Читать книгу The Tawny Man Series Books 2 and 3 - Робин Хобб - Страница 21

‘Past Chalced, keep your sails spread.’ This old saying is based on sound observations. Once your ship is past the Chalcedean ports and their cities, old as evil itself, spread sail and move swiftly. Aptly named are the Cursed Shores to the south of Chalced. Water from the Rain River will rot your casks and burn your crew’s throats. Fruit from those lands scalds the mouth and breaks sores on the hands. Beyond the Rain River, take on no water that comes from inland. In a day it will go green, and in three it seethes with slimy vermin. It will foul your casks so they can never be used again. Better to keep the crew on short rations than to put ashore there for any reason. Not even to weather a storm or take a day’s rest at anchor in an inviting cove is safe. Dreams and visions will poison your sailors’ minds, and your ship will be plagued with murder, suicide and senseless mutiny. A bay that beckons you to safe harbour may seethe with savage sea serpents before the night is over. Water-maidens come to the top of the waves, to beckon with bare breasts and sweet voices, but the sailor that plunges in for that pleasure is dragged under to be food for their sharp-toothed mates hiding below the water.

The only safe harbour along all that stretch is the city of Bingtown. The anchorage is good there, but beware of their docks where ensorcelled ships may call down curses on your own vessels of honest wood. Best to avoid their docks. Drop your hook in Trader Bay and row in, and likewise have goods brought out to your ship. Water and food from this port can be trusted, though some of the wares from their shops are uncanny and may bring ill luck to a voyage. In Bingtown, all manner of goods may be bought and sold, and the trade goods from there are unlike any others in the wide world. Yet keep your crew close by your vessel, and let only the master and mate go ashore and amongst the townsfolk. Better for common ignorant sailors not to touch foot to that soil, for it can entrance men of lesser mind and intellect. Truly is it said of Bingtown, ‘if a man can imagine it, he can find it for sale there’. Not all that a man can imagine is wholesome to a man, and much is sold there that is not. Beware, too, of the secret people of that land, sometimes seen by night. It brings on the foulest of bad luck should one of the Veiled Folk of that place cross a captain’s path when he is returning to his ship. Better to spend that night on shore, and return to your ship the next day than to sail immediately after such an ill omen.

Beyond Bingtown, leave the safety of the inner passage and take your ship out Wildside. Better to brave the storms and harsh weather than to tempt the pirates, serpents, sea-maidens and Others of those waters, to say nothing of the shifting bottoms and treacherous currents. Make your next stop corrupt Jamaillia with its many raucous ports. Again, keep a tight hand on your crew, for they are known to steal sailors there.

Captain Banrop’s Advice to Merchant Mariners

I left Prince Dutiful a note on the table in the Skill-tower. It said only, ‘Tomorrow’. Before the dawn watch had changed, I was standing outside Master Gindast’s establishment. The lamplight from the windows sliced across the snowy yard. In that dimness, apprentices crunched along the footpaths, hauling water and firewood for both the master’s home and his workshop and clearing snow from the canvassed tops of the wood stockpiles and the pathways. I looked in vain for any sign of Hap amongst them.

Light had brought colour to the day when he finally appeared. I could tell at a glance how he had spent his night. There was a gleam of wonder in his eyes still, as if he could not grasp his own good fortune, and an almost drunken swagger to his walk. Had I shone like that the first morning after Molly had shared herself with me? I tried to harden my heart as I lifted my voice and called out, ‘Hap! A word with you.’

He was smiling as he came to meet me. ‘It will have to be a short one then, Tom, for I’m already late.’

The day was blue and white around us, the air crisp with chill, and my son stood grinning up at me. I felt a traitor to all of it as I said, ‘And I know why you’re late. As does Svanja’s father. We were looking for you last night.’

I had expected him to be abashed. He only grinned wider, a knowing smile between men. ‘Well. I’m glad you didn’t find us.’

I felt an irrational urge to strike him, to wipe that expression from his face. It was as if he stood within a burning barn and rejoiced at the heat, unmindful of the peril to himself and Svanja. That, I suddenly knew, was what infuriated me, that he seemed completely unaware of how he endangered her. An edge of my anger crept into my voice.

‘So. I take it Master Hartshorn didn’t find you either. But I imagine he’ll be waiting for Svanja when she gets home.’

If I had hoped to dampen his reckless spirit, I didn’t succeed. ‘She knew he would be,’ he said quietly. ‘And she decided it was worth it. Don’t look so serious, Tom. She knows how to handle her father. It will be fine.’

‘It may be any number of things, but I doubt “fine” will be one of them.’ My voice grated past my anger. How could he be so cavalier about this? ‘You’re not thinking, boy. What will this do to her family, to their day-to-day life, to know their daughter has made this choice? And what will you do, if you get her with child?’

The smile finally faded from his face, but he still stood straight and faced me. ‘I think that’s for me to worry about, Tom. I’m old enough now to take charge of my own life. But, to put your mind at rest, she told me that there are ways women know to keep such a thing from happening. At least, until we are ready for it, until I can make her my wife.’

Perhaps the gods punish us by bringing us face to face with our own foolish mistakes, condemning us to watch our children fall into the same traps that crippled us. For all the sweetness of the secret hours I had shared with Molly, there had been a price. At the time, I had thought that we shared it, that the only cost was keeping our love secret. Molly had known better, I am sure. She had been the one to pay it, far more than I had. If Burrich had not existed to shelter and shield them both, my daughter would have paid it as well. Perhaps she still would, in her differences, in the dangers of being a cuckoo’s nestling, unlike her brothers. I wondered if I could warn Hap, if he would listen to me, as I had not listened to Burrich or Verity. I pushed my anger aside and spoke out of my fears for them both.

‘Hap. Please hear me. There are no safe and certain ways for a woman to avoid conceiving. All of them have a risk and a price to her. Every time she lies with you, she must wonder, “will I conceive from this? Will I bring shame to my family?” You know I would not cast you from my household for any mistake you made, but Svanja’s life is not so certain. You should protect her, not expose her to danger. You are asking her to risk all, for the pleasure of being with you, with no guarantees. What will you do if her father turns her out? Or beats her? What will you do if she suddenly finds herself ostracized and condemned by her friends? How can you be responsible for that?’

A scowl darkened his face. His stubbornness, so rarely woken, mastered him now. He took several breaths, each deeper than the last, and then the words exploded from him. ‘If he throws her out, I’ll take her in, and do whatever I must to support her. If he beats her, I’ll kill him. And if her friends turn on her, then they were never truly her friends anyway. Don’t worry about it, Tom Badgerlock. It’s my consideration now.’ He bit off each of his final words, as if somehow I had betrayed him just by stating my concerns. He turned away from me. ‘I’m a man now. I can make my own decisions and my own way. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I must get to my work. I’m sure Master Gindast is waiting for his turn to lecture me on responsibility.’

‘Hap.’ I spoke the word sharply. When the boy turned back to me, startled at the harshness in my tone, I forced out the rest of what I knew I had to say. ‘Making love to a girl does not make you a man. You have no right to do that; not until you both can declare yourself partners publicly, and provide for any children that come along. You should not see her again, Hap. Not like that. If you don’t go soon to meet her father and face him squarely, you’ll never be able to stand before him as a man in his eyes. And –’

He was walking away. Halfway through my speech he turned and walked away from me. I stood stunned, watching him go. I kept thinking he would stop and come back to ask my forgiveness and help in putting his life to rights. Instead, he strode into Master Gindast’s shop without a backward glance.

I stood a time longer in the snow. I was not calm. On the contrary, an anger flamed in me that seemed enough to warm all winter away from the land. My fists were clenched at my sides. I think it was the first time I had ever felt deeply furious with Hap, to the point at which I longed to beat some sense into him if he would not listen to reason. I pictured myself barging into the shop and dragging him out, forcing him to confront what he was doing.

Then I turned and stalked away. Would I have listened to reason at his age? No. I had not, not even when Patience had explained to me, over and over and over, why I must stay away from Molly. Yet such a realization did not decrease my anger with Hap, nor my belated contempt for my boyhood self. Instead it gave me a sense of futility, that I must witness my foster son committing the same foolish and selfish acts that I had performed myself. Just as I had, he believed that their love justified the risks they took, without ever considering that the child might come to pay the price for their intemperance. It could all happen again, and I could not stop it. I think I grasped then, fleetingly, the passion that powered the Fool. He believed in the terrible strength of the White Prophet and the Catalyst, to shoulder the future from the rut of the present and into some better pathway. He believed that some act of ours could prevent others from repeating the mistakes of the past.

By the time I reached Buckkeep and had ascended to the Skill-tower, I had walked away the fierceness of my anger. Yet the sick, dull weight of it lingered, poisoning my day. I was almost relieved to find that Dutiful had given up on me and left. Only a simple underlining of the word had altered my note. The boy was learning to be subtle. Perhaps at least with this young man I could succeed in turning him aside from the errors of the past. That errant thought only made me feel cowardly. Was I surrendering Hap then, abandoning him to his own poor judgement? No, I decided, I was not. But that decision put me no closer to knowing what to do about it.

I returned to Lord Golden’s chambers and was in time to join the Fool for his breakfast. As I entered, however, he was not eating. Rather he sat at table, bemusedly twirling a tiny bouquet of flowers between his forefinger and thumb. It was an unusual token, for the blossoms were made of white lace and black ribbon. It seemed a clever subterfuge for a season without flowers, and it put me in mind of his old fool’s motley for this season. He saw me looking at the posy, smiled at my bemusement, and then carefully pinned it to his breast. It was the Fool who gestured at the spread of food before him and said, ‘Sit down and eat quickly. We are summoned. A ship docked at dawn with an ambassadorial contingent from Bingtown. And not just any ship, but one of their liveships, with a talking, moving figurehead. Goldendown, I believe his name is. I don’t think one has ever ventured into Buck waters before. Aboard was an emissary mission from the Bingtown Council of Traders. They have applied with great urgency to see Queen Kettricken at her earliest convenience.’

The news startled me. Usually Six Duchies contacts with Bingtown were contacts between individual merchants and traders, not their ruling council treating with the Farseers. I tried to recall if the city-state had ever sent us ambassadors when Shrewd was king, then gave it up. I had not been privy to such matters when I was a lad. I took a seat at the table. ‘And you are to be there?’

‘At Councillor Chade’s suggestion, we will both be there. Not visibly, of course. You are to take me there through Chade’s labyrinth. He himself came to tell me so. I’m quite excited to see it, I admit. Save for my brief glimpse of it on the night Kettricken and I fled the castle and Regal, I’ve never glimpsed it.’

I was shocked. It was inevitable that he knew of the spy passages’ existence, but I had not thought Chade would ever offer him access to them. ‘Does the Queen concur in this?’ I asked, trying to be delicate.

‘She does, but reluctantly.’ Then, dropping the aristocratic air, he added, ‘As I have spent some time in Bingtown and know something of how their council operates, Chade hopes my evaluation of their words may give him a deeper understanding. And you, of course, provide an extra pair of eyes and ears for him, to catch any nuances that might otherwise be missed.’ As he spoke, he served us adroitly, adapting a platter to be my plate. He was generous with smoked fish, soft cheese and fresh bread and butter. A pot of tea steamed in the middle of the table. I went to my room to fetch my cup. As I returned with it, I asked, ‘Why could not the Queen simply invite you to be present when she receives them?’

The Fool shrugged one shoulder as he took a forkful of smoked fish. After a moment, he observed, ‘Don’t you think the Bingtown ambassadors might look askance at the Queen of the Six Duchies inviting a foreign noble to attend her first meeting with them?’

‘They might, but then they might not. I believe it has been decades since the Bingtown Council has sent a formal declaration to the Six Duchies court. And we have a Mountain queen now, a woman from a realm completely outside their ken. Did she greet them by slaughtering chickens in their honour or scattering roses before them, it would be all one to them. Whatever she does, they will assume it is her custom, and they will attempt to receive it politely.’ I took a sip of tea and then added pointedly, ‘Including inviting foreign nobles to her first reception of them.’

‘Perhaps.’ Then, grudgingly he admitted, ‘But I have reasons of my own for not wishing to be visibly present.’

‘Such as?’

He took his time cutting a bite of food and then eating it. After he had followed it with a sip of tea, he admitted, ‘Perhaps they would recognize that I bear no resemblance to any Jamaillian noble family that they have ever encountered. The traders of Bingtown have far more commerce with Jamaillia than any Six Duchies venture. They would see through my sham and spoil it.’

I accepted that, but reserved my opinion as to whether it was the complete reason. I did not ask if he feared he would be recognized. He had told me that he had spent some time in Bingtown. Even dressed as a nobleman, the Fool’s appearance was sufficiently unique that he might be recognized by any that had seen him there. He was looking more uncomfortable than I had seen him in a long time. I changed the subject.

‘Who else will be “visibly present” at the ambassadors’ initial reception by the Queen?’

‘I don’t know. Whoever represents each of the Six Duchies and is currently at court, I imagine.’ He took another bite, chewed thoughtfully, swallowed and added, ‘We shall see. It may be a delicate situation. I understand that there have been messages exchanged, but erratically. This delegation was actually expected to arrive months ago, but the Chalcedeans intensified the war. The Bingtown war with Chalced has disrupted shipping woefully to all points south of Shoaks. I gather that the Queen and Chade had given up all expectations until today.’

‘Messages?’ All of this was news to me.

‘Bingtown has approached the Queen, proposing an alliance to quell Chalced once and for all. To entice her, they have offered trade advantages in Bingtown, and a new closeness between the realms. Kettricken has rightly seen it as an empty offer. There can be no free trade until Chalced gives over its harassment of the ships in and out of Bingtown. Once Chalced is battered into submission, then Bingtown will be open for trade again, whether or not the Six Duchies took any part in subjugating Chalced. Bingtown lives on trade. It cannot even feed itself. So. A cold evaluation is that the Six Duchies risked inflaming its own disagreements with Chalced, with very little to gain by it. That being so, Kettricken has graciously declined their invitation to join their war. But now the Bingtown Councils hint that they have something else to offer, something so stupendous and so secret that word of it cannot be entrusted to a scroll. Hence, these envoys. A clever ploy, to play on the curiosity of the Queen and her nobles. They will have a rapt audience. Shall we eat and go?’

We dispatched the food swiftly between us, and then I cleared the breakfast tray away to the kitchens. All was in a hubbub there. The unexpected delegation demanded an amazing luncheon and an extraordinary feast in their honour. Old Cook Sara had actually descended into the thick of the culinary skirmish in progress, proclaiming that she would do it all herself, that those Bingtowners would never be able to say that the Six Duchies lacked in any sort of food. I retreated hastily from the commotion and hurried back to Lord Golden’s chambers.

I found the door latched. At my knock and quiet call, it was opened. I stepped through and shut it behind me, and then stood in shock. The Fool stood before me. Not the Fool in Lord Golden’s garb, but the Fool very nearly as I had known him when we were both boys. It was the garment he wore, close-fitting hose and a full tunic of solid black. His only ornaments were the earring and the tiny black and white posy. Even his slippers were black. Only his stature and colouring seemed changed from those days. I half-expected him to shake a rat’s-head sceptre at me or turn a flip. At my raised brows, he said, almost abashedly, ‘I did not wish to risk any of Lord Golden’s wardrobe in your dusty warren. And I can move most quietly in simple garments.’

I made no reply to that, but kindled a candle, and handed him two extra ones. I led him into my chamber. Closing the outer door, I triggered the entry to the concealed corridors and led him into Chade’s labyrinth. ‘Where is Queen Kettricken receiving them?’ I belatedly thought to ask.

‘In the West Reception Hall. Chade said to tell you the access is actually in the outer wall there.’

‘Directions on how to get there would have been more helpful. But never mind, we’ll find it.’

My optimism was not justified. It was an area of the castle’s internal maze that I had not explored before. I frustrated us both by finding the chamber above the audience hall, and one next to it before I deduced that I had to go to a lower level and then make my way up into the outer wall. The corridor had one very narrow bend in it, one I barely squeezed through. By the time we reached our spy post, we were both festooned with cobwebs. The sole peephole proved to be a narrow, horizontal slit. I hooded the candle flame and then moved the leather flap that concealed it from our side. Standing crouched side-by-side, we could each just put one eye to it. The Fool’s breathing by my ear seemed loud. I had to concentrate to pick out the words that dimly penetrated our hiding place.

We were late. The ambassadors had already been greeted. I could not see Kettricken or Chade. I imagined that Kettricken occupied the high seat, with Dutiful to one side and Chade standing on a lower step of the dais. Our vantage was such that we looked out over the hall, probably over the heads of the Queen and Prince. In the back of the audience chamber were seated the dukes and duchesses of the Six Duchies, or those representing them at court. Starling was there, of course. No gathering of significance could happen at court without a minstrel as witness. She was finely dressed, yet her expression was more solemn than alight with interest as I would have expected. She seemed distracted and pensive. I wondered what might be troubling her, and then resolutely fixed my gaze and attention where it belonged.

Central to our view were the four ambassadors from Bingtown. As befitted that wealthy trading town, these were merchants rather than dukes and lords. Nonetheless, the richness of their attire made them seem the equal of any noble. Their clothing glittered with jewels, and in the dimness of the audience chamber, some of the gems seemed to gleam with their own light. One short woman was robed in fabric that flowed over her form like water, so supple and fine was it woven. On the shoulder of one of the men perched a bird, its plumage every shade of red and orange, save for its head, which was of wrinkled white skin. It had an enormous blue-black beak.

Behind these impressive merchants stood a second row of folk, most likely servants despite their elegant dress. They bore the caskets and chests of goodwill gifts. Two stood out in their rank. One was a woman, her face heavily tattooed. There was no art to the marking, no balance, no discernible design, only a succession of ink scrawls that crawled across her cheeks. I knew it meant she had been a slave, and each tattoo was the sigil of an owner. I wondered what she had done, to be bought and sold so often. The other strange servant was hooded and veiled. The fabric of his drapery was rich and elaborate, the veil across his face of fine yet heavy lace. I could not see his features, and even his hands were gloved, as if to be sure that no part of his skin showed. It made me uneasy and I resolved to watch him most closely.

We were just in time for the presentation of the gifts. There were five gifts in all, and each more entrancing than the last. They were offered with flowery compliments and elegant titles, as if our queen’s favour could be bought with parsed words and flattery. I mistrusted the speeches, but the gifts fascinated me. The first was a tall glass vial containing a perfume. As the tattooed servant approached to offer it to Queen Kettricken, a tall woman explained that the fragrance would bring sweet dreams to even the most restless sleeper. I could not vouch for the dreams, but unstoppered for just a moment, the fragrance spread to fill the hall, reaching even to the Fool and me in our concealment. It was not a heady fragrance, but more like the wind-blown breath of a summer garden. Even so, I saw the expressions change on the faces of the nobles in the back of the hall as that rare essence reached them. Smiles grew wider and furrowed brows relaxed. Even I felt a lessening of my wariness.

‘A drug?’ I breathed to the Fool.

‘No. Only a perfume, a scent from a kindlier place.’ A faint smile played over his face. ‘I knew that scent of old, when I was a child. They traded far for that.’

The next servant approached, and opened his cask at the Queen’s feet. From it he lifted a simple set of dangling chimes, such as any garden might hold, save that these seemed to me made of scaled glass rather than metal. He kept them stilled with his hand until, at a signal from the parrot-man, he shook them, a delicate shiver that still set them to swinging and ringing. Each tone was sweet, and their random pattern swiftly fell into a rippling song. Abruptly the servant muted them, far too soon for me. But then he gave them another tiny shake, and again a shimmering melody burst forth, as different from the first as the crackling of a fire is from the muttering of a brook. He let them play for a time, and they showed no sign of stilling themselves. When the servant muted them again, the parrot-man spoke. ‘Fair Queen Kettricken, most noble lady of both the Mountains and the Six Duchies, we hope this sound pleases you. No one is certain how many tunes these chimes hold. Each time they are freed, they seem to spell a different song. As vast and great as your lands are, and as sophisticated as your tastes must no doubt be, we hope you will deem this humble gift worthy of you.’

Kettricken must have made some sign of acceptance, for the chimes were restored to their chest and brought forward to her.

The third gift was a length of fabric, similar in kind but not in hue to the one the woman wore. This was lifted from a small chest, but when the small woman and the parrot-man moved forward to take it from the servant, the cloth unfolded again, and yet again, and yet again, until the swathe of it was enough to cloth a long table in the great hall and drape still to the floor. It shimmered when they shook it, moving through shades of blue from deep violet to pale summer sky. And they folded it effortlessly to a compact square that they restored to its chest. This, too, was set before our queen. The fourth gift was a set of bells, arranged in a scale. The tone was good but no more than that. What was amazing about them was that the metal they were made of shimmered with light as each bell rang. ‘This is jidzin, most gracious Queen Kettricken, ruler of the Six Duchies and heir to the Mountain Throne,’ the short woman told her. ‘This is one treasure that can come from Bingtown alone. We are certain that you are worthy of no less than the very best we can offer you. Jidzin is among our most unique treasures. As are these.’ She waved a hand at the hooded man and he came forward. ‘Flame-jewels, fair Queen Kettricken. Rarest of the rare, for a rare queen.’

My muscles tightened as the veiled man approached the dais where Kettricken and Dutiful were seated. Chade was there, I reminded myself, even as my stomach clenched in apprehension. The old assassin would be as wary as I; he would let no harm come to the Queen or Prince. Even so, I sent a tiny Skill-thought to Dutiful.

Be wary.

I shall.

I had not expected the Prince to reply to my warning. His was a thought flung wide rather than a careful channelling. All the hair on the back of my neck stood up as I saw the veiled man twitch as if poked. For an instant, he stood very still. I sensed something from him, a reaching I had no name for.

Ssh, I cautioned Dutiful in a thread of thought. Be very still.

I desperately longed to see the veiled man’s expression. Did he stare at my prince? Did he glance about the chamber seeking me?

Whoever he was, his control was masterful. He made his abrupt halt a ceremonial pause. Then he bowed low, and presented his gift, setting the cask on the floor before him. At a stroke of his hand, it seemed to open by itself. He reached in and took out a smaller box. This he opened to reveal a torc of gold set with gems. He displayed it to the Queen, and then held it aloft so the gathered nobles might see it. While it was still raised, the bearer gave the ornament a shake. All of the jewels suddenly flared to life, glowing an unearthly blue in the dim hall. As he turned back towards the Queen, offering it for her regard, I heard the Fool give a quiet gasp at the beauty of the thing. The veiled man spoke clearly despite his muffling veils, and his voice was young, almost a boy’s. ‘The blues are the rarest of the flame-jewels, most gracious queen. They were chosen for you, in the colour of Buck Duchy. And for each noble and gracious ruler of each of your noble and gracious Duchies …’

There were gasps from the back of the hall as the gift-bearer lifted from the cask five additional boxes. He opened each in turn, to show neckpieces of narrow silver rather than wide gold. Each of these bore a single jewel, but they were nonetheless breath-taking. Someone had studied the Six Duchies well, for each gem was the proper colour for the duchy it was intended for, even to distinguishing between the pale yellow of the Bearns flower sigil to the deeper gold of Farrow. After the Queen had accepted her collar, the hooded servant moved to the gathered nobles, to bow gravely to each and then proffer the Bingtown gift. Despite the man’s unusual garb, I noticed that no one hesitated to accept his offering.

As this was going on, I watched the other Bingtown emissaries closely. ‘Who is their leader?’ I muttered to myself, for none seemed to give precedence to any of the others. The Fool took it as a query.

‘Do you see the woman with green eyes, the taller of the two?’ The Fool barely breathed the words by my ear. ‘I believe her name is Serilla. She was originally from Jamaillia and a companion to their satrap. That is, she was an advisor to the ruler of all Jamaillia, an expert within her chosen area. Hers was Bingtown and the surrounding area. She came to Bingtown under very odd circumstances, and has since remained there. Gossip had it that she had fallen into deep disfavour with the ruling satrap, and that he all but exiled her to Bingtown. Some say she had made an attempt to seize power from him. But instead of taking her exile as a punishment she has made Bingtown her home and has risen to the status of a professional negotiator for the Traders. Despite her bad blood with the Satrap, her intimate knowledge of both Bingtown and Jamaillia have given Bingtown an edge in its dealings with Jamaillia.’

‘Ssh,’ I hushed him hastily. I wondered how he knew all that, and wanted to hear more, but for now I must be aware of every nuance of all that was said. He subsided, but I could sense his ferment. His cool cheek was pressed against mine as we stared side by side through the narrow slit. He rested a hand on my shoulder to steady himself, but I could feel the tension of his suppressed excitement. Obviously, this meeting had a deeper significance to him. Later, I would ask him who the others were. For now, I was engrossed with the scene before me. I only wished I could see the Queen, Chade and Prince Dutiful as I watched this encounter unfold.

I listened as the Queen offered thanks for the gifts and extended welcome to the emissaries. Her words were simple. She did not reply with extravagant compliments and embroidered titles, but instead offered them sincerity in honest phrases. She was thrilled by the surprise of their long-expected visit. She hoped they would enjoy their stay in Buckkeep, and that this delegation represented a future of more open communication between the Six Duchies and Bingtown. The tall woman, Serilla, stood serenely, listening intently to the Queen’s words. The tattooed woman folded her lips as Kettricken spoke, plainly holding back some response. The man at her side cast her an anxious glance. He was a broad-shouldered, bluff man, his hair cropped short and curly above his weathered face. He was obviously accustomed to physical work, and to getting things accomplished rather than wading through protocol and courtesies. As he waited for the Queen to finish speaking, his fists knotted and unknotted themselves reflexively. The bird on his shoulder shifted restlessly. The other man, a narrow, bookish sort of fellow, seemed more of Serilla’s cast. He would let Kettricken set the pace for this encounter.

Serilla was the one who spoke when Kettricken’s voice fell silent. She, in turn, thanked the Queen and all the Six Duchies for such a gracious welcome. She told them that all of them would welcome the chance to rest in our peaceful land, far from the horrors of the war that Chalced had forced upon them. She spoke some little time on what they had been enduring; the random attacks on their ships that disrupted all commerce, the very lifeblood of Bingtown, and the hardships this created for a city that relied on trade to feed its population. She spoke of Chalcedean raids on outlying Bingtown settlements.

‘I didn’t think they had any outlying settlements,’ I breathed in an aside to the Fool.

‘Not many. But as their population has swelled with freed slaves, folk have been attempting to find arable land.’

‘Freed slaves?’

‘Sshh,’ the Fool responded. He was right. I needed to listen now, and ask my questions later. I leaned my forehead against the cold stone of the wall.

Serilla was swiftly reviewing Bingtown’s current list of grievances with Chalced. Most of them were ones I was very familiar with, and many were the same quarrels that the Six Duchies had with our grasping neighbour to the south. Chalcedean raiders, border disputes, harassment and piracy of passing trade vessels, ridiculous taxes on those merchants that did attempt to trade with them: all of these were familiar rants. But then she launched into an account of how Bingtown had risen up against corrupt Chalcedean influence to free all the slaves within its borders and to offer them a chance to become full citizens of Bingtown. Bingtown would no longer allow slave-ships to stop in its port, regardless of whether they were bound north to Chalced or south to Jamaillia. By an agreement with Bingtown’s new allies in the so-called Pirate Isles, slave-ships that put into Bingtown were boarded, the cargoes seized and the slaves offered freedom.

This disruption of the Chalcedean slave-trade was a major area of conflict. It had brought into new prominence the old disagreement over where the Chalcedean-Bingtown border actually lay. In both of these areas, Serilla hoped that the Six Duchies would recognize the legitimacy of Bingtown’s position. She knew that Shoaks Duchy welcomed escaped slaves to their lands as free men, and that Shoaks had also suffered from Chalced’s efforts to claim lands not rightfully part of that dukedom. Could she, perhaps, hope that the Six Duchies would grant what their previous envoys had proposed to the most gracious and royal Queen Kettricken – an alliance, and support for the war against Chalced? In return, Bingtown and her ally had much to offer the Six Duchies. Open trade with Bingtown, and a share in Bingtown’s favourable trade agreements with the so-called Pirate Isles could be of great benefit to all. The gifts bestowed today represented but a small part of the spectrum of goods that would become available to the people of the Six Duchies.

Queen Kettricken heard her out gravely. But at the end of Serilla’s speech, she had offered nothing new to us. It was Chade, in his role as Councillor, who gravely pointed this out. The wonders of their trade goods were well known, and justifiably so. But not even for such wonders could the Six Duchies consider moving into war. He concluded his remarks with, ‘Our most gracious Queen Kettricken must always consider first the well-being of our own folk. You know that our relations with Chalced are at best uneasy. Our grievances with them are many, and yet we have held our hands back from waging a full war with them on our own accounts. All know the saying, “Sooner or later, there is always war with Chalced.” They are a contentious folk. But war is expensive and disruptive. War later is almost always better than war now. Why should we risk provoking their full wrath on Bingtown’s behalf?’ Chade let the question hang for a moment, and then made it even plainer. ‘What do you offer the Six Duchies that will not eventually come to us, regardless of the outcome of this war of yours?’

Several dukes in the back nodded sagely. All knew this was the Trader way. All they understood was bargaining and trade. They expected Chade to haggle, and haggle he would.

‘Most gracious Queen, noble Prince, wise Councillor and lordly Dukes and Duchesses, we offer you …’ Serilla halted, obviously flustered by the directness of Chade’s question. ‘Our offer is a delicate one, perhaps best reviewed in private contemplation before you seek the agreement of your nobles. Perhaps it would be better …’ Serilla did not glance towards the nobles in the back of the room, but her pause was plain.

‘Please, Serilla of Bingtown. Speak plainly. Put your proposal before all of us, so that my nobles and my councillors and I may discuss it freely together.’

Serilla’s eyes widened, almost in shock. I wondered what sort of place Jamaillia was, that she was so surprised by my queen’s forthright answer. While she floundered, the man with the parrot on his shoulder suddenly cleared his throat. Serilla shot him a warning look, but the man stepped forward anyway. ‘Most gracious Queen, if I may presume to address you directly?’

Kettricken’s response was almost puzzled. ‘Of course. You are Trader Jorban, I believe?’

He nodded gravely. ‘That is correct. Most gracious Queen Kettricken, ruler of all the Six Duchies and heir to the Mountain Throne.’ I felt uncomfortable for the young man as he strung the titles awkwardly together. Obviously such flowery address was new to him, but despite Serilla’s angry glance, he was determined to forge ahead with it. ‘I believe you are a person, a queen, that is, who can appreciate directness. I have chafed under this delay. But now, hearing today that you have as little love for Chalced as we do, I dare to hope that you will be in favour of our proposition as soon as you hear it.’ He cleared his throat, then plunged on. ‘We come to you seeking to forge an alliance against a common enemy. We have had three years of war with Chalced. It has drained us, and our early hopes of a swift end to the conflict have faded. The Chalcedeans are a stubborn folk. Every defeat we deal them only seems to make them more determined to injure us. They thrive on war; they love raiding and destruction, as we do not. Bingtown needs peace to prosper, peace and free seas. We depend on trade, not just for our livelihoods, but for our most basic needs. Magic and wonders we may possess in Bingtown, and yet we cannot feed our children on that alone. We have no vast fields to grow grain and pasture cattle. Chalced would overrun us, out of simple greed. They would kill us all, to possess what we have, with no understanding of what that possessing requires of us. They will destroy what they seek, in the very act of trying to possess it. What we have cannot be taken from us, and still exist. It is …’ The man’s words shuddered to a halt, like a ship run aground on a sand-bar.

Kettricken waited for a time, as if offering him a chance to find his tongue, but the man only spread his hands open, wide and helpless. ‘I’m a trader and a sailor, ma’am. Most gracious Queen.’ He appended the honorific as if he had suddenly recalled it. ‘I speak out of our need, and yet I do not explain myself well.’

‘What do you ask, Trader Jorban?’ Queen Kettricken’s question was simple yet polite.

Hope gleamed suddenly in the man’s eyes, as if her directness reassured him. ‘We know that the folk of your Shoaks Duchy hold a hard border with Chalced. You contain them, and your vigilance demands much of their attention.’ He turned suddenly, to sweep a wide bow to the nobles in the back of the chamber. ‘For this, we thank you.’

The Duke acknowledged his thanks with a grave nod. Trader Jorban turned back to the Queen. ‘But we must ask more than this. We ask your warships and warriors to pressure Chalced from your side. To harry and sink the ships that interfere in our trade with you. We would … put an end to the generations of strife Chalced has forced on all of us.’ He drew a sudden breath. ‘We would subjugate that land completely, and end this ancient strife. If they will not abide as our neighbour, then let them accept our rule instead.’

Serilla the Jamaillian suddenly interrupted. ‘Trader Jorban, you go too far! Fair and gracious Queen Kettricken, we come but to make suggestions, not to propose a conquest.’

Jorban set his jaw and dived in as soon as Serilla fell silent. ‘I do not make a suggestion. I come to bargain with potential allies. I seek for an end to Chalced’s endless war against us. I will speak plainly what is in many Traders’ hearts.’ His blue eyes glinted as he met Kettricken’s gaze. He spoke honestly, with passion. ‘Let us subjugate the Chalcedean states completely, dividing their territory between us. All would gain. Bingtown would have arable land, and an end to Chalcedean harassment. The Duke of Shoaks could expand his holdings and have, not an enemy at his back, but an ally and trading partner. Trade to the south would open wide for the Six Duchies.’

‘Subjugate Chalced completely?’ I could tell from Kettricken’s voice that she had never even considered it, that such a conquering ran counter to all her Mountain ways. But in the back of the room, the Duke of Shoaks was grinning broadly. This was a war he would relish, a meal of vengeance long in the simmering for him. He overstepped himself, perhaps, when he lifted a fist and suggested, ‘Let us include the Duke of Farrow in this partitioning. And perhaps your lord father, King Eyod of the Mountains, would like a share of this, my queen. He, too, shares a boundary with Chalced, and from all accounts has never been too fond of them.’

‘Peace, Shoaks,’ she rebuked him, but it was a gentler shushing than I would have expected. Perhaps there was history there I did not know. Just how bitterly did the Mountain Kingdom dispute its own border with Chalced? Did Kettricken bring an older rancour to this conflict than I knew? Yet there was reserve as she replied to the Bingtown delegation. ‘You offer us a share of your war, as if it were trade goods we should covet. We do not. We have had a war, and even now we seek to make those former enemies our friends. Your war does not tempt us. You offer us Chalced’s lands, if we defeat them. That is a distant and uncertain victory. Holding that territory might be more of a burden than an advantage. A conquered people are seldom content to accept foreign rule. You offer us free trade to the south, if we achieve that victory. Yet Bingtown has ever courted open trade with us; I do not see that as a new gain. Again, I ask you. Why should we even consider this?’

I watched the Bingtown envoys exchange glances, and smiled small to myself. So. A proposal to divide Chalced’s territory was not the limit of their offer. But whatever it was that they held back, they would not part with it unless forced to it. I felt no sympathy. They should not have provoked Chade’s curiosity as to how deep their purse might be. Trader Jorban made a small gesture with his hand, palm up, as if inviting someone else to succeed where he had failed in his bargaining.

Then, as if by accord, the Bingtown merchants stepped aside, parting to let the shrouded man stand directly before the Queen. Some unspoken agreement had been reached amongst them.

I swiftly revised my opinion of the hooded man. He was no servant. Perhaps none of them were, not even the woman with the slave tattoos. As the veiled man stepped suddenly forward, I winced, expecting some sort of attack, but all he did was to throw back his hood. His lace veil, attached to it, was swept away with it. I gasped at what was revealed, but others, Chade amongst them, were less subtle.

‘Eda, mercy!’ I heard the old assassin exclaim, and from the back of the hall there were exclamations of both horror and shock.

The envoy was young, younger than Dutiful and Hap, though he was as tall. Scales rimmed his eyes and framed his mouth. They were not cosmetic. A fringe of shaggy growths depended from his jaw. He drew himself up very straight. I had thought his hood exaggerated his height. Instead I saw now that the bones of his arms and legs were unnaturally long, yet somehow he still managed to convey grace rather than awkwardness. He looked directly at Kettricken, uncowed by her position, and spoke in a boy’s clear tenor.

‘My name is Selden Vestrit, of the Bingtown Trader Vestrits, fostered by the Khuprus family of the Rain Wild Traders.’ The second part of his introduction made no sense to me. No one lived in the Rain Wilds. The lands adjacent to the river were all swamp and bog and morass. It was one reason that the boundary between Chalced and Bingtown had never been firmly set. The river and its swampy shores defied them both. But what the boy said next was even more outrageous. ‘You have heard Serilla, who speaks for the Council of Bingtown. There are others here who can speak for the Tattooed, those once slaves and Bingtown citizens, and for the Bingtown Traders and for our liveships. I speak for the Rain Wild Traders. But I also speak for Tintaglia, the last true dragon, sworn to aid Bingtown in our time of need. Her words do I bear.’

A shiver ran over me at the dragon’s name. I did not know why.

‘She is tired of Chalced’s constant wrangling with her Bingtown folk. It distracts them and hinders them from another, greater work that she has in mind for them. This war Chalced is intent on waging imperils a far greater destiny.’ He spoke as if he were not a man, with a contempt that dismissed petty human concerns. It was both chilling and inspiring. He swept us all with his eyes. I realized then that I had not imagined the faint bluish glow from his gaze. ‘Aid Bingtown in destroying Chalced and putting this war to an end, and Tintaglia will bestow on you her favour. And not only her favour, but also the favour of her offspring, rapidly growing in size, beauty and wisdom. Aid us, and one day the Six Duchies legends of dragons rising to protect them will be replaced by the reality of a dragon ally.’

A stunned silence followed his words. I am sure they all misinterpreted it. Trader Jorban rashly grinned at what must have been the shock on Kettricken’s face, and dared to add, ‘I do not blame you for doubting us. But Tintaglia is real, as real as I am. But for her need to tend her offspring, she would have made a swift end to Chalced’s harassment of us years ago. Have not you heard rumours of the battle of Trader Bay, and how a Bingtown dragon, silver and blue, swept forth to drive the Chalcedeans from our shore? I was there that day, fighting to free our harbour of Chalcedeans. Those rumours are neither fanciful exaggerations nor wild tales, but simplest truth. Bingtown possesses a rare and marvellous ally, the last true dragon in the world. Aid us in subduing Chalced, and she could be your ally as well.’

I do not think he expected his words to be spark to Kettricken’s tinder. I doubt he could understand how deeply her feelings for our Six Duchies dragons went.

‘The last true dragon!’ she exclaimed. I heard the rustle of her gown as she shot to her feet. She strode down the steps, to confront the Bingtown upstarts, stopping but one riser above them. My rational, gracious queen’s voice grated with fury. It rose to fill the hall. ‘How dare you speak so! How dare you dismiss the Elderling dragons as legends! I have seen the skies jewelled with not one, but a horde of dragons that rose to the defence of the Six Duchies. I myself bestrode a dragon, the truest of them all, when he bore me back to Buckkeep Castle. There is not a grown person in this chamber who did not witness their wide wings over our waters, scattering the Red Ships that had harried us so long. Do you insinuate our dragons were false somehow, in heart or deed? The boy may plead the excuse of his youth and inexperience, not just in that he probably was not even born when we fought our war, but that he has had little training in the respect due to such creatures. You can plead only your ignorance of our history. The last true dragon, indeed!’

I doubt that any insult to our queen’s person would have provoked such an outraged reaction. No one there could know that it was her king, Verity, her love, whose honour she upheld. Even some of our own nobles looked startled to see their usually placid queen rebuke an envoy so sharply, but their surprise did not mean they disagreed with her. Heads nodded at her words. Several of her dukes and duchesses came to their feet, and she who represented Bearns set a hand to her sword. The scaled boy glanced around, mouth ajar with dismay as Serilla rolled her eyes at his gaffe. The Bingtown contingent instinctively drew closer to one another.

The scaled lad advanced a step closer to the Queen. Chade made a motion to forbid it, but the boy merely dropped to one knee. He looked up at her as he spoke. ‘I beg forgiveness if I have given offence. I speak only of what I know. As you have said, I am young. But it is Tintaglia who has told us, with great sadness, that she is the last true dragon in the world. If it were otherwise, I would rejoice to bring her these tidings. Please. Let me see your dragons, let me speak to them. I will explain to them her need.’

Kettricken’s shoulders were still rising and falling with the strength of her passion. She drew a quieter breath at last, and when she spoke, she was herself again. ‘I bear no resentment against you for speaking of what you knew not. As for speaking to our dragons, it is out of the question. They are Six Duchies dragons, for the Six Duchies alone. Young sir, you presume too much. But you are young, and on that basis I forgive you.’

The boy remained as he was, on one knee but not at all subservient as he gazed up doubtfully at our queen.

It was up to Chade to calm the room. He stepped forward to confront the Bingtown delegation. ‘It is, perhaps, natural that you appear to doubt our queen’s word, even as we doubt yours. The last true dragon, you say, but then you speak of her offspring. It sets my mind a puzzle; why do you not consider them “true dragons”? If your dragon exists, why has not she come with you, to show herself and give impetus to our decision to side with you?’ He swept them with his hard green gaze. ‘My friends, there is something very peculiar about your offer. There is much you are not saying. Doubtless, you believe your reasons for doing so are sound. But keeping your secrets may lose you not only an alliance, but also our respect. Weigh that bargain well.’

Even looking at his back, I knew that Chade pulled now at his chin, considering. He glanced over at the Queen. Whatever he saw on her face made up his mind. ‘Lords and ladies, I suggest we end this audience for the time being. Let our fair and gracious queen discuss your offer with her nobles. Chambers have been prepared for you. Enjoy our hospitality.’ I could hear the faint smile that came into his voice as he added, ‘Any of the minstrels we have provided will be happy to enlighten you, in song or story, about the dragons of the Six Duchies. Perhaps when next we meet, all our tempers will be evened with song and rest.’

Dismissed so firmly, the Bingtown envoys could do little but withdraw. The Queen and Prince Dutiful departed next. Chade lingered amongst the nobles; he seemed to be arranging a time for all to sit down and discuss the Bingtown proposal. The Duke of Shoaks was striding about, visibly excited, while the Duchess of Bearns stood, tall and silent, her arms crossed before her breast as if denying any interest at all. I leaned back from the peephole, letting the flap of leather fall. ‘Let us go,’ I whispered to the Fool, and he nodded in silent agreement.

I took up our candle again, and we negotiated the narrow warren of rat-runs that threaded Buckkeep’s walls. I did not take him directly back to my chamber, but instead stopped at Chade’s old tower room. Immediately inside the room, the Fool halted. He closed his eyes for a moment, and then took a deep breath. ‘It has not changed much since the last time I was here,’ he said in a choked voice.

I used my candle to kindle the waiting ones on the table. I added another piece of wood to the coals on the hearth. ‘I imagine Chade brought you here the night King Shrewd was murdered.’

He nodded slowly. ‘I had encountered Chade before, and conversed with him over the years. The first time I met him was shortly after I came to King Shrewd. Chade would come by night, to speak with the King. Sometimes they played dice together; did you know that? Mostly they sat by the fire and drank fine brandy and talked of whatever danger was currently confronting the kingdom. That was how I first heard of your existence. In a fireside conversation between those two. My heart pounded until I thought I would faint as I understood what their words meant to me. They scarcely noticed me listening. They thought me but a child, perhaps lacking in true wit, and I had taken care initially to appear to have little mastery of your language.’ He shook his head to himself. ‘Such a strange time in my life. So significant and portentous, and yet, sheltered by King Shrewd, it was the closest I ever came to having a true childhood.’

I found two cups and Chade’s current bottle of brandy. I set them out at the table and poured for us. The Fool lifted an eye to that. ‘This early in the day?’

I shrugged. ‘It seems later to me than it is, perhaps. My day started early. With Hap.’ I sat down heavily as that particular worry weighed my heart again. ‘Fool. Do you ever long to go back in your life and do something differently?’

He took his seat but did not touch the glass. ‘All men do. It’s a foolish game we play. What troubles you, Fitz?’

And I told him, pouring out my heart as if I were a child, giving him all my fears and disappointments to sort, as if somehow he could make sense of them for me. ‘I look back, Fool, and sometimes it seems that the times when I was most certain I was doing the right thing were when I made my gravest errors. Hunting down Justin and Serene and killing them before the assembled dukes after they had assassinated my king. Look what that did to us, the cascade of events that followed.’

He nodded to that. ‘And?’ he prompted me as I poured more brandy for myself.

I drank it off. ‘And bedding with Molly,’ I said. I sighed, but felt no easing. ‘It seemed so right. So sweet and true and precious. The only thing in my world that belonged completely to me. But if I had not …’

He waited for me.

‘If I had not, if I had not got her with child, she would not have left Buckkeep to hide her pregnancy. Even when I made my other stupid mistake, she would have been able to take care of herself. Burrich would not have felt that he had to go to her, to watch over her until her child was born. They would not have fallen in love; they would not have married. When … After the dragons, I could have come back to her. I could have something, now.’

I wasn’t weeping. This was pain past weeping. The only thing new about this was admitting it aloud, to myself. ‘I brought it all down on myself. It was all my own doing.’

He leaned across the table to set his long cool hand atop mine. ‘It’s a foolish game, Fitz,’ he said softly. ‘And you attribute too much power to yourself, and too little to the sweep of events. And to Molly. If you could go back and erase those decisions, who knows what others would take their places? Give it over, Fitz. Let it go. What Hap does now is not a punishment for what you did in the past. You didn’t cause him to make this choice. But that doesn’t free you from your duties as a father, to try to turn him aside from that path. Do you think because you made that same decision it disqualifies you from telling him it was a mistake?’ He took a breath, then asked, ‘Have you ever considered telling him about Molly and Nettle?’

‘I … no. I can’t.’

‘Oh, Fitz. Secrets and things held back …’ His voice trailed away sorrowfully.

‘Such as Bingtown’s dragons,’ I said levelly.

He lifted his hand from mine. ‘What?’

‘We were drinking that night, and you told me a story. About serpents that went into butterfly cocoons and came out as dragons. But for some reason they came out small and sickly. You thought somehow it was your fault.’

He leaned back in his chair. He looked more sallow than golden. ‘We had been drinking. A lot.’

‘Yes. We had. You were drunk enough to talk. But I was still sober enough to listen.’ I waited, but he just sat quietly looking at me. ‘Well?’ I demanded at last.

‘What do you want to know?’ he asked in a low voice.

‘Tell me about Bingtown’s dragons. Are they real?’

I sat and watched him reach some decision. Then he sat up and poured more brandy for us both. He drank. ‘Yes. As real as the Six Duchies dragons were, but in a different way.’

‘How?’

He took a breath. ‘Long, long ago, we argued this. Remember? I said that at one time there had to have been dragons of flesh and bone, to inspire Skill-coteries to create dragons of stone and memory.’

‘That was years ago. I barely recall the conversation.’

‘You don’t need to. All you need to know is that I was right.’ A smile flickered across his face. ‘Once, Fitz, there were real dragons. The dragons that inspired the Elderlings.’

‘The dragons were the Elderlings,’ I contradicted him.

He smiled. ‘You are right, Fitz, but not in the way you think you mean those words. I think. It is a shattered mirror I am still reassembling. The dragons you and I awoke, the Six Duchies dragons … they were created things. Carved by coteries or Elderlings, the memory-stone took on the shapes they gave it, and came to life. As dragons. Or as winged boars. Or flying stags. Or as a Girl-On-A-Dragon.’

He was putting it together almost too swiftly for me to follow. I nodded nonetheless. ‘Go on.’

‘Why did Elderlings make those stone dragons and store their lives in them? Because they were inspired by real dragons. Dragons that, like butterflies, have two stages to their lives. They hatch from eggs into sea serpents. They roam the seas, growing to a vast size. And when the time is right, when enough years have passed that they have attained dragon size, they migrate back to the home of their ancestors. The adult dragons would welcome them and escort them up the rivers. There, they spin their cocoons of sand – sand that is ground memory-stone – and their own saliva. In times past, adult dragons helped them spin those cases. And with the saliva of the adult dragons went their memories, to aid in the formation of the young dragons. For a full winter, they slumbered and changed, as the grown dragons watched over them to protect them from predators. In the hot sunlight of summer, they hatched, absorbing much of their cocoon casing as they did so. Absorbing, too, the memories stored in it. Young dragons emerged, full-formed and strong, ready to fend for themselves, to eat and hunt and fight for mates. And eventually to lay eggs on a distant island. The island of the Others. Eggs that would hatch into serpents.’

As he spoke, I could almost see it. Perhaps my dreams had primed me to it. How often in my sleep had I imagined what it would be to be a dragon as Verity had become, to fly the skies, to hunt and to feed? Something in his words reached those dreams, and they suddenly seemed true memories of my own rather than the imaginings of sleep. He had fallen silent.

‘Tell the rest,’ I prodded him.

He leaned back in his chair and sighed. ‘Something killed them. Long ago. I don’t know exactly what. Some great cataclysm of the earth, that buried whole cities in a matter of days. It sank the coast, drowning harbour towns, and changed the courses of rivers. It wiped out the dragons, and I think it killed the Elderlings as well. All of that is a surmise, Fitz. Not just from what I have seen and heard, but from what you have told me and from what I have read in your journals. That empty, riven city you visited, your own vision there of a dragon landing in the river, and of a strangely-formed folk who greeted it. Once, those people and dragons lived alongside one another. When the disaster came that ended them both, the folk tried to save some of the cocooned dragons. They dragged them into their buildings. The dragon cocoons and the people were buried alive together. The people perished. But inside the cocoons, untouched by the light and warmth that would signal a time of awakening, the half-formed dragons lingered on.’

Rapt as a child, I listened to his wild tale.

‘Eventually, another folk found them. The Rain Wild Traders, an offshoot of the Bingtown Traders, dug into the ancient buried cities, seeking treasure. Much did they find there. Much of what you saw today, offered as gifts to Kettricken, the flame-gems, the jidzin, even the fabric, is the trove of those Elderling dwellings. They also found the cocooned dragons. They had no idea that was what they were, of course. They thought … who knows what they thought at first? Perhaps they seemed like massive sections of tree trunks. So they refer to it: wizardwood. They cut them up and used the cases as lumber, discarding the half-formed dragons within. That is the material they made their liveships from, and those strange vessels have the roots of their vitality in the dragons they would have been. Most of the half-formed dragons were dead, I suspect, long before their cocoons were cut up. But one, at least, was not. And a chain of events that I am not fully privy to exposed that dragon cocoon to sunlight. It hatched. Tintaglia emerged.’

‘Weak and badly formed.’ I was trying to connect this tale with what he had told me previously.

‘No. Hale and hearty, and as arrogant a creature as you would ever wish to encounter. She went searching for others of her own kind. Eventually she gave up looking for dragons. Instead, she found serpents. They were old and immense, for – and again, I speculate, Fitz – for whatever cataclysm that had destroyed the adult dragons had changed the world enough to prevent the serpents from returning to their cocooning grounds. Decade after decade, perhaps century after century, they had made periodic attempts to return, only to have many of their number perish. But this time, with Tintaglia to guide them, and the folk of Bingtown to dredge the rivers so they could pass, some of the serpents survived their migration. In the midst of winter, they made their cases. They were old and weakened and sickly, and had but one dragon to shepherd them and help them spin their cases. Many perished on their journey up the river; others sank into dormancy in their cases, never to revive. When summer came, those that hatched in the strength of the sunlight emerged as weaklings. Perhaps the serpents were too old, perhaps they did not spend enough time in their cocoons, perhaps they were not in good enough condition when they began their time of change. They are pitiable creatures. They cannot fly, nor hunt for themselves. They drive Tintaglia to distraction, for the dragon way is to despise weakness, to let perish those not strong enough to survive. But if she lets them die, then she will be completely alone, forever, the last of her kind, with no hope of rekindling her race. So Tintaglia spends all her time and energy in hunting for them and bringing kills back to them. She believes that if she can feed them sufficiently, they may yet mature to full dragons. She wishes, nay, she demands that the Rain Wild Traders aid her in this. But they have young of their own to feed, and a war that hinders them in their trading. So, they all struggle. So it was when last I was on the Rain Wild River, two years ago. So I suspect it remains.’

I sat for a time not speaking, trying to fit his exotic tale into my mind. I could not doubt him; he had told me far too many other strange things in our years together. And yet, believing him made so many of my own experiences suddenly take on new shapes and significance. I tried to focus on what his tale meant to Bingtown and the Six Duchies now.

‘Do Chade and Kettricken know any of what you’ve told me?’

Slowly he shook his head. ‘At least, not from me. Perhaps Chade has other sources. But I’ve never spoken of this to him.’

‘Eda and El, why not? They treat with the Bingtowners blindly, Fool.’ A worse thought struck me. ‘Did you tell any of them about our dragons? Do the Bingtown Traders know the true nature of the Six Duchies dragons?’

Again he shook his head.

‘Thank Eda for that. But why haven’t you spoken of these things to Chade? Why have you concealed them from everyone?’

He sat looking at me silently for so long that I thought he would not answer. When he did speak, it was reluctantly. ‘I am the White Prophet. My purpose in this life is to set the world into a better path. Yet … I am not the Catalyst, not the one who makes changes. That is you, Fitz. Telling what I know to Chade would most definitely change the direction of his treating with the Bingtowners. I cannot tell if that change would aid me or hinder me in what I must do. I am, right now, more uncertain of my path than I have ever been.’

He stopped speaking and waited, as if he hoped I would say something helpful. I knew nothing to say. Silence stretched between us. The Fool folded his hands in his lap and looked down at them. ‘I think that I may have made a mistake. In Bingtown. And I fear that in my years in Bingtown and … other places, that I did not fulfil my destiny correctly. I fear I went awry, and that hence all I do now will be warped.’ He suddenly sighed. ‘Fitz, I feel my way forward through time. Not a step at a time, but from moment to moment. What feels truest? Up until now it has not felt right to speak of these things to Chade. So I have not. Today, now, it felt as if it was time you knew these things. So I have told them to you. To you, I have passed on the decision. To tell or not to tell, Changer. That is up to you.’

It felt odd to have Nighteyes’ name for me spoken aloud by a human voice. It prodded me uncomfortably. ‘Is this how you always have made these crucial decisions? By how you “feel”?’ My tone was sharper than I intended, but he did not flinch.

Instead he regarded me levelly and asked, ‘And how else would I do it?’

‘By your knowing. By omens and signs, portentous dreams, by your own prophecies … I don’t know. But something more than simply by how you feel. El’s balls, man, it could be no more than a bad serving of fish that you’re “feeling”.’ I lowered my face into my hands and pondered. He had passed the decision on to me. What would I do? It suddenly seemed a more difficult decision than when I had been rebuking the Fool for not telling. How would knowing these things affect Chade’s attitude towards Bingtown and a possible alliance? Real dragons. Was a share of a real dragon worth a war? What would it mean not to ally, if the Bingtowners prevailed, and then had a phalanx of dragons at their command? Tell Kettricken? Then there were the same questions, but very different answers were likely. A sigh blasted out of me. ‘Why did you give this decision to me?’

I felt his hand on my shoulder and looked up to find his odd half-smile. ‘Because you have handled it well before, when I’ve previously done it to you. Ever since I went hunting for a boy out in the gardens and told him, “Fitz fixes a feist’s fits. Fat suffices”.’

I goggled at him. ‘But you’d told me you’d had a dream, and so come to tell me it.’

He smiled enigmatically. ‘I did have a dream. And I wrote it down. When I was eight years old. And when the time felt right, I told it to you. And you knew what to do with it, to be my Catalyst, even then. As I trust you will now.’ He sat back in his chair.

‘I had no idea of what I was doing, then. No concept of how far the consequences would reach.’

‘And now that you do?’

‘I wish I didn’t. It makes it harder to decide.’

He leaned back in his chair with a supercilious smile. ‘See.’ Then he leaned forward suddenly. ‘How did you decide how to act back then, in the garden? On what you would do?’

I shook my head slowly. ‘I didn’t decide. There was a course of action and I took it. If anything decided me, it was based on what I thought would be best for the Six Duchies. I never thought beyond that.’

I turned my head an instant before the wine rack moved, revealing the passage behind it. Chade entered. He looked out of breath and harassed. His eyes fell on the brandy. Without a word, he walked to the table, lifted my glass and drained it. Then he took a breath and spoke. ‘I thought I might find you two hiding out here.’

‘Scarcely hiding,’ I objected. ‘We were having a quiet discussion where we were sure things would remain private.’ I got up from my chair and he sank into it gratefully. Evidently he had hastened up the secret steps into the tower.

‘Would that Kettricken and I had kept our audience with the Bingtown Traders similarly private. Folk are already talking and the kettle already simmering.’

‘About whether or not to ally with them and join their war with Chalced. Let me guess. Shoaks is willing to launch the warships tomorrow.’

‘Shoaks I could deal with,’ Chade replied irritably. ‘No. It’s more awkward than that. Scarcely had Kettricken returned to her chambers, scarcely had we begun to sort out between us what Bingtown is really asking and offering than a page knocked at the door. Peottre Blackwater and the Narcheska required an immediate meeting with us. Not requested: required.’ He paused to let us ponder that. ‘The message was conveyed most urgently. So, what could we do but comply? The Queen feared that the Narcheska had taken some new offence at something Dutiful had done or said. But when they were admitted to her private audience chamber, Peottre informed us that he and the Narcheska were most distressed that the Six Duchies was receiving the ambassadors from the Bingtown Traders. They both seemed extremely agitated. But the most interesting part was when Peottre declared firmly that if the Six Duchies entered into any sort of alliance with “those dragon-breeders”, he would terminate the entire betrothal.’

‘Peottre Blackwater and the Narcheska came to you about this, not Arkon Bloodblade?’ I clarified.

At almost the same moment, the Fool asked with intense interest, ‘Dragon-breeders? Blackwater called them “dragon-breeders”?’

Chade glanced from one to the other of us. ‘Bloodblade wasn’t there,’ he replied to me, and to the Fool, ‘Actually, it was the Narcheska who used that term.’

‘What did the Queen say?’ I asked.

Chade took in a long breath. ‘I had hoped she would say that we needed a moment to confer. But evidently Kettricken felt more short-tempered about the previous day’s humiliation of Prince Dutiful than I thought. Sometimes I forget she is a mother as well as a queen. She rather stiffly told the Narcheska and her uncle that the Six Duchies arrangements with the Bingtown Traders will be determined by the Six Duchies’ best interests, not by threats. From anyone.’

‘And?’

‘And they left the audience chamber. The Narcheska seemed in high dudgeon, walking stiff-backed as a soldier. Blackwater hunched like a man heavily burdened.’

‘They’re scheduled to return to the Outislands soon, aren’t they?’

Chade nodded heavily. ‘A few days from now. All of this happens just in time to leave everything out of balance. If the Queen does not return an answer to the Bingtowners soon, then when the Narcheska departs, the whole betrothal will be left in uncertainty. All of that work to solidify our relations gone to waste or worse. Yet I feel there must be no haste in returning an answer to the Bingtown Traders. This whole offer must be considered carefully. This talk of dragons … is this a threat? A mockery of our dragons? A wild offer to us, of something that doesn’t even exist, because they need our help so desperately? I need to make sense of that. I need to send spies and buy information. We dare not return an answer until we have our own sources of facts.’

The Fool and I exchanged a glance.

‘What?’ Chade demanded.

I took a deep breath and threw caution to the wind. ‘I need to speak with you and the Queen. And perhaps Dutiful should be present as well.’