Before I could think of a reply to that, he demanded to know why I had canceled all the Prince’s Skill lessons until after the Bingtown representatives had left. The Prince had already asked that question. I said to Chade what I’d told the Prince: that I feared that the scaled boy in the Bingtown party had some sensitivity to the Skill, and that until the Traders departed, we would limit our lessons to translating scrolls together. The Prince was not patient with these more mundane studies. My suspicion of the veiled Trader intrigued both him and Chade. Thrice Chade had chewed over Selden Vestrit’s conversation with me. Neither of us could find any meat in it. I was learning that sometimes it was easier to keep Chade uninformed than to give him bits of information he could not confirm. Such as telling him of the Narcheska’s tattoos.
I know he spent some hours of his own time at the spyhole without glimpsing her tattoos. As she had not made any complaint about her health, he could not send the healer to her rooms to confirm what I had seen. Elliania had pointedly refused several invitations to ride or game with the Prince, so Dutiful could make no observations on whether or not she seemed to be in pain. And the Queen dared not make too many pressing invitations lest it appear that the Six Duchies desired the betrothal to proceed more than the Out Islands did. In the end, all they had was my account of what I had seen. It baffled all of us, as did her handmaid, Henja.
That woman remained a complete cipher to us. Her references to a Lady were unclear, unless she referred to an older female relative with authority over Elliania. Discreet inquiries in that area availed us nothing. Chade’s spies had failed us as well. Twice Henja had been followed down into Buckkeep Town. Each time she had vanished from their scrutiny, once in a market crowd, and once simply by turning a corner. We had no idea who she saw in town, or even if it was of any significance. The arcane punishment of the searing tattoos bespoke a magic that neither of us knew. Perhaps we should have felt glad of an unseen power urging the Narcheska to make strong her betrothal to the Prince. Instead, we both were dismayed by the dark cruelty of it. “Are you sure Lord Golden could not cast some light on this?” Chade demanded abruptly. “I recall him telling several people at a dinner that he had once made quite a hobby of studying the Out Islands’ history and culture.”
I shrugged eloquently.
Chade snorted. “Have you asked him yet?”
“No,” I replied shortly. Then, as he lowered his brows at me, I added, “I told you. He has taken to his bed and scarcely comes out. Even his meals are taken in to him. He has the curtains drawn, both across his windows and about his bed.”
“But you don’t think he is ill?”