The Fool faced a slow death by Forging.

'No,' I breathed as the reality seeped into me, and then, 'NO!' I roared at the Pale Woman. I twisted my head to look up at her, heedless of the hair torn from my head. 'Anything!' I promised her. 'Anything you want from me, if you let him go!'

She leaned back on her furs. 'How tedious. You capitulate much too easily, FitzChivalry Farseer. You didn't even wait to witness the demonstration. Well. I shall not deny myself that pleasure. Dret! Introduce him to my dragon.'

The named guard stepped forward, drawing his sword. 'No!' I roared, twisting helplessly against my guards as Dret set the point of his blade to the small of the Fool's back and urged him against the stone dragon.

He held him there for only an instant. The Fool did not scream. Perhaps it did not cause pain to his body. But as the man took back his sword, the Fool recoiled from the stone as a hand does from a hot ember. He leaned against the brief length of his chains, trembling but soundless. On the dragon's skin, I saw for an instant the outline of my friend's body as the dragon drank in his memories and emotions. Then his silhouette faded into the stone.

I wondered what the Fool had lost in that brief kiss of stone. A summer's day from his childhood, a moment of watching King Shrewd and Chadc talking by the firelight of the hearth in the old king's room? Had it been some moment he and I had shared, now snatched from him and gone forever? He would know such things had happened, but Forging would erase their significance to him. Our friendship and all we had meant to one another slowly would be erased from his mind before he died. When he died, he would not even have memories of having been loved to ease his passage.

I lifted my eyes to the Pale Woman. I think she drank in my misery as the dragon had sucked down the Fool's stolen moments.

'What do you want of me?' 1 asked her. 'What?'

She spoke calmly. 'Only that you take the easiest path and play the most likely role in the days to come. It will not be difficult for you, FitzChivalry. In almost every future I have foreseen, you accede to my request. Do your prince's bidding, do Chade's bidding, do the Narcheska's bidding- And mine. Take Icefyre's head. That is all. Think of the good you will do. Chade will be pleased, and your queen will win her alliance with the Out Islands. You'll be a hero in their eyes. Dutiful and the Narcheska can consummate their love for one another. I ask nothing difficult of you, only that you do what so many of your friends hope you will do.1

'Don't kill Icefyre!' The Fool's low-voiced cry begged me.

The Pale Woman sighed, as exasperated as if interrupted by an ill-mannered child. 'Dret. He wishes to kiss the dragon again. Assist him.'

'Please!' I shouted as the man again slowly drew his sword. I pulled my head free of my captor's grip to bow it in subservience before her. 'Please don't! I'll kill Icefyre. I will.'

'Of course you will,' she agreed sweetly as the tip of the sword sank into the Fool's back.

He resisted, even as fresh blood soaked his shirt- 'Fitz! She has the Narcheska's mother and sister captive here. We saw them, Fitz. They are Forged! EUiania and Peottre do her will to buy their deaths!' And then, the Fool screamed wordlessly as he surrendered to the sword's bite and sagged against the dragon. He twitched all over and the press of the guardsman's blade seemed to hold him there for an eternity. I would have covered my eyes if my hands had been free. I did shut my eyes tightly against the unbearable sight. When the scream ceased and I opened my eyes, my friend's body was outlined in silver on the dragon. More precious than blood, the experiences that made him who he was seeped away into the soulless stone. The Fool stood, muscles taut, straining against his chains to avoid contact with the stone. I heard the gasp of his breath, and prayed he would not speak again, but he did. 'She showed them to me! To show me what she could do to

me. You can't save me, Fitz! But don't make it all for nothing. Don't do her -'

'Again,' she said, between weariness and amusement at his stubbornness. Again Dret stepped forward. Again the sword, again the slow, relentless push. I bowed my head as my friend screamed. If I could have died at that moment, I would have done so. It would have been easier than listening to his torture. Far easier than the terrible, soulless relief that it was not me.

When the echoes of his cries had faded, I did not look up. I could not bear to. I would say nothing more to her or to the Fool, nothing that might tempt him to speak and bring more punishment on himself. I watched the drops of sweat that dripped from my face fall onto the ice and vanish. Just as the Fool was vanishing into the dragon. Beloved. I tried to Skill the thought to him, to send him something of my strength but it was a futile effort. My erratic magic, poisoned by elfbark, was gone again.

'I think I've convinced you,' the Pale Woman observed sweetly. 'But I'll make it very clear. You choose now. Icefyre's life, or your Beloved's. I'll set you free, to be on your way to kill the dragon. Do my will, and I give your friend back to you. Or as much as is left of him. The more swiftly you go, the more of him there will be for you to reclaim. Delay, and he may be Forged completely. But not dead. I promised you that. Not dead. Do you understand me, FitzChivalry Farseer, little assassin-king?'

I nodded, not lifting my eyes to her. I got a fist in the short ribs for that, and managed to lift my head. 'Yes,' I said softly. 'I understand.' I feared to look at the Fool.

'Excellent.' Satisfaction burned in her voice. She lifted her eyes to the ceiling of her glassy chamber and smiled- She spoke aloud, 'There, Icefyre. He understands. He will deliver you to your death.'

She looked back at my guards. 'Turn him out from the north chimney. Let him go there.' Then, as if she could feel my confusion, she met my eyes and smiled kindly. 'I don't know how you find your people again. I only know that you do. And that you kill the dragon. All is so clear before me now. There is no other path. Go, FitzChivalry. Do my will, and buy your Beloved back. Go.'

I called no word of farewell to the Fool as they marched me from the room. I feared he would somehow acknowledge my departure and earn another kiss from her stone dragon. They took me through the icy labyrinth of her lair at a quick march, and up an endless flight of stairs that eventually emerged into a sort of ice cave, a space between the rock and the glacier. Two held me, kneeling, as the third cleared the ice-blown snow and frost that blocked the entry. Then they stood me up and cast me out.

TWENTY-TWO

Reunion