Fool's Fate Part 15

Always, I replied to him. He did not need to suggest that I keep the Prince in sight. Until I knew what was behind this facade, I had no idea who might or might not wish him harm. And so I drifted about the wedding feast, never too far from my prince and keeping a light Skill-contact with him. I replied to him. He did not need to suggest that I keep the Prince in sight. Until I knew what was behind this facade, I had no idea who might or might not wish him harm. And so I drifted about the wedding feast, never too far from my prince and keeping a light Skill-contact with him.

The gathering was very different from any Buckkeep celebration. There was no seating of the guests according to rank or favor. Instead, the food was set out and people helped themselves to it and wandered the room as they ate it. There was roast mutton on spits kept warm near the hearth, and trays heaped with fowl cooked whole. I sampled from a platter of smoked candlefish, seasoned and crisp and remarkably tasty. Outislander breads seemed to be dark and unleavened, cooked in huge flat rounds. Diners tore off a piece of an appropriate size and then heaped it with sliced and pickled vegetables, or dipped it in fish oil and salt. All the flavors of the foods seemed overly strong to me, and much of it was pickled or smoked or salted. Only the mutton and the chicken were freshly killed, and even those had been seasoned with some sort of seaweed.

The eating and drinking, the talking and the music and some sort of juggling contest, with betting, all happened simultaneously. The roar of raised voices was near deafening. After a time, I became aware of something else. Young Outislander women of the Narwhal Clan were approaching not just our guardsmen but even Civil and c.o.c.kle. I saw several guards grinning fatuously as their young partners led them outside or up the shadowy staircase.

Are they deliberately luring Dutiful's guard away? I Skilled anxiously to Chade. I Skilled anxiously to Chade.

Here, it is a woman's prerogative, he replied. he replied. They do not have the same customs regarding chast.i.ty. The guardsmen were warned to be cautious but not cool. The Prince's warriors and companions are expected to be available for the evening but only if they are invited; it would be a breach of hospitality if they approached a woman who had not first signaled her interest. If you have not noticed, there is a lack of men here, and far fewer children than there should be for this many women. An empty womb filled on a wedding night foretells a lucky child, here. They do not have the same customs regarding chast.i.ty. The guardsmen were warned to be cautious but not cool. The Prince's warriors and companions are expected to be available for the evening but only if they are invited; it would be a breach of hospitality if they approached a woman who had not first signaled her interest. If you have not noticed, there is a lack of men here, and far fewer children than there should be for this many women. An empty womb filled on a wedding night foretells a lucky child, here.

Was there a reason I was not told of this before now?

Does it bother you?

After a moment of surrept.i.tious peering, I located my old mentor. He was sitting on one of the bed benches, nibbling on a fowl's leg and conversing with a woman half his age. I caught a glimpse of Civil and his cat disappearing into the upper reaches of the house. The woman who led him was at least five years older than he was, but he did not look intimidated. I had no time to wonder or worry where Swift had vanished to; surely he was too young to be of any interest to these viragos. In that moment I realized that Dutiful was leaving the mothershouse in the company of a gaggle of the Narcheska's girlish friends. Elliania did not look particularly pleased, even though she still held his hand and led him out of the door.

It was not easy to follow him. A woman with a tray of sweets stepped between me and the door. I managed to feign a thick-witted indifference to her offering of more than the sticky confections as I helped myself to a handful in a boorish display of greed and ate them in two mouthfuls. Somehow this flattered her, and she set the tray aside and followed me as I ate them. She was still at my elbow when I reached the door. "Where's the backhouse?" I asked her, and when she did not understand the Six Duchies euphemism, I mimed what I sought. With a puzzled look, she pointed out a low building to me and returned to the feasting. As I walked toward it, I cast a wide glance for Dutiful. There were several couples in the courtyard, in various stages of dalliance, and two boys carrying water from the well back into the mothershouse. Where had he gone?

I saw him at last, not far away, sitting beside Elliania on a gra.s.sy rise near some young apple trees. The other girls had settled around them in a ring. These were girls not yet women, as their loose hair proclaimed. I guessed that their ages ranged from ten to fifteen or so. Doubtless, before this night, they were Elliania's playmates for years. Now she has left their companions.h.i.+p behind her with her change to woman's status. Doubtless, before this night, they were Elliania's playmates for years. Now she has left their companions.h.i.+p behind her with her change to woman's status.

Not quite, Dutiful informed me sourly. Dutiful informed me sourly. They have evaluated me as if I were a horse bought cheap at the fair. "If he is a warrior, where are his scars?" "Did he not have a clan? Why does his face not bear her tattoo?" They tease her, and one of them is quite a nasty little vixen. Lestra is her name, and she is Elliania's older cousin. She is mocking Elliania, saying that perhaps she is a woman and even wed in name, but that she doubts that she has ever been kissed. Lestra claims to have been kissed several times, quite thoroughly, even though she has not bled yet. Fitz, have the girls no shame or reticence in this land? They have evaluated me as if I were a horse bought cheap at the fair. "If he is a warrior, where are his scars?" "Did he not have a clan? Why does his face not bear her tattoo?" They tease her, and one of them is quite a nasty little vixen. Lestra is her name, and she is Elliania's older cousin. She is mocking Elliania, saying that perhaps she is a woman and even wed in name, but that she doubts that she has ever been kissed. Lestra claims to have been kissed several times, quite thoroughly, even though she has not bled yet. Fitz, have the girls no shame or reticence in this land?

I grasped it on an intuitive level. Dutiful, it is a driving-out. Elliania is no longer one of them, and so they will peck and tease her tonight. Doubtless it would have happened in any case; it may even be seen as a part of her womanhood ceremony Dutiful, it is a driving-out. Elliania is no longer one of them, and so they will peck and tease her tonight. Doubtless it would have happened in any case; it may even be seen as a part of her womanhood ceremony. And then, needlessly, I added, Be careful. Follow her lead, lest you shame her somehow. Be careful. Follow her lead, lest you shame her somehow.

I have no idea what she wants of me, he replied helplessly. he replied helplessly. She glares at me out of the corner of her eye, and yet holds to my hand as if it were a line thrown to her in wild water. She glares at me out of the corner of her eye, and yet holds to my hand as if it were a line thrown to her in wild water.

As clearly as if I sat beside him, the words reached me through our Skill-link. The girl who flung the challenge was taller than Elliania, and perchance older. I knew enough of women to know that age alone did not determine their blood time. Indeed, save for her loose hair, I would have guessed her a woman already. Lestra spoke saucily, taunting Elliania with, "So. You'll bind him to you, so no one else can have him, but you dare not even kiss him!"

"Perhaps I do not wish to kiss him yet. Perhaps I intend to wait until he has proven himself worthy of me."

Lestra shook her head. She had little bells wired into her hair and I heard the jingle of her mane as she said mockingly, "No, Elliania, we know you well. As a girl you were always the most meek and least daring of us. I daresay you are the same as a woman. You don't dare kiss him, and he is too timid a man to take one for himself. He is a smooth-cheeked boy, masquerading as a man. Isn't that true, 'Prince'? You are as timid as she is. Perhaps I could teach you to be bolder. He does not even look at her b.r.e.a.s.t.s! Or perhaps they are so small, he cannot see them."

I did not envy Dutiful. I had no advice to offer him. I sat myself down on the low stone wall that marked the edge of the young orchard. I lifted my hands to my face and rubbed my cheeks, as a man does when he has had too much to drink and seeks to drive the tingle from his face. I hoped folk would think me drunk and leave me sitting. I did not relish watching Dutiful go through his dilemma, but I dared not leave him. I sagged my shoulders and set my head as if staring into the distance while watching out of the corner of my eye.

Dutiful made an effort, speaking stiffly. "Perhaps I respect Narcheska Elliania too much to take what she has not offered." I could feel his steely determination not to look at her b.r.e.a.s.t.s as he said this. His awareness of them, bared and warm so near him, was taking its toll.

He could not see the look Elliania cast to one side. That answer had not pleased her.

"But you don't respect me, do you?" the little minx taunted him.

"No," he replied shortly. "I do not think that I do."

"Then there is no problem. Show your boldness and kiss me!" Lestra commanded him triumphantly. "And I will tell her if she is missing anything worth having." As if to force him to the act, she leaned forward suddenly, thrusting her face at him, even as one sly hand flew toward his groin. "What's this?" she crowed mischievously as Dutiful shot to his feet with an exclamation of outrage. "There's more than a kiss he has waiting for you, Elliania. Look at it! An army of one has pitched a tent for you there! Will the siege last long?"

"Stop it, Lestra!" Elliania snarled. She too had come to her feet. Her cheeks blazed with color and she did not look at Dutiful but scowled at her enemy. Her bared b.r.e.a.s.t.s rose and fell with her angry breath.

"Why? You've obviously no intent of doing anything interesting with him. Why shouldn't I take him? By rights, he should be mine, just as by rights I should be Narcheska. And will be, when he takes you off to be a lesser woman in his own mothershouse."

Several of the girls gasped, but Elliania's eyes only blazed hotter.

"That is among the oldest of the lies you tell, Lestra! Your great-grandmother was the younger twin. Both midwives said so."

"First out of the womb is not always oldest, Elliania. So many say. Your great-grandmother was a mewling, sickly kitten of a babe. Mine was the hearty, healthy child. Your great-grandmother had no right to be Narcheska, nor did her daughter, or her granddaughter, or you!"

"Sickly? Indeed! Then how is it that she lives still, as Great Mother! Take back your lie, Lestra, or I will cram it down your throat." Elliania spoke in a flat, ugly voice. It carried well. I was not the only one who had turned to watch the quarrel. When Dutiful stepped forward, mouth open to speak, Elliania put her hand flat in the center of his chest and thrust him back. The young girls formed into a ring now around the potential combatants and he found himself outside it. He looked toward me as if for help.

Don't intervene, I think. Elliania has made it plain that she doesn't want you to.

I hoped my advice was good. Even as I attempted to Skill the situation to Chade, I saw Peottre. He had probably been lurking just out of my line of sight at the building's corner. He strolled over to the low wall where I sat and leaned one hip on it casually. "He should stay out of that," he said to me casually.

I swung my head and regarded him blearily. "Who?"

He stared at me levelly. "Your prince. He should leave this to Elliania to settle. It's woman's business, and she won't welcome his interference. You should convey that to him, if you can."

Peottre says, Step back from it. Let Elliania settle it.

What? Dutiful demanded in consternation. Dutiful demanded in consternation.

Why is Peottre speaking to you? Chade demanded. Chade demanded.

I don't know!

To Peottre, I said, "I'm just his guardsman, sir. I don't advise the Prince."

"You're his bodyguard," Peottre replied pleasantly. "Or his . . . what would it be in your language? His chaperon? As I am for Elliania. You're good, but you're not invisible. I've seen you watching him."

"I'm his guardsman. I'm supposed to guard him," I protested, letting the words slur a little. I wished I'd thought to have a gla.s.s of wine. The smell of spirits can be very convincing.

He was no longer looking at me. I turned to stare up the hill. There was a shout behind me from the door of the mothershouse, and I heard other people emerging. The two girls had gone into a clinch. With apparent ease, Lestra threw Elliania onto the ground on her back. Even at that distance, I heard her breath whoosh out of her. Peottre made a frustrated sound and he twitched in that small way that experienced fighters do when they are watching a prized student compete. As Lestra flung herself on top of Elliania, the smaller girl suddenly drew her knees up to her chest and firmly kicked her opponent in her midsection. Lestra shot backward, landing badly. Elliania rolled to her knees and, careless of her fine gown and coiffed hair, flung herself on top of Lestra. Every muscle in Peottre's neck and arms was taut, but he did not move. I came to my feet to gain a better vantage and gawked, just as the other Buckkeep guardsmen were doing. The Outislanders who had emerged to watch the struggle were interested, but not intent. Evidently, for girls or women to wrestle in this manner was not shocking to them.

By sitting high on Lestra's chest, her knees on her arms, Elliania had effectively pinned the larger girl to the earth. Lestra was kicking and struggling, but the Narcheska had gripped a handful of her loose hair to fix her head to the ground. With her free hand, she rubbed a handful of dirt into Lestra's mouth. "Let honest earth cleanse the lie from your lips!" she shouted triumphantly. Dutiful stood back from them, his mouth ajar. He was aware of the wild jiggle of Elliania's bared b.r.e.a.s.t.s as her chest heaved with exertion. I sensed he was as horrified at his physical reaction to that as he was by the girls' struggle. All around them, the other girls leaped and yelled, encouraging the combatants.

With a wild shriek, Lestra tore her head free of Elliania's grasp, leaving her clutching a goodly handful of hair. Elliania slapped her, hard, and then seized her by the throat. "Call me Narcheska, or you will not draw another breath!" she shouted at her.

"Narcheska! Narcheska!" the older girl shrieked, and then she began to sob wildly, more from frustration and humiliation than pain.

Elliania put her hand flat to Lestra's face and pushed up off it as she stood. "Leave her alone!" she warned two of the girls who stepped forward to aid the loser. "Let her lie there and be glad that I didn't have my knife. I am a woman now. From now on, my knife will answer anyone who dares to dispute that I am Narcheska. From now on, my knife will answer anyone who dares to touch the man I have claimed for myself."

I glanced at Peottre. His grin was hard, showing every tooth he had. Elliania reached Dutiful in two strides. He stood gawking down at his disheveled bride. As casually as I would seize a horse's mane to mount him, she reached up and gripped his warrior's tail. As she pulled his face down to hers, she commanded him, "You will kiss me now."

An instant before their mouths met, he s.n.a.t.c.hed his Skill-awareness away from me. Yet neither I nor any man watching needed the Skill to sense the fervor in that kiss. She locked her mouth to his, and as his arms came awkwardly around her to draw her closer, she leaned into his embrace, deliberately brus.h.i.+ng her bared b.r.e.a.s.t.s against his chest. Then she broke the kiss, and while Dutiful drew an uneven breath, she met his eyes and reminded him, "Icefyre's head. On my mothers' hearth. Before you may call me wife." Then, from within the circle of his embrace, she looked at her old playmates and announced, "You girls may stay here and play if you wish. I'm taking my husband back inside to the feasting."

She stepped clear of his arms, and took his hand again. He followed her docilely, grinning vapidly. Lestra was sitting up, alone, staring after them with fury and shame. There were approving whoops from several women and some envious groans from the watching men as she triumphantly led her prize past them. I glanced at Peottre. He looked stunned. Then his eyes came to mine. "She had to do that," he told me sternly. "To make her point with the other girls. That's why she did it. To establish herself in their eyes as a woman, and to make clear her claim to him."

"I could see that," I agreed mildly. But I did not believe him. I suspected that something had just happened that was outside his plan for Elliania and Dutiful. It made it all the more essential for me to discover just what his true intent was.

The rest of the evening seemed bland. Eating, drinking, and listening to Outislander bards could not compare to the claiming of power that I had just witnessed. I found a meat pie and a mug of ale and took it to a quiet corner. I pretended to be absorbed in it as I Skilled to Chade all that I had witnessed.

This is moving more swiftly than I had dared hope, he Skilled in return. he Skilled in return. And yet I mistrust it. Does she truly want him as husband, or was it only to establish that what she claimed, no one can take from her? Does she hope l.u.s.t will spur him to kill the dragon for her? And yet I mistrust it. Does she truly want him as husband, or was it only to establish that what she claimed, no one can take from her? Does she hope l.u.s.t will spur him to kill the dragon for her?

I felt foolish as I told him, This is the first time I have realized that if she becomes his bride and moves to his house, some will say she has forfeited her place here. Lestra spoke of her becoming a "lesser woman in his mothershouse." What did it mean? This is the first time I have realized that if she becomes his bride and moves to his house, some will say she has forfeited her place here. Lestra spoke of her becoming a "lesser woman in his mothershouse." What did it mean?

Chade's reply came reluctantly. I think the idiom is the same used for a woman captured in a raid, but taken as a wife rather than a slave. Her children have no clan. It is like being a b.a.s.t.a.r.d, somewhat. I think the idiom is the same used for a woman captured in a raid, but taken as a wife rather than a slave. Her children have no clan. It is like being a b.a.s.t.a.r.d, somewhat.

Then why would she agree to this? Why would Peottre allow it? And if she is not the Narcheska when she comes to Buckkeep and remains there, do we gain any advantage by this wedding? Chade, this does not make sense to me.

There is still too much that is not clear here, Fitz. I sense an unseen current in all this. Stay alert.

And so I did, through the long evening and longer night. The sun lingered as it does in that northern clime, so that night was just a long twilight. When the time came for the bridal couple to retire, it was Dutiful who announced that he would remain below in the common room "lest any say that I have taken what I have not earned." It added another awkward moment to the day, and I saw a puff-lipped Lestra gloating about it with her cohorts. The couple parted at the foot of the staircase, Elliania ascending and Dutiful going off to take a seat beside Chade. This night, he would sleep within the mothershouse, as befitted a man properly wedded to a woman of the clan, but down here on the bed boards, not above with Elliania. His guards were dismissed for the night, to return to the warriors' housing or warmer welcomes, so long as their partners bedded them outside the mothershouse walls. I longed to move closer to Chade and Dutiful and have some quiet talk with them, but I knew it would look odd. Instead, I decided that it was time for me to return to my own lodgings.

I had not gone far when I heard footsteps crunching on the pathway behind me. Glancing back, I saw Web. Beside him slogged a weary Swift. The tops of his cheeks were very pink and I suspected the boy had overindulged in wine. Web nodded to me, and I slackened my pace to allow them to catch up with me. "Quite an occasion," I remarked idly to Web when he walked beside me.

"Yes. I think the Outislanders now regard our prince as wed to their narcheska. I thought this was only to confirm the betrothal before her mother's hearth." There was a note of question in his statement.

"I don't think they make any distinction between couples marrying and couples announcing that they will marry. Here, where property and children belong to the women, marriage is seen in a different light."

He nodded slowly. "No woman ever has to wonder if a babe is truly hers," he observed.

"Does it make that great a difference that the children belong more to the woman than they do the husband?" Swift asked curiously. His words were not slurred, but when he spoke, I could smell the wine on his breath.

"I think it depends on the man," Web answered gravely. After that, we walked for a time in silence. Whether I would or no, my thoughts wandered to Nettle and Molly and Burrich and me. To whom did she belong now?

As we drew near the cottage, the town around us was silent. Any folk who were not at the wedding festivities in the mothershouse were long abed. I opened the door quietly. Thick needed all the rest he could get; I did not wish to wake him. The slice of light that we admitted to the cottage showed me Riddle lying on the floor beside Thick's bed. One eye was open and his hand was on his bared blade arranged beside him. When he saw who it was, he closed his eyes and lapsed back into sleep.

I remained standing motionless by the door. There was another intruder in the cottage, one whose presence Riddle had not noticed. Large and round as a fat cat, yet masked like a ferret, he crouched on the table, his bushy striped tail sticking straight up behind him. He looked at us with round eyes over the hunk of our cheese that he clutched in his front paws. The marks of his sharp teeth were clearly visible in it.

"What is it?" I breathed to Web.

"I think they call it a robber-rat, though rat it is clearly not. I've never seen the like of it before," he replied as softly.

The robber-rat stared past us both, his entire attention fixed on Swift. Like a whisper against my senses, I became aware of the Wit flowing between the two. There was a smile on Swift's face. He stepped forward, pus.h.i.+ng between Web and me to do so. I lifted a hand to reach after him, but before I could do so, Web's hand fell on the boy's shoulder. He jerked Swift back, startling the robber-rat with the abruptness of his move. Aloud, he told the creature, "Take the cheese and go." Then, in the harshest voice I'd ever heard him use, he demanded of Swift, "What did you think you were doing? Have you not heard one word of anything I've tried to teach you?"

Robber-rat and cheese were gone in a flicker of motion, vanis.h.i.+ng through the open window with a flick of striped tail.

Swift gave a cry of disappointment and tried to wrench himself free of Web's grip. The stout man's hand held him firm. The boy was angry, mostly I think in response to Web's visible anger with him. "All I did was greet him! I liked the feel of him. I could sense that we would go well together. And I wanted-"

"You wanted him like a child wants a bright toy on a tinker's tray!" Web spoke severely and there was no mistaking the condemnation in his voice as he released Swift's shoulder. "Because he was sleek and swift and clever. And he is as young and foolish as you are. And as curious. You felt him reach back to you not because he was seeking a partner but because you intrigued him. That is not a basis for a Wit-bond. And you are not old enough or mature enough to be seeking a partner. If you attempt that again, I will punish you, just as I would punish any child who deliberately put himself or a playmate into danger."

Riddle had sat up and was regarding the discussion with open-mouthed astonishment. It was no secret to anyone that both Web and Swift were part of Dutiful's Witted coterie. I shuddered to think how close I had come to betraying myself as Old Blood. Even Thick had opened one sleepy eye to scowl at the argument.

Swift flung himself disconsolately into a chair. "Danger," he muttered. "What danger? Is it dangerous that I might have someone that cared about me, at last?"

"Danger that you would bond with a creature you know nothing about? Has he a mate and kits at home? Would you take him from them, or remain here on this island when we sailed? What does he eat and how often? Would you stay here with him for his life span, or take him away from all others of his kind when we left here, condemning him to remain forever mateless? You took no thought for him, Swift, nor for anything beyond the connection of the moment. You're like a drunk, bedding a young girl tonight with no thoughts for the morrow. It is not a behavior I can excuse. No true Old Blood would."

Swift glared at him. Riddle spoke thoughtlessly into the tense silence. "I did not know the Witted had any rules about bonding with animals. I thought they could bond with any creature, for an hour or a year."

"A false perception," Web said heavily, "that many folk not of Old Blood have about us. It is bound to happen, when one people must keep their ways secret and unseen. But it leads to the idea that we use animals and then discard them. It makes it easier for folk to think we would bid a bear savage a man's family, or send a wolf to kill a flock of sheep. The Wit-bond is not a man taking mastery over an animal. It is a joining founded on mutual respect, for life. Do you understand that, Swift?"

"I meant no harm," he replied stiffly. There was no repentance or apology in his voice.

"Neither does the child who plays with fire and burns a cottage down. Meaning no harm is not enough, Swift. If you would be Old Blood, then you must respect our rules and ways all the time, not just when it suits you."

"And if I don't?" Swift asked sullenly.

"Then call yourself a Piebald, for that is what you will be." Web drew in a heavy breath and then sighed it out. "Or an outcast," he said softly. I felt that he tried not to look at me as he spoke those last words. "Why any man would wish to remain apart from his own, I do not know."

chapter 11.

WUISLINGTON.

The attachment that the women have to their clan lands is remarkable. They often refer to tales that the earth itself is made from Eda's flesh and bones while the sea belongs to El. All land belongs to the women of the clan; the men born into a clan may tend the land and help with the harvest, but the women determine the distribution of the harvest and also decree what crops will be planted and where and in what proportions. It is not merely a matter of owners.h.i.+p, but a matter of Eda's wors.h.i.+p.Men may be buried anywhere, and most often are given to the sea. But all women must be buried within their own clan fields. The graves are honored for seven years, during which time the burial field is left fallow. After that, they are plowed again, and the first harvest from such a field is served in a special feast.While the Outislander men are wanderers and may remain away from their home ports for years, the women tend to stay close to the lands of their birth. In marriage, they expect their husbands to reside with them. If an Outislander woman dies away from her clan lands, extraordinary efforts will be made to return her body to her clan fields. To do otherwise is both great shame and serious sacrilege for the woman's clan. The clans will willingly go to war to repatriate a woman's body to her home.- "AN ACCOUNT OF TRAVEL IN A BARBAROUS LAND,"

BY SCRIBE FEDWREN.

We were guests at Wuislington at the Narcheska's mothershouse for twelve days. It was a strange hospitality they offered us. Chade and Prince Dutiful were allotted sleeping s.p.a.ce on the benches in the lower level of the house. The Witted coterie was housed alongside the guardsmen outside the walls. Thick and I continued in our cottage, with Swift and Riddle as frequent visitors. Every day, Chade sent two of the guards into the village to purchase victuals. They brought a share to us in the cottage, some to the guards, and the rest back to the mothershouse. Although Blackwater had promised to feed us, Chade had chosen this tactic shrewdly. To be seen as dependent on the Narwhal mothershouse largesse would be seen as a weakness and a foolish lack of planning.

There were good aspects to our extended stay. Thick began to recover his health. He still coughed and was short of breath if he went for a walk, but he slept more naturally, took an interest in his surroundings, ate and drank, and generally recovered some of his spirits. He still held it against me that I had forced him to travel there in a s.h.i.+p and that he would eventually have to leave in the same way. Every effort at casual conversation that I made always seemed to lead us back to that bone of contention. Sometimes it seemed easier not to speak to him at all, but then I sensed his anger for me as a simmering displeasure. I hated that things had become uncomfortable between us when I had worked so hard to gain his trust. When I said as much to Chade during one of our brief meetings, he dismissed it as necessary. "It would be far worse if he blamed it on Dutiful, you see. In this, you will have to be the whipping boy, Fitz." I knew it was so, and yet his words were no comfort.

Riddle spent several hours daily with Thick, usually when Chade wanted me to keep an un.o.btrusive eye on Dutiful. Web and Swift often came to the cottage. Swift seemed chastened by Web's rebuke and appeared generally more respectful to both Web and myself. I kept the lad busy with daily lessons and demanded that he practice his bow as well as his swordsmans.h.i.+p. Thick would come to sit outside the cottage and watch our mock battles in the sheep enclosure. He always cheered for Swift, bellowing his pleasure every time the boy landed a blow with the bound swords we used. I confess that bruised my feelings as much as Swift's thwacks bruised my flesh. It was my own skills more than his that I wished to keep sharp, but teaching the boy not only gave me an excuse to practice, it also allowed me to demonstrate my proficiency to the Outislanders. They did not gather to watch, but from time to time I would glimpse a lad or two perched on a nearby wall, eyeing us. I resolved that if I must be spied upon, I would see that the reports of me were that I was not easy prey. I did not think that their scrutiny was casual curiosity.

I felt constantly watched in that place. Wherever I went, always it seemed there was someone nearby, idly lingering. I could not have pointed to a single boy or old woman who spied on me, and yet there were always eyes on my back. I felt too a sense of danger to Thick. It was in the glances he received whenever we went out, and in the reaction of the folk we encountered. They drew back from him as if he carried contagion, and stared after us as if he were a two-headed calf. Even Thick seemed aware of it. I realized that, without consciously thinking of it, he seemed to use the Skill to be less noticed. It was not like his blast of "You don't see me!" that had once nearly laid me low, but more a constant announcement of his unimportance. I stored the knowledge away as something worth discussing with Chade.

I had little true time with my old mentor, and the Skill-messages I relayed to him were brief. We all felt it was more important that he use his Skill-strength in being available to Dutiful. Chade had also decided that as Peottre Blackwater had already discerned that I was a bodyguard for the Prince, there was no harm in my more openly pursuing that role. "As long as he does not realize you are any more than that," Chade cautioned me.

I tried to be an un.o.btrusive observer and guard to the Prince. Although Dutiful never complained I think he was uncomfortable with my constant lurking presence. The rest of the settlement regarded Dutiful and Elliania as a married couple now. There was no effort to chaperone them in any way. Only Peottre's presence, as subtle as a standing stone, reminded us that some in the Narcheska's family would see that their relations.h.i.+p remained chaste until Dutiful had fulfilled his end of the bargain. I think Peottre and I watched one another as much as we watched Dutiful and the Narcheska. In a strange way, we became partners.

I discovered in that time one of the reasons why the Narcheska was held in such regard by all of the clans, not just Narwhal. This was a culture in which women owned the land and what it produced. I had a.s.sumed the wealth of the clan was in its sheep. It was only when I trailed Dutiful and Elliania on one of their hikes across the rocky hills of the island that I came to discover its true wealth. They crested a ridge, with Peottre a discreet distance away from them and me a distant fourth. As I too reached the rise and then looked down into the next valley, I gasped.

There were three lakes in the valley, and two of them steamed even in the height of the summer day. Greenery was lush all around them, as were the precisely planted and tended fields that patchworked the valley. As I followed them down into the valley, the constant cooling wind faded. I walked down into cupped warmth and the smell of mineral-rich water. The boulders and stones had been cleared from the fields to neatly divide the crops as stone fences. Not only did the crops grow better in this warmer valley, but there I saw plants and trees that I would have judged too tender to flourish this far north. Here, in the harsh Out Islands, was an island mellowed by bubbling hot springs into an oasis of gentle warmth and plenty. No wonder the winning of the Narcheska was seen as such a prize. An alliance with she who controlled the food produced here was a valuable thing indeed in these harsh lands.

Yet I also had to note that, even in the midst of the summer, many of the fields were left fallow, and workers on the land were not as numerous as I would have expected. Again, the women and girls outnumbered the men and boys, and few of the males were in their prime years. It presented a mystery to me. Here were women, wealthy in land and lacking the workers to farm it. Why were there not more men courting here from other clans, seeking to contribute children to this island of plenty?

One early evening, Dutiful and Elliania were jumping two of the scrawny little island ponies that her people used for a mult.i.tude of tasks on Mayle. Their course was a stony meadow at the gently sloping base of a hill littered with boulders, and their makes.h.i.+ft jumps were cut saplings laid across paired boulders. The little ponies amazed me with how high they could leap when badgered into jumping. Sheep had cropped the gra.s.s short and scrub brush fringed the meadow. The deepening blue of the sky arched over us, and soon the first stars would show. They were riding bareback, and Dutiful had already taken two tumbles from his scrawny and willful steed in his attempts to keep pace with his fearless consort. The girl was wholeheartedly enjoying herself. She rode astraddle; her yellow skirts bunched and blossomed around her legs. From the knee down, her legs were bare, even her feet. Her cheeks were flushed, her hair wild, and she rode with a disregard for everything except showing the Prince she could excel him at this. The first time he fell, Elliania had ridden on, her mocking laughter reaching all of us. The second time, she actually rode back to see if he was injured while Peottre caught the nasty little beast and led it back to them. Most of my attention was focused on Dutiful; I felt proud of him for how genial he had been about both falls.

These ponies are as skinny and bony as calves. Trying to keep a seat on one is more bruising than taking the fall when it hops sideways.

Elliania seems to manage it well enough, I pointed out teasingly. At the look he shot me, I hastily added, I pointed out teasingly. At the look he shot me, I hastily added, It doesn't look easy. I think she admires your tenacity. It doesn't look easy. I think she admires your tenacity.

I think she admires my bruises, the little vixen. I caught a note of fondness in the epithet. As if to distract me from that, the Prince added, I caught a note of fondness in the epithet. As if to distract me from that, the Prince added, Glance to your left and tell me if you see someone behind the boulders at the edge of the scrub brush. Glance to your left and tell me if you see someone behind the boulders at the edge of the scrub brush.

I flicked my eyes that way without turning my head. Something was there. I was not sure if it was a person or a large animal crouched there. The Prince remounted, and clung to his seat while the pony did a series of wild crow-hops across the meadow. His mount was obviously weary of the game, but Elliania's merry laughter rewarded Dutiful's efforts to stay on top. He cleared the jump that had previously defeated him, and she saluted him with a flourish. Her enjoyment of the spectacle seemed genuine, and a glance at Peottre showed that a grudging smile lit even his dour face. I joined my laughter to theirs and walked closer to them.

Ride toward that area and take a tumble. And when you do, make sure the pony flees toward the boulders.