Nobility and commoners are alike swayed by pomp and pageantry. Over the next few days, the castle and the town swelled with folk as it had not in years. The ceremony to honor the Prince's Wit coterie was well attended, with far more folk than it would have ordinarily attracted. Cockle had the telling of the tale, and he acquitted himself well and with far more accuracy than I had come to expect of minstrels. Perhaps because he was Witted himself, he did not wish to be seen as embroidering the truth beyond what it would bear. So he told the tale with moving simplicity that made little of the type of magic Burrich and the coterie used and much that they had been willing to sacrifice all for their prince.
Cockle, Swift, Web, and Civil were formally recognized as the Prince's Wit coterie. There was some small grumbling at that, as older nobles recalled well that once the word had only been applied to the circle of Skilled ones who aided a king. Chade assured them that there would indeed eventually be a Skill coterie, as well, as soon as suitable candidates could be tested and selected.
The Queen conveyed Withywoods to Molly rather than Nettle, so that it might be seen as granted to Burrich's line in token of his service. Molly accepted it gravely and I knew that the monies from that estate would provide well for her and all her children. Lady Nettle was presented as the newest of the Queen's circle of ladies, and Swift officially apprenticed to the Witmaster Web. Web spoke briefly but strongly of the power of Burrich's magic, and bemoaned that the man had been forced to hide it rather than educate his son in it. He hoped there would never be such a waste of talent again. Then Web solved for me the riddle that he had given me when first we set out on the voyage. For he said that Burrich briefly rallied before he died, enough to bid his son farewell, and to die with the Warrior's Prayer on his lips. For, “Yes,” he had sighed on his dying breath, and all knew that was the ultimate prayer one could offer to life. Acceptance.
I pondered that during the evening when I sat in my workroom. My hands were slick with lamp oil. It had spread through the Skill scrolls, making many of the old letters fuzzy and swollen to my weary eyes. It was a discouraging, tiresome task. I pushed the scroll away from me, wiped my hands on a rag, and poured myself a little more brandy.
I was not certain I agreed with Web's thoughts, and yet it seemed to me that “yes” had been Burrich's word for life. Certainly, there seemed to be very little glory or satisfaction in saying “no” to it. I had said it often enough to have felt fully the truth of that.
I had sought in vain for another opportunity to speak to Molly alone. Always, she seemed surrounded by her children. Slowly it came to me, sitting there alone by my fire, that they were a part of her. Likely there would be very little chance of finding her alone and apart from them. The opportunity I had so long denied myself was here and now, but rapidly slipping away from me.
The next morning, on the eve of the wedding, I went to the steams early in the day. I washed myself and shaved more carefully than I had in years. Back in the tower room, I brushed my hair back into a warrior's tail, and then took out the selection of clothing that the Fool had inflicted on me. I dressed slowly in the blue doublet and the white shirt, finishing it with the Buck blue leggings. I was now definitely a Buckman, but no longer looked like servant or guardsman. I looked at myself in the mirror and smiled ruefully. Patience would approve. I looked dangerously like my father's son. I dared myself, and then moved the silver fox pin from the inside of my doublet to the outside. The little fox winked at me and I smiled back.
I left the secret labyrinth and walked through the corridors of Buckkeep Castle. Several times I felt eyes on me, and once a man stopped dead before me and squinted at me with a frown, as if struggling to remember something. I passed him by. The castle was acrawl with hastening servants and nobles socializing with one another. I made my way to the Violet Chamber and knocked firmly.
Nettle opened the door. I had not been prepared for that, thinking that young Chivalry would have been the first I must confront. She stared at me, and then recognized me with a visible start. She said nothing until I asked, “May I come in? I would speak to your mother and brothers.”
“I don't think that's wise. Go away,” she said, and began to shut the door, but Chivalry caught the edge of it, asking her, “Who is it?” and then, in an aside to me, “Don't mind her, sir. Dress of a lady and manners of a fishwife.”
The room seemed full of children. I had never before realized how many seven children were. Swift and Nimble were sitting on the floor by the hearth, a game of Stones spread out before them, with Steady watching the play. Swift looked up, saw me, and his mouth opened in an O of surprise. I saw his twin poke him, demanding, “What is it? It's your turn.” Hearth and Just, wrestling on the bed, ignored me. I suddenly realized the size of the promise that Burrich had demanded of me; it was easily seven times what Chivalry had asked of him when he handed me over to his right-hand man to raise. The blankets were rucked about by the tussling youngsters on the bed and the candelabrum on the night table was in obvious danger of being overset. And then, before Nettle could shut the door on me or Chivalry invite me in, Molly entered from the adjoining chamber. She halted, staring at me.