1 sat down, dazed with cold and exhaustion, on Chade's bedding. Burrich spoke to me as he built up the little fire in the pot- His deep voice and the rhythm of his speech was a familiar comfort from my childhood. For a time I heard his voice without paying attention to the words, and then I realized he was reporting to me just as I had once reported to him. Once he had decided he must fetch Swift and me home, he had come as swiftly as he could, and he was sorry, so sorry that he had taken so long to find us. The Queen herself had helped him hire a boat to Aslevjal, but no man of the crew would willingly set foot on the island. When he had landed, he had tried to persuade Chade's guards to guide him to us, but they had righteously refused to leave their tent on the beach and the supplies they guarded. And so he had come on by himself, following Peottre's pennantcd poles. He had reached Thick's sled at almost the same time as Cockle and Longwick. Only their shouts of warning had prevented him from plunging into the same abyss that had claimed the Fool and me. Once he had found a safe crossing point, he had come back to the camp with Cockle and Longwick, bearing the news of the loss of Tom Badgerlock and Lord Golden. Chade had brought him to the privacy of the Prince's tent, and

quietly told him that those names also belonged to the Fool and me, Burrich had journeyed all the way to Aslevjal, only to hear yet again of my death. His voice was impassive as he related this to me, as if his own pain at hearing such words were of no consequence. 'I am glad to see they were wrong. Again.' His hands were busy chafing my hands and feet back to painful life.

'Thank you,' I said quietly when I could flex my hands again. There was too much to say to Burrich, and no privacy to say it in. So I looked at Chade and asked my most burning question. 'How close are we to killing the dragon?'

Chade came to sit beside me on his bed. 'We are closer than when you vanished, but not close enough,' he said bitterly. 'We were divided when you left. Now it's worse. We've been betrayed, Fitz. By a man we had all come to trust. Web sent his gull to Bingtown, bearing a message that tells the Traders everything, and bids them send Tintaglia to keep us from killing Icefyre.'

I shifted my gaze to Dutiful and stared in disbelief. 'You let him do this?'

Dutiful sat on the end of his pallet, his dark eyes large in his face as he watched us. There'were new lines in my prince's face, and his eyes were swollen as if he had wept freely in recent days. I scarce could bear to look at him.

'He did not ask my permission,' Dutiful said painfully. 'He said no man needs permission to do what is right.' He sighed. 'Indeed, much has happened in the few days you were gone. In your absence, we continued to dig down into the ice. We reached a point where we could see a huge shadowy body below us. Realizing we had dug down to the torso of the creature, we began to tunnel out from the side of our pit, following the line of his back towards his head. It has been cramped work, but less difficult than excavating the entire area. We believe that what we can see below us now is the dragon's neck and part of his head. But the closer we came to him, the stronger grew the feeling of the Wit-cotcrie that this is a creature which is not ours for the killing; that he harbours both life and intellect, although none of us can reliably sense him. My Old Bloods still dig alongside us each day, but I fear that they will side with the Hctgurd if I attempt to kill Icefyre.' He looked away

from me, as if shamed that his trust had been betrayed. 'Tonight, just before you came into camp, Web admitted to me that he had sent Risk. The contention was hot,' he said quietly.

My hope for a swift end to the dragon waned. It required every bit of discipline I had ever been taught to recount my misadventure in detail and in order. Irrational shame burned me as I spoke of how I had walked away from Hest and Riddle. When I told them of the Fool's fate, and of his words about the Narcheska's mother and sister, Dutiful swayed where he sat. 'At last, it all comes clear. Too late.'

I knew he was right and despair claimed me anew. Even if I knew the way back, even if I could persuade them to muster our entire force and march on the Pale Woman's stronghold, we were too few. She could kill or Forge him in moments, and doubtless would. Nor could I hope to kill the dragon quickly and win his release. Clear the ice, and we must still get past the Hetgurd, our own Old Bloods and perhaps Tintaglia.

The Pale Woman's promise that he would not die was a thinly-disguised threat. The Fool would be Forged. To me would fall the task of taking what remained of his life. I could not contemplate it.

'If we went by stealth to the pit, could we kill Icefyre? In secret? Tonight?' It was the only plan I could think of.

'Impossible.' The Prince said. His face and his voice were grey. The ice between him and us is too thick. There are days of pick- and shovel-work ahead of us before we reach his flesh. And before then, I fear Tintaglia will be here.' He closed his eyes for a moment. 'My quest has failed. I put my trust in the wrong place.'

I looked at Chade. 'How much time do we have?' How much time does the Fool have?

He shook his head. 'How fast can a gull fly? How swiftly will the Bingtown Traders react to Web's message? How fast can a dragon fly? No one knows those things. But I think the Prince is right. We have lost.'

I gritted my teeth. 'There is more than one way to move ice,' I said and looked at Chade meaningfully. The old man's eyes lit. But before he could reply, Swift's voice was lifted outside the tent.

'Sir! I've brought Tom Badgerlock's pack, and food will follow. May I come in?'

Dutiful nodded at Burrich, and he moved to beckon his son inside.

The boy came in. His bow to his Prince was stiffly formal and he did not look at his father or me. It pained me to see how the division between the Prince and his Wit-coterie tore the boy. At Burrich's command Swift dug through my pack to pull out dry clothing for me. The lad did not seem well disposed toward his father, but he obeyed him. Burrich saw me observing them, and after the boy had left, he said quietly, 'Swift was not exactly glad to see me when I got here. I didn't give him the thrashing he merited, but he's had the length of my tongue several times. He's not said much in reply, for he knew he deserved it. Here. Take off that wet robe.'

As I struggled to pull up my leggings, Burrich suddenly leaned into the light, peering at me with his clouded eyes. 'What's the matter with you? What's wrong with your arm?'

'It's pulled out of the socket,' I choked out. My throat had closed up at the sight of his eyes. I wondered how much he could see any more. How had he come to find us here, walking with clouded eyes across the snow?

He closed his eyes and shook his head. Then, 'Come here,' he said tersely. He turned me, and sat me down on the floor at his feet. His fingers walked my shoulder, and the pain they woke was oddly reassuring. He knew what he was doing. I knew it would hurt, but that he would also mend me. I could sense that from his fingers, just as I had when 1 was a boy, just as I had felt when he restored me after Galen had nearly killed me.

'We've brought the food. May we come in?'

The voice outside the tent was Web's. The Prince nodded curtly, his mouth a flat line, and again Burrich lifted the door flap. As Web entered, he greeted me with 'It's good to see you alive, Tom Badgerlock.' I nodded gravely, not trusting myself to find words. He met my eyes and accepted my hostility. The Prince looked aside from the man, his hurt plain in every line of his body. Chade glowered at him. Web's expression remained as kindly and calm as ever.

The small kettle he carried smelled like good beef rather than the fish I'd been expecting. Swift was behind him with a pot of tea. They crowded into the tent to set their burdens down within my reach.