Fool's Fate (36 page)

    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!

    Go back to sleep! Thick's ponderous Skilling was between a moan and a command. Go back to sleep and stop shouting. It was only Nettle and her dragon. Go back to sleep.

    Everyone knows of her except me? This is intolerable. Dutiful's Skilling held fury and frustration, and that terrible sense of betrayal when one discovers one has been excluded from a secret. I demand to know who she is. Right now.

    I fenced my thoughts tightly and prayed, even though I knew it would avail me nothing.

    Chade? The Prince drove him out of his silence.

    I do not know, my lord. The old man lied gracefully and without remorse. I both damned and admired him.

    FitzChivalry.

    There is a power to the naming of a man by his true name. I shuddered at the impact, and then swiftly begged, Do not call me by that name. Not here, not now, lest the dragon be listening. It was not the dragon I feared, but my daughter. Too many bits of my secrets were falling into her hands.

    Tell me, Tom.

    Not this way. If we must speak of this, let us speak voice to ear only. Near me in the dark, Thick pulled his blankets up over his head, groaning.

    Meet me now. The Prince's voice was grim.

    This isn't wise, Chade counseled us both. Let it wait until morning, my prince. There is no sense in inviting questions by summoning a man-at-arms to you in the middle of the night.

    No. Now. What was truly unwise was for both of you to deceive me about this Nettle person. I will know now what is going on behind my back and why. It was almost as if I were in the mothershouse by the bed-benches. I could feel how his anger chased the chill from his bared chest as he threw his covers aside, sense how furiously he thrust his feet into his shoes.

    Give me time to dress then, Chade conceded wearily.

    No. Stay where you are, Councilor Chade. You say you know nothing? Then there is no sense in your bothering to come. I'll meet Fitz...Tom alone for this.

    His anger roared like a fire now, and yet he still had refrained from saying my name. In some corner of my mind, I admired his restraint. But the greater part of my thoughts was taken up with a dilemma. This was my prince that was angry with me, and to his way of thinking, he was justified. How would I react to his questions? Who was I to him tonight? Friend, mentor, uncle, or subject? I became aware that Thick was sitting up on his blankets, watching me dress.

    “I'll only be gone a short time. You'll be fine here alone,” I reassured him even as I wondered if that was so.

    I don't want to leave Thick alone here, I Skilled to the Prince, hoping this excuse would spare me.

    Then bring him. The Prince bit off his succinct order.

    “Do you want to come?”

    “I heard him,” Thick replied wearily. He heaved a huge sigh. “You're always making me go places I don't want to go,” he complained as he rummaged for clothing in the dark.

    I felt a year had passed before he was dressed. He huffily refused any offer of assistance from me. Together we finally left the cottage and wound our way through the village. The odd twilight that passes for night in that part of the world lent its gray aspect to the world. It was oddly restful to my eyes and I finally identified the sensations. These dimmed colors reminded me of how Nighteyes had perceived the world on the evenings and dawns when we had hunted together. It was a gentle light, and undistracted by color, the eye was free to pick up the small movements of game. I walked light as the wind, but Thick shuffled disconsolately along beside me. Every now and then, he coughed. I reminded myself that he was still not completely well and tried to find patience with his slow pace.

    Little bats flickered through the air over the town. I caught the furtive glide of a robber-rat as it slunk from a rain barrel to a doorstep. I wondered if it was the same one that Swift had tried to befriend, then put it out of my mind. We were drawing closer to the mothershouse. The courtyard was deserted. They posted no guard here, though they kept a lookout over the coast and harbor. Evidently they feared no attacks from within their own folk. I wondered then if Peottre had told me all he knew of Henja. Certainly he and the Narcheska seemed wary of the woman and he had said she was an outsider. Why, then, did he not post a guard against her?

    I led Thick away from the main door. We approached the mothershouse from behind, past the stone walls and hedges that confined the sheep. Around the corner of a shed, the Prince was waiting for us near some bushes beside the privies. He shifted restlessly as he watched us approach, and I sensed his impatience. I lifted a silent hand to gesture to him to join us in the concealment of the hedge. Then:

    Don't come to me. Stand still. No, hide. Or go away.

    I halted, confused by the Prince's sudden command. And then I saw what had rattled him. Elliania wore a cloak over her nightgown as she leaned out from the door and glanced around. I barely had time to put a hand on Thick's chest and urge him back out of sight behind the hedge line. The little man angrily slapped my hand from his chest. “I heard him,” he complained to me as I shushed him in vain.

    We have to be very quiet, Thick. The Prince doesn't want Elliania to know we are here.

    Why not?

    He just doesn't, that's all. We need to hide here and be very quiet. I crouched down on the earth behind the hedge and patted the ground by me invitingly. Thick, hunched in the grayness, scowled down at me. I longed simply to take him home but I was sure Elliania would hear his shuffling tread if we tried to leave. It was better to wait. Surely she wouldn't be long. She probably only needed to use the backhouse. I peered around the trunks of the hedge through a gap in the branches. Come join us here before she sees you, I Skill-suggested to the Prince.

    No. She's seen me. Go away. I'll talk to you later. Then, disbelieving, I felt him raise his Skill-walls against me. He had grown stronger. It was by the Wit that I sensed him, poised and quivering in her steady-eyed regard as she came to him in the dusky light of a sun that scraped along the edge of the horizon, refusing to set.

    I felt a lurch of dismay as I saw how swiftly she went to him and how close she stood to him in the dimness. This was not the first time these two had met clandestinely. I wanted to turn my eyes away and yet I stared avidly, peering at them through the bushes. Her words barely reached me. “I heard the door open and close, and when I looked out the window, I saw you waiting here.”

    “I couldn't sleep.” He reached out as if to take her hands, but then dropped his hands back to his sides. I felt more than saw the sharp glance he sent in my direction.

    Go away. I'll speak to you tomorrow. His Skill-sending to me was tight and small. I doubted that even Thick was aware of it. Royal command was in his tone. He expected me to obey him.

    I can't. You know this is dangerous. Send her back to her room, Dutiful.

    I had no sense that he had received my thought. He had closed himself off to focus only on the girl. Behind me, Thick stood up, yawning and gaping. “I'm going back,” he announced sleepily.

    Sshh. No. We have to stay here and be very quiet. Don't talk out loud. I peered at the young couple anxiously, but if Elliania had heard Thick, she gave no sign. I wondered uneasily where Peottre was, and what he would do to Dutiful if he found them together like this.

    Thick sighed heavily. He crouched back down, and then sat flat on the ground. This is stupid. I want to go back to bed.

    Elliania glanced down at Dutiful's hands at his side, and then, cocking her head, looked up at his face. “So. Who are you waiting for?” Her eyes narrowed. “Lestra? Did she invite you to meet her here?”

    A very odd smile appeared on Dutiful's face. Was he pleased that he had pricked her to jealousy? He spoke more softly than she did, but I could watch his lips form the words. “Lestra? Why would I wait by moonlight for Lestra?”

    “There is no moon tonight,” Elliania pointed out sharply. “And as for why Lestra, why, because she would willingly give you her body to use as you wished. More for the sake of spiting me than because she found you handsome.”

    He crossed his arms on his chest. I wondered if he did so to hold in his satisfaction or to keep from taking her in his arms. She was slender as a willow, and her night braids fell to her hips. I could almost smell the warmth of her rising up to him. “So. Do you think she finds me handsome?”

    “Who knows? She likes odd things. She has a cat with a crooked tail and too many toes. She thinks it's pretty.” She shrugged. “But she would tell you that you were handsome, simply to win you.”

    “Would she? But perhaps I don't want Lestra to win me. She is pretty, but perhaps I don't want Lestra at all,” he suggested to her.

    All the night held its breath as she looked up at him. I saw the rise and fall of her breasts as she took a deeper breath, daring herself. “Then what do you want?” she asked, soft as a breeze.

    He didn't try to take her in his arms. I think she would have resisted that. Instead, he freed one hand from his crossed arms and, with the tip of one finger, lifted her chin. He leaned forward, bending down to take the kiss he stole from her. Stole? But she did not flee. Instead, she rose on her toes as only their mouths touched in the soft dimness.

    I felt a lecherous old man, sprawled in the darkness of the hedge, spying on them. I knew he plunged himself into danger, that they both took foolish chances, but my heart leaped at the thought that my lad might know love as well as an arranged marriage. When their kiss finally broke, I hoped he would send her back to her bedchamber. I wanted him to have this moment, but I also knew that I'd have to intervene if it looked like their experiment was going to venture past a kiss. I cringed at the thought, but steeled myself to the necessity of it.

    With dread, I heard her breathless question. “A kiss. That was all you wanted?”

    “It is all I'll take now,” he countered. His chest was rising and falling as if he'd run a race. “I'll wait until I've earned more to take more.”

    An uncertain smile crossed her face. “You need not earn it if I choose to give myself to you.”

    “But...you said you would not be my wife until I brought you the dragon's head.”

    “In my land, a woman gives herself where she will. It is different from being married. Or a wife, as you call it. Once a girl is a woman, she can take whatever man she wishes into her bedskins. It does not mean she is wed to each of them.” She glanced aside and added carefully, “You would be my first. Some consider that more special than to be vowed to one another. It would not make me your wife, of course. I will not be wife or wedded to you until you have brought the dragon's head here, to my mothershouse.”

    “I would like you to be my first, as well,” Dutiful said carefully. Then, as if uttering the words were as difficult as dragging a tree up by the roots, he added, “But not now. Not until I've done what I've said I'd do.”