The question caught me completely off guard, and I stared at him mutely. It wasn’t just the idea of becoming a scribe; it was the whole notion that Fedwren would want me to be his apprentice, to follow him about and learn the secrets of his trade. Several years had passed since I had begun my bargain with the old King. Other than the nights I spent in Chade’s company or my stolen afternoons with Molly and Kerry, I had never thought of anyone finding me companionable, let alone good material for an apprentice. Fedwren’s proposal left me speechless. He must have sensed my confusion, for he smiled his genial young-old smile.
“Well, think on it, boy. Scribing’s a good trade, and what other prospects do you have? Between the two of us, I think that some time away from Buckkeep might do you good.”
“Away from Buckkeep?” I repeated in wonder. It was like someone opening a curtain. I had never considered the idea. Suddenly the roads leading away from Buckkeep gleamed in my mind, and the weary maps I had been forced to study became places I could go. It transfixed me.
“Yes,” Fedwren said softly. “Leave Buckkeep. As you grow older Chivalry’s shadow will grow thinner. It will not always shelter you. Better you were your own man, with your own life and calling to content you before his protection is entirely gone. But you don’t have to answer me now. Think about it. Discuss it with Burrich, perhaps.”
And he handed me my pith paper and sent me back to my place. I thought about his words, but it was not Burrich I took them to. In the feeble hours of a new day, Chade and I were crouched, head to head, I picking up the red shards of a broken crock that Slink had overset while Chade salvaged the fine black seeds that had scattered in all directions. Slink clung to the top of a sagging tapestry and chirred apologetically, but I sensed his amusement.
“Come all the way from Kalibar, these seeds, you skinny little pelt!” Chade scolded him.
“Kalibar,” I said, and dredged out, “a day’s travel past our border with Sandsedge.”
“That’s right, my boy,” Chade muttered approvingly. “Have you ever been there?”
“Me? Oh, no. I meant that they came from that far. I had to send to Fircrest for them. They’ve a large market there, one that draws trade from all Six Duchies and many of our neighbors as well.”
“Oh. Fircrest. Have you ever been there?”
Chade considered. “A time or two, when I was a younger man. I remember the noise, mostly, and the heat. Inland places are like that, too dry, too hot. I was glad to return to Buckkeep.”
“Was there any other place you ever went that you liked better than Buckkeep?”
Chade straightened slowly, his pale hand cupped full of fine black seed. “Why don’t you just ask me your question instead of beating around the bush?”
So I told him of Fedwren’s offer, and also of my sudden realization that maps were more than lines and colors. They were places and possibilities, and I could leave here and be someone else, be a scribe, or–
“No.” Chade spoke softly but abruptly. “No matter where you went, you would still be Chivalry’s bastard. Fedwren is more perspicacious than I believed him to be, but he still doesn’t understand. Not the whole picture. He sees that here at court you must always be a bastard, must always be something of a pariah. What he doesn’t realize is that here, partaking of King Shrewd’s bounty, learning your lessons, under his eye, you are not a threat to him. Certainly, you are under Chivalry’s shadow here. Certainly, it does protect you. But were you away from here, far from being unneedful of such protection, you would become a danger to King Shrewd, and a greater danger to his heirs after him. You would have no simple life of freedom as a wandering scribe. Rather you would be found in your inn bed with your throat cut some morning, or with an arrow through you on the high road.”