"Fool's Fate" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hobb Robin)

TWELVE Cousins

The very next day, we were told that all the issues regarding the Prince killing Icefyre had been resolved. We would return to Zylig to accept the Hetgurd's terms, and then depart for Aslevjal and our dragon-hunt. I wondered briefly if the sudden plans for sailing

had anything to do with the night scene I had witnessed, but then watched the releasing of a bird that carried tidings of our departure, and decided that the news had doubtless been borne to us on the same wings.

The ensuing bustle spared me an uncomfortable interview with the Prince, but plunged me into misery of a different sort. Thick was completely opposed to getting back onto a ship. It was useless to tell him that this was the only way he would eventually get home. In moments like that, I glimpsed the limits of his mind and logic- Thick had developed since he had come to us, becoming not only more free with his words but more sophisticated in how he used them. He was like a plant finally granted sunlight as he revealed more understanding and potential than I had suspected from the shuffling half-wit servant in Chade's tower. And yet, he would always carry his differences with him. Sometimes he became a frightened and rebellious child, and at such times, reasoning with him did us no good. In the end, Chade resorted to a strong soporific the night before we were to sail, which required me to keep a vigil on his dreams all that night. They were uneasy ones that I soothed as best I could. It filled me with misgivings that Nettle did not come to help me, even though in another sense I was glad she did not.

Thick was still soddenly asleep when we loaded him into a handcart to transport him to the ship the next day. I felt a fool trundling him over the bumpy roads and down to the docks, but Web walked alongside me and talked as casually as if this were an everyday occurrence.

Our departure seemed to be more of an event than our arrival. Two ships awaited us. I noticed that the entire Six Duchies contingent was loaded on the Boar ship as before. The Narcheska and Peottre and the few folk accompanying them embarked onto a smaller, older vessel, flying a banner with a narwhal on it. The Great Mother came down to see her off and to offer a blessing to her. I understand there was other ceremony as well but I saw little of it, for Thick began to stir restlessly in his bunk and 1 judged it best to stay close by him lest he awake and decide to get off the ship.

I sat by his bunk in the tiny cabin allotted to us and tried to Skill peace and security into his dreams. The movement of the waves and

the sound of the ship leaked in despite my best efforts. With a start and a cry he came awake and sat up, staring around the cabin with eyes both wild and groggy. 'It's a bad dream!' he wailed, and 'No,' I had to tell him. 'It's real. But I promise I'll keep you safe, Thick. I promise.'

'You can't promise that! No one can promise that on a boat!' he accused me. I had put my arm around him comfortingly when he first sat up. Now he flung himself away from me. He huddled back into his blankets, rolled to face the wall and began to sob uncontrollably.

'Thick,' I began helplessly. Never had I felt so cruel, never so wrong in anything 1 had ever done.

'Go away!' Despite my walls, the Skill-command in his word snapped my head back on my spine. I found myself on my feet, groping toward the door of the minuscule cabin we'd share with the Wit-coterie. I forced myself to halt.

'Is there anyone you want to be with you?' I asked hopelessly.

'No! You all hate me! You all trick me and poison me and make me go on the ocean to kill me. Go away!'

I was glad enough to do so, for his Skill pushed at me like a strong, cold wind. As I went out of the low cabin door, I stood upright too soon and slammed the top of my head into the doorjamb. The jolt was enough to dizzy me as I staggered the rest of the way onto the deck. Thick's cruel laugh was like a second blow.

I soon learned it was not an accident. Perhaps the first one had been, but in the days of our journey, Thick managed enough Skill-stumbles for me that any thought of coincidence soon vanished. If I was aware of him, I could sometimes counter it, but if he saw me first, I'd only know of it when the boat seemed to lurch under me. I'd try to catch my balance, and instead stumble to the deck or walk into a railing. But at that time, I dismissed it as my own clumsiness.

I went to find Chade and Dutiful. We had a greater degree of privacy on that journey than we had previously had on all our travels. Peottre and the Narcheska and her guards were on the other vessel. The Boar clansmen who operated our vessel seemed little interested in how we socialized, and fewer pretences were needed.

So it was that I went directly to the Prince's cabin and knocked. Chade admitted me. 1 found them both well settled, including a meal set out on a table. It was Outislander fare, hut at least there was plenty of it. The wine with it was of a decent quality, and I was pleased when a nod from Dutiful invited me to join them.

'How is Thick?' he asked without preamble. It was a relief, almost, to give a detailed report on that, for I had dreaded that he would immediately demand that I explain Nettle. I detailed the small man's discomfort and unhappiness and ended up with, 'Regardless of his Skill-strength, I do not see how we can force him to continue. With every ship we embark on, he dislikes me more and becomes more intractable. We risk stirring an enmity in him that we can never quell, one that will make him set his Skill against all our endeavours. If it can safely be done, I propose that we leave him on Zylig while we go on to Aslevjal.'

Chade set his glass down with a thud. 'You know it can't be done, so why ask it?11 knew his irritation masked his own guilt and regret when he added, 'I swear, I never thought it would be so hard on him. Is there no way to make him understand the importance of what we do?'

'The Prince might be able to convey it to him- Thick is so angry with me right now, I don't think he'll truly hear anything 1 say.'

'He isn't the only one who is angry with you,' Dutiful observed coolly. The calmness with which he addressed me warned me that his anger had gone very deep indeed. He controlled it now as a man controls his blade- Waiting for an opening.

'Shall I leave you two alone to discuss this?' Chade rose a shade too hastily.

'Oh, no. As you know nothing of Nettle and her dragon, I'm sure this will be as enlightening to you as it is to me.'

Chade sank slowly back into his chair, his retreat severed by the Prince's sarcasm. I knew abruptly that the old man was not going to help me at all. That, if anything, Chade relished my being cornered this way.

'Who is Nettle?' Dutiful's question was blunt.

So was my answer. 'My daughter. Though she does not know it.'

He leaned back in his chair as if I'd doused him with cold water. There was a long moment of silence. Chade, damn him, lifted his hand to cover his mouth, but not before I'd seen his smile. I shot him a look of pure fury. He dropped his hand and grinned openly.

'I see,' Dutiful said after a time. Then, as if it were the most important conclusion he could reach, 'I have a cousin. A girl cousin! How old is she? How is it that I've never met her? Or have I? When was she last at court? Who is her lady mother?'

I could not find my tongue, but I hated Chade speaking for me. 'She has never been to court, my prince. Her mother is a candle maker. Her father . . . the man she thinks is her father is Burrich, formerly the Stablemaster at Buckkeep Castle. She is sixteen now, I believe.' He halted there, as if to give the Prince time to puzzle it out.

'Swift's father? Then ... is Swift your son? You spoke of having a foster-son, but . . .'

'Swift is Burrich's son. And Nettle's half-brother.' I took a long breath, and heard myself ask, 'Have you any brandy? Wine isn't enough for this tale.'

'I can see that.' He stood up and fetched it for me, more nephew than prince in that moment, and ready to be enraptured by ancient family history. It was hard for me to tell that old tale, and somehow Chade nodding sympathetically made it worse. When the convoluted connections were finally all traced for him, Dutiful sat shaking his head.

'What a mare's nest you made of it, FitzChivalry. With this piece in place, the tale my mother told me of your life makes much more sense. And how you must hate Molly and Burrich, that they could both set you aside and faithlessly forget you and find comfort in one another.'

It shocked me that he could speak of it that way. 'No,' 1 said firmly. 'That isn't how it was. They believed me dead. There was nothing faithless about them going on living. And, if she had to give herself to someone, then . . . then I am glad that she chose a man worthy of her. And that he finally found a bit of happiness for himself. And that together they protected my child.' It was getting

harder to speak as my throat tightened. I loosened it with a slug of brandy, and then wheezed in a breath.

'He was the better man for her,' I managed to add. I had told myself that so often, through the years.

'I wonder if she would have thought so,' the Prince mused, and then, at the look on my face, added hastily, 'I beg your pardon. It's not my place to wonder such things. But - . .'but I am still shocked that my mother allowed this. Often she has spoken with me, forcefully, about how much rests on me as the sole heir to the throne.'

'She gave way to Fitz's feelings in that. Against my counsel/ Chade explained. I could hear the satisfaction he took in finally vindicating himself.

'I see. Well, actually, I don't see, but for now the question is, how have you been teaching her to Skill? Did you live near her before or ... V

'I haven't been teaching her. What she knows of it, she has mastered on her own.'

'But I was told that was horribly dangerous!' Dutiful's shock seemed to deepen. 'How could you allow her to be risked this way, knowing all she means to the Farseer throne?' That question was for me, and then he accusingly demanded of Chade, 'Did you prevent her coming to court? Was this your doing, some silly effort at protecting the Farseer name?'

'Not at all, my prince,' he denied smoothly. He turned his calm gaze on me and told Dutiful, 'Many times, I have asked Fitz to allow Nettle to be brought to Buckkeep, so that she could both learn her own importance to the Farseer line and be instructed in the Skill. But, again, this was an area in which FitzChivalry's feelings had their way. Against the counsel of both the Queen and myself.'

The Prince took several deep breaths. Then, 'This is unbelievable,' he said quietly. 'And intolerable. It will be remedied. I'll do it myself.1

'Do what?' I demanded.

'Tell that girl who she is! And have her brought to court and treated as befits her birth. See her educated in all things, including the Skill. My cousin is being raised as a country girl, dipping candles

and feeding chickens! What if the Farseer throne required her? I still cannot grasp that my mother allowed this!'

Is there anything more chilling than looking at a righteous fifteen-year-old and realizing he has the power to unravel your entire life? I felt queasy with vulnerability. 'You have no idea what that would do to my life,' I pleaded quietly.

'No. I don't,' he admitted easily, but with growing outrage. 'And neither do you. You go around making these monumental decisions about what other people should know or not know about their own lives. But you don't really have any more idea how it will turn out than I do! You just do what you think is safest and then crawl around hoping no one will find out and blame you later if things go wrong!1 He was building up to a frenzy, and I suddenly suspected that this was not entirely about Nettle.

'What are you so angry about?' I asked bluntly. 'This is nothing to do with you.'

'Nothing to do with me? Nothing to do with meV He stood up, nearly knocking his chair over. 'How can Nettle be nothing to do with me? Do not we share a grandfather? Is not she a Farseer born, and possessed of the Skill-magic? Do you know -' He choked for a moment, and then visibly composed himself. In a softer voice he asked, 'Have you no idea what it would have meant to me to grow up with a peer? Someone of my blood, someone closer to my own age that I could talk to? Someone who would have to shoulder a share of the responsibility for the Farseer reign, so that it wouldn't always have had to be on only me?' He glanced aside, staring as if he could see through the wall of the cabin and gave an odd little snort. 'It could be her here in this cabin, promised to an Outislander spouse instead of me. If my mother and Chade had had two Farseers to spend to buy us peace, who knows . . .'

The thought made my blood cold. I didn't want to tell him that was exactly what I had tried to protect Nettle from. I did give him one truth. 'It had never occurred to me to look at it from your point of view. It had never occurred to me that it would have an effect on you at all.'

'Well, it has. And it does.' He suddenly shifted his focus to Chade. 'And you, too, have been negligent beyond all tolerance. This girl is the heir to the Farseer throne, after me. That should be documented and witnessed; it should have been done before I left port! If anything befalls me, if I die trying to chop up this frozen dragon, there will be chaos as all try to suggest who should be -'

'It has been done, my prince. Many years ago. And the documents kept safe. In that, I have not been negligent.' Chade seemed incensed that Dutiful could even think such a thing.

'It would have been nice to know that. Can either of you explain to me why it was so important to keep this information from me?' He glared from Chade to me, but his stare settled on me as he observed, 'It seems to me that you have gone about for a lot of your life, making decisions for other people, doing what you thought was best without consulting them about what they wanted at all. And you aren't always right!'

I kept my temper. 'That's the trouble with making a decision. You never know if it's right until after you've done it. But it is what adults are supposed to do. Make decisions. And then live with them.'

He was silent for a time. Then he said, after a moment, 'And if 1 made an adult decision to tell Nettle who she is? To right at least that much of the wrong we have done her?'

I took a breath. 'I'm asking you not to do that. It isn't something that should just be dropped on her, all of a piece.'

He was quiet for a longer time and then asked wryly, 'Have I any other secret relatives who will come popping into my life when I least expect it?'

'None that I know of,' I replied seriously. Then, more formally, 'My prince, please. Let me be the one to tell her, if she must be told.'

'It's certainly a task you deserve,' he observed, and Chade, who had been solemn for a few moments, smiled again. Dutiful seemed almost wistful as he added, 'She seems strong in the Skill. Think how it could be, if she were here now. We'd have her to rely on, and perhaps Thick could have stayed safely at home.'

'Actually, she works well with Thick. She's excellent at calming him and has gained a lot of his trust. She is the one who disarmed his nightmares for us on our voyage to Zylig. But in reply to what

you said, no, my prince. Thick is too strong and too volatile to be left on his own anywhere now. And that is a thing that we must eventually deal with. The more we teach him, the more dangerous he becomes.'

'I think the best remedy for Thick's wilfulness is to take him home and put him back in his familiar life. I expect that he'll regain a more even temperament then. Unfortunately, I have to find and kill a dragon before we can do that.1

I was relieved to leave the topic of Nettle, and yet there was one more chink in the wall to close. 'My prince. Swift knows nothing of all this, of Nettle being my daughter and only half-sister to him. I'd like to keep it that way.'

(Ah, yes. Of course, when you decided to keep this a secret, you never wondered how it might affect other children that might come along.'

'You are right. I didn't,' 1 admitted stiffly.

'Well, I'll keep silent. For now. But you might want to consider how you would feel if you were only now discovering who your parents were.' He cocked his head at me. Think about it. What if it was suddenly revealed to you that you weren't Chivalry's son but Verity's? Or Regal's? Or Chade's? How much gratitude would you feel toward those who had known all along and "protected" you from the truth/'

The cold chasm of doubt yawned briefly before me, even as I rejected such wild ideas. Yes, Chade was capable of such deception, but my logic denied the possibility. Still, Dutiful had succeeded in his goal. He had stirred in me the anger I would have felt at being deceived for so long. 'I'd probably hate them,' 1 admitted. I met his eyes squarely as I added, 'And that is yet another reason why I don't wish Nettle to know.'

The Prince pursed his lips and then nodded briefly. It wasn't a promise to keep my secret, but more an acknowledgement of the complexities of revealing it. That was as much as he was going to give me. I hoped he'd leave the subject now, but with a slight scowl, he asked suddenly, 'And why is Queen I-Doubt-lt-Very-Much consorting with the Bingtown dragon? Is she in league with Tintaglia?'

'No!' I was shocked that he could think such a thing of her. Tintaglia found her through stalking my thoughts, or so I believe. When we Skill strongly, I think the dragon can perceive us. Or, as you and Thick discovered, when you are dream-walking. Tintaglia knows something of who I am from the Bingtown delegation's visit to Buckkeep. We were careless of our Skilling then, and I think she marked me. She knows that I visit Nettle. I think that she seeks to threaten Nettle as a way to wring information out of me. She wants to know what we know about the black dragon, Icefyre. As all the young dragons that hatched in the Rain Wilds are feeble, he may be her only hope of a mate. And thus her only hope of perpetuating her kind.'

'And we have no way to protect Nettle.'

A note of pride crept into my voice as 1 said, 'She has proven herself very capable against the dragon. She has defended herself, and me, better than I could have hoped to do.'

He measured me with his eyes. 'And doubtless she will continue to do so. As long as the dragon remains a threat that only comes into her dreams. But we do not know much of this Tintaglia. If, as has been suggested, the black dragon is her only hope of a mate, then she may become very desperate indeed. Nettle may be able to defend herself in her dreams; how will she fare against a dragon alighting in front of her home? Will Burrich's home stand against a dragon's fury?'

That was an image I didn't want to consider. 'She only seems to find Nettle at night in her dreams. It may be that she does not know where Nettle actually is.'

'Or it may only be that she chooses to stay close to the young dragons. For now. And that tomorrow night, or an hour hence, driven by desperation, she may take wing to Nettle's home.' He set the heels of his hand to his temples and, eyes closed, rubbed them. When he opened his eyes, he shook his head at me. 'I cannot believe that you never considered this. What are we to do?' He did not wait for an answer, but turned to Chade. 'Have we messenger birds aboard?'

'Of course, my prince.'

'I will send a message to my mother. Nettle must be taken to safety

in Buckkeep . . . oh, this is foolish. It would be far swifter to Skill to her, warn her of her danger, and send her to my mother.' He lifted his hands to his eyes, rubbed them, and then gave a heavy sigh as he lowered them. 'I'm sorry, FitzChivalry,' he said, softly and sincerely. 'If she were not in danger, perhaps I could leave things as they are. But I cannot. I'm shocked that you would consider doing so.'

I bowed my head. 1 received his words with a strange sensation, not anger nor dismay, but a sense of the inevitable at last winning its way. A shiver ran over me, standing up the hair on my hands and arms. An image of the Fool, smiling in satisfaction, came into my mind. I glanced down to see that I was once more tracing his fingerprints on my wrist. I felt like someone who had just been manoeuvred into making a fatal move in a game of stones. Or like a wolf, brought to bay at last. It was too immense a change to regret or fear. One could only stand frozen, awaiting the avalanche of consequences that must follow it.

'FitzChivalry,' Chade said after a moment or two of my silence. I could hear the concern in his voice and the kindly look he gave me almost hurt.

'Burrich knows,' I said awkwardly. 'That I'm alive. I sent him a message through Nettle, one only he would understand. Because I had given Nettle my word, and I needed Burrich to know that his son, that Swift was safe and with us. Burrich went to Kettricken. And, perhaps he spoke with the Fool as well. So ... he knows.' I took a deep breath. 'He may even be expecting something like this, a summons to the court. He must suspect that Nettle has the Skill. How else would she have received knowledge of Swift's safety from me? He was King's Man to Chivalry. He knows what the Skill is. Would that Chivalry had not sealed him off from it. Would that I could touch minds with him, now. Though I do not think I would have the courage . . .'

'Burrich was King's Man to Chivalry?' Dutiful rocked back in his chair, balancing it on the two back legs. He looked from one of us to the other in consternation.

'He loaned Prince Chivalry strength for Skilling,1 I confirmed.

Dutiful shook his head slowly. 'Another thing that has never been mentioned to me.' He crashed his chair back down onto the

deck. 'What will it take?' He demanded angrily. 'What must happen here, to rattle all the secrets out of you two?'

'That wasn't a secret,1 Chade said heavily. 'Only a bit of ancient history, long forgotten as it seemed of little import to the present-Fitz, you are sure that Burrich is sealed?'

'Yes. 1 tried to get through to him any number of times. I've even tried to borrow Skill-strength from him, that time in the mountains. Nothing. He's opaque. Even Nettle has tried to get into his dreams, and she cannot. Whatever Chivalry did to Burrich, he did thoroughly.'

'Interesting. We should try to rediscover how Chivalry sealed him. If ever we need to eliminate Thick's Skill as a threat, that might be one way to do it. Seal him.' Chade spoke the words in his considering way, with no thought that anyone might find them offensive.

'Enough!' the Prince snapped at him, and we both flinched, surprised at his intensity. He crossed his arms on his chest and shook his head. 'You two sit here like puppeteers and consider from afar other people's lives and how you will manipulate them.' He swung his gaze slowly from Chade to me, forcing both of us to meet his eyes. He was young and vulnerable, and suddenly wise as prey in facing us. 'Do you know how frightening you are sometimes? How can I sit here and look at how you have shaped Nettle's life, and not wonder what kinks you have knowingly put in mine? You, Chade, speak so calmly of sealing Thick to the Skill. Must not I wonder, would they join their strengths and do that to me, if I somehow became a threat to their plans?'

I was shocked that he grouped us together so, and yet, chilling as his words were, I could not deny them. Here he was, on his way to a quest he did not desire to win a bride he had not chosen. I dared not look at Chade, for how would Dutiful interpret us exchanging a private glance just then? I looked at my brandy glass instead, and lifting it between two fingers, rocked the liquid, and then swirled it, as so often I had seen Verity doing when he pondered something. Whatever answers he might have glimpsed in the dancing liquor, they eluded me.

I heard the slow scrape of Chade's chair as he pushed it back from

the table, and ventured a glance that way. He stood, oldet than he had been ten minutes ago, and slowly walked around the table. As the Prince twisted in his chair to look up at him, puzzled, the old assassin went ponderously down on one knee, and then two before him. He bowed his head and spoke to the floor.

'My prince,' he said brokenly. And then, 'My king you will be. That is my only plan. Never would I lift a hand to harm you, no, nor cause others to do so. Take from me now, if you will, the oath of fealty that others will only formally swear to you when you are fully crowned. For you have had it from me since the moment you were birthed. Nay, from the instant you were conceived.'

Tears stung my eyes.

Dutiful put his hands on his hips and leaned forward. He spoke to the back of Chade's head. 'And you lied to me. "I know nothing of this Nettle and dragon.'" His mimicry of Chade's innocence was excellent. 'Isn't that what you said?'

A long silence ensued. I pitied the old man's knees on the floor. Chade drew a deep breath and spoke grudgingly. 'I don't think it's fair to count it as a lie when we both know I'm lying. A man in my position is sometimes supposed to lie to his lord. So that his lord can speak truthfully when asked what he was told about a subject.'

'Oh, get up.' There was both disgust and weary amusement in the Prince's voice. 'You convolute the facts until neither of us know what you are talking about. You could swear fealty a thousand times to me, but if tomorrow you thought a good purging would aid me in some way, you'd slip me an emetic' He stood up and held out a hand. Chade took it and Dutiful drew him to his feet. The old assassin straightened his back with a groan, and then came around the table to take his seat again. He seemed unchastened by either the Prince's blunt words or the failure of his own dramatics.

I was left wondering what I had just witnessed. Not for the first time, I realized how different the relationship was between the old assassin and this boy and what it had been like between us when 1 was growing up. And that, I thought, was the answer in a nutshell. When Chade and I sat and talked, we sat and talked as tradesmen do, unabashed about the dirty secrets of our business. We should not speak like that before the Prince, I decided. He was not an assassin,

and should not be included in our more nefarious enterprises. We should not lie about them to him, but perhaps we should refrain from rubbing his nose in them.

Perhaps, that was what he had been reminding us about. I shook my head in quiet admiration. Kingliness was blossoming in him, as naturally as a hound-pup exploring a trail. Already, he knew how to move us and use us. I did not feel demeaned by that, but reassured.

Almost immediately, he took that comfort from me. 'FitzChivalry, I expect you to speak to Nettle tonight when she dreams. Tell her it is my command that she go to Buckkeep Castle and seek asylum with my mother. That should convince her I am who I say I am. Will you do that?'

'Must I phrase it like that?' I asked reluctantly.

'Well . . . perhaps you can modify it. Oh, tell her whatever you like, so long as she goes to Buckkeep immediately and understands that the danger to her is real. I will write a brief message to my mother and send it by bird, just to be sure all understand that this is not to be disputed-' He stood, heaving a great sigh. 'And now I am going to sleep, in a real bed behind a closed door instead of displayed on a plank in a common room like a choice game trophy. I can't remember when I've been this tired.'

I was glad to leave the cabin. I took a turn about the deck. The wind was fresh, Risk swept the sky ahead of our ship, and the day was fine. I could not tell if I dreaded or anticipated the task before me. Dutiful had not said that I must tell Nettle she was my daughter. Yet sending her to Buckkeep Castle was setting her on the path to that knowledge. I shook my head. 1 no longer knew what I hoped for. I knew one thing I dreaded, however. The Prince's words about Tintaglia had shaken me. Had I been too serene about Nettle's ability to foil the dragon? Could the beast know where she lived?

The day passed slowly for me. I checked on Thick twice. He remained in his bunk, his face turned to the wall, insisting he was sick. In truth, I suspected he was becoming accustomed to sea voyages despite himself. When I told him he didn't seem sick to me and perhaps he'd enjoy coming out on deck, he nearly succeeded

in making himself puke on my feet with his wild retching. Instead, he went off in a fit of genuine coughing, throaty and deep, and I decided I was wiser to leave the little man in peace. On my way out, I 'accidentally' clipped my shoulder on the doorframe. Thick laughed.

Nursing my new bruise, I went up onto the deck. Out on the foredeck I found Riddle with a square of canvas and a handful of beach pebbles, trying to teach the stone game to two of the crewmen. I left that unsettling sight, and found Swift with Civil. His cat had climbed one of the masts and they were trying to persuade him to come down, much to the annoyance of our captain and the amusement of several Outislanders. Risk lighted in the rigging just out of the cat's reach and teased him, with partially uplifted wings and squawks until Web came to order her to cease and aid in getting the cat down.

And so the day went, and the dreaded and longed-for nightfall came. I returned to the cabin I shared with Thick. Swift had brought him his dinner, and the empty dishes on the floor seemed to indicate his appetite was intact. I stacked them and set them aside, only to stumble over them a moment later. A low chuckle from Thick was the only sign he had witnessed my clumsiness. When I offered him good night, he ignored me.

He had the sole bunk. I lay down in my blankets on the floor and spent a good amount of time trying to find enough calmness to approach sleep and that suspended place between sleep and wakefulness where I could dream-walk. It was wasted time. No matter how I sought Nettle, I could not find her. It worried me enough that I could not sleep, but made fruitless forays into dream-walks for most of the night. But the more I looked for her, the more she wasn't there.

In the darkness of the stuffy little cabin, I told myself that if something had befallen Nettle, surely I would know of it. We were Skill-linked. Surely she would have cried out to me if she had been in danger. I consoled myself that my daughter had blocked me from her dreams before; and she had been irritated with me for 'allowing' the Prince into our shared place the last time we had visited. Perhaps this was my punishment from her. But, as I lay in

the darkness and stared at black, it came to me that the last time I had seen Tintaglia, the dragon had claimed she could block me from Nettle if she chose to. What had the dragon said to Nettle? 'You are quite alone, if I decide you are.' Where was my daughter right now? Trapped in a nightmare, tormented by a dragon? No, I promised myself. Nettle had shown she could competently defend herself there. I cursed the logic Chade had taught "me, for it said that then the dragon, to gain what she wanted, would shift the battlefield to one more to her liking. Such as physically hunting down my daughter.

How fast could a dragon fly? Fast enough to get from the Rain Wild River to Buck in a single night? Surely not. But I did not know, I could not be sure. I shifted on the wooden floor and struggled with the short blankets.

When morning came at last, I rose, sandy-eyed and lurched to my feet. Somehow I tangled my feet in the blankets and slipped, banging my shins. Thick appeared to sleep through my cursing. I left the cahin and went directly to report to the Prince. He listened in grim silence. Neither he nor Chade told me how foolish I had been to leave my daughter defenceless against a dragon in the name of protecting her. The Prince merely said, 'Let us hope she is only angry with you. The bird flew yesterday. And as soon as he reaches Buckkeep, my mother will not be slow in sending for Nettle. I told her the danger was great, and not to waste time. We have done all we can, FitzChivalry.'

It was a pale comfort. When I was not imagining the dragon feasting on Nettle's tender flesh, I was imagining Burrich's reaction to a company of Queen's Guard sent to his home to fetch Nettle back to Buckkeep Castle. I passed the voyage in a misery of suspense with little to distract me save Thick's sullen and subtle revenges on me. The second time I scraped my knuckles reaching for the doorknob, I turned on him.

'I know you're doing this, Thick. I don't think it's fair. It's not my fault you are on this voyage.'

He sat up slowly, swinging his bare legs over the side of his bunk. 'Then whose fault is it, huh? Who made me come on this boat, when I'm going to die from it?'

I saw my error. I could not tell him I was only doing the Prince's

bidding. Chade was right. In this, I had to take the blame. I sighed. 'I brought you onto the ship, Thick. Because we need your help if we are going to slay the dragon.' I put all the warmth and excitement into my voice that I could muster. 'Don't you want to help the Prince? Don't you want to be part of the adventure we're having?'

He squinted at me as if I were crazy. 'Adventure? Puking and eating fishy food? Going up and down, up and down all the time? Going around people who wonder why I'm not dead?' He crossed his stubby arms on his chest. 'I heard adventures in stories. Adventures have golden coins and magic and beautiful girls to kiss. Adventures aren't puking!'

At the moment I was inclined to agree with him. As I left the cabin, I stumbled over the doorstep. 'Thick!' I remonstrated.

'I didn't do it!' he claimed, but he laughed all the same.

The little ships flew over the white-tipped waves, and the winds favoured us. Even so, the voyage seemed interminable to me. By day I tried to oversee Swift's lessons and be sure that Thick was not neglected without too many minor injuries to myself. By night, I struggled to reach my daughter, and found nothing. By the time we put into port at Zylig, I felt a tottering wreck and possibly looked as bad. Web came to stand beside me at the railing as I watched our approach to the town.

'I won't ask you your secrets,1 he said quietly. 'But I'll offer to help you bear whatever it is you're bearing, in any way I can.'

'Thank you, but you've already eased much of it. I know I've been impatient with Swift these last few days, and that youVe been helping him with his lessons. And I know, too, that you've visited Thick often and kept boredom away from him. That's as much help as anyone can give me right now. Thank you.'

'Very, well, then,' he said regretfully, and patted me on the shoulder and left.

Our stay in Zylig dragged for me. We spent our nights in the stronghouse there, and I spent many of my days there also. Thick's cough lingered still, but I do not think he was as sick as he claimed to be. Tedious as it was for me to linger near his sickroom, I still judged

it to he for the best, for on the two occasions I did persuade him to venture outside, the looks he received were not kindly. Thick was like a crippled chick in a flock of healthy birds; any excuse would have sufficed to peck him to bits. He did not feel kindly toward me, and yet I was not comfortable leaving him alone. Although he did not ever ask me to stay with him, whenever I left the chamber he was in, he would find an excuse to follow me, or to call for me a few minutes later.

The first time that Web came at Chade's suggestion to spend time with Thick, I thought it was the old man deliberately throwing us together. But then Chade summoned me and sent me out in the evening, garbed as an Outislandcr, right down to the owl tattoo he hastily marked on my cheek. With paint and pitch he put a twisting scar in my lower lip to explain my taciturn ways and guttural speech. He gave me enough Outislander coin to sit and drink their miserable beer in their overheated taverns for an evening. After that, I went out several more times, each time dressed as a trader from another clan. Zylig was a major trading town; no one remarked on an unfamiliar face in a noisy inn. My function was to sit and listen to gossip and tales. The negotiations with the Hctgurd had stirred all sorts of interests. Outislander bards were tipped well to sing every song they knew of Aslevjal and Icefyre, and many a family tale was traded to impress cronies around the inn fire. I listened well, and distilled gossip and legend down to common factors likely to be true.

There was definitely something frozen in the ice of Aslevjal Island, but it had been almost a generation since anyone had seen it clearly. Men told their fathers' stories of visiting the island. Some had camped on the beach and trekked over the glacier for a glimpse. Others had visited at the lowest tides of the year, when the retreating waters bared an under-ice passage on the south side of the island. By all accounts it was treacherous, for once one was in channels walled with blue ice, it was easy to become lost or to miscalculate the time and tides and stay too long. Then the returning sea trapped the unwary, never to release his bones. For those wise and strong and sly enough, the under-ice tunnel led to a huge cavern, where one might speak with the trapped dragon

and beg a boon of him. Some had received prowess as hunters, others luck with women and others had won fecundity for their mothershouses. So the tales went.

They spoke, too, of leaving an offering for the Black Man of Aslevjal. Some spoke as if he were a hermit, others as if he were a spirit guardian of the dragon. All agreed he was dangerous, and that it was wise to mollify him with a gift. Some said raw red meat was the best offering; others contended his goodwill could be purchased with packets of tea herbs, bright beads or honey.

Twice I heard the island mentioned in connection with the Red Ship War. There was less talk of this; few dwell long on tales of wars that were not gloriously won. I gathered that during the war, Kcbal Rawbread and the Pale Woman had wished to establish a stronghold on Aslevjal. No one spoke of why, but many captured Six Duchies folk had been borne there, to work out the rest of their days as slaves. It seemed that Rawbread had made slaves, too, of the kin of any Outislanders who opposed his war. They had been Forged by him, and carried off to Aslevjal Island, never to be seen or heard from again. Thus the island had gained an aura of shame and misery that vied with its legendary dragon. Few wished to make a pilgrimage there to prove their mettle any more.

All of these things I held in my mind, and reported them in detail to both Chade and Dutiful. In late evening talks, my old mentor and I tried to see how these things might help or hinder us in our quest. Sometimes I felt we only discussed these nebulous rumours because there was so little that we knew for certain.

Dutiful had two long meetings with the Hetgurd, each lasting several days. The end result of them was that they had set the terms of our dragon hunt as if it were some sort of wrestling or shooting contest. What had Chade chewing his tongue was that the Boar Clan had arranged this negotiation and bound us to it without consulting him at all. Although I did not witness it, I heard that Arkon Bloodblade was surprised when the Prince, with cold courtesy, expressed dismay at the terms.

'We cannot change what he agreed to for us,' Chade told me grimly. 'But it was worthwhile to see Bloodblade's face when Dutiful

told him, "My word is mine, and I am the only man who can give it. Never again presume to speak for me.'"

This he told me over brandy, in the same room in the stronghouse we had originally occupied. Thick and Dutiful were in the adjoining room. I could hear only the tone of their conversation: Dutiful was calmly explaining why Thick must board the ship the next day and Thick's voice was varying from a child's whine to" a man's angry refusal. It did not sound as if it were going well. But, given what Bloodblade had committed us to, I did not think any of it could go much worse than it had.

Our nobles had done well in our absence, better than I had expected. Trading alliances between varying clans and Six Duchies houses were already being formalized. Displaying their own insignia had seemed to distance them sufficiently from the Buck of the Farseers to allow them to approach the varying clans without prejudice. Dutiful dined with his nobles almost every night, and each evening seemed to bring news of more trade negotiations. If the Prince were able to present a dragon's head to the Narcheska, we would have succeeded in our goal. The Six Duchies and the Out Islands would be so tied together with marriage and trade that future wars would not profit anyone.

But the Hetgurd seemed determined it would not be easy for us. The Farseer Prince would be allowed to challenge the dragon, but the Hetgurd had set the rules for the confrontation. When we departed for Aslevjal, we would not be taking the Prince's Guard with him, but only a set number of warriors. Dutiful's Wit-coterie took up most of that count, and so far he had refused to consider Chade's suggestion that he leave his Witted allies and take hardened fighters instead. As Dutiful had challenged her, the Narcheska would be accompanying us. We assumed that meant Peottre as well, and perhaps a few warriors from Narwhal or Boar Clans, though their help had not been promised to us. A boat selected by the Hetgurd would transport us to Aslevjal. It would also transport the six Hetgurd representatives, who would see that we adhered to their rules. They would be warriors, selected from six different clans other than Boar or Narwhal. They would he allowed to defend themselves, if the dragon threatened them, but otherwise

not harm him or assist us in any way. What we took with us would be limited to what the ship could carry, and once we were ashore, we'd be carrying it on our backs.

'I'm surprised they didn't specify the Prince must fight the dragon in single combat.'

'They came close to it,' Chade said sourly. 'He is supposed to be the first man to challenge the beast. And it was strongly suggested that he should attempt to deal the death blow, if there is one. They are warriors enough to know that in the heat of a battle, no one can say which blow will actually do the deed. One of their bards will be accompanying us, as witness, just what we needed.' He scratched a whiskery cheek wearily. 'Not that we are greatly concerned about any of that. As I've said from the start, I think this is more a case of digging something out of the ice than battling any living creature. I had looked forward to having a larger work force for that part of this business.' He coughed slightly and looked mildly pleased with himself as he said, 'But perhaps I have something that will serve us as well as the extra men would have.'

'How many men is Dutiful allowed?'

'Twelve. And we make up the count of them far too quickly. You and me, Web, Civil, Cockle, Riddle, Thick, Longwick and four guardsmen.' He shook his head. 'I wish Dutiful would consider leaving at least Civil and Cockle here. Two more seasoned warriors can make all the difference in a situation.'

'What of Swift? Is he staying here, then?' I could not decide if I felt relief or uneasiness at the thought.

'No, we'll take him. But as he's a boy yet, he doesn't count toward our quota of warriors.'

'And we leave tomorrow?'

Chade nodded. 'Longwick has spent the last week gathering provisions for us. Most of what we brought of Six Duchies victuals has been used; I'm afraid we'll be eating the local provender. He has sorted through what we had and acquired what we need for a party of twelve. I've already warned him that there will be a cat to feed as well as the rest of us. We will all carry weapons, regardless of whether we've been trained in them or not. An axe for you?'

I nodded. 'And one for Swift. He has his own bow and arrows,

but as you said before, an axe for chopping ice may be more to the point.'

Chade sighed. 'And that is where my invention runs out. I have no idea what we'll be facing, Fitz. We'll have food and tents and weapons and some tools. But beyond that, I've no idea what we'll need.' He poured himself a stingy dollop of brandy. 'I'll not deny that I take pleasure in knowing that Peottre is just as dismayed by all this as I am. He and the Narcheska will be accompanying us. Bloodblade is coming on the ship, bat I don't think he's staying for the dragon-slay ing.' He smirked sarcastically as he called it that, doubting it would be any such thing. 'It's damnably inconvenient all round, this giving a task the rules of a contest. They've limited us to two message birds as well, but to be used only to summon the ship back when we are ready to leave the island. They'll be in the keeping of our chaperones.'

His words pushed my mind into another direction. 'Do you suppose the bird you sent has reached Kettricken yet?'

He gave me a pitying look. 'You know there's no way for us to tell. Wind or storms, a hawk ... so many things can delay or stop a bird. A message bird flies only toward its home and mate. There is no way for Kettricken to send word back to us.' Delicately he added, 'Have you thought of trying to reach Burrich?'

'Last night,' I replied. To his lifted eyebrow, I replied, 'Nothing. I felt like a moth battering at a lantern glass. I can't reach him. Years ago, I used to be able to catch glimpses of them, of Molly and Burrich. Not a mind-to-mind touch, but . . . well, it's no use. That's gone. I suspect that Nettle was my focus for it, though I did not see through her eyes.'

'Interesting,' he said softly, and I knew he was squirrelling away that bit of information for possible future use. 'But you cannot reach Nettle?'

'No.' I boxed the word in, refusing to let any emotion ride on it. I reached across the table and picked up the brandy bottle.

'Go easy on that,' Chade warned me.

I'm nowhere near drunk,' I retorted irritably.

'I didn't say you were,' he responded mildly. 'But we haven't much left. And we may want it more on Aslevjal than we do here.'

I set the bottle down as Dutiful came back into the room. Thick trailed him, a sullen look on his face. Tra not going,1 Thick announced as he came in.

'Yes, you are,' Dutiful responded stubbornly.

'Not.'

'Are.'

'Enough!' Chade interjected as if they were seven-year-olds.

'Not!' Thick breathed as he sat down with a thump at the table.

'Yes, you are,' Dutiful insisted. 'Unless you want to stay here all by yourself. All alone, with no one to talk to. All by yourself, just sitting in this room until we come back.'

Thick thrust out his chin, lower lip and tongue all at once. He crossed his short thick arms on his chest and cast Dutiful a measuring glance. 'I don't care. Not alone, anyway. I'll just talk to Nettle. She'll tell me stories.'

I sat up with a jolt. 'You can talk to Nettle'

He glared at me, as if he had just realized that in needling Dutiful he had given something away to me. He swung his feet. 'Maybe. But you can't.'

I knew I could not afford to lose my temper with him, or push him too hard.

'Because you are stopping me from talking to her?'

'No. She just doesn't want to talk to you.' He measured me as he said this, perhaps to see if this idea bothered me more than the thought that he could block me from her. He was right. It did. I sent a tiny, private plea to Dutiful. Find out for me. h she safe?

Thick's eyes flickered from me to Dutiful and back again. The Prince kept silent. He knew as well as I did that we had been caught Skilling. Anything he said to Thick right now would be suspect. And the little man had not been pleased with Dutiful to begin with. I picked at that thought. 'So. You're not going with us when we leave, Thick?'

'No. No more ships.'

It was cruel. 1 did it anyway. 'Then how are you going to get home? Going on a ship is the only way to get home.'

He looked doubtful. 'You aren't going home. You're going to that dragon island.'

'To start with, yes. But after that, we're going home.'

'And you'll come back here and get Thick first.'

'Maybe,' Dutiful conceded.

'Maybe, if we are still alive,' Chade embroidered. 'We had been counting on your help. If you stay here and we go on without you . . .' The old man shrugged. 'The dragon may kill all of us.'

'Serve you right,' Thick replied darkly. But I thought we had put a crack in his resolve. He seemed to be thinking as he sat scowling at his pudgy hands clasped at the table's edge.

Chade spoke slowly and consideringly. 'If Nettle is telling Thick stories to keep him company, then I don't think she is in any great danger, Fitz.'

If he had hoped to provoke a comment from Thick, he failed. The little man gave a disgusted 'hmph' and settled back in his chair, arms crossed firmly on his chest.

'Let it go,' I suggested softly to all of them. When I tried to think why Nettle might be so angry with me as to break off all contact, there were far too many reasons. Yet, I told myself sternly, to know she was alive and angry with me was preferable to thinking that a dragon might have decimated her and her family. I longed for certainty about the situation, and knew I would not get it. In my heart, I wished speed to the messenger bird we had sent. If Nettle must be angry, let her at least be angry in a safe place.

Little else was said that evening. Three of us went over our packing, and Chade spent time muttering worriedly over a cargo manifest. Thick made a great show of not packing. At one point, Dutiful began to gather up Thick's clothes and stuff them into a bag, but when Thick dumped it out on the floor again, they both left them there. They were still there when we all went to bed.

I did not sleep well. Now that I knew Nettle was purposely ignoring me, I could find and feel the shape of her barrier. More annoying was knowing that Thick was observing me as I groped, and taking pleasure in my inability to break through it. If he had not, perhaps I would have made a more serious effort to get into Nettle's dreams. Instead, I gave it up and tried to slide into true

sleep. Instead, 1 had a restless night of brief dreams of all the people I'd hurt or failed, from Burrich to Patience, with the most vivid ones being of the Fool's accusing stare.

We arose before the sun the next morning. We broke our fast in near silence, with Thick in a simmering sulk, waiting for us to entreat or order him to move. By tacit consent, none of us did. What brief words we shared were spoken past him. We loaded up our individual bags. Riddle arrived to help us carry our gear. Chade let the guardsman take his pack but Prince Dutiful insisted on carrying his own. And we left.

Riddle walked a step behind Chade, carrying his pack. Longwick and the other four guardsmen followed us. I did not know any of them well. Hest, a youngster, I liked well enough. Churry and Drub were close friends and seasoned warriors. All I knew of Deft was that he lived up to his name when the dice were in his hands. The rest of the guard would be left behind with our nobles, and our diminished party was to form up on the docks. As we walked through the cobbled streets, I asked, 'And if Thick doesn't come after us, what then?'

'Leave him,' Dutiful replied grimly.

'You know we can't,' I pointed out, and he grunted in reply.

'I could go back and drag him along,' Riddle offered doubtfully. I winced to think of that, and Chade shook his head mutely.

It might come to that, I observed privately to them. I can't do it, because his Skill can knock me to my knees. But someone unSkilled and insensitive to Thick's power might be able to force him physically. Look at the times when other servants mistreated him, takinghis coins. Of course, we'd have to deal with his anger about that in the days to come, but at least he would be with us.

Let's wait and see, the Prince replied grimly.

As we neared the docks, people grew more numerous, until we realized a crowd had gathered to watch our departure. The Tusker had been loaded since yesterday, and awaited only our boarding and the morning turn of tide to depart. There was a strange mood amongst the Outislanders. It was as if they had turned out to watch a competition of champions, and we were not the favoured ones.

No one hurled rotten vegetables or insults, but the knowing silence was almost as hard a pelting.

Closer to the ship, our own nobles had gathered to wish us farewell and good luck. They clustered about the Prince, wishing him well, and as I waited obediently behind him, it struck me how little they realized of his quest and what it might mean. There was good-natured joking with him, and hearty wishes for" good fortune, but none of his nobles looked particularly worried for him.

As we boarded, with still no sign of Thick, my heart sank and my belly knotted with fear. We could not leave him here alone, no matter how annoyed Dutiful might be with him. There was not just the fear of what he might do in our absence, but my worry over what might be done to him, stripped of the Prince's protection. Would the Six Duchies nobles care much what became of a half-wit lackey in Dutiful's absence? I leaned on the railing, and stared over the head of the crowd milling on the docks, up to the stronghouse. Web came to lean beside me. 'Well. Looking forward to the voyage?'

I smiled bitterly. 'The only voyage I'm looking forward to is the one that takes us home.'

'I haven't seen Thick come aboard yet.'

'1 know. We're still waiting for him. He was reluctant to get on another boat, but we're hoping he'll come on his own.'

Web nodded slowly and sagely to that, and then wandered off.

I stood, fretting and chewing the side of my thumb. Thick? Are you coming? The ship will leave soon.

Leave me alone, Dogstink

He flung the name with intense anger, so that I almost smelled the image he hurled at me. On the edges of his fury, I could feel his fear and hurt that we would so abandon him. Our departure had agitated and worried him, but I still suspected his stubbornness would win out.

Time and tide wait for no man, Thick. Decide soon. Because when the waters are right, the ship has to leave. And after that, even if you let us know you've changed your mind and want to come, it will be too late. We won't be able to come back for you.

Don't care. And with that, he slammed his walls so tight that

it felt like a physical slap. I was left feeling that I'd made the situation worse.

Too soon, I saw the final preparations for our departure begin. A late arrival of cargo from the Maiden's Chance came on board. There were a number of small casks, and I smiled, wondering if Chade had recalled a stash of brandy on the other ship. Weaponry and tools came aboard as well, as we filled up the odd corners of the hold with anything Chade thought might be helpful. But finally, it was time to depart. Well-wishers who had followed the Prince on board were leaving. The Hetgurd representatives arrived with their gear. All the last-minute cargo was stowed out of the way and the small boats that would tow us out of the harbour and into open water were manned and waiting. Web came to stand anxiously beside me at the railing.

'I don't think he's coming,' I said quietly- I felt ill. 'I'll go and speak to the Prince. We'll have to send someone after him.'

'I already have,' Web replied grimly.

'You did? What did Prince Dutiful say?' I hadn't seen any of our guardsmen depart from the ship.

'Oh. No, not spoken to him,' Web replied distractedly. 'I sent someone. Swift.' More to himself, he muttered, 'I hope this isn't an unfair test. I think he can do it. But perhaps I should have gone myself.'

'Swift?' Mentally I measured the growing lad against Thick, and shook my head. 'He'll never be able to do it. Thick is awkward, but he's surprisingly strong when he's roused. He might do the boy harm. I'd best go after them.'

Web seized me by the arm. 'No! Don't go! Look. He's done it. They're coming now!'

The relief in his voice was as if Swift had conquered some monumental task. Perhaps, in all justice, he had. I watched them come, the short man trudging along by the slight boy. Swift carried Thick's pack and held his hand protectively. That shocked me, but even at this distance, the boy's attitude was visible. His head was up and wary, and he met the eyes of every man they passed, as if challenging him to mock the half-wit or delay their progress. It was as great a display of courage as I'd ever seen, and my evaluation of

the boy soared. It would have taxed my will to lead Thick by the hand through that throng, yet on they came. As they got closer and I could see the expression on Thick's face, I realized that more was at work here than simply sending a boy to bid him come.

'What is it?' I asked Web in a low voice.

'It's the Old Blood. As well you know.' He spoke softly, not turning to look at me. 'It works best Wit to Wit as you would say. But even on those who have no Wit, one can exert a drawing closer. I've had Swift practising. Today was a sterner test than I wished to set him. But he's done well.'

'Yes. I can see that he has.' There was a look of trust on Thick's face as the boy led him toward the boarding plank. He hesitated there, halting. Then Swift spoke softly to him, and, still holding the little man's hand, led him up the gangway. I debated before next I spoke, but curiosity dragged the words from me. 'I know how to push someone away from me with the Wit. I think I've always known how to do that. But how do you draw someone closer with it?'

'Ah. Well. The pushing away might come by instinct. Usually the drawing close does, too. I would have thought you knew it; now I understand why you've never used it with Thick.' He cocked his head and looked at me appraisingly. 'Sometimes, the things you don't know baffle me. As if you'd forgotten or somehow lost some part of yourself.'

I think he saw the uneasiness that his words woke in me, for he suddenly changed his tone and spoke in generality. 'I think all creatures use that drawing force, to some extent, with their young or when they wish to attract a mate. Perhaps you've used it without realizing it. But, you see, that is why a man given this magic should make an effort to learn about it. To be aware of how he's using it.' He let a silence fall, then added, Til offer again to teach you what you need to know.'

'I have to go and see to Thick and get him settled.' I turned hastily to go.

'Yes. I know that you do. You've many tasks and duties, and I won't claim to know all that you do for our prince. I'm sure that at any moment of the day, you can find some reason to be too

busy for this. But a man makes time for what is important in his

life. So. I'll be hoping that you'll come to me. This is the last time I'll make the offer. Now it's up to you to accept it.'

And before I could hurry away, he turned and quietly left me there. Overhead, Risk lifted off from our mast with a lonely cry that rode down the wind. Lines were tossed, the planks were pulled in, and in the little boats men leaned to their oars to pull us away from the docks and out to where the wind could catch us. I promised myself that I'd find the time, today, to speak to Web about privately learning about my magic. I hoped I didn't lie.

But nothing is ever simple. With the Narcheska, her father Arkon Bloodblade and her Uncle Peottre on board, most of Dutiful's and Chade's social time was taken up with one or another of them. I had little private conversation with either of them. Instead, as before, I was confined to Thick's companionship. As he was miserable, he saw no reason why I shouldn't be also. The minor bruises and scrapes he had given me on the previous voyage were renewed, and there was little I could do about it. Putting up walls against his subtle Skill-influence would have reduced my awareness of Chade and Dutiful. So I endured.

To make it worse, the water we crossed was nasty. We battled currents and tides that always seemed to oppose us. For two days of our journey, our ship rocked badly and Thick was genuinely seasick, as were Cockle, Swift and Civil. The rest of us ate little and moved from one hand-hold to another. I glimpsed a very pale Narcheska taking a walk on the deck on Peottre's arm. Neither of them looked as if they were enjoying themselves. The slow days crawled by.

I did not rind an opportunity to discuss the Wit with Web. From time to time, I would recall my intention, but it always seemed to come to me at a moment when a dozen other things wanted my attention. I tried to pretend it was circumstance that kept me from approaching him. In reality, I could not name what held me back.

Our destination finally appeared on the horizon. Even from a distance, Aslevjal looked a dismal place. It is among the northernmost of the Out Islands, a toothy isle of grim visage. Summer never really triumphs there. The milder days of summer's brief visit are not sufficient to melt the snow of the previous winter on its mountains. Most of the island is locked under the glacier that squats within the pronged hold of its peaks. Some say it is actually two islands, bridged by the ice of the glacier, but I do not know the basis for that belief. Low tide bares black sand beaches around it like a dreary skirt. A barren and stony stretch of beach and a bit of cliff are permanently exposed at one end of it. In other places, rocks thrust up through the glacier's pale coat. 1 could not tell if the cloudiness around the island was the ice smoking in the sunlight or snow blown by the continuous north wind we were encountering.

Our approach was slow as both wind and water seemed to oppose us. We tacked painfully toward the island. I was at the railing when Dutiful and the Narcheska, accompanied by Chade and Peottre, came out to look at the island. Dutiful scowled at it. 'It does not look like a place where any creature would willingly reside, let alone something the size of a dragon. Why would a dragon be there?'

The Narcheska shook her head and spoke softly. 'I do not know. I only know that our legends say that he is there. So, thither we must go.' She pulled her wool cloak more closely around her. The wind seemed to carry the island's icy bite to us.

In the afternoon, we rounded a headland and turned back toward Aslevjal's sole bay. Our spies' reports had told us it was a deserted place, with the remnants of a dock and a few stone structures tumbling into disrepair. Yet I glimpsed a patch of bright colour on the exposed cliff above the beach. Even as I stared at it, trying to resolve what it was, a figure emerged from it. I decided it was a tent or some sort of shelter. A man came to stand on the tip of the cliff. His black and white hooded cloak struggled and flapped around him. He lifted no hand in greeting, but only stood there and awaited us.

'Who is that?' Chade demanded of Peottre when the lookout's cries to the captain had brought them back onto the deck.

'I do not know,' the man replied. Dread was heavy in his voice.

'Perhaps it is the legendary Black Man of the island,' Bloodblade suggested. He leaned forward avidly, studying the solitary figure on the bluffs. 'I've always wondered if the tales were true-'

'I don't want to find out,' the Narcheska commented quietly. Her

eyes were huge. As we drew closer to the bay, the railing became crowded as we all stared toward our destination and the solitary ominous figure that awaited us there. It was only when we dropped anchor in the bay and our small boats prepared to ferry us and our supplies to shore that he moved. He came down to the beach, and stood at the high tide line. Even before he threw back his hood, something in my heart turned over. I felt sick with dread. The Fool awaited me.