Burrich continued to investigate my shoulder as if they were not there. He ignored Web, but the Witmaster watched Burrich intently. When Burrich spoke, it was to Dutiful. 'Prince Dutiful, my lord. You could be of great help to me right now, if you would. I'll need someone to hold him firmly round the chest and brace him while I do what must be done. If you would sit there, and lock your arms around him . . . Higher. Like so.'

The Prince came to Burrich's request and sat behind me. When Burrich had arranged the Prince's grip around me to his liking, he spoke to me. 'This is going to take a sharp tug. Don't look at me while I do it. Look straight ahead, and be as loose as you can. Don't tighten in fear for the pain to come or I'll only have to jerk it harder the second time. Steady. Hold him firm, my lord. Trust me, now, lad. Trust me.' As he spoke calmingly, he'd been slowly lifting my arm. I listened to his words, letting them drown out the pain, his touch filling me with calm and trust. 'Be easy, be easy, and . . . Now!'

I roared with the sudden shock, and in the next instant, Burrich was on his knee on the floor beside me, his big calloused hands holding my arm firmly to my shoulder. It tingled and it hurt, but it hurt the right way, and I leaned against him, weak with the relief of it. Even as I panted, I noticed how he held his game leg out at an angle, the knee scarce bending. I thought of what it had cost him to come all this way, near blind and half lame, and I felt humbled.

He spoke quietly into my ear as he embraced me. 'You're a man grown, all these many years, but when I see you hurt, 1 swear, you are eight years old and I'm thinking, "I promised his father I'd look after his son. I promised.'"

'You did,' I assured him. 'You have.'

Web spoke quietly, his voice deep. 'I stand amazed. That is a bit of Old Blood magic I thought was lost to us. I saw that kind of healing done on animals a few times when I was a lad, before old Bendry died in the Red Ship War. But I've never seen it used

that way on a man, nor so smoothly. Who taught you? Where have you been all these years?'

'I don't use beast-magic,' Burrich said emphatically.

'I know what I just saw,' Web replied implacably. 'Call it by any dirty name you like. You're a master of it, in a way that is near lost to us. Who taught you, and why have not you passed on the teaching?'

'No one taught me anything. Get out. And stay away from Swift.' There was dark threat in Burrich's words, and almost fear.

Web remained calm. 'I'll leave, for I think Fitz needs quiet, and a time for private speech with you. But I'll not let your son walk in ignorance. He gets his magic from you. You should have taught him your skills with it.'

'My father has the Wit?' Swift looked shocked to his core.

'It all makes sense now,' Web said quietly. He leaned toward Burrich, looking at him in a way that went beyond the touch of eyes. 'The Stablemaster. And a master in the Wit as well. How many creatures can speak to you? Dogs? Horses? What else? Where did you come from, why have you hidden yourself?'

'Get out!' Burrich flared.

'How could you?' Swift demanded, suddenly in tears. 'How could you make me feel so dirty and low, when it came from you, when you had it, too? I'll never forgive you. Never!'

'I don't need your forgiveness,' Burrich said flatly. 'Only your obedience, and I'll take that if I have to. Now both of you, out. I've work to do and you're in my way.'

The boy set down the teapot blindly and stumbled from the tent. I could hear the sobs that wracked him as he ran off into the night.

Web rose more slowly, setting the kettle of soup down carefully. 'I'll go, man. Now isn't our time. But our time to talk is going to come, and you'll hear me out, even if we must come to blows first.' Then he turned to me. 'Good night, Fitz. I'm glad you're not dead. I mourn that Lord Golden did not return with you.'

'You know who he is?' The words were torn from Burrich.

'Yes. I do. And by him, I know who you are. And I know who used the Wit to pull him back from death and raise him from the

grave. And so do you.' Web left on those words, letting the tent flap fall behind him.

Burrich stared after him, then blinked his clouded eyes. 'That man is a danger to my son,' he observed tightly. 'It may come to blows between us.' Then, he seemed to dismiss that concern. Turning his head toward Chade and Dutiful, he said, 'I need a strip of cloth or a leather strap or something to bind his arm to his shoulder for the night, until the swelling goes down and it holds firm on its own. What do we have?' Dutiful held up the robe the Pale Woman had given me. Burrich nodded in approval and Dutiful began cutting a strip off the bottom of it.

'Thank you.' And then, to me, 'You can eat with your right hand while I'm doing this. The hot food will warm you. Just try not to move too much.'

Dutiful gave Burrich the strip of fabric and began dishing the soup from the kettle to a bowl and pouring tea for me as if he were my page. He spoke as he did so, and yet I do not think the words were addressed to any one. There is nothing more I can do here. I try to think what I am to do, but nothing comes to me.' A time of quiet followed his words. 1 ate and Burrich worked on my shoulder. When he had finished strapping my arm to my body, he sat back on the pallet, his game leg stretched out awkwardly before him. Chade looked as if he had aged a decade. He had been pondering the Prince's words, for he said slowly, 'There are several paths you can take, my prince. We could simply leave tomorrow. That tempts me, I'll admit, if only for the prospect of abandoning all those who deceived and betrayed us. But it would be a petty vengeance, and in the end would win us nothing. Another choice is that we could fall in with Web's plan, and do all we can to free the dragon, abandoning our hopes of an alliance with the Out Islands and hoping instead to win the goodwill of Tintaglia and the Bingtown Traders.'

'Deserting the Fool,' I added quietly.

'And Riddle and Hest. Abandoning Elliania's mother and sister, and breaking the word that I gave. Breaking my word, before not just my own dukes, but before the Outislanders as well' He crossed his arms on his chest, looking ill. 'A fine king I shall make.'

'Abandoning the Fool cannot be helped,' Chade said. He spoke the words as gently as he could and yet they stabbed me. 'Leaving behind Elliania's relatives and breaking your word can be forgiven, for they used deception to win your promise. As in so many things, much will depend on how it is presented.'

Dutiful sounded subdued. 'Deception. What would we have done? Elliania's mother and her little sister. No wonder there is so much sorrow in her eyes. And that is why our betrothal ceremony at her mothershouse was so odd, and why her mother has been absent through all our negotiations. I thought Forging was an evil in the past. I never thought it would reach out and touch my life today.'

'But it has. And it explains much of Peottre's and the Narcheska's behaviour,' Chade added.

I flung all discretion to the winds. There was too much at stake for me to sit still through Chade's laborious plotting of possible courses. 'We go now, tonight, Dutiful and I only, in secrecy. Chade has created an exploding powder, one that has the force of a lightning bolt. We use it to kill the dragon. We will get our people back, one way or another from her. And when they are safe,' dead I thought to myself coldly, 'then I will rind a way to get to her and kill her.'

Chade and the Prince stared at me. Then Chade nodded slowly. The Prince looked as if he wondered who I was.

'Think!' Burrich barked at me suddenly. 'Think it through for yourself, with no assumptions. There is much here that makes no sense to me, questions that you should answer before you blindly do her wishes, regardless of what threat she holds over you. Why hasn't she simply killed the dragon herself? Why does she bid you do it, and then cast you out of her stronghold, when it would be easier for her to assist you in reaching him?' In an aside to no one, he muttered, 'I hate this. I hate thinking this way, the intrigue and the plotting. I always have.' He stared blindly into the recesses of the dim tent. 'All these intricate balances of power, ambition, and the Farseer drive to set forces in motion and ride them out. All the secrets. That is what killed your father, the finest man I ever knew. It killed his father, and it killed Verity, a man I was proud to have served. Must it kill yet another generation, must it end your whole line before you stop it?' He turned his gaze, and suddenly seemed to