Burrich shook his head at me as I freed my arm from its binding and carefully threaded my left hand into my shirtsleeve. It was sore, but I could use it. Carefully. The prospect that the dragon might be slain tonight had fired me. A calm part of me knew that all I had was the Pale Woman's word that she would release the Fool as soon as Icefyre was dead. It was scarcely reliable, and yet it was the only chance I had. And if Chade's powder did slay the beast, but did not win the Fool's release, then a second dose might very well open up a passageway into the realm under the ice. I kept that thought to myself for now.

'What are the dangers?' Dutiful asked, but Chade waved a dismissive hand.

'1 made extensive tests. I dug holes on the beach, built fires in the bottom of them, and when they were burning well, put in the box of powder and retreated. The explosion created a pit on the beach proportionate to the amount of powder in the sealed container. Why should ice and snow be any different? Oh, I'll grant you that they are heavier and thicker, but that is why we'll use a larger container of powder. Now as for the fire -'

'Easily done,' I said. My mind was already racing. I had found Chade's cloak. I settled it around my shoulders. 'A container of some kind, a large cooking pot. That kettle we use for stew and melting snow for water. That will do. Kindling to start a small fire in the bottom of it, and then the Fool's burning oil from his tent.

I will crawl down the tunnel, get the fire going, and then put in the powder and crawl out. Hastily. Chade and I grinned at one another. I was already infected with his enthusiasm.

Chade nodded, then knit his brows. 'But the kettle's not big enough to hold the whole cask. Ah, let me think, let me think. I have it. Several layers of cured leather under the kettle. When you have the fire going well in the kettle, tip it over onto the leather. It will contain it well enough for the short time it will take. Then thrust the cask into the fire. And come out of the tunnel. Quickly.' He grinned at me as if it were all a fine jest. Peottre looked alarmed, the Narcheska confused. Burrich was scowling, his face gone black as a thundercloud. Prince Dutiful looked torn between a boy's desire to make things happen and a monarch's need to consider all decisions carefully. When he spoke, I knew which side had won.

'I should do it, not Fi- Tom Badgerlock. His arm is all but useless. And I said I would do it. It's my task.'

'No. You're the heir to the Farseer throne. We can't risk you!' Chade forbade it.

'Ah! Then you admit there is a risk!' Burrich growled as I dragged Chade's boots on to my feet. They were too big for me. I had never realized the skinny old man had such long feet.

My mind churned with plans. 'I need the kettle, the oil from the Fool's supplies, kindling and tinder, a tinderbox, two treated hides. And the keg of powder.'

'And a lantern. You'll need light to see what you're doing down there in the dark. I'll bring the lantern.' Dutiful had ignored Chade's warning.

'No. No lantern. Well. Perhaps a small one. We go now and we go silently. If the rest of your Witted coterie gets wind of what we're up to ... well. We just don't need that to happen.' As I had struggled with the boots, I had realized I'd need someone to help me. My shoulder was still twinging at the slightest demand on it. The Prince would be that person. I'd send Dutiful out of the tunnel as soon as I had the fire started. He could stand beside me on the edge of the pit while we waited for the powder to burst. Surely that would be enough to fulfil his word as a Farseer that he would take the dragon's head.

'Witted coterie!' Burrich exploded.

I sorted through Chade and Dutiful's clothing and selected Chade's fur hat. I felt impatient. 'Yes. The circle of Witted ones who serve the Farseer king. Did you think the Skill was the only magic that could be employed that way? Ask Swift about it- He's close to being a member of it. And despite Web's betrayal of our plan, I do not think it a bad idea.' Then, as Burrich stared at me, both dumbfounded and insulted, I reminded Chade, 'Send Longwick to gather those supplies himself. He's tight-lipped and loyal; he won't let a rumour start.'

'I'll go with him,' Dutiful said. He did not wait for anyone to agree, but snatched up his cloak. He paused briefly near Elliania. His eyes did not meet hers but he offered, 'I give you my word. If I can find clean death for your mother and sister, it will be theirs.' Then he was gone.

'The Farseer prince uses magic?' Peottre demanded as he stared after him.

Chade hastily devised a lie. 'That was not what Tom said. The Prince has a circle of friends here who can use the Wit, which is sometimes called Old Blood magic in the Six Duchies. They came with him to help him.'

'Magic is dirty stuff,' Peottre opined. 'At least a sword is honest and a man sees his death coming. Magic is the way the Pale Woman has enchained our folk and shamed us of them. Magic is how she binds us still, to do her low tasks.'

Burrich nodded slowly. 'Would that the magic of the sword could be worked on her. It is never fitting that a strong man falls to guile, especially the guile of an evil and ambitious woman.' I knew he thought of my father then, and how Queen Desire had plotted his death.

The Narwhal Clan kaempra stood slowly, as if some thought were uncurling uncomfortably in his mind. He nodded, as if to himself. Beside him, the Narcheska came to her feet also. 'Please tell Prince Dutiful that I said farewell,' she said quietly, to no one in particular.

'And I,' Peottre said in his deep voice. 'I am grieved that it has come down to this. Would that there had been a better path for all of

us.' They left slowly, Peottre moving as if heavily burdened. Dutiful returned quickly, carrying some of the supplies for our mission. A few moments later, Longwick brought the rest and lingered after he had been relieved of the objects, plainly wishing to ask questions, but no explanations were offered to him before Chade dismissed him with thanks. He left, looking worried. Obviously Dutiful and I were preparing some sort of foray. Little or no explanation of my return had been offered to anyone. Yet, like any good soldier, Longwick accepted the lack of explanation as reasonable and returned to his post outside the tent.

There was some little delay, for Chade had decided that a fire on hides over ice might not burn hot enough to set off his powder. Chade experimented with the kettle to see how large a container of powder would fit into it. This demanded a hasty comparison of packed items to find a container that would both fit within the kettle and sufficiently seal in the powder. At last he settled on a small crock with a pottery stopper that had been full of tea herbs. I suspected the tea was one of his special blends from the way he grumbled over dumping it out. That done, he opened the cask I had carried from the beach and carefully transferred a coarse powder from it into the crock. He did this well away from the tiny candle-fire, tamping the powder down with his fingers and muttering to himself as he worked. 'It's a little damp,' he grumbled as he turned back to me with the sealed crock. 'But, well, the flask that we put in your hearth was a bit damp inside, too, and it still worked. Not that I had expected it to blow up like it did, hut, well, that is how we learn these things, I suppose. Now, keep this well away from the kettle until the fire is going very well, as hot as you judge you can get it. Then put this into the kettle, centred, so it doesn't extinguish the fire. Then get out as quickly as you can.'

These directions were for me. To the Prince he said, 'You are to get out as soon as the fire is started in the kettle. Don't wait for Fitz to put the powder in, get out and away and wait for him well back from the excavation edge. Do you understand me?'