'What do you want?' I demanded of her.

'You know what I want. I want to know what you know of a black dragon. Is he real? Does another dragon, grown and whole, still exist in the world?'

'I don't know,' I answered her truthfully. 1 could feel her mind plucking at mine, trying to get past the words I gave her to see if I was hiding anything. It was like having cold rat feet run over you in a prison cell at night. Then she seized that memory and tried to turn it against me. I slammed my walls tighter. Unfortunately that meant that Nettle was also outside them. They both became like shadows dimly cast on a wavering curtain.

Tintaglia spoke, and her voice reached me like a whisper of doom. 'Accept that your kind will serve mine. It is the natural order of things. Serve me in this and I will see that you and yours prosper. Defy me, and you and yours will be swept aside.' Suddenly the image of the dragon loomed large and towered over Nettle. 'Or devoured,' she offered knowingly.

Dread prickled at me. On some fundamental level, the dragon associated me with Nettle. Was it simply that she had always reached me through my daughter, or did she sense our kinship? Did it matter? My daughter was in danger, and it was my fault. Again. And I had no idea how to protect her.

It did not matter. A moment ago the flower-studded meadow had reminded me of a tapestry. Then Nettle abruptly stood up, bent and seized her dream, then shook it as if she sought to shake dust from a rug. The dragon's presence was flung from it and went spinning off into nothingness, dwindling as it went. In that nothingness, Nettle stood and wadded up her dream and tucked it into her apron pocket. I no longer knew where or what I was in her dream, but she sent the words to me. You'll have to learn to stand up to her and drive her off, not just curl up in a ball and hide. Remember, Shadow Wolf, that you are a wolf. Not a mouse. Or so 1 thought. She began to fade.

Wait! The Prince Skilled with desperate determination. In some

way I did not understand, he caught at her and detained her. Who are you?

Nettle's shock went through me like a wave. She struggled a moment, but when his grip held, she demanded, Who am I? Who are you, who dare to intrude here so rudely! Let go of me.

Dutiful did not react well to her rebuke. Who am 1? I am the Prince of all the Six Duchies. I go wherever I will.

For a moment, she was stunned to silence. Then, You are the Prince? Her disbelief was as evident as her scorn.

Yes, 1 am. And now you will stop wasting my time and tell me who you are! I winced at the snap of command in his voice. A terrible silent void stretched all around me. Then Nettle reacted as I had known she would.

Oh. Well, of course I will, since you ask me so nicely. Prince Mannerless, I am Queen l-Doubt-It-Very-Much of the Seven Dungheaps. And perhaps you go "wherever you will", but when the where belongs to me, I will that you do not ever go there. Changer, you should cultivate nicer friends.

I saw what she had done. In the pause, she had seen exactly how he had fastened himself to her. And now, effortlessly, she shook herself free of him. And vanished.

I jolted awake with her disdain rattling against me like flung pebbles. Torn between awe for my daughter and dread of the dragon, 1 tried to recover myself. I needed to think what I could do. Instead, Chade pushed his way into my mind.

We need to talk. Privately. His Skill trembled with excitement.

Privately? Are you sure you know what the word means? Why, tonight of all nights, did he have to spy on me?

Not privately. Dutiful was furious with both of us as he broke in on our Skilling. Who is she? How long has this been going on? I demand to know. How dare you train another Skilled one and keep her existence concealed from me!

Go back to sleep! Thick's ponderous Skilling was between a moan and a command. Go back to sleep and stop shouting. It was only Nettle and her dragon. Go back to sleep.

Everyone knows of her except me? This is intolerable. Dutiful's Skilling held fury and frustration, and that terrible sense of betrayal

when one discovers one has been excluded from a secret. 1 demand to know who she is. Right now.

I fenced my thoughts tightly and prayed, even though I knew it would avail me nothing.

Chade? The Prince drove him out of his silence.

I do not know, my lord. The old man lied gracefully and without remorse- I both damned and admired him.

FitzChivalry.

Truly, there is a power to the naming of a man by his true name. I shuddered at the impact, and then swiftly begged, Do not call me by that name. Not here, not now, lest the dragon be listening. It was not the dragon I feared, but my daughter. Too many bits of my secrets were falling into her hands.

Tell me, Tom.

Not this way. If we must speak of this, let us speak voice to ear only. Near me in the dark, Thick pulled his blankets up over his head, groaning.

Meet me now. The Prince's voice was grim.

This isn't wise. Chade counselled us both. Let it wait until morning, my prince. There is no sense in inviting questions by summoning a man-at-arms to you in the middle of the night.

No. Now. What was truly unwise was for both of you to deceive me about this Nettle person. 1 will know now what is going on behind my back and why. It was almost as if I were in the mothershouse by the bed-benches. 1 could feel how his anger chased the chill from his bared chest as he threw his covers aside, sense how furiously he thrust his feet into his shoes.

Give me time to dress then, Chade conceded wearily.

No. Stay where you are, Councillor Chade. You say you know nothing? Then there is no sense in your bothering to come. I'll meet Fitz . . . Tom alone for this.

His anger roared like a fire now, and yet he still had refrained from saying my name. In some corner of my mind, I admired his restraint. But the greater part of my thoughts was taken up with a dilemma. This was my prince who was angry with me, and to his way of thinking, he was justified. How would I react to his questions? Who was I to him tonight? Friend, mentor, uncle or

subject? I became aware that Thick was sitting up on his blankets, watching me dress.

'I'll only be gone a short time. You'll be fine here alone,' I reassured him even as I wondered if that was so.

I don't want to leave Thick alone here. I Skilled to the Prince, hoping this excuse would spare me.

Then bring him. The Prince bit off his succinct order.

'Do you want to come?1

'I heard him,' Thick replied wearily. He heaved a huge sigh. 'You're always making me go places I don't want to go,' he complained as he rummaged for clothing in the dark.

I felt a year had passed before he was dressed. He huffily refused any offer of assistance from me. Together we finally left the cottage and wound our way through the village. The odd twilight that passes for night in that part of the world lent its grey aspect to the world. It was oddly restful to my eyes and I finally identified the sensations. These dimmed colours reminded me of how Nighteyes had perceived the world on the evenings and dawns when we had hunted together. It was a gentle light, and undistracted by colour, the eye was free to pick up the small movements of game. I walked light as the wind, but Thick shuffled disconsolately along beside me. Every now and then, he coughed. I reminded myself that he was still not completely well and tried to find patience with his slow pace.

Little bats flickered through the air over the town. I caught the furtive glide of a robber-rat as it slunk from a rain barrel to a doorstep. I wondered if it was the same one that Swift had tried to befriend, then put it out of my mind. We were drawing closer to the mothershouse. The courtyard was deserted. They posted no guard here, though they kept a lookout over the coast and harbour. Evidently they feared no attacks from within their own folk. I wondered then if Peottre had told me all he knew of Henja. Certainly he and the Narcheska seemed wary of the woman and he had said she was an outsider. Why, then, did he not post a guard against her?