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must spirit away her best shears, conceal them behind a certain rack of wines in the wine cellar for three
hours, and then return them to where they had been, all undetected by her or anyone else. Such exercises
initially appealed to a boy's natural love of mischief, and I seldom failed at them. When I did, the
consequences were my own lookout. Chade had warned me that he would not shield me from anybody's
wrath and suggested that I have a worthy tale ready to explain away being where I should not be or
possessing that which I had no business possessing.
I learned to lie very well. I do not think it was taught me accidentally.
These were the lessons in my assassin's primer. And more. Sleight of hand and the art of moving
stealthily. Where to strike a man to render him unconscious. Where to strike a man so that he dies
without crying out. Where to stab a man so that he dies without too much blood welling out. I learned it
all rapidly and well, thriving under Chade's approval of my quick mind.
Soon he began to use me for small jobs about the keep. He never told me, ahead of time, if they were
tests of my skill, or actual tasks he wished accomplished. To me it made no difference; I pursued them all
with a single-minded devotion to Chade and anything he commanded. In spring of that year I treated the
wine cups of a visiting delegation from the Bingtown traders so that they became much more intoxicated
than they had intended. Later that same month I concealed one puppet from a visiting puppeteer's troupe
so that he had to present the Incidence of the Matching Cups, a lighthearted little folktale, instead of the
lengthy historical drama he had planned for the evening. At the High-Summer Feast I added a certain
herb to a serving girl's afternoon pot of tea so that she and three of her friends were stricken with loose
bowels and could not wait the tables that night. In fall I tied a thread around the fetlock of a visiting
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noble's horse, to give the animal a temporary limp that convinced the noble to remain at Buckkeep two
days longer than he had planned. I never knew the underlying reasons for the tasks Chade set me. At that
age, I set my mind to how I would do a thing rather than why. And that, too, was a thing that I believe it
was intended I learn: to obey without asking why an order was given.
There was one task that absolutely delighted me. Even at the time I knew that the assignment was more
than a whim of Chade's. He summoned me for it in the last bit of dark before dawn. Lord Jessup and his
lady have been visiting this last two weeks. You know them by sight; he has a very long mustache, and
she constantly fusses with her hair, even at the table. You know who I mean?
I frowned. A number of nobles had gathered at Buckkeep to form a council to discuss the increase in
raids from the Outislanders. I gathered that the Coastal Duchies wanted more warships, but the Inland
Duchies opposed sharing the taxes for what they saw as a purely coastal problem. Lord Jessup and Lady
Dahlia were inlanders. Jessup and his mustaches both seemed to have fitful temperaments and to be
constantly impassioned. Lady Dahlia, on the other hand, seemed to take no interest at all in the council,
but spent most of her time exploring Buckkeep.
She wears flowers in her hair all the time? They keep falling out?
That's the one, Chade replied emphatically. Good. You know her. Now, here's your task, and I've no
time to plan it with you. Sometime today, at any moment today, she will send a page to Prince Regal's
room. The page will deliver something a note, a flower, an object of some kind. You will remove the
object from Regal's room before he sees it. You understand?
I nodded and opened my mouth to say something, but Chade stood abruptly and almost chased me
from the room. No time; it is nearly dawn! he declared.
I contrived to be in Regal's room, in hiding, when the page arrived. From the way the girl slipped in, I
was convinced this was not her first mission. She set a tiny scroll and a flower bud on Regal's pillow and
slipped out of the room. In a moment both were in my jerkin, and later under my own pillow. I think the
most difficult part of the task was refraining from opening the scroll. I turned scroll and flower over to
Chade late that night.
Over the next few days I waited, certain there would be some sort of furor and hoping to see Regal
thoroughly discomfited. But to my surprise, there was none. Regal remained his usual self, save that he
was even sharper than usual, and seemed to flirt even more outrageously with every lady. As for Lady
Dahlia, she suddenly took an interest in the council proceedings and confounded her husband by
becoming an ardent supporter of warship taxes. The Queen expressed her displeasure over this change
of alliance by excluding Lady Dahlia from a wine tasting in her chambers. The whole thing mystified me,
but when I at last mentioned it to Chade, he rebuked me.
Remember, you are the King's man. A task is given you, and you do it. And you should be well satisfied
with yourself that you completed the given task: That is all you need to know. Only Shrewd may plan the
moves and plot his game. You and I, we are playing pieces, perhaps. But we are the best of his markers;
be assured of that.
But early on, Chade found the limits of my obedience. In taming the horse, he had suggested I cut the
frog of the animal's foot. I never even considered doing that. I informed him, with all the worldly wisdom
of one who has grown up around horses, that there were many ways to make a horse limp without
actually harming him, and that he should trust me to choose an appropriate one. To this day, I do not
know how Chade felt about my refusal. He said nothing at the time to condemn it, or to suggest he
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approved my actions. In this as in many things, he kept his own counsel.
Once every three months or so King Shrewd would summon me to his chambers. Usually the call for me
came in the very early morning. I would stand before him, oftentimes while he was in his bath, or having
his hair bound back in the gold-wired queue that only the King could wear, or while his man was laying
out his clothes. Always the ritual was the same. He would look me over carefully, studying my growth
and grooming as if I were a horse he was considering buying. He would ask a question or two, about my
horsemanship or weapons study usually, and listen gravely to my brief answer. And then he would ask,
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