I sat, in my old place on the hearth. My heart was hammering in my chest. Of all places in Buckkeep, I had never expected to have to use caution in what I said here.
“All right,” he breathed out to me. “Report.”
I took a breath and began. I left out nothing, revealing my link with Verity so that the entire story would make sense. I put in every detail: the Fool’s beating, and Kettricken’s offering to Beams, as well as my service to the King that evening. Serene and Justin in my room. When I whispered of Regal’s spies, he pursed his mouth, but did not seem overly surprised. When I was finished, he regarded me calmly.
A whisper again. “And what do you conclude from all this?” he asked me, as if it were a puzzle he had set me as a lesson.
“May I speak frankly of my suspicions?” I asked quietly.
A nod.
I sighed in relief. As I spoke of the picture that had emerged for me over the past weeks, I felt a great burden lifting. Chade would know what to do. And so I spoke, quickly, tersely. Regal knew that the King was dying of disease. Wallace was his tool, to keep the King sedated and open to Regal’s whisperings. He would discredit Verity, he would strip Buckkeep of every bit of wealth that he could. He would abandon Beams to the Red-Ships, to keep them busy while Regal acted on his own ambitions. Paint Kettricken as a foreigner with ambitions to the throne. A devious, disloyal wife. Gather power to himself. His eventual aim, as ever, was the throne. Or at least as much of the Six Duchies as he could gather to himself. Hence his lavish entertainments for the Inland Dukes and their nobles.