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he room with sunlight and a mild salt breeze。 Baskets of yam and dyed wool were stacked against one wall； while a tall shelf on another wall held a rainbow of cloth goods。 Two young women were talking over a loom； and in the far corner a lad not much older than I was rocking to the gentle pace of a spinning wheel。 I had no doubt that the woman with her broad back to me was Mistress Hasty。
The two young women noticed me and paused in their conversation。 Mistress Hasty turned to see where they stared； and a moment later I was in her clutches。 She didn't bother with names or explaining what she was about。 I found myself up on a stool； being turned and measured and hummed over； with no regard for my dignity or indeed my humanity。 She disparaged my clothes to the young women； remarked very calmly that I quite reminded her of young Chivalry； and that my measurements and coloring were much the same as his had been when he was my age。 She then demanded their opinions as she held up bolts of different goods against me。
〃That one；〃 said one of the loom women。 〃That blue quite flatters his darkness。 It would have looked well on his father。 Quite a mercy that Patience never has to see the boy。 Chivalry's stamp is much too plain on his face to leave her any pride at all。〃
And as I stood there； draped in wool goods； I heard for the first time what every other person in Buckkeep knew full well。 The weaving women discussed in detail how the word of my existence had reached Buckkeep and Patience long before my father could tell her himself； and of the deep anguish it caused her。 For Patience was barren； and though Chivalry had never spoken a word against her； all guessed how difficult it must be for an heir such as he to have no child to eventually assume his title。 Patience took my existence as the ultimate rebuke； and her health； never sound after so many miscarriages； pletely broke along with her spirit。 It was for her sake as well as for propriety that Chivalry had given up his throne and taken his invalid wife back to the warm and gentle lands that were her home province。 Word was that they lived well and fortably there； that Patience's health was slowly mending； and that Chivalry； substantially quieter a man than he had been before； was gradually learning stewardship of his vineyard…rich valley。 A pity that Patience blamed Burrich as well for Chivalry's lapse in morals； and had declared she could no longer abide the sight of the man。 For between the injury to his leg and Chivalry's abandonment of him； old Burrich just wasn't the man he had been。 Was a time when no woman of the keep walked quickly past him； to catch his eye was to make yourself the envy of nearly anyone old enough to wear skirts。 And now？ Old Burrich； they called him； and him still in his prime。 And so unfair； as if any manservant had any say over what his master did。 But it was all to the good anyway； they supposed。 And didn't Verity； after all； make a much better king…in…waiting than had Chivalry？ So rigorously noble was Chivalry that he made all others feel slatternly and stingy in his presence； he'd never allowed himself a moment's respite from what was right； and while he was too chivalrous to sneer at those who did； one always had the feeling that his perfect behavior was a silent reproach to those with less self…discipline。 Ah； but then here was the bastard； now； though； after all those years； and well； here was the proof that he hadn't been the man he'd pretended to be。 Verity； now there was a man among men； a king folk could look to and see as royalty。 He rode hard； and soldiered alongside his men； and if he was occasionally drunk or had at times been less than discreet； well； he owned up to it； honest as his name。 Folk could understand a man like that； and follow him。
To all this I listened avidly； if mutely； while several fabrics were held against me； debated； and selected。 I gained a much deeper understanding of why the keep children left me to play alone。 If the women considered that I might have thoughts or feelings about their conversation； they showed no sign of it。 The only remark I remember Mistress Hasty making to me specifically was that I should take greater care in washing my neck。 Then Mistress Hasty shooed me from the room as if I were an annoying chicken； and I found myself finally heading to the kitchens for some food。
That afternoon I was back with Hod； practicing until I was sure my stave had mysteriously doubled its weight。 Then food； and bed； and up again in the morning and back to Burrich's tutelage。 My learning filled my days； and any spare time I found was swallowed up with the chores associated with my learning； whether it was tack care for Burrich； or sweeping the armory and putting it back in order for Hod。 In due time I found not one； or even two； but three entire sets of clothing； including stockings； set out one afternoon on my bed。 Two were of fairly ordinary stuff； in a familiar brown that most of the children my age seemed to wear； but one was of thin blue cloth； and on the breast was a buck's head； done in silver thread。 Burrich and the other men…at…arms wore a leaping buck as their emblem。 I had only seen the buck's head on the jerkins of Regal and Verity。 So I looked at it and wondered； but wondered； too； at the slash of red stitching that cut it diagonally； marching right over the design。
〃It means you're a bastard；〃 Burrich told me bluntly when I asked him about it。 〃Of acknowledged royal blood； but a bastard all the same。 That's all。 It's just a quick way of showing you've royal blood； but aren't of the true line。 If you don't like it； you can change it。 I am sure the King would grant it。 A name and a crest of your own。〃
〃A name？〃
〃Certainly。 It's a simple enough request。 Bastards are rare in the noble houses； especially so in the King's own。 But they aren't unheard…of。〃 Under guise of teaching me the proper care of a saddle； we were going through the tack room； looking over all the old and unused tack。 Maintaining and salvaging old tack was one of Burrich's odder fixations。 〃Devise a name and a crest for yourself； and then ask the King…〃
〃What name？〃
〃Why； any name you like。 This looks like it's ruined； someone put it away damp and it mildewed。 But we'll see what we can do with it。〃
〃It wouldn't feel real。〃
〃What？〃 He held an armload of smelly leather out toward me。 I took it。
〃A name I just put to myself。 It wouldn't feel like it was really mine。〃
〃Well； what do you intend to do； then？〃
I took a breath。 〃The King should name me。 Or you should。〃 I steeled myself。 〃Or my father。 Don't you think？〃
Burrich frowned。 〃You get the most peculiar notions。 Just think about it yourself for a while。 You'll e up with a name that fits。〃
〃Fitz；〃 I said sarcastically； and I saw Burrich clamp his jaw。
〃Let's just mend this leather；〃 he suggested quietly。
We carried it to his workbench and started wiping it down。 〃Bastards aren't that rare；〃 I observed。 〃And in town； their parents name them。〃
〃In town； bastards aren't so rare；〃 Burrich agreed after a moment。 〃Soldiers and sailors whore a