Fitz turns his head to catch the tension on her face, and notes it, as well as her mention of her husband, but all he does in response is offer a slightly rueful smile.

"We, too, have long relied first on minstrels and bards, with scribes there only to record for posterity. But I've always been a proponent of the written word. There's a security to keeping information solidly recorded. My wife had no letters until she was grown, but since she learnt them she's been keeping notes on her trade, and our daughter can follow well enough in her footsteps with those." If she lives that long, and if she isn't stolen away for a Farseer heir or taken away from Molly or...he shudders the thoughts loose again, trying to keep a genial smile, and flexes his arm, pulling his chest tight against the bandages. "Thank you."