chade muttered approvingly。 〃Have you ever been there？〃
〃Me？ Oh； no。 I meant that they came from that far。 I had to send to Fircrest for them。 They've a large market there； one that draws trade from all Six Duchies and many of our neighbors as well。〃
〃Oh。 Fircrest。 Have you ever been there？〃
Chade considered。 〃A time or two； when I was a younger man。 I remember the noise； mostly； and the heat。 Inland places are like that； too dry； too hot。 I was glad to return to Buckkeep。〃
〃Was there any other place you ever went that you liked better than Buckkeep？〃
Chade straightened slowly； his pale hand cupped full of fine black seed。 〃Why don't you just ask me your question instead of beating around the bush？〃
So I told him of Fedwren's offer； and also of my sudden realization that maps were more than lines and colors。 They were places and possibilities； and I could leave here and be someone else； be a scribe； or
〃No。〃 Chade spoke softly but abruptly。 〃No matter where you went； you would still be Chivalry's bastard。 Fedwren is more perspicacious than I believed him to be； but he still doesn't understand。 Not the whole picture。 He sees that here at court you must always be a bastard； must always be something of a pariah。 What he doesn't realize is that here； partaking of King Shrewd's bounty； learning your lessons； under his eye； you are not a threat to him。 Certainly； you are under Chivalry's shadow here。 Certainly； it does protect you。 But were you away from here； far from being unneedful of such protection； you would bee a danger to King Shrewd； and a greater danger to his heirs after him。 You would have no simple life of freedom as a wandering scribe。 Rather you would be found in your inn bed with your throat cut some morning； or with an arrow through you on the high road。〃
A coldness shivered through me。 〃But why？〃 I asked softly。
Chade sighed。 He dumped the seeds into a dish； dusted his hands lightly to shake loose those that clung to his fingers。 〃Because you're a royal bastard； and hostage to your own bloodlines。 For now； as I say； you're no threat to Shrewd。 You're too young； and besides； he has you right where he can watch you。 But he's looking down the road。 And you should be； too。 These are restless times。 The Outislanders are getting braver about their raids。 The coast folk are beginning to grumble； saying we need more patrol ships； and some say warships of our own； to raid as we are raided。 But the Inland Duchies want no part of paying for ships of any kind； but especially not warships that might precipitate us into a full…scale war。 They plain the coast is all the King thinks of； with no care for their farming。 And the mountain folk are being more chary about the use of their passes。 The trade fees grow steeper every month。 So the merchants mumble and plain to each other。 To the south； in Sandsedge and beyond； there is drought； and times are hard。 Everyone there curses； as if the King and Verity were to blame for that as well。