Fool's Fate

And then I did Skill-walk in my dreams, to a most disturbing scene. Nettle sat and chatted with Tintaglia on a grassy hillside. I knew it was a dream of Nettle's making, for never had flowers blossomed so brightly, nor bloomed so evenly throughout the grass. It reminded me of a carefully worked tapestry. The dragon was the size of a horse, and crouched in a way that was not quite threatening. I stepped into the dream. Nettle's back was very straight and her voice nearly brittle as she demanded of the dragon, “And what has any of that to do with me?”

And in a silent aside to me, Why did you delay? Didn't you feel me summoning you?

“I can hear that, you know,” Tintaglia pointed out calmly. “And he did not hear you summoning him because I did not wish him to. So, you see, you are quite alone, if I decide you are.” The dragon suddenly turned her cold gaze on me. Beauty had fled her reptile eyes, leaving them spinning gems of fury. “A fact that does not escape you, either, I assume.”

“What do you want?” I demanded of her.

“You know what I want. I want to know what you know of a black dragon. Is he real? Does another dragon, grown and whole, still exist in the world?”

“I don't know,” I answered her truthfully. I could feel her mind plucking at mine, trying to get past the words I gave her to see if I was hiding anything. It was like having cold rat feet run over you in a prison cell at night. Then she seized that memory and tried to turn it against me. I slammed my walls tighter. Unfortunately that meant that Nettle was also outside them. They both became like shadows dimly cast on a wavering curtain.

Tintaglia spoke, and her voice reached me like a whisper of doom. “Accept that your kind will serve mine. It is the natural order of things. Serve me in this and I will see that you and yours prosper. Defy me, and you and yours will be swept aside.” Suddenly the image of the dragon loomed large and towered over Nettle. “Or devoured,” she offered knowingly.

Dread prickled at me. On some fundamental level, the dragon associated me with Nettle. Was it simply that she had always reached me through my daughter, or did she sense our kinship? Did it matter? My daughter was in danger, and it was my fault. Again. And I had no idea how to protect her.

It did not matter. A moment ago the flower-studded meadow had reminded me of a tapestry. Then Nettle abruptly stood up, bent and seized her dream, then shook it as if she sought to shake dust from a rug. The dragon's presence was flung from it and went spinning off into nothingness, dwindling as it went. In that nothingness, Nettle stood and wadded up her dream and tucked it into her apron pocket. I no longer knew where or what I was in her dream, but she sent the words to me. You'll have to learn to stand up to her and drive her off, not just curl up in a ball and hide. Remember, Shadow Wolf, that you are a wolf. Not a mouse. Or so I thought. She began to fade.

Wait! The Prince Skilled with desperate determination. In some way I did not understand, he caught at her and detained her. Who are you?

Nettle's shock went through me like a wave. She struggled a moment, but when his grip held, she demanded, Who am I? Who are you, who dare to intrude here so rudely? Let go of me.

Dutiful did not react well to her rebuke. Who am I? I am the Prince of all the Six Duchies. I go wherever I will.

For a moment, she was stunned to silence. Then, You are the Prince? Her disbelief was as evident as her scorn.

Yes, I am. And now you will stop wasting my time and tell me who you are! I winced at the snap of command in his voice. A terrible silent void stretched all around me. Then Nettle reacted as I had known she would.

Oh. Well, of course I will, since you ask me so nicely. Prince Mannerless, I am Queen I-Doubt-It-Very-Much of the Seven Dungheaps. And perhaps you go “wherever you will,” but when the where belongs to me, I will that you do not ever go there. Changer, you should cultivate nicer friends.

I saw what she had done. In the pause, she had seen exactly how he had fastened himself to her. And now, effortlessly, she shook herself free of him. And vanished.

I jolted awake with her disdain rattling against me like flung pebbles. Torn between awe for my daughter and dread for the dragon, I tried to recover myself. I needed to think what I could do. Instead, Chade pushed his way into my mind.

We need to talk. Privately. His Skill trembled with excitement.

Privately? Are you sure you know what the word means? Why, tonight of all nights, did he have to spy on me?

Not privately. Dutiful was furious with both of us as he broke in on our Skilling. Who is she? How long has this been going on? I demand to know. How dare you train another Skilled one and keep her existence concealed from me!