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He did not look away from me, but I could scarcely keep my eyes on him. Light was flaring all around him, stabbing into my brain. The barest edge of control kept me from throwing the compress at him. As if he guessed that, he took it from me, offering me a freshly cooled one in its place. It was a pitiful comfort, but I put it on my brow and leaned back in the chair. I wanted to weep with frustration and anguish. From behind the compress, I told him, “Pain. That's what being a Farseer means to me. Pain and being used.”

He made no reply. That had always been his greatest rebuke, the silence that forced me to hear my own words over and over. When I took the cloth from my forehead, he was ready with another one. As I pressed it to my eyes, he said mildly, “Pain and being used. I've known my share of that as a Farseer. As did Verity, and Chivalry, and Shrewd before them. But you know there is more to that. If there weren't, you wouldn't be here.”Advertisement

“Perhaps,” I conceded grudgingly. The fatigue was winning. I just wanted to curl up around the pain and sleep but I fought it. “Perhaps, but it isn't enough. Not for going through this.”

“And what more would you ask, Fitz? Why are you here?”

I knew he meant it to be a rhetorical question but the anxiety had been with me for too long. The answer was too close to my lips, and the pain made me speak without thought. I lifted a corner of the cloth to peer at him. “I do this because I want a future. Not for myself, but for my boy. For Hap. Chade, I've done it all wrong. I haven't taught him a thing, not how to fight, nor how to make a living. I need to find him an apprenticeship with a good master. Gindast. That's who he wishes to teach him. He wants to be a joiner, and I should have seen that this would come and saved my money, but I didn't. And here he is, of an age to learn and I haven't a thing to give him. The coins I've saved aren't enough to ”

“I can arrange that.” Chade spoke quietly. Then, almost angrily, he demanded, “Did you think I wouldn't?” Something in my face betrayed me, for he leaned closer, brows furrowed, as he exclaimed, “You thought you'd have to do this in order to ask my help, didn't you?” The damp cloth was still in his hand. It slapped the stone flags when he flung it in a temper. “Fitz, you ” he began, then words failed him. He stood up and walked away from me. I thought he would leave entirely. Instead he went down to the workbench and the unused hearth at the other end of the chamber. He walked around the table slowly, looking at it and at the scroll racks and utensils as if seeking for something he had misplaced. I refolded the second cloth and held it to my forehead, but surreptitiously I watched him from under my hand. Neither of us said anything for a time.

When he came back to me, he looked calmer but somehow older. He took a fresh cloth from a pottery dish, wrung it out, folded it, and offered it to me. As we exchanged the compresses, he said softly, “I'll see that Hap gets his apprenticeship. You could simply have asked me to do that when I visited you. Or years ago, you could have brought the lad to Buckkeep and we'd have seen him decently educated.”

“He can read and write and figure,” I said defensively. “I saw to that.”

“Good.” His reply was chill. “I'm glad to hear you retained that much common sense.”

There seemed no rejoinder to that. Both pain and weariness were overcoming me. I knew I had hurt him but I didn't feel it was my fault. How could I have known he'd be so willing to help me? Nevertheless, I apologized. “Chade, I'm sorry. I should have known that you would help me.”

“Yes,” he agreed mercilessly. “You should have. And you're sorry. I don't doubt you're sincere. Yet I Seem to recall warning you, years ago, that those words will only work so often, and then they ring hollow. Fitz, it hurts me to see you this way.”

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“It's starting to ease,” I lied.

“Not your head, you stupid ass. It hurts me to see that you are still ... as you've always been since . . . damn. Since you were taken from your mother. Wary and isolated and mistrustful. Despite all I've . . . After all these years, have you given your trust to no one?”

I was silent for a time, pondering his words. I had loved Molly, but I had never trusted her with my secrets. My bond with Chade was as essential as my bones, but no, I had not believed that he would do all he could for Hap, simply for the sake of what we shared. Burrich. Verity. Kettricken. Lady Patience. Starling. In every instance, I had held back. “I trust the Fool,” I said, and then wondered if I truly did. I did, I assured myself. There was almost nothing about me that he didn't know. That was trust, wasn't it? pqdm.com