“Nothing,” I said hastily. “Nothing at all. Come. I've an idea. Lie down on your bed, and I shall sit beside you where you are comfortable, and begin my tale. And if you drowse off, I shall quietly take my leave, and come back to continue it tomorrow. For sixteen years cannot be told in an hour, or even in a day.”

“It will take sixteen years to tell sixteen years,” Patience told me sternly. “Help me up, then. I'm stiff from traveling, you know.”

I gave her my arm and she leaned on it as I escorted her to her bed. She groaned as she sat down on it, and as the feather bed gave beneath her, she muttered, “Much too soft. I'll never be able to sleep on this. Do they think I'm a hen, setting in a nest?” Then, as she lay back and I helped her lift her feet onto the bed she said, “You've quite ruined my surprise, you know. Here I was, all set to summon a grandchild to me and reveal to her that she was well-born of noble blood, and pass on to her keepsakes of her father. Oh, help me take my shoes off. When did my feet get so far away from my hands?”

“You don't have your shoes on. I think you left your slippers in the garden.”

“And whose fault is that? Startling us that way. It's a wonder I didn't forget my head down there.”

I nodded, noting but not commenting that her stockings didn't match. Patience had never cared much for detail. “What sort of keepsakes?” I asked.

“It scarcely matters now. As you are alive, I intend to keep them.”

“What were they?” I asked, intensely curious.

“Oh. A painting you gave me, don't you know? And, when you were dead, I took a lock of your hair. I've worn it in a locket ever since.” While I was speechless, she leaned up on an elbow. “Lacey, come have a lie-down for a bit. You know I don't like you to be too far away if I need you. Your hearing isn't what it used to be.” To me, she confided, “They've given her a narrow little bed in a closet of a room. Fine if your maid is a slip of a girl, but hardly appropriate for a mature woman. Lacey!”

“I'm right here, dearie. You needn't shout.” The old serving woman came round to the other side of the bed. She looked a bit uncomfortable at the prospect of lying down in front of me, as if I might think it improper that she should share a lady's bed. It made perfect sense to me. “I am tired,” she admitted as she sat down. She had brought a shawl, and she spread it over Patience's legs.

I brought a chair to the edge of the bed and sat down backward on it. “Where should I begin?” I asked her.

“Begin by sitting on that chair properly!” And after I had corrected that, she said, “Don't tell me what that vile pretender did to you to kill you. I saw enough of it on your body and I could not bear it then. Tell me, instead, how you survived.”

I thought briefly, considering. “You know I am Witted.”

“I thought you might be,” she conceded. She yawned. “And?”

And so I launched into my tale. I told her of seeking refuge in my wolf, and how Burrich and Chade had called me back to my body. I told her of my slow recovery, and of Chade's visit. I thought she had drowsed off then, but when I tried to rise, her eyes flew open. “Sit down!” she commanded me, and when I had done so, she took my hand, is if to keep me from creeping away. “I'm listening. Go on.”

I told her of Burrich leaving, and of the Forged Ones. I explained to her how Burrich had come to believe I had died there, and returned to Molly to protect her and the child she carried. I told her of my long journey from Buck to Tradeford, and of Regal's King's Circle there. She opened one eye. “It's all a garden, now. I've plants and trees and flowers from all over the Six Duchies and beyond. Monkey-tail vine from Jamaillia, and blue-needle bush from the Spice Isles. And a lovely herb-knot in the very middle of where it used to be. You'd like it, Tom. You will like it, when you come to live with me.”

“I'm sure I'll like it,” I said, scrupulously avoiding the topic of where I might or might not live. “Shall I go on, or do you want to nap now?” A gentle snore buzzed from Lacey's side of the bed.

“Go on. I'm not the least bit sleepy. Go on.”

But in the midst of my telling her how I had attempted to kill Regal, she dozed off. I sat still a time longer, waiting until her grip slackened on my hand and I could slip clear of her.

I walked silently to the door. As I lifted the latch, Lacey raised up on one elbow. There was nothing wrong with her hearing, and I suspected that despite her crooked fingers, one would still find a blade up her sleeve. So I nodded to her and left Patience sleeping as I slipped from the room.