'Hush.' It was Web, silencing a secret that had outgrown its shroud. 'Not now. Later, I'll explain. There is no time now. He has wakened Icefyre. It's up to us to free him.' Web measured me with his eyes and seemed pleased with what he saw. He gave me a nod that was almost a bow, and then strode past us.

For the first time, I noted that the Witted coterie carried their digging tools, shovels and pry bars. A new purpose animated them all. Swift and Cockle were bringing up the sled to haul away the ice. Swift did not look at Burrich or me as he passed. Nonetheless, Burrich was aware of him and undeterred by his son's cold silence.

'Be careful, son/ he admonished him as the boy passed us. 'No one knows what Fitz has wakened up there, or what his feelings toward us will be.' Then Burrich turned his gaze to me, and I had not known till then that clouded eyes could still pierce a man. 'What did you do up there? And why?'

Perhaps it was time for that truth, too. 'It wasn't me. Not completely. I knew the dragon was alive, but 1 couldn't reach him with my Skill, only my Wit. My Skill wasn't strong enough. But then, Nettle found me. And -'

'And Nettle waked him up!' Thick announced happily as he finally trudged up to us. 'And I saved her and put her safe. She loves me.'

'What?' This burst from Burrich, a cry of outrage and pain. 'Nettle, my Nettle? Witted? It isn't possible, it cannot be!'

'No. Not Witted. Skilled.' Chade sounded impatient. 'But untrained. Dangerously untrained. Another consequence for which we must thank Fitz and his whims. We nearly lost her in the Skill-current, but Thick knew her well enough to find her and take her out of it. She's safe now, Burrich. Probably very confused as to what happened to her just then, but safe.'

This is too much. I cannot deal with this.' Burrich had been holding my arm, but now I was suddenly supporting him. He shuddered out a breath. 'I suspected she had a touch of Chivalry's magic. I suspected for a long time and when she told me of her wolf dream . . . that was when I knew I must go to Kettricken, to find out what it meant and to arrange for Nettle to be taught.' He gave me a strange smile, torn between pride in her and fear for her future. 'She was strong enough to wake a dragon?'

Then all of us were rocked by a blast of thought that sent Chade tottering, and then sinking to his knees. It was dragon speech, reaching into our minds. Tintaglia had found us.

Go and help him! Dig Icefyre out, and harm not a scale upon him. I come swift as flame, for by touch of our minds, I know where he is and no longer need the guidance of a bird! I warn you, I am not far away, and when I arrive, I expect to see him standing to meet me. If he is not, woe upon you all!

It was neither the Skill nor the Wit, and yet it struck my mind

with the force of a strong Skill-send ing. Icefyre's recent use of my mind had left me raw to the Skill, and the force of Tintaglia's thought physically staggered me. I suspect that those of us versed in the Skill were more susceptible to her thoughts than the others. Certainly it staggered Dutiful's entire Skill-coterie. Those of his Wit-coterie reacted in a variety of ways, some seeming to take the full import of her words, others looking about as if puzzled and Cockle showing no awareness of it at all. Civil raised a shout. 'You all heard her! Tintaglia commands that we dig Icefyre out! Let's do it!' He raced up the hill as if leading a charge against an enemy.

Among the Outislanders, at least one prostrated himself, believing that a god or demon had spoken to him. Two of the others stared off at the distance, as if questing after something they might have heard. The others gave no reaction. Burrich, long sealed off to the Skill by my father in order to protect him, looked puzzled for a moment, as if he had almost recalled something. I suspect his Wit made him vaguely aware of a sending without comprehending the thought that had accompanied it.

An instant only I had to absorb all this. Then Thick, with a wide and joyous smile, went racing away from us, up the hill, his short legs pumping as hard as they could. 'I'm coming!' he shouted. 'I'm coming to dig you out, Icefyre!'

I put his enthusiasm down to Icefyre's earlier influence over his simple mind and his recent success at rescuing Nettle, which must have been a heady experience. I strode after him, Dutiful at my side and Chade at our heels. It was only when I heard Dutiful mutter, 'We have moved much of the ice above his back. Surely that is where he will break through first. We have not much more work to do!' that I wondered at his sudden enthusiasm for the task.

'Then you do not share Chade's hope that we could simply leave the dragon where he is, as he was?'

'Yes. I do. I did. But that was . . . before. Before Nettle woke him. No. Before . . . but Tintaglia commands this. Tintaglia . . .' His pace slowed and he looked at me in consternation. 'This is, this was, almost like when you commanded me with the Skill. But it isn't. I can set this aside. 1 think.' He caught at my arm and halted me alongside him, an odd expression on his face. 'She commanded, and

for a moment, I could think of nothing but obeying her. Strange. Is that what they mean by the charm of a dragon?'

Burrich startled me when he spoke. I had almost forgotten him, and yet he had somehow kept pace with us. 'The old tales speak of the charm of a dragon coming from its breath. What have I missed? Some sort of Skill-sending?'

'Something like that,' Dutiful pondered. 'Almost a Skill-command, I think, but I do not know. I think I wanted to help Icefyre before she commanded it. It seems my own thought to me. Yet -'

And then Chade passed us, muttering, 'The powder. The powder will do it; the powder will blast him free. We only have to change where we set it. Or perhaps set it in smaller vessels -'

Dutiful and I exchanged a glance and then caught up with him. I seized his sleeve, but he shook me off. I grabbed hold of him again.

'Chade, you cannot kill him now. It's too late. Tintaglia is nearly here, and too many of our people are intent on digging him free. It won't work.'

'I ... kill him?' He looked shocked at the thought. 'No, not kill him. Blast him free, you fool.'

I exchanged a worried look with the Prince. 'Why?' I asked Chade gently.

He looked as if my ignorance mystified him. Then, for just a moment, I saw another look pass over his face, one that frightened me. He groped. But however Tintaglia had fogged his mind, Chade had long been an expert at fabricating reasons to have me do whatever he decided I should do. 'Does it escape you that an angry female dragon is on her way here, one that has been alerted to our presence thanks to you? What have you left us to do? If we kill him now, she'll kill us all. She as much as said so. Unfortunately, that means we must make ourselves useful to a dragon. If we extricate Icefyre before Tintaglia arrives, she may see it as a sign of good intentions on our part. You yourself said we might use her goodwill to build an alliance with Bingtown. Until we know her strength, I judge it best to placate her in any way we can. Don't you?'

'And you think the best way to free him is with your powder?'

'One blast can do the work of ten men with shovels. Trust

me on this, Fitz. 1 know what I'm doing.' He now seemed as enthused to blast Icefyre free as he had earlier been to blow him up. How hard had Tintaglia's command hit him? With the force of a Skill-command, that one must unquestioningly obey, regardless of one's own judgment? Was the Fool Forged yet? Dead? The sudden thought broke abruptly over me like a wave of cold water, dashing me from my present worry. I staggered with the impact of it. I had done what the Fool had hoped I would do. I had wakened the dragon and now all our forces were turned to freeing him and uniting him with Tintaglia. It had even felt like the right thing to do, at the moment when I did it. But now my soul scrabbled at the remorselessness of time. 1 could not go back and change the decision, yet it suddenly seemed far too heavy and sharp a thing CO carry for the rest of my life. His fingerprints burned briefly cold on my wrist.