Fool's Fate
“I'll go with him,” Dutiful said. He did not wait for anyone to agree, but snatched up his cloak. He paused briefly near Elliania. His eyes did not meet hers but he offered, “I give you my word. If I can find clean death for your mother and sister, it will be theirs.” Then he was gone.
“The Farseer Prince uses magic?” Peottre demanded as he stared after him.
Chade hastily devised a lie. “That was not what Tom said. The Prince has a circle of friends here who can use the Wit, what is sometimes called Old Blood Magic in the Six Duchies. They came with him to help him.”
“Magic is dirty stuff,” Peottre opined. “At least a sword is honest and a man sees his death coming. Magic is the way the Pale Woman has enchained our folk and shamed us of them. Magic is how she binds us still, to do her low tasks.”
Burrich nodded slowly to his words. “Would that the magic of the sword could be worked on her. It is never fitting that a strong man falls to guile, especially the guile of an evil and ambitious woman.” I know he thought of my father then, and how Queen Desire had plotted his death. I do not know what Peottre made of his words.
The Narwhal Clan kaempra stood slowly, as if some thought were uncurling uncomfortably in his mind. He nodded, as if to himself. Beside him, the Narcheska stood. “Please tell Prince Dutiful that I said farewell,” she said quietly, to no one in particular.
“And I,” Peottre said in his deep voice. “I am grieved that it came down to this. Would that there had been a better path for all of us.” They left slowly, Peottre moving as if heavily burdened. Dutiful returned quickly, carrying some of the supplies for our mission. A few moments later, Longwick brought the rest. He stood after he had been relieved of the objects. Plainly, he wished to ask questions, but no explanations were offered to him before Chade dismissed him with thanks. The man looked worried. Obviously Dutiful and I were preparing some sort of foray. Little or no explanation of my return had been offered to anyone. Yet, like any good soldier, Longwick accepted the lack of explanation as reasonable and returned to his post outside the tent.
These directions were for me. To the Prince he said, “You are to get out as soon as the fire is started in the kettle. Don't wait for Fitz to put the powder in, get out and away and wait for him well back from the excavation edge. Do you understand me?”
“Promise me, then. Promise me that you'll leave as soon as he starts the fire in the kettle.”
“I said I would kill the dragon. I should stay at least to see the powder go into the kettle.”
“He'll leave before the powder goes into the kettle,” I told Chade as I took the sealed crock. “I promise you that. Let's go, Dutiful. We don't have much of the night left.”
As we moved toward the door flap, Burrich stood. “Want me to carry some of that?” he asked me.
I looked at him blankly for a moment. Then I understood him and said, “You aren't going, Burrich. Wait here for us. I won't be long.”
He didn't sit down. “We need to talk. You and I. About many things.”
“And we will. For a long time. There is much I wish to say to you, also. But as it has kept this many years, so it will keep until this task is done. And then we will have time to sit down together. Privately.” I emphasized the last word.