"I don't much like it," I suddenly blurted. "The idea of killing people."

"Ah." He paused. "Neither did I, when it came down to it. Nor do I, still." He sighed suddenly, deeply. "As each time comes, you'll decide. The first time will be hardest. But know, for now, that that decision is many years away. And in the meantime, you have much to learn." He hesitated. "'There is this, boy. And you should remember it in every situation, not just this one. Learning is never wrong. Even learning how to kill isn't wrong. Or right. It's just a thing to learn, a thing I can teach you. That's all. For now, do you think you could learn how to do it, and later decide if you want to do it?"

Such a question to put to a boy. Even then, something in me raised its hackles and sniffed at the idea, but boy that I was, I could find no objection to raise. And curiosity was nibbling at me.

"I can learn it."

"Good." He smiled, but there was a tiredness to his face and he didn't seem as pleased as he might have. "That's well enough, then. Well enough." He looked around the room. "We may as well begin tonight. Let's start by tidying up. There's a broom over there. Oh, but first, change out of your nightshirt into something… ah, there's a ragged old robe over there. That'll do for now. Can't have the washer folk wondering why your nightshirts smell of camphor and pain's ease, can we? Now, you sweep up the floor a bit while I put away a few things."

And so passed the next few hours. I swept, then mopped the stone floor. He directed me as I cleared the paraphernalia from the great table. I turned the herbs on their drying rack. I fed the three lizards he had caged in the corner, chopping up some sticky old meat into chunks that they gulped whole. I wiped clean a number of pots and bowls and stored them. And he worked alongside me, seeming grateful for the company, and chatted to me as if we were both old men. Or both young boys.

"No letters as yet? No ciphering. Bagrash! What's the old man thinking? Well, I shall see that remedied swiftly. You've your father's brow, boy, and just his way of wrinkling it. Has anyone ever told you that before? Ah, there you are, Slink, you rascal! What mischief have you been up to now?"

A brown weasel appeared from behind a tapestry, and we were introduced to one another. Chade let me feed Slink quail eggs from a bowl on the table, and laughed when the little beast followed me about begging for more. He gave me a copper bracelet that I found under the table, warning that it might make my wrist green, and cautioning that if anyone asked me about it, I should say I had found it behind the stables.

At some time we stopped for honey cakes and hot spiced wine. We sat together at a low table on some rugs before the fireplace, and I watched the firelight dancing over his scarred face and wondered why it had seemed so frightening. He noticed me watching him, and his face contorted in a smile. "Seems familiar, doesn't it, boy? My face, I mean."

It didn't. I had been staring at the grotesque scars on the pasty white skin. I had no idea what he meant. I stared at him questioningly, trying to figure it out.

"Don't trouble yourself about it, boy. It leaves its tracks on all of us, and sooner or later you'll get the tumble of it. But now, well…" He rose, stretching, so that his cassock bared his skinny white calves. "Now it's mostly later. Or earlier, depending on which end of the day you fancy most. Time you headed back to your bed. Now. You'll remember that this is all a very dark secret, won't you? Not just me and this room, but the whole thing, waking up at night and lessons in how to kill people, and all of it."

"I'll remember," I told him, and then, sensing that it would mean something to him, I added, "You have my word."

He chuckled, and then nodded almost sadly. I changed back into my night robe, and he saw me down the steps. He held his glowing light by my bed as I clambered in, and then smoothed the blankets over me as no one had done since I'd left Burrich's chambers. I think I was asleep before he had even departed from my bedside.

Brant was sent to wake me the next morning, so late was I in arising. I came awake groggy, my head pounding painfully. But as soon as he left, I sprang from my bed and raced to the corner of my room. Cold stone met my hands as I pushed against the wall there, and no crack in mortar or stone gave any sign of the secret door I felt sure must be there. Never for one instant did I think Chade had been a dream, and even if I had, there remained the simple copper bracelet on my wrist to prove he wasn't.

I dressed hurriedly and passed through the kitchens for a slab of bread and cheese that I was still eating when I got to the stables. Burrich was out of sorts with my tardiness and found fault with every aspect of my horsemanship and stable tasks. I remember well how he berated me. "Don't think that because you've a room up in the castle and a crest on your jerkin that you can turn into some sprawl about rogue who snores in his bed until all hours and then only rises to fluff at his hair. I'll not have it. Bastard you may be, but you're Chivalry's bastard, and I'll make you a man he'll be proud of."

I paused, the grooming brushes still in my hands. "You mean Regal, don't you?"

My unwonted question startled him. "What?"

"When you talk about rogues who stay in bed all morning and do nothing except fuss about hair and garments, you mean how Regal is."

Burrich opened his mouth and then shut it. His wind reddened cheeks grew redder. "Neither you nor I," he muttered at last, "are in a position to criticize any of the Princes. I meant only as a general rule, that sleeping the morning away ill befits a man, and even less so a boy."

"And never a prince." I said this, and then stopped, to wonder where the thought had come from.

"And never a prince," Burrich agreed grimly. He was busy in the next stall with a gelding's hurt leg. The animal winced suddenly, and I heard Burrich grunt with the effort of holding him. "Your father never slept past the sun's midpoint because he'd been drinking the night before. Of course, he had a head for wine like I've never seen since, but there was discipline to it, too. Nor did he have some man standing by to rouse him. He got himself out of bed, and then expected those in his command to follow his example. It didn't always make him popular, but his soldiers respected him. Men like that in a leader, that he demands of himself the same thing he expects of them. And I'll tell you another thing. Your father didn't waste coin on decking himself out like a peacock. When he was a younger man, before he was wed to Lady Patience, he was at dinner one evening, at one of the lesser keeps. They'd seated me not too far below him, a great honor to me, and I overheard some of his conversation with the daughter they'd seated so hopefully next to the King-in-Waiting. She'd asked him what he thought of the emeralds she wore, and he had complimented her on them. 'I had wondered, sir, if you enjoyed jewels, for you wear none of them yourself tonight,' she said flirtatiously. And he replied, quite seriously, that his jewels shone as brilliantly as hers, and much larger. 'Oh, and where do you keep such gems, for I should dearly love to see them.' Well, he replied, he'd be happy to show them to her later that evening, when it was darker. I saw her blush, expecting a tryst of some kind. And later he did invite her out onto the battlements with him, but he took with them half the dinner guests as well. And he pointed out the lights of the coast watchtowers, shining clearly in the dark, and told her that he considered those his best and dearest jewels, and that he spent the coin from her father's taxes to keep them shining so. And then he pointed out to the guests the winking lights of that lord's own watchmen in the fortifications of his keep, and told them that when they looked at their duke, they should see those shining lights as the jewels on his brow. It was quite a compliment to the Duke and Duchess, and the other nobles there took note of it. The Outislanders had very few successful raids that summer. That was how Chivalry ruled. By example, and by the grace of his words. So should any real prince do."