“Yes.”
She smiled. “He looks exactly like I thought you would. Tell me more about him.”
And so I did.
Riddle returned three days later, complaining of bad roads and the cold. A storm had followed him home. I scarcely heard him. I took the little roll of bark paper he offered me and carried it carefully up to my lair before I opened it. At first glance, it looked like a drawing. Then I realized it was a hastily sketched map. There were only a few words on the bottom of the page. “Nettle said you were having a hard time finding your way back to me. Perhaps this will help.”
A deep wet snow was falling outside Buckkeep Castle. The clouds were heavy; I did not expect it would stop soon. I went to my workroom and stuffed a change of clothing into a saddlebag. I Skilled to Chade, I'll be gone for a while.
Very well. We can finish working on that scroll translation tonight.
You misunderstand me. I'll be gone several days at least. I'm going to Molly.
He hesitated and I could feel how badly he wanted to object. There was too much going on for me to leave. There were translations, the refinement of his powder that I'd been helping him with, and the Calling to arrange. The scrolls cautioned that the people of the kingdom had to be prepared for the Calling, lest parents or friends think those who heard voices in their heads were going mad. Yet it also cautioned that the exact day of the Calling be kept secret, to prevent charlatans from wasting the time of the Skillmaster.
Irritably I pushed such considerations aside. I waited.
Go then. And good luck. Have you told Nettle?
Now it was my turn to hesitate. I've told only you. Do you think I should tell her?
The things you ask my advice on! Never the ones I hope you'll ask me about, always the ones that . . . never mind. Yes. Tell her. Only because not telling her might seem deceptive.
So I reached out to my daughter and said, Nettle. I've had a note from Molly. I'm going to go visit her. And then the obvious occurred to me. Do you want to go along?
It's storming outside, with worse to come by the look of it. When are you leaving?
Now.
It isn't wise.
I've never been wise. The words echoed oddly in my mind, and I smiled.
Go then. Dress warmly.
I shall. Farewell.
And I went. Myblack was not pleased at being taken from her warm, dry stall to face the storm. It was a cold, wet, and tedious journey. The one inn I stopped at was full of trapped travelers and I had to sleep on the floor near the hearth wrapped in my cloak. The next night, a farmer allowed me to shelter in his barn overnight. The storm did not let up and the journey only became more unpleasant, but I pushed on.
Luck had it that the snow would stop and the clouds blow clear one valley before I reached Burrich's holding. As I pushed Myblack down the buried road toward the house, the place looked like something out of a tale. Snow was heaped on cottage and stable roof. Smoke curled up from the chimney into the blue sky. A path was already worn between the house and the barns. I pulled in Myblack and sat looking down on it. As I watched, Chivalry opened a barn door and then trundled out a barrow of dirty straw. I whistled to give him warning of a visitor and then rode Myblack down the hill. He stood unmoving, watching me come. In the yard before the house I pulled her in and sat still, trying to think of a greeting. Myblack tugged twice at her bit, and then threw her head back irritably.
“That horse wants training,” Chivalry observed with disapproval. He came closer, then stopped. “Oh. It's you.”
“Yes.” The hard words. “May I come in?” He might be barely fifteen, but he was the man of these holdings now.
“Of course.” But there was no smile with the words. “I'll take your horse for you.”
“I'd rather put her up myself, if you don't mind. I've neglected her and it shows. I'll need to handle her a lot to undo it.”
“As you will. This way.”
I dismounted and glanced toward the cottage, but if anyone inside was aware of me, it did not show. I led Myblack and followed Chivalry into a well-ordered stable. Nimble and Just were mucking out stalls. Steady came in, carrying buckets of water. They all halted at the sight of me. I suddenly felt surrounded and the ghost of a memory floated to the surface of my mind. Nighteyes, standing at the outskirts of the pack's gathering. Wanting to go in, so badly, but knowing that if he approached them the wrong way they would drive him out.
“I see your father's hands everywhere here,” I said, and it was true. I knew at once that Burrich had built this building to meet his own demands. The stalls were larger than the ones at Buckkeep. When the storm shutters were opened, air and light would flood in. I saw Burrich in the way the brushes were stored and the tack put up. I could almost feel him here. I blinked and came back to myself, suddenly aware of Chivalry watching me.
