Fool's Fate Part 45

Dawn found me hollow with worry. Well I knew that many men who died from battle wounds died days after the battle, from fevers and flux and infection. The journey here had strained his healing and undone many days of rest. The Fool slept heavily, far past midday, and then woke, gummy-eyed and haggard, to drink cup after cup of water. Prilkop insisted that we move him from the floor to his bed. The Fool made the short staggering walk between us, then folded onto the Black Man's bed as if he were exhausted, and almost immediately sank down into sleep. His skin was warm beneath my touch.

"Perhaps it's just one of his changing times," I told Prilkop. "So I hope. It would be better than infection. He will be feverish and weak for several days, and then shed a layer of skin as if he'd been burned. Underneath, his new skin will be darker. If that is what this is, there's little we can do for him now except keep him comfortable and wait."

Prilkop touched both his cheeks with a gesture, and then smiled at me, saying, "This I suspected. To some of us, it happens. The discomfort pa.s.ses." Then, looking down at the Fool he added, "If that is all of it." He shook his head. "The injuries to him were many."

A question came to me and I asked it without pausing to wonder if it were impolite. "Why did you change? Why is the Fool changing? The Pale Woman remained white."

He lifted his hands, expressing bafflement. "On this, I have thought many times. Perhaps, as we cause change, we change. Other prophets who remain white often speak much, but do little. He and I, in our youths, much change we foretold. Then, out we went and we made changes. And, perhaps, we also changed ourselves."

"But the Pale Woman also did things to try to make changes."

He smiled, grimly satisfied. "She tried. She failed. We prevailed. We changed." Then he tilted his head to one side. "Perhaps. So this old man thinks." Prilkop glanced over at the sleeping Fool and nodded to himself. "Rest is what he needs. Sleep, and good food. And quiet. You and Thick, go fis.h.i.+ng. Fresh fish would be good for him."

I shook my head. "I don't want to leave him when he's like this."

Prilkop put a gentle hand on my shoulder. "You make him restless. He feels your worry. To let him rest, you away go."

Thick spoke up from his corner by the hearth. "We should go home. I want to go home."

The Fool startled me when he croaked my name. "Fitz."

I was instantly at his side with water. He did not want to drink it, but I was insistent. When he turned his face from the cup, I took it away. "Was there something else you wanted?"

His eyes were unnaturally bright with fever. "Yes. I want you to go home."

"He doesn't know what he's saying," I told Prilkop. "I couldn't take him like this."

The Fool drew a deep breath. He spoke with an effort. "Yes. I do. Know what I'm saying. Take Thick. Go home. Leave me here." He coughed and then motioned for more water. He drank it in sips, and then pulled in another deep breath. I let him lie back in his blankets.

"I won't leave you like this," I promised him. "I'll take as much time as we need here. Don't worry about anything. I'll be right here."

"No." He seemed irritable, in that weary way the sick do. "Listen to me. I need to stay. Here. For a time. With Prilkop. I need to understand . . . when I am, where I am . . . I need to . . . Fitz, he can help me. You know I will not die of this. It is only my changing time. But what I need to learn, I must learn alone. Be alone, for a time. I need to think, alone. You understand. I know you do. I was you." He lifted thinning fingers to rub at his face and cheeks. The dry skin rippled and rolled under his fingers, flaking away from newer, darker skin beneath. He rolled his eyes to Prilkop. "He should go," he said, as if Prilkop could force me. "He is needed at home. And he needs to be home."

I sat down on the floor by the bed. I did understand. I remembered the long days of my recovery, after my time in Regal's dungeon. I recalled the uncertainty I had felt. Torture shames a man. To break and scream, to beg, to make promises . . . unless a man has endured that, perhaps he cannot forgive it in another. The Fool needed time alone, to rea.s.sess how he saw himself. I had not wanted Burrich to ask a thousand questions of me; I had not even wanted him to be solicitous and kind. On some instinctive level, he had known that, and had allowed me my days of sitting and staring, unspeaking, over the meadows and hills. It had been difficult to admit I was a human and not a wolf: it had been harder to admit I was still myself.

The Fool extended a thin hand from under his blankets. He patted my shoulder awkwardly, and then ran his fingers down my bearded cheek. "Go home. And shave while you're there." He managed a faint smile. Then, "Let me rest, Fitz. Just let me rest."

"Very well." I tried not to feel that he dismissed me. I turned to Thick. "I'll take you home, then. Dress warmly, but you needn't pack anything. Before the night is over, we'll be in Buckkeep."

"And warm again?" Thick pressed me. "And with good things to eat? Fresh bread and b.u.t.ter, milk and apples, sweet cakes and raisins? Cheese and bacon? Tonight?"

"I'll do my best. You get ready. And tell Chade for me that we're going home tonight. I'll tell the guard at the gate that we came home early, on the first boat. Because you were cold."

"I am cold," he agreed heartily. "But no boats. You promised."

I hadn't but I nodded anyway. "No boats. Get ready, Thick." I turned back to the Fool. He had closed his eyes again. I spoke softly. "So. You get your way. As you always seem to. I'll take Thick home. I will be gone for a day. At most, two days. But then I'll come back, and I'll bring back food and wine with me. What would you like? What could you eat?"

"Have you any apricots?" the Fool asked me in a wavering voice. Plainly he had not grasped the whole of what I had told him.

"I'll try to bring you some," I said, doubting I could but loath to tell him so. I smoothed his hair back from his warm face. His hair felt stiff and dry. I looked at Prilkop. He nodded slowly to my silent plea. Before I left, I tucked the blankets up over his shoulders. Then I stooped, and despite his closed eyes, I pressed my brow to his. "I'm coming back soon," I vowed. He made no response and perhaps he already slept. I left him there.

Prilkop too made his farewells to us within the cave. "Take care of him," I told the Black Man. "I'll be back tomorrow. Make sure he eats."

He shook his head to my words. "Not that soon," he cautioned me. "Already, you have used the portals too many times, too close together." He made a motion as if he dragged something out of his chest. "It takes from you, and if you do not have enough left for yourself, it can keep you."

He peered into my eyes, as if trying to be sure I had understood him. I hadn't, but I nodded and a.s.sured him, "I'll be careful."

"Farewell, Thick man. Farewell, Fool's Changer." Then, with a tip of his head toward the Fool, he added quietly, "I will watch over him. More than that, none of us can do." And then, as if embarra.s.sed to ask, he said, "The small man said cheese?"

"Cheese. Yes. I will bring you cheese. And tea, and spices and fruit. As much as I can carry."

"When it is safe for you to come again, that would be nice." He was beaming as we thanked him again for all he had done for us, and then left. The wind had come up and the night was chill. Thick had stubbornly refused to abandon his pack, clinging to every single possession in it, so he came laden behind me as we edged up the steep and narrow path to the crack in the rock face. The trickle of moisture had iced it narrow again, and again I had to draw my sword and clash ice away in the darkness. Thick whimpered at the dark and the wind and kept insisting that he wanted to go home, not seeming to connect that I must first open the way so we could.

I was finally able to squeeze through. I pulled Thick after me, though he wedged there for a moment. He followed me in, going slower and slower the closer we came to the unnatural light. "I don't like this," he warned me. "I don't think this is the way home. This is going in a rock. We should go back."

"No, Thick, it's all right. It's just an old magic. We'll be fine. Just follow me."

"You had better be right!" he warned me. He followed me, looking all around himself at every step. The deeper we went, the more cautious he became. When we reached the first Elderling carvings, he gasped and stepped back. "The dragon dreams. Those were in the dragon dreams!" he exclaimed. Then, abruptly, as if I had been tricking him, "Oh, I have been here before. Now I know. But why is it so cold? It didn't used to be so cold."

"Because we are under ice. That makes it cold. Come on, now. Stop walking so slowly."

"Not this cold," he replied cryptically, and followed me again, but no faster than he had before. I thought I had fixed the path in my mind. Despite that, I turned wrong twice. Each time I had to retrace my steps, Thick became more doubtful of me. But eventually, despite his laggard steps and my faulty memory, we reached the map room.

"Don't touch anything," I warned him. I studied the map and the rune by the four tiny gems near Buckkeep. Those gems, I was convinced, represented the Witness Stones. For generations, they had been regarded as a place of power and truth, a gateway to the G.o.ds. Now I suspected I knew the origin of that legend. I fixed the rune carefully in my mind. "Come, Thick," I told him. "It's time to go home."

He made no reply, and even when I touched his shoulder, he looked up at me slowly. He had sunk down to sit on the floor. With one hand, he had rubbed the dusty tiles clean to reveal a piece of a pastoral scene. His face had an almost dazed expression. "They liked it here," he said softly. "They played a lot of music."

"Put your walls up, Thick," I bade him, but did not feel that he obeyed me. I took his hand and held it firmly in mine. I wasn't sure he was listening, but as I led him up the stairs to the pillar room, I explained to him several times that we would hold tight to each other and walk through the pillar and be home. His breathing had become deep and even as if he slept heavily. Uneasily I wondered if the city itself were affecting him.

I did not give myself time to wonder if the ancient and worn Witness Stones would still function as Skill-pillars. The Fool had used one, hadn't he, and his Skill was much less than mine. I drew a deep breath, gave Thick's hand a small shake in an attempt to win his attention, and then stepped determinedly into the pillar, drawing him behind me.

Again there was that breathlessly long pause in my being, almost familiar now. There seemed to pa.s.s a star-speckled blackness of indeterminate length and then I stepped out onto the gra.s.sy sward of the hillside near Buckkeep. Thick was still with me. I felt a moment's giddiness, and Thick stumbled past me and sat down flat on the turf. The warmth of summer touched our skins and the smells of a summer night filled my nostrils. I stood still, letting my eyes adjust. The four Witness Stones loomed behind me, pointing at the night sky. I drew a deep breath of the warm air. I smelled sheep pastured nearby, and the more distant smell of the sea. We were home.

I went to Thick and put a hand on his shoulder. "You're all right," I told him. "We're home. I told you. Just like stepping through a door." Then a wave of dizziness swept through me and I pitched forward onto my face. For a little time I lay there, trying not to retch.

"We are all right?" Thick asked me miserably.

"In a moment or two," I a.s.sured him breathlessly. "In a moment or two, we'll be fine."

"That was as bad as the boat," he said accusingly.

"But much shorter," I told him. "Much shorter a time."

Despite my rea.s.surances, it was some while before we recovered and got to our feet. It was a goodly hike from the Witness Stones to the gates of Buckkeep Castle, and Thick was puffing and complaining long before we got there. The frozen Elderling city and the trip through the pillars seemed to have disoriented him and wearied him. I felt cruel as I hurried him along, tempting him with promises of wonderful food, cold ale, and a warm soft bed. The rising sun lent light to us to avoid most tumbles. Before he had gone far, I was carrying Thick's pack and then his cloak and hat. He would have shed more clothing if I had let him. By the time we reached the gates, we were sweating in our winter clothes on a fair morning.

I think the guards recognized Thick before they did me. I was unshaven and unkempt. I told them we'd been sent home early on a filthy Outislander coastal trader, and that it had been a miserable trip and we were glad to be home. Thick was only too glad to enlarge on my poor opinion of boats. The guards at the gates were full of questions, but I told them that we'd been sent home some time ago and that it had taken us far too long to get here, and that I'd been ordered to report to the Queen before I shared any gossip. They let us through.

It was mostly serving folk and guard up and about at that hour. I got Thick no farther than the kitchens. The men in the guardroom had learned to tolerate the Prince's pet. They would jest with him, roughly, and listen to his tales and measure them by their own. Any brag he made of dragons or magic pillars or Black Men would be taken with a large grain of salt there. I knew I had to leave him and it was perhaps the safest place in the keep for him. Besides, I suspected that his mouth would be too full for much talk. I left him there with a hot meal and the admonition that as soon as he was finished eating, he should either go to bed in his room or seek out Sada, bathe, and let her know, emphatically, that no one on our voyage had died of seasickness.

I took a roll of fresh bread with me and devoured it on my way to the barracks. The warm summer air seemed laden with scent after my long weeks in the cold. Our guards' section of the long, low barracks house was dusty and deserted. I rid myself of my heavy woolen clothes. I longed to stop to wash and shave, but instead simply pulled on a fresh guard's uniform. I longed even more to fall facedown on my bed there but knew that I needed to see the Queen as soon as possible. I knew too that she would not be expecting me yet.

I found my way to the hall that led to the larders and storage rooms for the kitchens. When no one else was in sight I entered the storage room that had the cupboard with the false back in it. It was also where the hams and smoked sausages were stored, and I helped myself to a sausage before I closed the false door behind me and began my weary ascent of the dark stairs. I went by touch, feeling my way, for the steps were pitch-black. I had finished my sausage by the time I reached the entry to Chade's tower room. I opened the door and stepped in.

Darkness and a musty smell greeted me. I encountered the worktable with my hip, cursed the bruise, and then groped my way to the hearth. I found the tinderbox on the end of the mantel. When I finally had a tiny flame going in the neglected hearth, I quickly lit the half-burnt candles from the mantel candelabrum to give me some light. I fed up the fire, more for light than warmth. The room was dismal, dusty and dank after weeks with no fire in the hearth. The flames would freshen the air.

I was aware of Gilly an instant before he burst into the room from one of his own hiding places, full of enthusiasm at the thought that the sausage-bringers had finally returned. When he discovered that I had only the smell and a lick or two of grease on my fingers, he gave me a nip of rebuke and tried to climb up my leg.

"Not now, friend. I'll bring you treats later. First, I must see the Queen." I hastily smoothed my hair back into a short warrior's tail. I wished there was time to do better, but I knew Kettricken would tolerate my unkempt appearance more than she would my dawdling to change it. I entered the secret corridors and made my way to the door that gave onto the Queen's privy room and thence to her private sitting room. I paused to listen carefully at the door before I opened it, not wis.h.i.+ng to walk in on her if she had any company. I nearly fell when Kettricken jerked the door open.

"I heard your footstep. I've been waiting for you, oh, it seems like the entire day. I am so glad you are home, Fitz. So glad to see someone to whom I may speak freely."

Kettricken was not the calm and rational queen I knew. She looked haggard and anxious. The usually serene room was almost disorderly. The wicks of the white candles that burned on her low table needed tr.i.m.m.i.n.g, and a forgotten winegla.s.s, still a quarter full, idled on the table. There was a pot of tea on the table and cups for us, with a crumble of tea herbs spilled beside it. Two scrolls relating to the Out Islands and their customs were on the corner of the table.

Later, I would discover that it was not just the sporadic and cryptic reports that Chade and Dutiful had sent her through Nettle that had frayed her, but a civil uprising between Old Blood and Piebalds that had erupted in the Six Duchies in our absence. For the last three weeks, she had dealt with murders and retaliations followed by more slaughter. Although there had been no killings reported in the last six days, she still dreaded a knock at her chamber door and a messenger's baton presented to her. It was ironic that she had forced a measure of tolerance for the Witted on her n.o.bles, only to have the Witted turn on one another.

But that was not discussed that morning. She begged a full report of me, so that she might have a better foundation for the decisions Dutiful and Chade were demanding from her. I obediently began it, only to have her interrupt with questions of how my first encounter with the Hetgurd related to what was happening now, and whether I thought Elliania's people would resent our taking of her to be our queen and whether Elliania herself came willingly to Dutiful's side.

After the fifth such interruption, she caught herself. "I am sorry." She had seated herself on a low bench beside the table. I could see her frustration that I had not been a witness to the party's return to Aslevjal and Elliania's mothershouse. I could not give her my view of the Outislander reactions to the dragon, for I had not seen them.

She started to ask another question. I held up a hand. "Why not let me contact Prince Dutiful or Lord Chade? That is why I came home. Let us have them answer your immediate questions, and then, if need be, I will report in full, all that I saw and did."

She smiled. "You take this magic for granted now. It still surprises me. Nettle has done her best for us, and she is a fine young woman. But Chade is so secretive, and Dutiful's messages seem awkward. If you would reach for my son. Please."

There followed for me the most wearying morning of Skilling that I'd ever endured. I had built stamina for the magic, but for the first time in my life, I came to understand just how earlier coteries had served their rulers. Knowing it was closest to her heart, I reached first for Dutiful, who was delighted to find me safely home. There followed from him an outpouring to his mother that I could scarcely keep up with. At first, it was awkward, for he spoke to her as son to mother, with a familiarity that was proper to such a relations.h.i.+p but difficult for me. As he conveyed his thoughts on the events, it was also taxing for me to refrain from correcting him, for it was inevitable that his views did not perfectly coincide with mine.

He revealed that he had offered to release Elliania from their mutual bond. It was after they had come close to quarreling. She saw no reason why they could not be married and yet allow her to remain as Narcheska of the Narwhals, with Dutiful coming and going as the other husbands and lovers did. It had, he confided to his mother through me, deeply hurt her when he said he could not give up his throne to be her husband. She asked me, why not? Was not that what I was asking of her, that she forsake home, family, and t.i.tle to become my wife in a strange place, and moreover, to rob her clan of the children that should be rightfully theirs? It was difficult, Mother. She made me see it all in a different light. Even now, when I think of it, I wonder if what we do is right. She asked me, why not? Was not that what I was asking of her, that she forsake home, family, and t.i.tle to become my wife in a strange place, and moreover, to rob her clan of the children that should be rightfully theirs? It was difficult, Mother. She made me see it all in a different light. Even now, when I think of it, I wonder if what we do is right.

"But she would be Queen, here! Do not they recognize what honor and power would go with such a t.i.tle?"

And when I had pa.s.sed Kettricken's words to her son, I felt his regret as he said, She will not be Clan Narwhal anymore. When, at first, her mother would not release her, she became angry. She threatened to leave her clan without her mother's permission. It was a very ugly moment. Peottre stood by her, but almost all the women of the clan opposed Elliania. Her mother said that if she left, she would be forsaking them, to become a . . . well, they have a word for it. It is not an honorable one to call a woman. It is one who has stolen from her own people to give to strangers. Many of their rules, including their ones for hospitality, insist that family must be provided for first. This, then, is a grave insult. She will not be Clan Narwhal anymore. When, at first, her mother would not release her, she became angry. She threatened to leave her clan without her mother's permission. It was a very ugly moment. Peottre stood by her, but almost all the women of the clan opposed Elliania. Her mother said that if she left, she would be forsaking them, to become a . . . well, they have a word for it. It is not an honorable one to call a woman. It is one who has stolen from her own people to give to strangers. Many of their rules, including their ones for hospitality, insist that family must be provided for first. This, then, is a grave insult.

I relayed Kettricken's concern. But it has been resolved, now? She leaves her people with her honor intact? But it has been resolved, now? She leaves her people with her honor intact?

I think it has. Her mother and the Great Mother have consented. Still, you know how a thing may be said in words but not meant in the heart. It is like how some of our n.o.bles tolerate the Old Blood. To the letter of the law, but with no heart to be fair to them.

I know well what you mean. It has been difficult here, Dutiful, while you were gone. I have done my best, but I look forward to Web's return. The bloodshed has been appalling, and many of my lesser n.o.bles are muttering that it is as they said, that the Witted are little better than the animals they mate with, and that freed of the curb of punishment, they are happy to slaughter one another. The Old Blood's zeal to eliminate the Piebalds has blackened the reputation of the Witted rather than cleared it.

And so their talk wandered, from one thing to another. After a time, it was almost as if they forgot I was there. I grew hoa.r.s.e repeating to Kettricken all that Dutiful wished to say to her. I sensed his relief that neither Chade nor Nettle were a party to the conversation. He confided many doubts, and yet also the small, sweet triumphs of his courts.h.i.+p of his bride. There was a particular shade of green that she liked, and he took great pains in describing it, for he hoped that the personal chambers that welcomed her to Buckkeep could incorporate it. He had many minor complaints over how Chade had handled the most recent round of negotiations, and many areas in which he wanted the Queen to rein in her Chief Councilor. Here, Queen and Prince did not precisely agree, and I was again hard put to serve only as go-between without injecting any of my own thoughts.

And gradually, as they employed my magic for the best interests of the Fa.r.s.eer throne, I began to be aware of the Skill-current. It pulled me in a new way. Not the impulsive, dive-into-it-and-be-lost-forever temptation I knew only too well, but like music heard in another chamber, lovely music that draws the attention away from what one is supposed to be doing until one becomes immersed in only it. At first it was distant, like the thunder of rapids heard while one drifts in the calm part of the river. It drew me, but not strongly. I thought I was ignoring it. The Prince's words to the Queen and her replies flowed through me and I scarce had to pay attention to what I said or the thoughts I sent to Dutiful.

It began to seem that the Skill itself was flowing through me, as if I were the river, and I was only jolted from it when the Queen leaned forward and shook me, hard.

"Fitz!" she cried out, and Fitz! Fitz! I dutifully relayed to Dutiful. I dutifully relayed to Dutiful.

Then, "Wake him however you must. Throw water in his face, pinch him. I fear if I retreat now, he will go under all the way."

And even as I spoke Dutiful's words to the Queen, she took up her cup of cooling tea and dashed it in my face. I spluttered, coughed, and was once more fully aware of my surroundings. "I'm sorry," I said, wiping my sleeve over my face. "That has never happened to me before. At least, not in this fas.h.i.+on."

The Queen offered me a kerchief. "We've had some minor difficulties of this type with Nettle. It was one reason Chade wanted you to be here as soon as possible."

"He said something of the kind. I wish he had been more specific. I would have found a way to come sooner."

"She will need instruction in the Skill, Fitz. It should begin soon. Actually, it should have begun long ago."

"I know that, now," I admitted humbly. "A lot of things should have begun long ago. I'm home now, and I intend to begin them soon."

"How about now?" Kettricken asked me levelly. "I could summon my maid, and send for Nettle. You could meet her now."

A wave of dread washed through me. "Not yet!" And then I amended it to "Not like this, my lady, please. Let me be clean and shaven. And rested." I took a breath. "And fed," I added, trying not to make it sound like a remonstrance.

"Oh, Fitz, I am sorry! I have let my own needs and desires run rampant over yours. A selfish act. I apologize."

"A necessary act," I a.s.sured her. Then, "Shall I find Dutiful again? Or Chade? I know there is still much you need to know."

"Not just now. I judge it best that you refrain from Skilling for a time."

I nodded. Left alone in my own mind, I felt almost empty, as if I could no longer string together a thought of my own. It must have showed, for she leaned forward to set her hand on mine. "Some brandy, Lord FitzChivalry?"

"Please," I replied, and my queen rose to get it for us.

Sometime later, I twitched my eyes open. A shawl had been put around me and my chin rested on my chest. My brandy waited on the table before me. Kettricken was sitting quietly at the table, looking at her folded hands. I knew she meditated and I did not wish to disturb her. Yet she seemed aware that I had awakened almost as soon as I opened my eyes. She gave me a weary smile.

"My queen, I offer my humblest apologies."

"You have been long without rest." She m.u.f.fled a small yawn of her own and said, "I sent for breakfast, and let my maid know I am famished. She will wish to tidy this room before she sets it out for me here. Conceal yourself until you hear me knock."

And so I spent some short time sitting on the steps in the darkness behind the concealed panel. I closed my eyes, but did not sleep. Yet it was not the burdens of the Six Duchies throne that weighted my thoughts. I was but a tool to be used in that sorting. I would eat with the Queen, visit the steams and shave, sleep for a short time, and then find a way to slip out of the castle and go back to the Witness Stones. I would raid the storeroom first, I decided, and take with me cheese and fruit and wine for the Fool and the Black Man. Perhaps they would enjoy some fresh bread. I smiled to myself, thinking how they would welcome the change in food. Perhaps the Fool would be better and able to travel. If he was, I could bring them both to Buckkeep, where I would know the Fool was safe. And finally I would be free, to go to Molly, and heal the rift of years. I heard the Queen's tap on the wall.

She had taken advantage of the time to smooth her hair and don a fresh gown. A meal, ample for several people, was set out on the low table. Tea steamed from a flowered pot, and I smelled fresh bread and b.u.t.ter melting on hot porridge beside a pot of thick yellow cream.

"Come and eat," she welcomed me. "And if you have a word left in you, tell me of what you have been through, and how it is that you and Thick have discovered such a swift way to travel."

I realized then the depth of the Queen's faith in me. So much had not been relayed through Nettle for the sake of keeping Chade's secrets. Only by subtle hints had she known to expect me, and yet she had believed we would arrive. And so, as we ate, I found myself reporting to her yet again. She had always been a good listener, and over the years had been my confidante more than once. Perhaps that was why I found myself telling her far more of the truth than I had confided to anyone else. I told her of my search through the city for the Fool's body, and tears ran down her cheek unchecked when I told her where and how I had found him. Her pale eyes brimmed with wonder as I told her how we had returned to the abandoned plaza. To her alone did I confide my venture into death. To her alone did I give a full accounting of our visit to the dragons themselves and the restoration of the Rooster Crown.

Only once did she interrupt. I had told her of brus.h.i.+ng the dust and leaves off Verity-as-Dragon. She instantly reached across the table to seize my hand in a cool, hard grip.

"With these pillars, if you held my hand, you could take me to him? Even just once? I know, I know, all that would not be there for me. Yet, even to touch the stone that holds him . . . Oh, Fitz, you have no idea what that would mean to me!"

"To take an unSkilled person through a pillar . . . I do not know the full toll it might take on your mind. It could be arduous and dangerous, my queen." I was reluctant, and yet even more reluctant to disappoint her.

"And Dutiful," she said, as if she had not heard my warning at all. "Dutiful should stand, at least once, by the dragon of his father. It would make real his father's sacrifice to him, and he might perceive his own in a kindlier light then."

"Dutiful's sacrifice?"

"Did not you hear what he could not say? That as a man, he could have stayed there with Elliania, and been her husband and welcomed by her family. As a prince, he cannot. It is not a small sacrifice, FitzChivalry. Elliania will follow him here, that is true. But ever, it will be a little wall between them. You yourself have known how sharp that can be, to disappoint the woman you love out of the duty you must yield to your people."

I spoke without considering the wisdom of it. "I will be going back for her, now. The time for that sacrifice is at an end. Burrich is gone and no longer stands between us. I will take Molly again for my own."