He finally lowered the scroll and looked my way. He had green eyes, and their lightness was always surprising in his Farseer face. Despite the poxlike scars that stippled his face and arms, his bastard bloodlines were almost as plain-marked as mine. I suppose I could have claimed his as a great-uncle, but our apprentice-to-master relationship was closer than a blood tie. He looked me over and I self-consciously stood straighter under his scrutiny. His voice was grave as he commanded, “Boy, come into the light.”
I advanced a dozen steps and stood apprehensively. He studied me as intently as he had studied the scroll. “Were we ambitious traitors, you and I, we would make sure folk marked your resemblance to Chivalry. I could teach you to stand as he stood; you already walk as he did. I could show you how to add lines to your face to make you appear older. You have most of his height. You could learn his catchphrases, and the way he laughed. Slowly, we could gather power, in quiet ways, with none even recognizing what they were conceding. And one day, we could step up and take power.”
He paused. .
Slowly I shook my head. Then we both smiled, and I came to sit on the hearthstones by his feet. The warmth of the fire on my back felt good.
“It’s my trade, I suppose.” He sighed and took a sip of his wine. “I have to think of these things, for I know that others will. One day, sooner or later, some petty noble will believe it an original idea and approach you with it. Wait and see if I am not right.”