She sighed. 'As you see. In the Queen's Garden, at Buckkeep Castle,' she said forlornly. 'The Queen allowed me to go home for three days. She apologized to me and to my mother, but said it was as much time as she could spare me now for my mourning. Ever since I learned to dream true, not even my nights have belonged to me. Always I am at the call of the Farseer throne, expected to give my entire life to it.'

I phrased it carefully. 'In that, you are your father's child.'

She blazed up at me suddenly, lighting the garden with her wrath. 'He gave his life for them! And what did he get in return? Nothing. Well, some estate, now that he is dead, some Withywoods place I've never heard of. What do I care for land and a title? Lady Nettle, they call me now, as if I were a noble's daughter. And Lady Thornbush they call me, behind my back, simply because I speak my mind in honest words. I care nothing for what they think of me. As soon as I can, I will leave this court and go home. To my real home, the house my father built and his barns and pastures. They can take Withywoods and tear it stone from stone for all I care. I'd rather have my father.'

'So would I. But all the same, you have more right to Withywoods than anyone else. Your father served Prince Chivalry, and that estate was one of his favourites. It is almost as if you are Chivalry's heir, that you receive it.' And I was sure that was what Patience had intended. She could count the months and years on her fingers, and know that Molly's child was mine. The old woman had done her best to see something of her grandfather's lands passed on to Nettle. It wanned my heart that she had done so. I suddenly knew why Patience had waited unI'll after Burrich's death to sec the land go to Nettle. It was because she had respected his claim to Nettle's paternity and would do nothing to make anyone else question it. Now the lands would appear a thing that Burrich had earned for his family rather than an inheritance passed on to a grandchild. The subtleties of my eccentric stepmother would always delight me.

'I would still rather have my father.' She sniffed, and turned her face from me. She spoke to the darkness, hoarsely. 'Are you going to tell me what happened to him?'

'Yes. I am. But I am trying to decide where to begin that tale.' I weighed caution against courage, and then suddenly realized my decision should not rest on my feelings at all. How much should a young woman, alone and in grief, suddenly be confronted with? Now was not the time to change her perception of who she was. She was facing enough changes. Let her grieve unfettered by questions such as my revelations could raise for her.

'Your father took his death wound in service to the Farseer

monarchy, it is true. But when by sheer will alone he dropped a dragon to his knees, it was not for his prince. It was because the stone dragon had threatened his beloved son.'

She was incredulous. 'Swift?'

'Of course. Swift was why he came here. To get his son and take him safely home. He did not think there would be a real dragon to face.'

'There is so much I don't understand. You call the dragon that they faced a "stone dragon". What is that?'

She deserved to know. And so I told her a hero's tale, full of the Pale Woman's dark magic and of a man who had come, half-blind and alone, to face down a dragon for the sake of his wayward son. I told her, too, of how Swift had stood before the dragon's charge, and sped the arrow that slew him. And then I spoke of Swift's loyalty to her father as he lay dying. I even explained the earring that Swift would be wearing when he returned home to them. She wept as I spoke, black tears that vanished as they fell. Her garden faded around us, and the icy glacier wind blew past us and I realized the strength of my telling was such that she saw it, much as I had. Only when my words had faded, did the garden ease back into existence around us. The fragrances were sharper, as if a recent rain had watered them. A moth fluttered by.

'But when will Swift come home?' she demanded anxiously. 'It is hard enough for my mother to know her husband is dead. She should not have to worry whether her son will return safely. Why do they linger so long there when their task is done?'

'Swift serves his Prince. He will come back when Dutiful returns,' I assured her. 'They are still negotiating the marriage that will bind our countries in friendship. These things take time.'

'What is wrong with that girl?' Nettle demanded angrily. 'Is she without a mind or has she no honour? She should live up to the word she gave. She got her dragon's head on the hearthstones. I saw to that!'

'So I have heard,' I told her wryly.

'I was so angry with him,' she told me confidentially. 'It was the only thing I could think of to do.'

'You were angry with Icefyre?'

'No! With Prince Dutiful. Dither, dither, dither. Does she like me, does she love me, I won't force her to keep a bargain made under duress, I am so, so very noble . . . Why does not he tell that fickle Outislander girl, "I paid the toll and I'll cross the bridge." I'm sure I would have!' Then her blaze of indignation suddenly damped as she said, 'You don't think I'm traitorous to speak so of him, do you? I mean no disrespect. I am as loyal a subject to our illustrious prince as anyone. It is just that, when you speak with someone mind to mind, it is hard to remember that he is a prince and far above me. There are times when he seems as thick-witted as one of my brothers, and I just want to shake him!' Despite her earlier protestation of loyalty to her monarch, she suddenly sounded like a girl very exasperated with foolish boys.

'So. What did you do?'

'Well, at that time those Outislander people were making much fuss over him not having put the dragon's head on the hearthstone of her mothershouse. As if rescuing her mother and sister were not worth the weight of a bloody dead animal head stinking in front of your fireplace!' I could feel the effort it took her to restrain herself. 'Mind you, I only know of these things as I relay them to the Queen. I am the one who must stand before her each morning and pass on such tidings as they send through me. Docs he think that is pleasant? But it occurred to me one dawn, after leaving my queen solemn and heavy of heart because the marriage might not happen at all, that perhaps there was something I could do. Despite her bluster and threats, I know Tintaglia well. Perhaps because of those things, I know her well. So, as she had pestered me, disturbing my dreams whenever I slept, so I began to do to her. For in all her comings and goings from my sleep, she had worn a sort of path that I could follow back to her. If that makes sense to you.I

'It does. But I still marvel that anyone would dare "pester" such a creature.'

'Oh, in the dream world, we are well matched, as I think you might remember- I doubt she would fly all the way here just to trample a mere human. And unlike me, she prefers to sleep heavily after she has eaten or mated. So, those were precisely the times I chose to bother her.'

'And you asked her to ask Icefyre to return to Mayle Isle and put his head down on the Narcheska's hearth?'

'Asked her? No. I demanded it. And when she said she would not, I said it was because she could not, that despite all humans had done to rescue him, Icefyre was too petty to acknowledge the debt. And that she durst not make him do it, for though she claims to be a queen, she allowed him to master and drive her. I said that her mating must have addled her brains. That put her into a froth, I can tell you.'

'But how did you know it would?'

'I didn't. I just got angry and said what first came to me.' I felt her sigh. 'It's a fault I have, one that has not made me popular in this court. I am too swift of tongue. But I think it is the best way to speak to a dragon- I told her that if she could not make Icefyre do what was right then she needn't flaunt about so high and mighty. I hate it when people lord over you when you know that, given a good scratch, they're no better than you arc' She paused, then added, 'Or dragons. In all the legends, they arc wise, or incredibly powerful or -'