“How do we stop it? If we stop it, will they remember? If they remember, can they live with it?”

“I’m living with it,” Perseverance said softly. “I’m living with it alone.” He crossed his arms on his chest. “My ma is strong. I’m her third son and the only one that lived. She wouldn’t want to have turned me away from her door. She wouldn’t want to forget my da and my granddad.” Hope and tears stood in his eyes.

What would deaden the Skill and still that forgetful song for them? I knew. I knew from years of indulging in the herb. “I have elfbark. Or had it. With some other herbs in my private study. I doubt it was taken.”

“What are you doing with elfbark?” Chade was aghast.

I stared at him. “Me? What are you doing with elfbark? And not just Six Duchies elfbark, but that Outislander strain they used on me on Aslevjal? Delvenbark. I saw it on your shelf.”

He stared at me. “Tools of the trade,” he said quietly. “Elliania’s father obtained it for me. Some things I have and hope never to use.”

“Exactly.” I turned back to Perseverance. “Find Bulen. Tell him to go to your mother’s cottage and ask her to come here to the house. To this study. I’ll fetch the herb. After Bulen is on his way, go to the kitchen and tell them I need a teapot, cups, and a kettle of boiling water.”

“Sir,” he said. He halted by the door and turned back to me. “Sir, it won’t hurt her, will it?”

“Elfbark is an herb that has been used for a long time. In Chalced they feed it to their slaves. It gives them a jolt of strength and endurance, but with it comes a bleak spirit. The Chalcedeans claim they can get more work out of their slaves and few have the will to attempt to escape or rise against their masters. It can deaden a severe headache. And Lord Chade and I together discovered that it can dampen a person’s ability to use the Skill. The variety from the Out Islands can completely close a person’s mind to Skill-communication. I do not have that kind. But it may be that what I have will be strong enough to free your mother from the Skill-suggestion that she forget about you and your father. I cannot promise you, but it may.”

FitzVigilant stepped forward suddenly. “Try it on me first. See what it does.”

“Perseverance, go on your errands,” I said firmly. The boy left. Chade and I were left alone with Lant and Thick.

I studied Lant. His resemblance to Chade and his other Farseer forebears was not nearly as clear as Shun’s, but now that I knew of it, it was impossible for me not to see. He also looked terrible. His eyes were sunken but bright with a wound fever, his lips chapped. He moved like a decrepit old man. Not that long ago, he had been given a severe beating in Buckkeep Town. For his own safety, Chade had sent him to me, ostensibly to be my scribe and tutor my daughter. Haven with me had won him a sword-thrust in the shoulder and considerable blood loss. And a memory wiped as bland as blowing snow.

“What do you think?” I asked Chade.

“It may lessen his pain, if nothing else. And I do not think his spirit could sink lower than it is. If he is willing, we should let him try it.”

Thick had been drifting about my study, picking up the few curios I had on display, then lifting the curtain to peer out at the snowy grounds. He found a chair, perched on it, and suddenly said, “Nettle can send you the Aslevjal bark. She says she has a journeyman who could bring it through the stones.”

“You can Skill to Nettle?” I was astounded. The keening of the multitude kept me from hearing Chade’s Skill at all, and we were in the same room.

“Yah. She wanted me to tell her if Bee was okay, and Lant. I told her Bee is stolen and Lant is crazy. She is sad and scared and angry. She wants to help.”

Not how I would have chosen to convey those tidings, but Nettle and Thick had their own relationship. They spoke plainly to each other.

“Tell her yes, please. Tell her to ask Lady Rosemary to pack some of each blend of elfbark, and to send them through with her messenger. Tell her we will send a guide and a mount for her courier to the stone on Gallows Hill.” Chade turned to Lant. “Go to the Rousters’ captain, and ask that he dispatch a man with a mount to Gallows Hill outside Oaksbywater.”

Lant looked directly at him. “Are you sending me out of the room so you can discuss me with Fitz?”

“I am,” Chade replied pleasantly. “Now go.”

When the door had closed behind him, I said evenly, “He has his mother’s forthright way.”

“Huntswoman Laurel. Yes. He has. It was one of the things I loved about her.” He watched me as he said it, challenging me to be surprised.