by neetha Napew
That gave me a pang. If I had consented, from the beginning, to letting her know her history and to her visiting the court, she would have grown up in the company of ladies and gentlemen and would not have been shamed by her country ways. I wondered if Kettricken now groomed her, in both studies and manners, so that she might take up a role as secondary heir to the throne. I longed to be able to talk to Nettle, to find out how much they had told her of her heritage, and to give her my explanations for why she had been raised as she had. But my lack of the Skill silenced me, and I could only nightly beg of the Prince that he be circumspect in what he told her.
Daily we continued to dig. The work was backbreaking and the food both limited and boring. Nights were cold and windy, and we looked forward to the men returning with canvas. But they did not. Chade gave them an extra day, and then two. The Hetgurd men claimed to have glimpsed the Black Man circling our camp at night, but their offerings were never taken, and the flowing snow erased any tracks he might have left. In one of our nightly talks, the Fool said that several times he thought he had felt the Black Man’s presence and suspected that we were observed. I too had experienced that uneasy sensation of being watched, but could never see anyone spying on us. I suspected that Web did, too, for twice he summoned Risk from her shore-side scavenging and asked her to fly over our camp. He told me that she saw nothing out of the ordinary, just snow, ice, and a few protruding rocks.
In the brief times when we were not digging, eating, or sleeping, Web would find moments in which to work on my Wit with me. He said, without cruelty, that it was actually good that I was currently unpartnered, as it gave me more focus on the magic without making it specific to one creature. He added that Swift too seemed to be benefiting from studying while unencumbered, from which I gathered that the lad’s lessons continued as well as mine. When he was with me, Web focused on making me see how the Wit connected all living things, not just those of Old Blood, but all. He showed me how he could extend his Wit and wrap it around Thick, to become more perceptive of his needs and feelings, even though Thick remained unaware of him. It was not an easy discipline to master, for it involved surrendering my own needs and interests to subservience to his. “Watch a mother with an infant, any kind of a mother, human or beast. There you will see this done on the simplest and most instinctive level. If one is willing to work at it, one can extend that same sort of perception to others. It is a worthwhile thing to do, for it conveys a level of understanding of one another that makes hate almost impossible. Seldom can one hate a person if one understands that person.”
I doubted that I would ever achieve that level of understanding, but I tried. One evening, as I was eating with Dutiful and Chade in their tent, I tried extending my Wit to include Chade. I let go of my own hunger and aching back and anxiety about my lost Skill and focused myself on the old man. I saw him as clearly as if he were prey. I studied how he sat, his back straight, as if he were too stiff to even slump, and how he kept his gloves on while he spooned up the pallid mush that was our evening repast. His face was a study in contrasts, red nose and cheeks, while his forehead was pale with the cold. Then, as if I suddenly saw his shadow for the first time, I glimpsed an aloneness that trailed back behind him to his earliest years. I suddenly felt his years and the strangeness of a fate that had sent him, in his old age, to camp on a glacier alongside the boy he would make king.
“What?” he demanded suddenly of me, and I started, realizing that I’d been staring at him.
I scrabbled for an answer and then replied, “I was just thinking of all the years and times when I’ve sat across from you, and wondered if I’d ever truly seen you at all.”
His eyes widened, almost as if he feared such a thought. Then he scowled and said, “And I’d hoped you had something useful in your mind. Well, this is what I’ve been pondering. Riddle and Hest haven’t returned with the supplies. They should have been back by now. Today, I asked Web if his bird could seek for them. He said it was difficult to convey to her that we wanted news of two specific men, rather as if I asked you if you had seen two specific gulls. He asked her to look for two men with a sled; he said she did not see them.” Chade shook his head. “I fear the worst. We need to send someone back, not just to look for Riddle and Hest, but also to bring back the supplies we needed. Longwick told me tonight we have food for four more days, five if he cuts the rations again.” He rubbed his gloved hands together wearily. “I never thought it would take this long to dig out the dragon. All the reports we had seemed to say he was near the surface, even visible years ago. Yet we dig and dig and find nothing.”
“He’s there,” the Prince assured him. “And every day we get closer.”
Chade snorted. “And if I took one step southward every day, I’d be getting closer to Buckkeep, but no one could tell me how long it would take me to get there.” With a groan he got up. Sitting on the cold earth, even with several layers of bedding beneath him, was obviously uncomfortable. He moved slowly around the cramped tent, cautiously stretching his legs and back. “Tomorrow, I’m sending Fitz to see what became of Riddle and Hest. And I want you to take Thick and the Fool with you.”
“Thick and the Fool? Why?”
It was obvious to him. “Who else can I spare from the digging? Removing Thick from the dragon’s vicinity may restore him. If it does, then leave him with Churry and Drub on the beach with our supplies. Have him Skill to us from there whatever news he has.”
“But why the Fool?”
“Because it takes two men to pull the sled when it’s loaded, and I don’t think Thick will be of much use to you at that. I suspect you’ll have to put Thick on the sled to get him to move from here. And you are one of the few people who can manage Thick at all, so you have to be one of the ones who goes. Fitz, I know it’s not an assignment you would choose, but who else can I send?”
I cocked my head at him. “Then you aren’t just trying to send the Fool and me away from the digging area before the dragon is uncovered?”
He sighed. “If I sent you and not the Fool, you would ask if I were trying to separate you. If I sent the Fool and not you, I’m sure you’d say the same. I suppose I could ask Web to take Thick and another man for this errand, but he does not understand Thick’s Skill-ability. And if something has befallen Riddle and Hest, well, I think you more capable of dealing with a threat than . . .” He suddenly threw up his hands and said in defeat, “Do what you will, Fitz. You will anyway, and the Fool will only go if you ask him. I’ve no power to send him anywhere. So you decide.”
I felt a bit sheepish. Perhaps I had been looking for motivations that truly didn’t exist. “I’ll go. And I’ll ask the Fool to go with me. To be honest, I’ll welcome the change from digging. Make a list of what you want brought back.” Privately, I resolved that I’d scavenge any driftwood I could find on the beach and bring it back with me, regardless of how much weight it added to the load. Chade could do with a good roaring blaze, I decided, even if it only lasted one night.
“Be ready at first light, then,” Chade advised me.
The Fool was not as pleased to leave the digging as I was. “But what if they reach the dragon while we are gone? What if I am not here to defend him?”
“The Hetgurd guardians and the Witted coterie oppose killing him as much as you do. Don’t you think they’ll be enough?”
We were bedded down together, sleeping back to back for the body warmth just as we had in the Mountains so many years ago. Truth to tell, I gained little from it, for the Fool’s body had always felt cool to the touch. It was rather like sleeping alongside a lizard, I thought. Yet if he did not give off much warmth, the solid feel of his back against mine was a reassurance of camaraderie that I had not felt since Nighteyes had died. There is security in knowing that a friend has your back, even if he is sound asleep.
“I don’t know. I’m too close to where all my visions stopped.” He paused, as if he expected me to ask a question, but that was a topic I did not wish
to explore. Then, “Do you think we ought to go?” he asked cautiously.
I shifted in the bed, groaning as my aching muscles complained. “I don’t think I thought much about it. Chade has been telling me what to do for so long that I simply accepted I should go. But I would like to know what has happened to Riddle and Hest. And I’d like to see if Thick recovers himself when he’s moved away from the dragon’s influence. And—” I shifted and groaned again. “I wouldn’t mind a few days of doing anything other than shoveling.”
He was quiet. I was too, pondering his silence. I wondered what was making him take so long to make up his mind. Then I laughed aloud. “Ah, yes. I nearly forgot. I am the Catalyst, the one who makes changes. And this would be a change in what you think you should do. So, you cannot decide whether to oppose it or not.”
The silence stretched so long I thought he had fallen asleep. The day had been the warmest we had had so far, making sodden work of our task. I listened to the wind, and hoped the night’s cold would crust the surface of the glacier and keep the wind from blowing snow into our excavation. I had almost dropped off to sleep myself when he said, “You frighten me, sometimes, when you give voice to my thoughts. We will go, tomorrow. We’ll take this tent for shelter, shall we?”
“That sounds fine to me,” I said as I drowsed off.
And so the next morning we set off. Longwick issued us three days of supplies, which, he told us, should be ample for us to reach the beach. We struck the Fool’s elegant tent and packed it on the sled while Longwick gave us last-minute directives. If we reached the beach without encountering the others, we should warn the guard there of our sightings of the Black Man. If we encountered evidence that the others had met with foul play, we should return to the camp immediately and report. If we met the others coming back, we should simply turn around and come back with them. Web’s bird would check on us, from time to time. I nodded as I arranged the Fool’s tent and bedding for three onto the sled. As predicted, we had to load Thick onto the sled. He could not be persuaded to walk. It was not that he resisted; he simply didn’t cooperate. He would take a few steps, and then become lost once more in his musings. Dutiful and Chade both came to bid us farewell. Dutiful snugged Thick’s cap down around his ears. I know that he tried desperately to stir Thick with the Skill. I could not feel it, but I saw the intensity in Dutiful’s face. Thick turned his head slowly to look at the Prince. “I’m fine,” he said sluggishly. And then he stared off in the distance again.
“Take care of him, Tom,” the Prince told me gruffly.
“I will, my lord. We’ll try to make a quick trip of it.” And so saying, with Thick sitting on the great sled bundled up like a cocoon, I took up the lines and began to pull.
The heavily waxed runners moved easily over the snow. Almost too easily, for we were now going downhill rather than up. I had to stop and set the drag to keep the sled from running over the top of me. The Fool went ahead of us, his pack riding high on his shoulders, prodding the snow to make sure our path was sound, even though we were following the line of stakes that Peottre had set up to mark our path for us.
The day was warm, and snow collected, heavy, on my boots. When our path leveled for a time, the runners of the sled began to stick. The sled was cutting a deeper path upon our old one, and as the runners sank into the snow, heavy damp snow began to ride on the tops of the runners. But the day was pleasant and pulling Thick on the sled was still less strenuous than shoveling ice out of a pit. The gaudy sword the Fool had given me tapped against my leg as I strode along, for Longwick had insisted that I, at least, should go armed. We were traversing the trail much more swiftly than we had before, for the path was clearly marked with Peottre’s stakes, and there was at least a slight downhill slope for all of it. Thick’s humming, the squeak of the runners, and the crunch of our footsteps on the softened crust of the glacier were not the only sounds. The warmth had wakened the glacier. We heard one distant fall of ice, a thunder that went on for some time. It was followed by lesser creakings and crashes, but always at a distance.
The Fool began to whistle, and I was much cheered when I saw Thick sit up and take notice of the music. He still hummed breathlessly to himself, but I began to make comments on the scenery, uniformly white as it was, and occasionally elicited a response from him. That cheered me unreasonably, but also left me pondering. The Skill was not a magic bounded by distance, and yet Thick seemed to be recovering more of his own awareness of the world the farther we got from the buried dragon. I had no answer to why that might be so, and wished I could discuss it with Dutiful and Chade.
Several times I attempted in vain to reach out with the Skill. A legless man trying to jump would have had more success. The magic was simply gone. If I dwelt on that, I felt a cold pit in the bottom of my belly. I pushed the thought aside. There was nothing I could do about it now.
The daily cycle of warmth and chill combined with the nightly wind had smoothed all the edges of our previous passage’s trail. I made a few vain attempts to read it, trying to discern if Riddle and Hest and their sled had passed this way, with no success. We had a wide view of the snowy lands below us. Nothing moved on them, certainly nothing so large as a sled and two men. It was possible that they had lingered at the beach, I told myself, or that some mishap had delayed their return. I tried not to stack their disappearance with the theft of my Skill and the sightings of the Black Man. I had too few facts to make them add up to anything. Instead, I tried to enjoy the freshness of the day. At one point, I heard the high cry of a seabird, and looked up to see a gull describe a wide circle over us. I lifted a hand and waved a greeting at Risk, wondering if that acknowledgment would be relayed to Web.
We passed our previous campsite while we still had plenty of daylight and energy to continue, so we did. That night, we pitched the tent on the trail behind the sled. Thick still periodically hummed to himself, but also expressed both an interest in and then dismay at the simple dinner I prepared. The little tent was a bit more crowded with the three of us, but also warmed more quickly. The Fool told simple children’s stories that night until we were all more than ready for sleep. With every passing tale, Thick hummed less and asked more questions. At one time the constant interruptions to the story would have annoyed me. Now they filled me with relief.
“Would you tell Chade and Dutiful good night for me?” I asked Thick as he settled into his blankets.
“Do it yourself,” he suggested grumpily.
“I can’t. I ate some bad food, and now I can’t find them in my mind.”
He sat up on one elbow and stared at me. “Oh. Yes. Now I remember. You’re gone. That’s too bad.” He was silent for a time, then said, “They say good night, and thanks for letting them know. And maybe I should stay at the beach, but they’ll decide later.” He drew a deep, satisfied breath and dropped back into his blankets.
It was my turn to sit up. “Thick. You aren’t coughing anymore. Or wheezing.”
“No.” He rolled over, managing to kick me in the process. I nearly complained but then he said, “He told me, ‘Mend yourself. Don’t be dumb, mend yourself, don’t be annoying.’ So I did.”
“Who told you that?” I asked, even as I was stricken with guilt. Why hadn’t Chade and Dutiful and I thought of trying to heal Thick? It now seemed obvious. I was ashamed we hadn’t done it.
“Huh,” Thick sighed out consideringly. “His name is a story, too long to tell. I’m sleepy. Stop talking to me.”
And that was that. He went off into a deep sleep. I wondered if Icefyre had another name, a dragon name.
I woke once in the night, thinking I heard cautious footsteps outside our tent. I crept to the door flap, and then reluctantly stepped outside into the clear cold. I saw nothing and no one, even when I had made a full circuit of the tent.
When morning came, I made a wider circuit of the camp while the Fool tried to heat water for tea for us. I brought my news back to them. “Someone came to see us last night,” I sa
id, trying to keep my voice light. “He walked all around our camp in a big circle. Then he lay down in the snow over there for a while. Then he went away, that way, the same way he came. Do you think I should go see where he went?”
“Why?” Thick asked, even as the Fool said thoughtfully, “I think Lord Chade and Prince Dutiful might want to know about that.”
“I think they would, too.” I looked at Thick. He sighed wearily, and then turned his gaze inward.
A few moments later, he said, “They said, ‘Go to the beach.’ Dutiful says he thinks he left maple candy in a bag there. They say we should hurry there, and come back with the stuff, and tell the guards there to come back with us. ‘Don’t go looking for where the footprints go right now.’ ”
“Then that is what we’ll do.” How I wished to be able to hear Chade’s thoughts on this for myself.
We packed up the tent and loaded it on the sled. Thick matter-of-factly climbed onto it. I thought it over and decided it was the simplest solution to traveling with him. Dragging him was easier than matching his slow pace. As before, the Fool went on before us, testing the trail while I pulled. The day was fine, a warm wind blowing across the snowy face of the world. I expected that we might reach the beach by the next afternoon if we held our present progress. Thick suddenly spoke.