The Complete Tawny Man Trilogy Omnibus (189 page)

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

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

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

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

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

‘We cannot change what he agreed to for us,’ Chade told me grimly. ‘But it was worthwhile to see Bloodblade’s face when Dutiful
told him, “My word is mine, and I am the only man who can give it. Never again presume to speak for me.”’

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

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

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

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

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

‘How many men is Dutiful allowed?’

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

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

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

‘And we leave tomorrow?’

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

I nodded. ‘And one for Swift. He has his own bow and arrows,
but as you said before, an axe for chopping ice may be more to the point.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Go easy on that,’ Chade warned me.

‘I’m nowhere near drunk,’ I retorted irritably.

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

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

‘Yes, you are,’ Dutiful responded stubbornly.

‘Not.’

‘Are.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Because you are stopping me from talking to her?’

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

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

‘No. No more ships.’

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

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

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

‘And you’ll come back here and get Thick first.’

‘Maybe,’ Dutiful conceded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

I did not sleep well. Now that I knew Nettle was purposely ignoring me, I could find and feel the shape of her barrier. More annoying was knowing that Thick was observing me as I groped, and taking pleasure in my inability to break through it. If he had not, perhaps I would have made a more serious effort to get into Nettle’s dreams. Instead, I gave it up and tried to slide into true
sleep. Instead, I had a restless night of brief dreams of all the people I’d hurt or failed, from Burrich to Patience, with the most vivid ones being of the Fool’s accusing stare.

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

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