“Please,” I invited her but every bone in my body wished she would not.
“You're Witted,” she said. It was not an accusation. It was more as if she commented on a disfiguring disease. “I travel quite a bit in my trade, more perhaps than you have in the last few years. The mood of the folk has changed toward Witted ones, Tom. It's become ugly everywhere I've been recently. I didn't see it myself, but I heard that in a town in Farrow they displayed the dismembered bodies of the Witted ones they'd killed, with each piece in a separate j cage to prevent them coming back to life.”
I kept my face still but I felt as if ice were creeping up my spine. Prince Dutiful. Stolen or run away, but in either case vulnerable. Outside the protective walls of Buckkeep where people were capable of such monstrosities, the young Prince was at risk.
“I'm a hedgewitch,” Jinna said softly. “I know what it is to be born with magic already inside you. It's not something you can change, even if you want to. More, I know what it's like to have a sister who was born empty of it. She seemed so free to me sometimes. She could look at a charm my father had made, and to her it was just sticks and beads. It never whispered and nagged at her. The hours I spent beside my father, learning his skills, were hours she spent with my mother in the kitchen. When we were growing up, the envy went both ways. But we were a family and we could be taught tolerance of our differences.” She smiled at her memories, then shook her head, and her face grew graver. “Out in the wide world, it's different. Folk may not threaten to tear me apart or burn me, but I've seen hatred and jealousy in more than one set of eyes. Folk think either that it isn't fair that I've got something they can never have, or they fear that somehow I'll use what I've got to hurt them. They never stop to think they've got talents of their own that I'll never master. They might be rude to me, jostle me on the street, or try to squeeze me out of my market space, but they won't kill me. You don't have that comfort. The smallest slip could be your death. And if someone provokes your temper . . . Well. You become a different man altogether. I confess it's been bothering me since the last time I saw you. So, well ... to put my own mind at rest, I made you something.”
I swallowed. “Oh. Thank you.” I could not even find thecourage to ask what she had made me. Sweat was leaking down my spine despite the coolness of the dim room. She had not intended to threaten me, but her words reminded me how vulnerable I was to her. My assassin's training went deep, I discovered. Kill her, suggested that part of me. She knows your secret and that makes her a threat. Kill her.
I folded my hands on the table before me.
“You must think me strange,” she murmured as she rose and went to a cupboard. “To be interfering in your life so when we have only met once or twice.” I could tell she was embarrassed, yet determined to give me the gift she had made.
“I think you are kind,” I said awkwardly.
Her rising had displaced Fennel. He sat on the floor, wrapped his tail around his feet and glared up at me. There goes the lap! All your fault.
She had taken a box from the cupboard. She brought it back to the table and opened it. Inside was an arrangement of beads and rods on leather thongs. She lifted it and gave it a shake and it became a necklace. I stared at it, but felt nothing. “What does it do?” I asked.
She laughed lightly. “Very little, I am afraid. I cannot make you seem un- Witted, nor can I make you invulnerable to attack. I cannot even give you something that will help you master your temper. I tried to make something that would warn you of ill feelings toward you, but it became so bulky and large, it was more like a war harness than a charm. You will forgive my saying that my first impression of you was that you were a rather forbidding fellow. It took me a while to warm to you, and if Hap had not spoken so well of you, I would not have given you a moment of my time. I would have thought you a dangerous man. So did many appraise you as they passed us in the market that day. And so, bluntly, did you later show yourself to be. A dangerous man, but not a wicked one, if you will excuse my judging you. Yet the set of your face, by habit, shows folk that darker aspect of yourself. And now, with a blade at your hip and your hair in a warrior's tail, well, it does not give you a friendly demeanor. And it is easiest to hate a man whom you first fear. So. This is a variation on a very old love charm. I have made it, not to attract lovers, but to make people well disposed toward you, if it works as I .hope it will. When you try to create a variation on a standard theme, it often lacks strength. Sit still, now.”