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reason than that they are mostly tended by women; no one would look askance at our being there. I plucked several leafy new fronds of copper fennel as we passed and offered one to Web. Above us, a birch tree was uncurling its leaves. There were beds of rhubarb around the bench that we chose. Fat red nubs thrust through the earth. On a few plants, the crinkling leaves were opening to the light. The plants would need boxing soon, if the stems were to grow long enough to be useful. I mentioned this to Web.
        He scratched his trimmed gray beard thoughtfully. There was a touch of merriment in his pale eyes as he asked me, “And rhubarb was what you wished to consult me about?” He put the end of the fennel stem between his teeth and nibbled at it as he waited for me to answer.
        “No, of course not. And I know you are a busy man, so I will not keep you any longer than I must. I'm concerned about a boy who has been placed in my care for lessons and weapons training. His name is Swift, and he is the son of a man who was once the Stablemaster here at Buckkeep, Burrich. But he has parted ways with his father in a dispute over Swift's use of the Wit, and so calls himself Swift Witted now.”
        “Ah!” Web gave a great nod. “Yes, I know the lad. He often comes to the edge of the circle when I am telling tales at night, yet I do not recall that he has ever spoken to me.”
        “I see. Well, I have urged him not just to listen to you, but to talk with you, as well. I am troubled over how he sees his magic. And how he speaks of it. He is untrained in it, as his father did not approve of the Wit at all. Yet his ignorance does not make him cautious, but reckless. He reveals his Wit to all he meets, thrusting it under their noses and insisting they acknowledge it. I have warned him that, Queen's decree or no, there are many folk in Buckkeep who still find the Wit distasteful. He does not seem to grasp that a change in a law cannot force a change in people's hearts. He flaunts his Wit in a way that may be a danger to him. And soon I must leave him on his own, when I depart with the Prince. I have five days left in which to instill some caution in him.”
        I ran out of breath and Web commiserated. “I can see where that would make you very uncomfortable.”
        It was not the comment I would have expected, and for a moment I was taken aback. “It isn't just that I feel he endangers himself when he reveals his magic,” I excused myself. “There is more to it. He speaks openly of choosing an animal to bond with, and soon. He has sought my aid in this, asking if I would take him through the stables. I've told him I don't think that is the proper way of doing it, that there must be more to such a bond than that, but he does not listen. He brushes me off, telling me that if I had the Wit Magic, I'd understand better his need to end his isolation.” I tried to keep the irritation out of my voice as I added this last.
        Web gave a small cough and a wry smile. “And I can see why that would be very galling to you, as well.”
        His words sent a shivering across my back. They were freighted with a weight of unspoken knowledge. I tried to ignore it. “That's why I've come to you, Web. Will you speak to him? I think you could best teach him how to accept his magic without letting it overwhelm him. You could speak to him about why he should wait to bond, and why he should be more conservative in how swiftly he shares the information that he is Witted. In short, you could teach him to carry his magic as a man would, with dignity and privacy.”
        Web leaned back on the bench. The fronds of his fennel danced as he chewed the stem thoughtfully. Then he said quietly, “All of those things, FitzChivalry, you could teach him as well as I, if you have a mind to.” He regarded me steadily, and on this bright spring day, blue seemed to predominate over the gray in his eyes. His look was