'A scar is very different from a tattoo,' I replied, 'but I'm willing to try.'

The Prince leaned down to her. 'Elliania? May he see them?'

She made no response. Her back was very straight as she sat there, and disapproval was plain on her mother's face. Then, slowly, without a word, Elliania dropped her head forward and allowed the blanket to slide down her back. I knelt down and lifted the light to see more plainly. And then I gritted my teeth and understood why they'd thought of me.

The gleaming beauty of the serpents and dragons was gone. The tattoos were sunken into her back, the skin drawn tight as if they'd been branded in. I suspected it was the Pale Woman's last act of vengeance. 'They still cause her pain, from time to time,' the Prince said quietly.

'I'm speculating,' I admitted. 'Perhaps Thick can't heal her easily because this isn't a recent injury. It's one thing to aid the body in doing what it's already attempting to do. But these are old, and her body has accepted them.'

'Your scars went away when we healed you,' the Prince pointed out.

'They aren't hers,' Thick observed sullenly. 'I don't want to touch them.'

I let Thick's cryptic remark go by. 'I think the Fool restored me to how he had always seen me. Unscarred.' I did not want to say more of that just then, and I think they all knew that.

Elliania's voice shook only slightly as she said, 'Then burn them off, and heal the burn. I care not what it takes. I only want them gone. I will not wear her marks upon my body.'

No!' the Prince said in horror.

'Wait. Please,' I said. 'Let me try.' I lifted a hand and then remembered to ask, 'May I touch you?'

She dropped her head lower and I saw every muscle in her back go tight. Then she gave a single nod. Peottre towered over us, his arms crossed on his chest. I looked up at him and met his gaze. Then I sat down on the floor behind the Narcheska and carefully laid both my hands flat to her back. By an act of will, I kept them there. The palms of my hands felt the warm back of a young girl, but my Skill felt dragons and serpents writhing beneath my fingers. 'More than ink is beneath her skin,' I said, but did not know what it was that I sensed there.

Elliania spoke with an effort. 'She made the inks from her own blood. So that they would always belong to her and obey her.'

'She's bad,' Thick said darkly.

Elliania had given us the piece of knowledge we needed. Even so, it was a gruelling evening of Skill-work. I did not know Elliania well, and Thick was loath to touch her. He lent us his strength, but every intricate figure had to be separately driven out from her. Her mother and sister sat and watched silently. Peottre stayed for a time, then went out and walked, came back, and then went out again. I did not blame him. I wished I did not have to witness it. Foul-smell ing ink oozed reluctantly from the pores on her back. Worse, it hurt her. She clenched her teeth, and then pounded wordlessly on the earth. Her long black hair, pulled forward to be out of our way, grew heavy with petspiration. Dutiful sat facing her, his hands on her shoulders to brace her, while I painstakingly traced each illustration with my fingertip, calling on her skin to push out the Pale Woman's foulness. As I did so, I saw again the Fool's back, so exquisitely and cruelly marked, and thanked the fates that his had been forced on him before the Pale Woman had gained and perverted the Skill-learning. I could not understand why her tattoos so resisted us. By the time the last clawed foot had been forced from her skin, I was exhausted, but her back was smooth and clear.

'It's done,' I said wearily, and lifted the blanket to drape her again. She took in a breath that was almost a sob and Dutiful gingerly gathered her into his arms.

'Thank you,' he said to me quietly, and then, to Elliania, 'It's all finished. She can never hurt you again.'

I knew a moment's uneasiness, wondering if that were true. But before I could voice any doubts, we heard a welcome cry from outside the tent. 'Sail! Sail sighted, two sails. One flies the Boar and the other is the Bear!'

TWENTY-SEVEN

Doors

Favourable tides had brought the ships to us sooner than we had expected. But if we were surprised to see the ships so soon, the crews of the ships were equally shocked at the size of the party that awaited them on the shore. The boats they put over to come to shore were crowded with folk anxious to discover the news. So many of our men met them on the beach that the boats were literally picked up clear of the water and run far up the sand before the crews could disembark. The uproar sounded like a battle as every man strove to tell the tale his own way to our amazed transport. There was laughter, chest-thump ing and shoulder-s lapping as each man strove to be the first to tell the tale. Above all was the joyous roar of Arkon Bloodblade as he shared the Narwhal triumph. His reunion with Oerttre was more restrained and formal than I had expected it to be. Father he might be to Elliania, but he had never been formally wed to Oerttre, nor had he sired Kossi. So he rejoiced in their return as a friend, not as a father and husband, and it seemed more like the satisfaction that a warrior took in the triumph of an ally.

Later, I would discover that the Narcheska had promised much to her father in terms of crops, trade and other favours. The Boar Clan lands were rocky and steep, fine lands for grazing swine but not for growing field crops. Bloodblade had eight young nieces of his own clan to provide for, and these Boar youngsters would prosper because of the Narwhal triumph.

But all I knew at the time was that once more, rejoicing and triumph surrounded yoting Swift and me, making our sorrow all the deeper in comparison. Worse, I had made a resolution last night, one that felt so precisely correct that I knew nothing would turn me aside from it. So, while men whooped outside and over-shouted one another telling their portions of the tale, I spoke quietly to Swift as we sat in dimness under draped canvas beside his unresponsive father.

'I won't be going back with you. Can you take care of your father without me?'

'Can I ... what do you mean, you won't be coming back with us? What else can you do?'

'Stay here. I need to go back to the glacier, Swift. I want to find a way into her underground palace. At the least, I want to find my friend's body and burn it. He hated to be cold. He would not wish to be entombed forever in ice.'

'And what else do you hope to do? There is something you are not saying.'

I took a deep breath, thought of a lie, and then set it down. Enough lies for one lifetime. 'I hope to look on the Pale Woman's body. I hope to find her dead, to know that she died for all she has done to us. And if I find her living, I hope to kill her.'