Night’s reign was still solid when I rolled from my bed. I ghosted past empty stalls and sleeping animals to go silently up Burrich’s stairs. He heard me out, then asked gently, “Are you sure you’ve not had a bad dream?”
“If I have, it’s lasted most of my life,” I pointed out quietly.
“I begin to feel that way myself,” he agreed. We were talking in the dark. He was still in bed and I was sitting on the floor beside it, whispering. I would not suffer Burrich to build up his fire, or even light a candle, for I did not desire anyone to wonder about a sudden departure from his routine. “For us to accomplish all he is asking in two days means that every task must be done perfectly the first time. I have come to you first. Can you do it?”
He was silent and in the darkness I could not see his face. “Three sturdy horses, a mule, a litter, and supplies for three. All without anyone noticing it.” Another silence. “I can’t very well just load up the King and Queen and ride out through the gates of Buckkeep, either.”
“You know that copse of alder where the big dog fox used to den? Have the horses waiting there. The King and Kettricken will meet you there.” Reluctantly I added, “The wolf will guide them to you.”
“Must they know, as well as I, what you do?” He was aghast at the thought.
“I use what tools I have. And I do not perceive it as you do.
“How long can you share minds with one who scratches and licks himself, who will roll in carrion, who goes mad when a female is in season, who thinks no further than his next meal, before you accept his values as your own? Then what will you be?”