He scratched his trimmed grey beard thoughtfully. There was a touch of merriment in his pale eyes as he asked me, ‘And rhubarb was what you wished to consult me about?’ He put the end of the fennel stem between his teeth and nibbled at it as he waited for me to answer.
‘No, of course not. And I know you are a busy man, so I will not keep you any longer than I must. I’m concerned about a boy who has been placed in my care for lessons and weapons training. His name is Swift, and he is the son of a man who was once the Stablemaster here at Buckkeep, Burrich. But he has parted ways with his father in a dispute over Swift’s use of the Wit, and so calls himself Swift Witted now.’
‘Ah!’ Web gave a great nod. ‘Yes, I know the lad. He often comes to the edge of the circle when I am telling tales at night, yet I do not recall that he has ever spoken to me.’
‘I see. Well, I have urged him, not just to listen to you, but to talk with you as well. I am troubled over how he sees his magic. And how he speaks of it. He is untrained in it, as his father did not approve of the Wit at all. Yet his ignorance does not make him cautious, but reckless. He reveals his Wit to all he meets, thrusting it under their noses and insisting they acknowledge it. I have warned him that, Queen’s decree or no, there are many folk in Buckkeep who still find the Wit distasteful. He does not seem to grasp that a change in a law cannot force a change in people’s hearts. He flaunts his Wit in a way that may be a danger to him. And soon I must leave him on his own, when I depart with the Prince. I have five days left in which to instil some caution in him.’
I ran out of breath and Web commiserated, ‘I can see where that would make you very uncomfortable.’
It was not the comment I would have expected, and for a moment I was taken aback. ‘It isn’t just that I feel he endangers himself when he reveals his magic,’ I excused myself. ‘There is more to it. He speaks openly of choosing an animal to bond with, and soon. He has sought my aid in this, asking if I would take him through the stables. I’ve told him I don’t think that is the proper way of doing it, that there must be more to such a bond than that, but he does not listen. He brushes me off, telling me that if I had the Wit-magic, I’d understand better his need to end his isolation.’ I tried to keep the irritation out of my voice as I added this last.
Web gave a small cough and a wry smile. ‘And I can see why that would be very galling to you as well.’
His words sent a shivering across my back. They were freighted with a weight of unspoken knowledge. I tried to ignore it. ‘That’s why I’ve come to you, Web. Will you speak to him? I think you could best teach him how to accept his magic without letting it overwhelm him. You could speak to him about why he should wait to bond, and why he should be more conservative in how swiftly he shares the information that he is Witted. In short, you could teach him to carry his magic as a man would, with dignity and privacy.’
Web leaned back on the bench. The fronds of his fennel danced as he chewed the stem thoughtfully. Then he said quietly, ‘All of those things, FitzChivalry, you could teach him as well as I, if you have a mind to.’ He regarded me steadily, and on this bright spring day, blue seemed to predominate over the grey in his eyes. His look was not cold and yet I felt pierced by ice. I took a slow and steadying breath. I kept still, hoping not to betray myself as I pondered how he could know. Who had told him? Chade? Kettricken? Dutiful?
His logic was relentless as he added, ‘Of course, your words would only carry weight with him if you told him that you, too, are Witted. And they would have the most effect if you told him your true name, as well, and your relationship to his father. Yet he might be a bit young to share that secret fully.’
For two breaths longer, he regarded me, and then looked aside. I thought it was a mercy until he added, ‘Your wolf still looks out of your eyes. You think that if you stand perfectly still, no one will see you. That won’t work with me, young man.’
I rose. I longed to deny my name, yet his certainty was such that I knew I’d only look a fool in his eyes if I did so. And I did not want Master Web to consider me foolish. ‘I scarcely think myself a young man,’ I rebuked him. ‘And perhaps you are right. I shall speak to Swift myself.’
‘You’re younger than I am,’ Web said to my retreating back. ‘And in more ways than years, Master Badgerlock.’ I paused and glanced back at him. ‘Swift is not the only one who needs to be instructed in his magic,’ he said in a voice pitched for my ears alone. ‘But I will not teach anyone who does not come to me and ask for it. Tell that to the lad, too. That he must come to me and ask. I will not impose learning on him.’
I knew I was dismissed and again I walked away from him. Then I heard his voice lifted again, as if in casual observation. ‘Holly would love a day such as this. Clear skies and a light wind. How her hawk would soar!’
And there was the answer given to my unasked question, and I surmised that was a true show of mercy. He would not let me wonder who at Buckkeep had betrayed my secret, but told me plain that my true name had come to him from another source. Holly, widow to Black Rolf, who had tried to teach me the Wit so many years ago. I continued walking as if his words were no more than a pleasantry, but now I had to wonder a more unsettling thing. Had Holly passed her knowledge directly to Web, or had it travelled from tongue to tongue to reach him? How many Witted also knew who I really was? How pointed a piece of knowledge was that? How could it be used against the Farseer throne?
I went about my tasks that day with a distracted air. I had weapons drill with my guard company, and my preoccupation meant that I came away from it with more bruises than usual. There was also a final fitting for the new uniform we all would wear. I had recently become a member of the newly created Prince’s Guard. Chade had arranged that not only was I accepted to this elite group, but that my lot had been drawn to accompany the Prince on his quest. The uniform of the Prince’s Guard was blue on blue, with the Farseer buck insignia on the breast. I hoped that mine would be finished in time for me to privately add the small extra pockets I would require. I had declared that I was no longer an assassin for the Farseer reign. That did not mean I had surrendered the tools of that trade.