Burrich had come with us when we returned to Chade’s tent, for he could be of little help with the digging. It was sad to know that he realized that. He reminded me somewhat of an old dog that knows he can no longer keep up with the pack on the scent, and so holds his place at his master’s stirrup in faith that he will be there for the kill. I glanced up at him as he sat attentively on Chade’s pallet. Chade was opening another small cask of his powder. I knelt on the floor, a clean hide stretched out before me, measuring powder into piles that were approximately the same size as the example that Chade had heaped for me. The consistency of the powder troubled me; it was not a uniform color, and some seemed ground finer than the rest, but Chade had already shrugged aside my questions. “In time I will perfect it. But for now, it will work, and that is all that counts, boy. Where is the Prince? I sent him to scavenge tight containers from any of the tents. He should be back by now. And Longwick, with the kettles. It’s going to be a mix-and-match that we must do, and the sooner we begin, the better.”
“I’m sure he’ll be here soon,” I said, and then to Burrich, “You’re very quiet. Is it because you came here to kill the dragon, and now we all struggle to save it?”
He knit his dark brows at me. “You thought I came here to slay a dragon?” He gave a snort of amazement and then shook his head. “I didn’t believe in this dragon. I thought it a girl’s bad dream, and so it was easy for me to assure Nettle that I’d protect her from it. I took her to Buckkeep and there I learned that there might be some vestige of a dragon here. But when I came here, I came to bring you home, you and Swift. Because, regardless of what it might cost you, or me, that is where you belong.” He gave a sudden sigh. “I’ve always been a simple man, Fitz, seeking simple answers to my problems. And here I am, trying to see how to untangle the mess you and I have made of things, and now to protect Nettle from a dragon that knows her name and how to talk sense to Swift about Beast Magic. I’d thought that you had died of the Wit, you know. The Queen tried to give me what she knew of that tale, how a Forged One came to be wearing a shirt I’d sewn for you, with King Shrewd’s pin still in the collar… When I think of the anguish I felt as I buried that wretch.”
But his thoughts were interrupted abruptly by Dutiful bursting into the tent. “They’ve gone! I can’t find them anywhere!”
“Containers to put the powder in?” Chade demanded single-mindedly. “What, all gone?”
“No! The Narcheska and Peottre! They are gone, their beds left empty. I do not think they returned to them after we spoke last night. I think they left then and if they did—”
“Then there is only one place they could have gone.” Despite Chade’s earlier assurances that it didn’t matter, he was now scowling and poking at the piles of more finely ground powder. “They went to the Pale Woman. And told her that Fitz had come back to us, and that we now knew the true stakes of the game.” He suddenly scowled. “And we spoke of Web’s gull in front of them, and Tintaglia coming here. They will have told her. She will now know of our thoughts of her, and what our vulnerabilities are. The Pale Woman will know that if she wishes to move against us, she must act swiftly. Our only recourse is to be even swifter than she is. We must get that dragon out of the ice.”
“But why would Elliania and Peottre do that? Why would they turn on us, when they knew I was willing to kill the dragon for them?” The Prince was agonized.
“I don’t know.” Chade was implacable. “But it’s safest for us to assume treachery, to assume that everything we spoke of last night is now being told to the Pale Woman. And we must now see how that leaves us vulnerable.”
“But it’s all changed since last night! Last night, Fitz and I plotted to do her bidding, to give way to her will. Why go to the Pale Woman to tell her that, why not wait until the deed was done?” Dutiful scowled. “When they left us last night, Peottre did not look like a man about to cower before an enemy.”
“I don’t know.” Chade’s concentration didn’t waver. “Make the piles only this size when the powder is this fine, Fitz.” Then, “I don’t know, Dutiful. But it is my duty to assume that they mean you harm, and try to think of what move we could make to forestall them.” With a scraper, he corrected one of my piles. “After the dragon is freed,” he added, almost to himself. He lifted his eyes back to Dutiful. “We still need those containers.”
“I’ll get them,” the boy replied faintly.
“Good. Set the girl and Peottre out of your mind for a time. If they slipped away last night, they are long gone, and too far away for us to be able to do anything about it. Let us deal with the crisis at hand, and then move on to the next one.”
Dutiful nodded distractedly and left. My heart was heavy for him. “Do you really believe they went to report to her?”
“Perhaps. But I don’t think so. As I told Dutiful, we must assume the worst, and there draw our lines of defense. And our best defense may be to free the dragon that you have wakened.” He knit his brows, pondering it, but then seemed to find his piles of powder more interesting. “We will think more on it when Icefyre is freed.” I feared that Tintaglia’s command had sunk deep into his mind. I wanted to believe Chade was thinking clearly, but I was not confident of it.
Longwick came first with the kettles, and then Dutiful with the containers of varying sizes. As soon as he had what he wanted, Chade sent them back to the excavation site, with orders to be sure the six holes he had ordered dug alongside the dragon were progressing. I wondered if he merely intended to keep the Prince busy. Chade seemed very picky to me as he sorted through the containers, first selecting the vessels to hold the powder, making sure of the tightness of the stoppers or lids, and then matching them to their firepots. I offered to help him but he refused. “Eventually, I will devise the perfect container for my powder. It must be one that will yield to fire, but not too swiftly, for whoever sets fire to it must have time to move away. It should be tight enough to keep out moisture, if the powder is to be safely stored in it. And it must be one that can be filled cleanly, with no residual powder clinging to the outside. Eventually, I will fashion a better way to ignite it…” He was now completely focused on what he was doing, a master still puzzling out his new invention, unwilling to trust it to his journeyman’s hands. I withdrew from him a small way, sitting on Dutiful’s pallet next to a silent Burrich. He seemed deep in his own thoughts. I still felt a terrible sense of urgency, a desire for it all to be over. I could not decide if Tintaglia had imprinted me with a command, or if it was my agony over the Fool. I could not keep my thoughts from turning to him. I tried not to wonder what he might be enduring, or if he was past enduring anything. The dragon’s touch seemed to have restored my Skill, yet when I groped for my silk-thin Skill-bond with the Fool, I could not feel him. It frightened me. “I’m doing what you wanted me to do,” I promised the Fool quietly. “I’ll try to get the dragon free.”
Chade, absorbed in his sorting and loading of the powder vessels, did not appear to hear me, but Burrich did. Perhaps it is as they say, that his fading sight had sharpened his other senses. He set his hand to my shoulder. Perhaps if Web had never spoken of it, I would never have noticed it. But he was right. I felt Burrich’s calm flow into me. It was not his thoughts that reached me, but a sense of connection with his being. It did not match the strength of a Wit-bond between man and animal, and yet it was there. He spoke quietly. “You’ve been doing that for a long time, boy. Doing what others wanted you to do. Taking on tasks no one else wanted.” It was a statement, not a judgment. “So did you.”