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

FOURTEEN The Black Man

I slept well, without dreams of any kind, and woke to the sound of the waves against the beach- Dawn had barely found us, but already both guardsmen and Hetgurd warriors were up and about. 1 splashed my face in the icy stream. The incoming tide had covered the carved dragon, but now that I knew it was there, I could feel it as a sort of Wit-humming from beneath the waves. 1 glanced out toward the anchored ships. I wanted to ask Web what he thought of the dragon, and yet 1 felt guilty at the thought. I hadn't kept faith with him; I hadn't come to allow him to teach me. Did I have the right to ask him to use his knowledge for my benefit, when I would not learn it for myself? 1 knew how I would react to Swift behaving so. I grimly reminded myself that there was only so much time in a day, and of late every moment in mine seemed to have been spoken for.

I checked on the tent where Thick slept on. Coward that I was,

I decided to leave him in peace. I wandered over to the guards' cook-fire where the porridge was just beginning to boil. Longwick had no immediate task for me. I glanced out at the anchored ships, but saw no signs of life there. They had probably stayed up late talking. I visited the quarry again. By the light of day, I thought I glimpsed bones and the round of a human skull under the rainwater, but the sides of the quarry were steep and I had no desire to investigate. Whatever had happened there had happened long ago. My own problems were more immediate. I drifted over to where the Hetgurd men had their tents. They were gathered outside them, and at first I thought they were having breakfast from a stone table. Then, as I ventured closer, I realized that the sporadic conversation was an ongoing argument. I halted where I was, making a show of scratching and stretching while gazing seaward. Then I went down on one knee as if adjusting my shoe, all the while listening closely. They were muttering their complaints to one another, so it was not easy to understand them. When I had heard enough to realize that they had left an offering for the Black Man at the traditional spot, on this stone table, and that it had not been taken, I stood up and ventured near.

With an oafish smile on my face and using my broadest Six Duchies accent, I asked them brokenly if they knew when the Narcheska's party might come ashore. A broad man with a stylized bear on his cheek told me that they would arrive when they arrived. I nodded pleasantly with the slightly unfocused look of a man who is not certain of what has just been said to him. Then, nodding at the stone table, I asked what they were having for dinner. I took three steps toward it before two men stepped in between the table and me to block my access to it.

The Bear explained to me that this was not a meal, but an offering, and that I should probably go down to my own fellows and eat with- them, as they had no use for beggars here. I peered at him, my mouth movements echoing his as if puzzling out his words, and then smiled broadly and wished them all a good day and left. I'd had my glimpse of the stone table. On it was a clay pot, a small loaf of dark bread and a dish of salted fish doused in oil. It had not looked appetizing, even to my morning hunger, and I scarcely

blamed the Black Man for leaving it untouched. Their distress over this apparent rejection was interesting to me. From their words, they had expected some island denizen to come and stealthily take the offering. That he had not worried them. These were hardened warriors, selected by the Hetgurd to be single-minded in their task. Most warriors I had been around were pragmatic about matters of religion and superstition. They might make a 'good luck' toss of the salt, but only a few cared much for omens such as the wind catching it and blowing it aside. My evaluation was that these men had expected the Black Man to accept their gifts, and by that acceptance, signal his permission for them to be here. He had not, and that unsettled them. I wondered how much that would affect their attitude toward our quest?

As 1 walked back to my tent,. 1 reflected that this belief of theirs indicated that in the past, someone or something had accepted such offerings. Was there someone actually living on the island; or was it, more likely, some creature like the robber-rat that Swift had wanted to befriend which had taken the food?

I found Thick waking. He seemed a trifle more kindly disposed toward me this day, and accepted my aid in getting himself warmly dressed. He had one coughing spell that left him red-cheeked and breathless. It troubled me more than 1 let show. Lingering coughs could take down large warriors, and Thick was neither big nor hearty. He had been battling this lung ailment too long, and now faced a time of living in a draughty tent in a chilly spring- But 1 said nothing of my worries to him as we walked over to the fire for our share of hot porridge and tea.

Riddle and the other guardsmen were in that bitter good-humour that is typical of men facing a difficult and perhaps unpleasant task. They traded crude jests, complained about the food and made disparaging remarks about our Hetgurd 'nannies'. Longwick sat a little apart from us, and when the food was finished, found tasks to occupy the others. He had accepted that my duties for the Crown were supervising Thick, and offered me no other chores. So I took the little man for a walk. He had no comments on the quarry or the icy stream, no observations on the blue glacier crouching above us. But as I deliberately led him on a stroll along the beach and past

the submerged dragon, he shook his head and told me solemnly, 'This isn't a good place.' He looked around slowly and then added, 'Bad things happened here. And it feels like it's now.'

I would have liked to probe that comment, but he then lifted a stubby arm to point at the ships. 'Here they come!' he cried, and he was right. The small boats, laden with passengers, were headed toward the shore. We stood and watched them come. Peottre, Bloodblade and the Narcheska rode in one. Chade, the Prince, Civil, his cat and Web were in the second. The Fool, Swift and Cockle were in the last one. Cockle seemed in high spirits, explaining something with much hand-waving while Swift was grinning and obviously enjoying himself. 1 gave a small sigh and then smiled to myself. So swiftly had my Fool won them over with his charm. I wished he had not come; I feared his prophecies concerning himself. At the same time, I could not deny that I was glad he was here. I had missed him.

By the time the boats reached shore. Thick and I were not the only ones waiting for them. Riddle and one of the other guardsmen ran Peottre's boat up beyond the waves' reach. Longwick and I did the same for the Prince's, and then the Fool's. He disembarked without even a glance that would betray he knew me. By the time everyone stood on the sand, the Hetgurd men surrounded Arkon Bloodblade. They made no attempt to lower their voices as they explained to him that the Black Man had not accepted their offering- In light of that, they suggested we should all recognize that our mission here was deeply offensive to him. The Narcheska should change her mind and release the Prince from his task.

I had known they were upset. 1 didn't realize it was that important to them, I added after I had Skilled to Chade and the Prince the morning's event at the stone table. Neither one glanced at me as I relayed my information. They waited courteously, standing well back from the discussion around Bloodblade and Peottre. The Narcheska herself stood apart from the men, staring out over the water. She looked as if she were carved from stone: determination and resignation were etched into her face.

The Black Man discussion continued, but I was distracted from it by the Fool. He had approached, chatting amiably with Cockle

and Swift. The layered black and white of his garments put me so in mind of him in the days when he had been King Shrewd's jester that I felt my throat close. He glanced my way once, a mere flicker of his brandy eyes. Then I saw his attention snag on the conversation the Hetgurd guard was having with Peottre and Bloodblade. It was like watching a hunting dog stiffen to a scent. He focused himself on them and drew near, careless of whether it would be seen as rude.

The conversation had become an argument, and the Out Island tongue they used had become so swift and guttural with anger that I could scarcely follow it. Peottre stepped back from the group and crossed his arms on his chest. He turned his head sideways and looked away from them, but as he did so, he clapped one hand loudly on his sword scabbard- It was not a gesture that would have been used in the Six Duchies, but its meaning was still plain to me. If anyone wished to argue further with him, they'd argue blade to blade. The circle of Hetgurd men turned their eyes away from him, plainly rejecting the challenge. Instead, they closed around Bloodblade, who gestured wide his helplessness and then flapped an arm at his daughter, shrugging as if to say that the ways of all women were beyond any man's reasoning. That seemed to settle something.

The Hetgurd man with the bear tattoo stepped away from the others and advanced to the Narcheska. She did not look at him as he came though I am sure she was aware of him. Instead she looked out over the waters, past the ship to the horizon. The wind blew past her, stirring the edges of the hooded blue cloak she wore and tugging at her embroidered skirts. It lifted them enough to reveal her sealskin boots and the wool leggings tucked into them. She ignored the breeze's liberty as easily as she ignored the waiting Bear. He cleared his throat, but was forced to speak before she turned to him.

'Narcheska Elliania, I would have a word with you.'

Even when she turned to look at him, her look was the only acknowledgement she gave him. He accepted it as permission to speak to her. His words were clear and formal, and I think he intended that all should hear and understand them. The Owl drew closer to them as they spoke, probably to witness their words for posterity. Bards do not believe in privacy.

'1 am sure that you heard us speaking just now. But I shall state it plainly. Last night, we left out the offering for the Black Man, as is customary when visiting this place, for any reason. This morning it remained on the stone table, untouched. Long has it been said that no man can buy the Black Man's approval with gifts, but when he takes them, he gives you permission to risk your life here. This morning, we knew that he did not even cede that much to us. Narcheska, we have come here with you, knowing already that the challenge you gave your suitor was inappropriate. You did not listen to us. Will you pay attention now to what the Black Man himself has shown us? We are not welcome here. Many of us expected him to be angry with you. We did not expect he would withhold his permission even from those who come to see that your challenge to the dragon is a fair one. You place not just your husband and yourself in danger, but all who are here. And should you achieve your end, we now fear that the displeasure of the gods will fall, not just on you, but on all who witness the deed.'

1 saw her blink, and perhaps the colour in her checks heightened. Only her stillness proclaimed that she listened to him as she stared into the distance. He spoke on more quietly but his words carried clearly. 'Withdraw the challenge, Narcheska. Replace it, if you wish, with one more fitting. Demand a whale's spear from him, or the teeth of a bear, killed by him alone. Pit him against any creature that is right and proper for a man to hunt, but let us all leave this island and the dragon it protects. Icefyre is not for a man to kill, Narcheska. Not even for love of you.'

I thought he would convince her, right up to his last words. But they were uttered with such disdain that even I felt the sting of them. She did not turn her eyes toward him as she spoke. 'My challenge stands.' She spoke those words to the sea. But then she turned to face Dutiful and added, 'Because it must. For the honour of Narwhal Clan.'

She spoke the last words almost as if they were an apology, as if she regretted them but had to say them anyway. Dutiful gave a single slow nod, an acceptance of the challenge and her assertion that it must stand. It was an act of faith between them, and I think I perceived then what Chade seemed to have known for some time;

that if those two could learn to go in harness, they would be a powerful pair.

The Bear clenched his fists at his side, and thrust out his jaw. The Owl nodded jerkily to himself, as if to fix the moment in his memory.

The Narcheska turned to Peottre and said, 'Should not we be preparing to leave now? It is a long and arduous journey, I am told, to where the dragon is under the ice.'

Peottre nodded gravely. 'As soon as we have bidden your father farewell.'

To me, it sounded like a dismissal; yet Arkon Bloodblade did not seem insulted, but relieved. 'We must sail with this tide,' he agreed.

'Witness!' the Bear shouted angrily. All turned to his cry. 'Witness that if we die here, we who have come at the Hetgurd's request, witness that if we die here, then Clan Narwhal and Clan Boar owe our mothershouses blood-gold. For we are not here by our choice, nor do we seek this conflict. If we fall to the gods' displeasure, then do not let our families cry in vain for justice.'

A silence fell after his words. Then, 'Witness,' Peottre conceded gruffly, and 'Witness,' Arkon Bloodblade echoed him.

I sensed an Out Island custom with which I was not familiar. Chade seemed aware of my confusion. I felt his uneasiness as he told me, He has bound them both. Whatever disgrace or bad luck may come from our actions here will belong to the Boar and the Narwhal clans. The Bear has claimed everyone here as a witness to this.

It seemed to me that the Bear was almost discomfited by how easily Peottre and Bloodblade had accepted his gambit. He clenched his fists several times, but when no one deigned to notice that, he turned and walked away from them. The Owl followed him. I suspected that they had expected a challenge that they could have settled with swords or fists, and that their concession had actually forced him and the other Hetgurd companions to proceed with their mission.

The process of bidding farewell to the Narcheska's father proceeded grudgingly after that. The formal farewells involved the Hetgurd men,  Chade, the Prince,  Peottre and the Narcheska.

The rest of us were left standing as informal witnesses. Thick was wandering idly about on the beach, overturning rocks and poking at the tiny crabs he disturbed there. 1 pretended to be manoeuvring to keep an eye on him as I edged closer and closer to the Fool. He appeared to be aware of my efforts, for he walked a little apart from Swift and Cockle. When I stood within hearing distance of a soft word, I said quietly, 'So. Despite all my efforts, you contrived to get here. How did you do it?'

Although we are of a height, he still somehow managed to look down coolly on me. There was stillness in his face that bespoke a great anger. I thought he was not going to reply to me. Then, 'I flew,' he said coldly. He stood, not looking at me, breathing quietly. I felt somewhat encouraged that he had not stalked away but wondered if that was merely because he did not wish to call attention to our speaking. I ignored his mockery of my question.

'How can you be angry at me? You know why I did it. You said that if you came here you would die here. So I arranged that you would not come here.'

For a time, he was silent. We both watched Arkon Bloodblade pushed off in a small boat. Two of his Boar warriors took the oars and leaned into them heartily. Their expressions proclaimed that they were happy to be leaving this island. The Fool gave me a sideways glance. His eyes had darkened to the colour of strong tea in a glass. Clean of powder and paint, his face was a smooth golden brown. 'You should have respected that I knew what I had to do,' he rebuked me.

'If you knew that I was going to my death, would not you try to stop me?'

It was the wrong question to ask him, and I knew that almost as soon as I had asked it. He stared out at the ship in the harbour where sailors laboured with the anchor chain and the sails and spoke in a low voice,, his lips scarcely moving. 'On the contrary. Many times I have known that faith or your own stubbornness would endanger your life, but I have always respected your decisions to do so.'

Then he turned and walked slowly away from me. Swift sent me an odd glance, then hurried off to follow him. 1 noticed Civil looking after them with an expression of distaste. I heard the crunch

of footsteps on beach gravel, and turned to find Web approaching me. It was hard for me to meet his eyes. I still felt oddly guilty, as if I had insulted him by refusing his offer of lessons. If he felt anything of the kind, he concealed it well. He gestured after the Fool and Swift with his chin. 'You know him, don't you?'

'Of course.' The question surprised me. 'He's Lord Golden, from Buckkeep. Didn't you recognize him?'

'No, I didn't. Not at first. It wasn't until Lord Chade called him Lord Golden that I perceived any similarity. But even when I was told his name, I felt that I did not truly know him at all. Yet I think that you do. He is an odd creature. Can you sense him?'

I knew what he meant. The Fool had never left any impression on my Wit-sense. 'No. And he has no scent.'

'Ah.' That was all he said, but I suspected that I had given him much to ponder.

I looked down at my feet on the gravelly sand. 'Web. I'm sorry. I keep intending to find time to spend with you, but I never seem to manage it. It isn't that I'm not interested, or that I disdain what you have to teach. It just seems that so many things come between me and what I would like to be doing.'

'Like now,' he replied with a grin. He raised his eyebrows and looked at Thick. The little man was hunkered down beside a piece of driftwood that he had overturned. His attention on the sand fleas and small crabs he had exposed was so intense that he was ignoring the waves that were nearly lapping about his feet. If I didn't intervene soon, he would have wet shoes and spend the rest of the day in misery. I exchanged an understanding glance with Web, and hurried down the beach toward my charge.

Even before the ship was out of sight, Longwick was issuing orders to his men. With the casual precision of the veteran soldier, he set them to breaking up our provisions into manageable loads. From the number of packs he was preparing, it was obvious he expected all to share in the task of transporting our goods to our next campsite. Thick had left off poking about on the beach and now sat disconsolately in the door of our tent, a blanket draped around his shoulders. The day was not truly that cold. I wondered anxiously if he were starting to burn with fever again. I went to confer with Longwick.

'How far do we expect to journey today?' I tilted my head toward Thick to explain my concern to him.

Longwick followed my gesture and scowled worriedly at my concern. 'I've been told it's a three-day journey to where the dragon is trapped in the ice- But I'm sure you know that such measurements of distance mean nothing. A one-day journey for a seasoned traveller with a light pack can be a three-day trek for a courtier with a full load.' He lifted his eyes to scan the clear skies and then the icy peaks of the island speculatively. 'It's not going to be a pleasant journey for any of us,' he opined. 'It's always winter when you're crossing a glacier.'

1 thanked him and left. The other men had moved to strike their tents, but Thick bad not budged from ours. I tried to put on a pleasant expression, but my heart sank at the thought of the task before me. If he bad hated me for putting him onto a ship, how was he going to feel about me after I had dragged him on a hike across a glacier? 'Time to pack up, Thick,' I informed him cheerfully.

'Why?'

'Well, if we're going to slay the dragon, we have to go to where the dragon is.'

'1 don't want to slay the dragon.'

'Well, we won't actually be the ones to slay the dragon. That will be up to the Prince. We'll just be there to help him.'

'1 don't want to go-oo.' He dragged the word out mournfully- But to my relief, he stood and stepped out of the tent as if expecting me to take it down immediately.

'I know, Thick. I don't want to go hiking through all that snow and ice either. But we have to. We're King's Men, and that is what we do. Now, before we take down the tent, we both have to dress more warmly. Shall we do that?'

'We don't have a king.'

'Prince.Dutiful will be king some day. And when he is, we'll still be his. So, we are King's Men, even now. But you can say you're a Prince's Man if you like that better.'

'I don't like snow and ice.' Grudgingly, he moved back into the tent and looked about it helplessly.

'I'll get out your things,' I assured him, and proceeded to do so.

I've been many things in my days, and serving as valet to the little man did not strike me as so strange as it might have at one time. I laid out his clothes and then stuffed him into them. It was like dressing a large child. He complained of his sleeves dragging up inside the second shirt I put on him, and then his boots were too tight with the extra stockings. By the time I had him dressed, I felt sweaty and smothered myself. I sent him outside, warning him to stay away from the water, as I added a layer to my own clothes and then repacked my and Thick's belongings.

I had to smile when I realized that I was dreading the hike because of the way the cold always made my scars ache. Because of my recent Skill-healing, I had no scars now, I reminded myself; at least not the bone and muscle deep ones that seemed to twist pain deep into me. Those had been replaced with superficial markings on my skin to pretend they were stili there. I rolled my shoulders, proving to myself that my flesh no longer pulled against a deep scar in my back. It was a good feeling, and I found myself grinning as I dragged our packed gear out of the tent and then dismantled the tent itself.

I hauled our things to where Longwick was supervising the parcelling out of packs. A single small tent was still pitched there. The commander had decided to establish a cache of supplies here on the beach, and was discussing with Chade whether he should leave one or two men to guard it. Chade wanted to leave only one, in order to have a larger force with us. Longwick was courteously but stubbornly holding out for two. Tor there is an unsettling feel to this island, sir. And we both know that guardsmen are prone to superstition. The Hetgurd men have been telling tales of a Black Man, and now my own men are muttering that, yes, they might have glimpsed a mysterious shadow lurking at the edge of the camp last night. A man alone would be prey to such thoughts. Two will play dice and talk and keep a better eye on our supplies.'

In the end, Longwick won his point and Chade conceded to leaving two men behind. Churry and Drub would remain with our cache. That settled, Chade turned to me and asked, 'Is the Prince's Man Thick ready for the journey, Badger/lock?'

'As ready as I could make him, Lord Chade.' But he's not happy about it.

Are any of us! 'Excellent. I've a few extra items that we shall want when we reach the dragon. Longwick has divided them for easier carrying.'

'As you will, Lord Chade.' 1 bowed to him. He hurried off as Longwick issued me a small cask of Chade's explosive powder to add to my pack. I groaned to myself, for it proved heavier than 1 had expected. We were taking only two of them with us. The other one bad been entrusted to Riddle's load. The rest would remain with our cached supplies.

One man would have been ready to leave shortly after Blood-blade's ship had sailed. But when one readies a company of men to travel anywhere, it is a different tale. The sun had reached noon before we were all packed and assembled. I noticed that the Fool struck his elaborate pavilion rapidly, with no help from anyone. Whatever it was made from, it packed down to an amazingly small load. He shouldered it all himself, and I would have been surprised, save that I had always known that he was much stronger than his slight frame would suggest.

He moved amongst us but was not a part of either party. The Hetgurd men regarded him with the wariness that many warriors reserve for the God-touched. They did not disdain him, but felt it wiser neither to notice nor be noticed by him. The other guardsmen seemed to feel he was no business of theirs, and certainly did not want to be recruited to help carry his possessions or otherwise serve him. Cockle watched him curiously from afar, scenting a story but not strongly enough to be drawn in yet. Only Swift seemed uninhibitedly fascinated by the Fool. He dropped his own pack to the ground and perched on it while he chattered away at him. The Fool has ever had a clever way of talking, and Swift's ready laughter seemed to feed his wit. Web watched the two interact with something like approval on his face. It was only then that it dawned on me that this was the first time Swift had shown an easy friendliness toward anyone. I wondered how the Fool had melted his reserve, even as I noticed Civil regarding them with distaste. When Civil glanced up to find my eyes on him, he looked away, but I could sense his uneasiness bubbling just under the surface. I wondered if I could find a way to have a quiet word with him

and calm his fears. Plainly he recalled his first impression of Lord Golden when we had guested at his home. It was easy to divine his worries now: he thought that the Fool was easing the lad toward seduction. I wanted to intervene before Civil muttered a word of that suspicion to anyone for I suspected the Outislanders would be far less than tolerant of such behaviour, God-touched or not.

Longwick distributed metal-shod walking staves to all of us, an item I would never have thought of packing. But it soon became apparent that Peottre was the real source of this equipment when Chade summoned all of us to listen to him before we left the beach.

Both he and the Narcheska were as heavily burdened as any among us. She waited alongside three sleds, also provided by Blackwatcr, which were already loaded with much of our supplies. Her long outer coat was all of snowy white fox. She wore a bright little cap, woven of many colours, and her glory of black hair was tucked completely out of sight under it. Her loose boots were soled with scraped walrus-hide and the tops were of deerskin with the hair left on. Leather bindings laced them around her legs to the knee. But for the solemn look on her face, she looked as if she had been prepared as a snow-bride. Peottre was bulky as he lumbered beside her in black wolf and bearskin trousers. More than any Witted one I had ever known, he looked like a shape-changer out of a beast-tale. His many layers of clothing had enlarged him to an almost laughable size. Yet all were solemn as he spoke to us, anxious to catch every word.

'I know where the dragon sleeps,' he said. 'I have been there before. Yet, even so, it will be difficult for me to lead you there. On a glacier, knowing where something is does not mean I know the way to it. Glaciers are not like stone and earth, that remain the same year after year, and the glacier we shall cross here is among the most restless in the world. Glaciers sleep and they walk, they groan to wakefulness, cracking wide their yawns. And then they sleep, and the blowing snow bridges over the gaping crevasses, hiding their danger from all but the most wary walker.

'To fall into one is little different from being swallowed by a snow

demon. Down you will go into darkness, and that is an end of you. We will mourn you, but we will go on.'

His eyes passed slowly over all of us as he said this, and I was not the only man who suppressed a shiver.

'Follow me,' Peottre went on. 'Not just in where I go, but in my very tread. And even then, do not trust the ice beneath you. Once we venture out onto the glacier's face, probe every step you take. One man, two men, three men may pass safely right in front of you, and then the crust may betray you. Probe ahead with your staff, before every step you take. You will grow weary of doing this. But stop doing it only if you have also grown weary of your life.' Again, his measuring glance passed over all of us. Again he nodded. Then he said, 'Follow me.'

And with no more ado, he turned and led us up the beach. The Narcheska fell in right behind him. Behind her went the Prince and then Chade. Lord Golden claimed the next spot and no one challenged him for it. Then went the Wit-coterie, entrusted with one sled and the Hetgurd witnesses and finally Longwick and Hest, pulling the second sled and Deft and Riddle pulling the third. I came second to last, with Thick stumping stolidly along behind me. I had shifted part of his pack's load to mine, but left him enough of a burden not to hurt his pride. 1 soon regretted it, and vowed that on the morrow he would walk unencumbered. Even in the best of times, his stubby legs and wide girth would have made this trek difficult for him. Burdened with both a pack and a nagging cough, he simply could not keep the pace Peottre set. By the time we reached the lip of the glacier, there was a gap between the main party and the two of us. The diligent probing of each step began, and I thought that would slow them enough that we would catch up. I had not taken into account that Thick had taken Peottre's warnings deeply to heart. He prodded the ice before him at every step as if he were spearing fish. He was soon panting with the effort, but my offers to probe for both of us were stoutly refused.

'I don't want to be swallowed by an ice demon,' he told me sulkily.

Can you see our path? Dutiful Skilled back to me.

Very clearly. Don't be concerned for us. If we need you to wait for

MS, I'll let you know. At least all the probing Thick is doing is keeping him warm.

Too warm. Too much work! Thick complained.

'Just tap with the stave. You don't have to stab the ground.'

'Yes, 1 do,' Thick refuted my words. I decided that words were futile and let him do as he wished, though it taxed my patience to dawdle along in front of him at a pace he could match. It bored me, and gave me far too much time to ponder our situation. I did not like how events were unfolding, and yet I could not say precisely what bothered me. Perhaps it was as Thick had said: bad things had happened in this place, and it felt like they were happening now.

The wind was a constant, but the skies were clear and blue. At intervals, I saw old rods poking out of the snow, some tied with scraps of bright fabric. I judged that they marked the path that Peottre followed. He often paused to straighten one, or to attach a fresh ribbon-banner. Even so, the advance party went more swiftly than Thick and me. I watched them draw away from us and grow smaller until they had dwindled to little puppets doing an odd poking dance in a line as they ventured across the icefield. Our shadows slowly became longer and thinner, pale blue on the crystallized ice and snow. The surface we walked across did not seem like either true ice or true snow to me. There was a thin layer of real snow, but beneath that were compacted darning needles of ice and we walked upon their tips.

At some point, I realized that I had resolved I would find time to speak with the Fool that evening, and to the winds with whatever anyone else might think of it. Almost on the heels of that thought, I felt a thin tendril of Skill from Chade. Quietly and privately he asked me, Lad, are you still mine?

He should have been proud of the answer I gave him. I am sure he could not have come up with a better one on such short notice. As much as I ever was, I replied.

I felt his grim chuckle in my mind. Ah. Well, at least you do not lie to me. What did he say to you?

The Fool?

Who else?

We only spoke of why 1 had tried to leave him behind. To preserve his life. 1 gathered that he did not think that a sufficient reason.

He probably thought 1 put you up to it, to keep him clear of the dragon until it's unearthed and beheaded. A pause. The Narcheska weeps as she walks. She has not looked back at us to betray the tears on her cheeks, but I hear it in how she breathes. Twice she has wiped her face with her mitten, and then loudly spoken of how the light off the ice makes her eyes water. Think this through with me, Fitz- Why would she weep?

1 don't know. The hike is arduous, but she did not strike me as a woman who would weep over heavy work. Perhaps she fears the disapproval of the Black Man, or fears that she has put her family and her father's family into disfavour with the Hetgurd by -

Hush! Thick's irritated Skilling cut through my thoughts. She is sad, so she cries. Now stop being loud and listen'. Listen and stop breaking the music!

Chade and I instantly muffled our thoughts. Both of us had believed our Skilling was small and private. I was sure that he now wondered, just as I did, if the Prince had been aware of our conversation. Then I wondered why Chade had been keeping it private from him. I trudged on, watching the ever-dwindling figures of Peottre's group. They were headed over the lip of a wind-sculpted ridge and would soon be out of sight. Peottre had spoken truth about the restlessness of this ice. Some stretches were swept as smooth as a sugar topped cake; others looked like the same cake after it had been dropped. The trail in the snow was plain now, but I knew that as the sun sank, uneven shadows might make it more difficult to follow them. I glanced back at Thick in annoyance. He was walking more slowly than ever.

Irritated as much by his command that, we hush as by his slowness, I turned my back on him and walked briskly away. I did not neglect however to probe the snow before me at every step. I thought he would look up and realize that I was leaving him behind. But when 1 glanced back, he was still strolling ponderously along. I stared back at him in exasperation, and then something in his movements caught my eye. It was like a dance. He would probe the snow with his staff, prod, prod, prod, and then take a single large swaying step. Again he would probe the snow, prod, prod,

prod, and then stride forward again on the other foot. I lowered my barriers to hear his ever-present music. Usually, I could recognize the elements that he incorporated into it. But today each step was made in time to a sighing sweep like wind, while the prod, prod, prod of his staff kept time to a deep and steady percussion. I sealed myself from his music, and listened with my ears, but could find no parallel sounds on this island.

While I had paused, Thick had nearly caught up to me. He looked up from his scrutiny of the snow before his feet to find me watching him. He scowled at me, and then glanced past me. His frown deepened. 'They're gone! Why weren't you watching them? Now they're gone, and we don't know where they went!'

'It's all right, Thick,1 I told him. 'I can still see their trail. And see, there's a rod with a rag on it at the top of the rise. We'll catch up to them. But only if we hurry.' I tried not to betray my worry that night was coming on and the shadows deepening. I did not want to be caught out on the face of the glacier, alone.

He lifted his stubby arm suddenly, to point jabbingly at the ridge. 'Look! It's all right! There's one of them!'

My gaze followed his pointing finger, suspecting that the Prince had sent someone hack to stand upon the ridge and guide us. Thick was right. There was someone there. But even at that distance, and in the fading light, I knew he was not one of our party. He moved swiftly and oddly, yet in a way that I could not pinpoint, his gait was familiar. I saw no more of him than his silhouette as he hastened over the ridge. Then he was gone. I felt cold dread creep through my blood. I Skilled my frantic thought to Chade and Dutiful. The Black Man! I think the Black Man is following you'.

An instant later, I regretted my panic. Dutiful could not conceal his amusement- There's no one behind us that I can see, Fitz- Only snow and shadows. Are you nearly to the top of the ridge?

We haven't even begun to climb it yet. Thick is distracted and moving slowly.

Not distracted! Again, I was jolted by how easily Thick had picked up thoughts I had not intended for him. Listening to the music, that's all. Except that you keep breaking it.

Chade's Skilling was like oil on water. I've asked Peottre if we'll

be stopping for the night soon and he says we will. Once you crest the ridge, you should see us easily. He has already pointed out our campsite to me. As there is no sort of shelter at all, you won't have any difficulty spotting our cook-fires.

Cook-fires? Food soon?

Yes, Thick, food soon. Probably almost as soon as you get here. I've brought some sweets with me from the ship. I'll share them with you, if you get here before I've eaten them all.

I had to admire Dutiful's cunning, even as I shook my head at it. It distracted Thick from his 'music' and he even consented to following in my footsteps and letting me do the snow probing. I thought that Peottre's caution was a bit exaggerared anyway. Surely if the entire party had already passed over a section of glacier, it would withstand one more crossing. And that proved to he true. We climbed the ridge in their tracks, stopping several times to allow Thick to finish coughing and catch his breath.

When we crested the ridge, I could instantly see their campsite below. The snow staves were posted at intervals around it, with bright ribbons attached to the tops. Evidently Peottre had established what he considered a safe area for the party. The larger tents for the Prince and Narcheska had already sprung up like mushrooms. In the dimming light, the Fool's colourful one was like a blossom cast on the snow. Illuminated from within, the bright panels gleamed like stained-glass windows. What had seemed random designs suddenly resolved into dragons and serpents cavorting. Well, he had declared his allegiance clearly.

There were two small campfires for the drab tents of the rest of our group. The Hetgurd men had pitched their tents a little away from ours, and kindled their own tiny fire, as it to proclaim to the gods that they were not of our party and did not deserve to share our fate.

I saw no sign of the Black Man, or any place where he might have hidden. Yet this did not dismiss my concerns but only heightened them.

As we made out way down to the camp, we encountered our first fissure in the glacier. It was a narrow, snaking crack, no more rhan that, and I simply stepped over it. Thick halted, staring down

at the depths that shaded from pale blue to black. 'Come on,' I encouraged him. 'It's not far to camp. I think I can smell the food they're cooking.'

'That's deep.' He lifted his eyes from his contemplation of it. 'Peottre was right. It could swallow me and gulp me down, snap!' He stepped back from it.

'No, it can't. It's all right, Thick. It's not something alive; it's just a crack in the ice. Come on.'

He took a deep breath, and then coughed. When he was finished, he said, 'No. I'm going back.'

'You can't, Thick. It will be dark soon. It's only a crack, just step over it.'

'No.' He shook his head on his short neck, his chin brushing his collar. 'It's dangerous.'

In the end, I stepped back over it and took his hand to persuade him to cross. I nearly slipped and fell when his awkward and exaggerated leap over it took me off-guard in mid-stride. As I tottered, for one breathless moment I imagined myself wedged in the crack, out of reach of helping hands and yet preserved from slipping further. Thick sensed my fear and comforted me with, 'See, I told you it was dangerous. You nearly fell in and died.'

'Let's just go down to the camp,' I suggested.

As promised, they had hot food waiting for us. Riddle and Hest had finished eating already. They were conversing quietly with Longwick as he directed a watch schedule for the night. I settled Thick on top of my pack beside the fire and fetched food that Deft ladled out for both of us. Supper was a stew made from salt meat, and it suffered from that, as well as a too-brief cooking time. I grinned briefly at myself as I pondered how swiftly I had once again become accustomed to Buckkeep's succulent fare. Had I forgotten how to subsist on a guard's rations? There had been times in my life when I'd had far worse to eat at the end of a long, cold day, or nothing at all. I took another bite. That thought should have made the tough meat taste better, but it didn't. I glanced surreptitiously at Thick, expecting he would soon complain about it. But he was staring at the fire wearily, his howl balanced precariously on his knee. 'You should eat, Thick,' I reminded him, and he startled as if from a

dream. I caught the bowl before it tipped enough to spill and handed it back to him. He ate, but wearily, not showing any of his usual enthusiasm for food, and stopping often to cough. It worried me. I finished my food hastily and rose, leaving Thick watching the dwindling flames of the small fire and chewing methodically.

Chade and Dutiful were at the other campfire with the rest of Dutiful's Wit-coterie. There was talk there, and even some laughter, and for a moment I envied their companionship. It took me a moment to realize that the Fool was not there. And then I noticed the other absence. Peottre and the Narcheska were also missing from the gathering. I glanced at the tent pitched for them. It was dark and still. Did they sleep already? Well, perhaps that was the best idea. Doubtless Peottre would rouse us all early to travel on.

I think Chade noticed me standing idly at the edges of the firelight. He left the circle of light as if going to relieve himself and I followed noiselessly. I stood beside him in the blackness and spoke quietly. 'I'm concerned about Thick. He seems oddly distracted. From one moment to the next, his temper changes from irritable to frightened to elated.'

Chade nodded slowly. 'There is something about this island . . . I have no name for it, and yet it tugs at me. I feel dread and worry beyond what I should feel, and then the feelings go. This land seems to speak to me through my Skill. And if it can reach one as feeble as me in that talent, how must it speak to Thick?'

I heard bitterness in the self-deprecation of his magic. 'You grow stronger in the Skill every day,' I assured him. 'But I think perhaps you are right. I've felt nameless worry nibbling at me all day. Such, at times, is my nature. But this does seem more formless than usual. Could it have anything to do with the memories trapped in the stone?'

He made a sound of resignation. 'How could we possibly know? All we can do for Thick is see that he eats and sleeps well at night.'

'He is growing stronger in the Skill'

'I've noticed that. It makes my own paltry ability seem all the more meagre.'

'Time, Chade. It will come with time and patience. You're doing well, for someone who began so late and has not been long in training.'

'Time. Time is the only thing we have, when all is said and done, and yet we never have enough of it. You can be calm about it; you've had as much of magic as you've ever wanted, and more, all your life. While I've had to claw and scratch for a tiny shred of it at the end of my days. Where is the justice of fate, when a half-wit has in abundance and values not at all that which I so desperately lack?' He turned on me. 'Why did you always have so much Skill, bursts of it, and never wanted with your whole heart to master it as I have longed to do all my life?'

He was starting to frighten me. 'Chade. I think this place preys on our minds, finding both our fears and our despairs. Set your walls against it, and trust only your logic'

'Humph. I have never been prey to my emotions. But this time would be better spent in rest than in talk, by either of us. Care for Thick as best you can. I'll watch over the Prince. He, too, seems prey to a darker mood than is usual for him.' He rubbed his gloved hands together. 'I'm old, Fitz. Old. And tired. And cold. I shall be glad when all of this is over and we are safely on our way home again.'

'And I,' I agreed heartily. 'But I had another bit of news I wished to share with you. Odd, isn't it? Once I thought Skilling was private and secretive. Yet, still I must seek you out to whisper to you. I don't think Thick is ready for me to ask this favour of him. He still resents and blames me. It might come better from you or the Prince.'

'What?' Chade demanded impatiently. He shifted restlessly and I knew the cold was biting his skinny old bones.

'Nettle has gone to Buckkeep Castle. I think our bird must have reached the Queen and she sent someone to Burrich. She's gone to the castle for safety's sake. And she knows that the threat to her is connected to our quest for the dragon's head.' I could not quite bring myself to tell Chade that she now knew I was her father. I wanted to be clear on just how much Burrich had told her before that secret ceased being a secret.

Chade grasped the implications immediately. 'And Thick speaks

to Nettle in his dreams. We can communicate with Buckkeep and the Queen.'

'Almost. I think we need to approach it cautiously. Thick is still not pleased with me, and might make mischief if he knew it would upset me. And Nettle is angry with me, also. I cannot reach her directly, and I don't know how much heed she would give to messages from me that went through Thick.'

He gave a disgruntled noise. Too late you fall in with my plans for her. Fitz, I do not relish rebuking you. But if you had allowed us to bring Nettle in as soon as we knew her potential, she would never have been in danger. Nor would quarrels between you and her have crippled us in this way. Either the Prince or I could reach her instead of you, if she had been properly prepared to use her magic. We could have had communication with Buckkeep Castle all this time.'

It was childish of me. I pointed it out anyway. 'You would probably have brought her here with us, for the sake of mustering strength for the Prince.'

He sighed, as if confronting a stubborn pupil who refused to concede a point. Which he was, 1 suppose. 'As you will have it, Fitz. But, I beg you, do not charge into this development like a bull harried by bees. Let her settle at Buckkeep for a few days, while the Prince and I consult on how much she should know of who she is and how best to approach her through Thick. It may require some preparation of Thick as well.'

Relief flowed through me. I had feared that Chade would be the one to charge in like a bull. 'I will do as you say. Go slowly.'

'There's a good lad,' Chade replied absently. I knew that his thoughts had already wandered afar to how these new playing pieces could be deployed on the game board.

And so we parted for the night.