[ Bastien’s mouth twists at drunken idiot. Silently, because he’d hate to be derisive about By’s work—but still. It’s impossible to be pleased by so many people looking down on him, even if it was only a game he was playing, no matter what it might have accomplished. ]

Mine was—it’s different, you know? I imagine, you are protecting a whole country, you have to be listening all the time, for all sorts of things from all sorts of people. You are not always going in for one thing and getting back out. And you are Byerly Rutyer. There is no taking that off and trading it for something else next week, especially without masks or paint. Me, I‘m no one in particular.

[ Not an answer. He knows he’s talking around it. He tries not to do that, with Byerly, but how is he supposed to say I was whatever people wanted me to be to someone he’s wanted so badly to want him? ]

Whenever there was someone who had lost a son before—I was my bardmaster’s favorite for those. Or you know how sometimes girls want to be infatuated with someone who they can tell would never actually touch them, because it’s safe that way? I was good for that. And young girls know everything about what is happening in their houses.