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ancient soot marks above each sconce were gone. Not even the corners of the steps held dust. There were no cobwebs. The candelabra at each landing were full and bright with candles. And a rack at each landing held blades, ready for defense. So this was what it meant to have a Queen in residence. But even when Shrewd’s queen had been alive, I didn’t recall that Buckkeep had looked or smelled so clean or been so brightly lit.
    The guard at King Shrewd’s door was a dour-faced veteran I had known since I was six. A silent man, he peered at me closely, then recognized me. He allowed me a brief smile as he asked, “Anything critical to report, Fitz?”
    “Only that I’m back,” I said, and he nodded sagely. He was used to my coming and going here, often at some very odd hours, but he was not a man to make assumptions or draw conclusions, or even speak to those who might. So he stepped quietly inside the King’s chamber, to pass the word to someone that Fitz was here. In a moment the word came back that the King would summon me at his convenience, but also that he was glad I was safe. I stepped quietly away from his door, making more of his message than if those words had come from any other man. Shrewd never mouthed polite nothings.
    Farther down the same corridor were Verity’s chambers. Here again I was recognized, but when I requested the man let Verity know I was back and wished to report, he replied only that Prince Verity was not within his chamber.
    “In his tower, then?” I asked, wondering what he would be watching for at this time of year. Winter storms kept our coast safe from Raiders for at least these few months of the year.
    A slow smile stole over the guard’s face. When he saw my puzzled glance, it became a grin. “Prince Verity is not in his chambers just now,” he repeated. And then added: “I shall seethat he gets your message as soon as he awakes in the morning.”
    For a moment longer I stood, stupid as a post. Then I turned and walked quietly away. I felt a sort of wonder. This, too, was what it meant for there to be a Queen in Buckkeep.
    I climbed another two flights of stairs, and went down the hall to my own chamber. It smelled stale, and there was no fire in the hearth. It was cold with disuse, and dusty. No touch of a woman’s hand here. It seemed as bare and colorless as a cell. But it was still warmer than a tent in the snow, and the feather bed was as soft and deep as I remembered it. I shed my travel-stained garments as I walked toward it. I fell into it and sleep.

3

Renewing Ties
    T HE OLDEST REFERENCE
to the Elderlings in the Buckkeep library is a battered scroll. Vague discolorations upon the vellum suggest that it came from a parti-colored beast, one mottled in a way unfamiliar to any of our hunters. The lettering ink is one derived from squid ink and bell root. It has stood the test of time well, much better than the colored inks that originally supplied illustrations and illuminations for the text. These have not only faded and bled, but in many places have drawn the attentions of some mite that has gnawed and stiffened the once-supple parchment, making parts of the scroll too brittle to unroll
.
    Unfortunately, the damage was concentrated most at the innermost parts of the scroll, which deal with portions of King Wisdom’s quest that were not recorded elsewhere. From these fragmented remains, one can glean that sore need drove him to seek the homeland of the Elderlings. His troubles are familiar ones; ships raided his coastline mercilessly. Tatters hint that he rode off toward the Mountain Kingdom. We don’t know why he suspected that way would lead him to the home of the mythical Elderlings. Unfortunately the final stages of his journey and his encounter with the Elderlings seem to have been richly illustrated, for here the parchment is reduced to a lacy web of tantalizing word bits and body parts. We do not know anythingof this first encounter. Nor have we even an