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not cold and yet I felt pierced by ice. I took a slow and steadying breath. I kept still, hoping not to betray myself as I pondered how he could know. Who had told him? Chade? Kettricken? Dutiful?
        His logic was relentless as he added, “Of course, your words would only carry weight with him if you told him that you too are Witted. And they would have the most effect if you told him your true name, as well, and your relationship to his father. Yet he might be a bit young to share that secret fully.”
        For two breaths longer, he regarded me, and then looked aside. I thought it was a mercy until he added, “Your wolf still looks out of your eyes. You think that if you stand perfectly still, no one will see you. That won't work with me, young man.”
        I rose. I longed to deny my name, yet his certainty was such that I knew I'd only look a fool in his eyes if I did so. And I did not want Master Web to consider me foolish. “I scarcely think myself a young man,” I rebuked him. “And perhaps you are right. I shall speak to Swift myself.”
        “You're younger than I am,” Web said to my retreating back. “And in more ways than years, Master Badgerlock.” I paused and glanced back at him. “Swift is not the only one who needs to be instructed in his magic,” he said in a voice pitched for my ears alone. “But I will not teach anyone who does not come to me and ask for it. Tell that to the lad, too. That he must come to me and ask. I will not impose learning on him.”
        I knew I was dismissed and again I walked away from him. Then I heard his voice lifted again, as if in casual observation. “Holly would love a day such as this. Clear skies and a light wind. How her hawk would soar!”
        And there was the answer given to my unasked question, and I surmised that was a true show of mercy. He would not let me wonder who at Buckkeep had betrayed my secret, but told me plain that my true name had come to him from another source. Holly, widow to Black Rolf, who had tried to teach me the Wit so many years ago. I continued walking as if his words were no more than a pleasantry, but now I had to wonder a more unsettling thing. Had Holly passed her knowledge directly to Web, or had it traveled from tongue to tongue to reach him? How many Witted also knew who I really was? How pointed a piece of knowledge was that? How could it be used against the Farseer throne?
        I went about my tasks that day with a distracted air. I had weapons drill with my guard company, and my preoccupation meant that I came away from it with more bruises than usual. There was also a final fitting for the new uniforms we all would wear. I had recently become a member of the newly created Prince's Guard. Chade had arranged that not only was I accepted to this elite group, but that my lot had been drawn to accompany the Prince on his quest. The uniform of the Prince's Guard was blue on blue, with the Farseer buck insignia on the breast. I hoped that mine would be finished in time for me to privately add the small extra pockets I would require. I had declared that I was no longer an assassin for the Farseer reign. That did not mean I had surrendered the tools of that trade.
        I was fortunate that I had no meetings with Chade or Dutiful in the afternoon, for either one of them would have immediately sensed that something was amiss. I knew that I would tell Chade; it was information he definitely needed to have. But I did not wish to divulge it to him just yet. First, I would try to work it through in my mind, and see how it unfolded.
        And the best way for me to do that, I knew, was to put my thoughts on other matters. When I went down to Buckkeep Town that evening, I decided to give myself a reprieve from the Outislander tavern and spend some time with Hap. I needed to tell my adopted son that I'd been “chosen” to accompany the Prince, and to make an early farewell to him in case there was