I wondered if I were a fight he had to win. He’d often told me that I was the last task Chivalry had given him. My father had abdicated the throne, shamed by my existence. Yet he’d given me over to this man, and told him to raise me well. Maybe Burrich thought he hadn’t finished that task yet.
“What do you think I should do?” I asked humbly. Neither the words nor the humility came easily.
“Heal,” he said after a few moments. “Take the time to heal. It can’t be forced.” He glanced down at his own legs stretched toward the fire. Something not a smile twisted his lips.
“Do you think we should go back?” I pressed.
He leaned back into the chair. He crossed his booted feet at the ankle and stared into the fire. He took a long time answering. But finally he said, almost reluctantly, “If we don’t, Regal will think he has won. And he will try to kill Verity. Or at least do whatever he thinks he must to make a grab for his brother’s crown. I am sworn to my king, Fitz, as are you. Right now that is King Shrewd. But Verity is king-in-waiting. I don’t think it right that he should have waited in vain.”
“He has other soldiers, more capable than I.”
“Does that free you from your promise?”
“You argue like a priest.”
“I don’t argue at all. I merely asked you a question. And one other. What do you forsake, if you leave Buckkeep behind?”
It was my turn to fall silent. I did think of my king, and all I had sworn to him. I thought of Prince Verity, and his bluff heartiness and open ways with me. I recalled old Chade and his slow smile when I had finally mastered some arcane bit of lore. Lady Patience and her maid Lacey, Fedwren and Hod, even Cook and Mistress Hasty the seamstress. There were not so many folk that had cared for me, but that made them more significant, not less. I would miss all of them if I never went back to Buckkeep. But what leaped up in me like an ember rekindled was my memory of Molly. And somehow, I found myself speaking of her to Burrich, and him just nodding as I spilled out the whole story.