The silence was as still and watchful as the night. The gaze held between Peottre and Dutiful. It was a measuring look, not quite a challenge. When Peottre spoke, his words were for Elliania. 'You should go back to your bedchamber.'

At his suggestion, she spun and fled. Her bare feet were silent on the dust of the courtyard. Even aftet she was gone, Dutiful and Peottre continued to regard one another. At last Peottre spoke. 'The dragon's head. You promised. As a man, you gave your word.'

Dutiful inclined his head once, gravely. 'I did. As a man, I promised.'

Peottre started to turn away. Dutiful spoke again.

'What Elliania offered me, she offered as a woman, not as the Narcheska. Is she free to offer that, by your customs?'

Peottre's spine stiffened. He turned slowly and spoke unwillingly. 'Who else can offer that to you, save a woman? Her body belongs to her. She can share that with you. But she will not truly be your wife until you bring her the head of Icefyre.'

'Ah.'

Again, Peottre slowly turned to go, and again Dutiful's voice stopped him.

'Then she is more free than I am. My body and my seed belong to the Six Duchies. I am not free to share it where I would choose, but only with my wife. That is our custom.' I almost heard him swallow. 'I would that she knew that. That, by our customs, I cannot accept what she offers, except dishonourably.' His voice dropped, and his next words were a request. 'I would ask that she not tempt nor taunt me with what I cannot honourably take. I am a man but ... I am a man.' His explanation was both awkward and honest.

So was Peottre's response. There was grudging respect in his voice as he said, '1 will see that she knows that.'

'Will she . . . will she think less of me? Will she think me less of a man?'

7 do not. And I will see that she understands what it costs a man to hold back from such an offer.' He stood looking at Dutiful as if seeing him for the first time. When he spoke, there was great sadness in his words. 'You are a man. You would be a good match for my sister-daughter. The grand-daughters of your mother would enrich my line.' He spoke the last as if it were a proverb rather than something that he could truly hope for. Then he turned and silently left.

I saw Dutiful draw a deep breath and sigh it out again. I dreaded that he would reach for me with the Skill, but he did not- Instead, head bent, he walked back into Elliania's mothershouse.

Thick had fallen asleep sitting on the ground, his head bowed heavily onto his chest. He moaned lightly as I gently shook him to wakefulness and helped him to his feet. 'I want to go home,' he muttered as he tottered down the road beside me.

'Me, too,' I told him. And yet it was not Buckkeep that came to my mind, but a meadow overlooking the sea, and a girl in bright red skirts that beckoned me. A time, rather than a place. No road led there any more.

TWELVE

Cousins

The very next day, we were told that all the issues regarding the Prince killing Icefyre had been resolved. We would return to Zylig to accept the Hetgurd's terms, and then depart for Aslevjal and our dragon-hunt. I wondered briefly if the sudden plans for sailing

had anything to do with the night scene I had witnessed, but then watched the releasing of a bird that carried tidings of our departure, and decided that the news had doubtless been borne to us on the same wings.

The ensuing bustle spared me an uncomfortable interview with the Prince, but plunged me into misery of a different sort. Thick was completely opposed to getting back onto a ship. It was useless to tell him that this was the only way he would eventually get home. In moments like that, I glimpsed the limits of his mind and logic- Thick had developed since he had come to us, becoming not only more free with his words but more sophisticated in how he used them. He was like a plant finally granted sunlight as he revealed more understanding and potential than I had suspected from the shuffling half-wit servant in Chade's tower. And yet, he would always carry his differences with him. Sometimes he became a frightened and rebellious child, and at such times, reasoning with him did us no good. In the end, Chade resorted to a strong soporific the night before we were to sail, which required me to keep a vigil on his dreams all that night. They were uneasy ones that I soothed as best I could. It filled me with misgivings that Nettle did not come to help me, even though in another sense I was glad she did not.

Thick was still soddenly asleep when we loaded him into a handcart to transport him to the ship the next day. I felt a fool trundling him over the bumpy roads and down to the docks, but Web walked alongside me and talked as casually as if this were an everyday occurrence.

Our departure seemed to be more of an event than our arrival. Two ships awaited us. I noticed that the entire Six Duchies contingent was loaded on the Boar ship as before. The Narcheska and Peottre and the few folk accompanying them embarked onto a smaller, older vessel, flying a banner with a narwhal on it. The Great Mother came down to see her off and to offer a blessing to her. I understand there was other ceremony as well but I saw little of it, for Thick began to stir restlessly in his bunk and 1 judged it best to stay close by him lest he awake and decide to get off the ship.

I sat by his bunk in the tiny cabin allotted to us and tried to Skill peace and security into his dreams. The movement of the waves and

the sound of the ship leaked in despite my best efforts. With a start and a cry he came awake and sat up, staring around the cabin with eyes both wild and groggy. 'It's a bad dream!' he wailed, and 'No,' I had to tell him. 'It's real. But I promise I'll keep you safe, Thick. I promise.'

'You can't promise that! No one can promise that on a boat!' he accused me. I had put my arm around him comfortingly when he first sat up. Now he flung himself away from me. He huddled back into his blankets, rolled to face the wall and began to sob uncontrollably.

'Thick,' I began helplessly. Never had I felt so cruel, never so wrong in anything 1 had ever done.

'Go away!' Despite my walls, the Skill-command in his word snapped my head back on my spine. I found myself on my feet, groping toward the door of the minuscule cabin we'd share with the Wit-coterie. I forced myself to halt.

'Is there anyone you want to be with you?' I asked hopelessly.

'No! You all hate me! You all trick me and poison me and make me go on the ocean to kill me. Go away!'

I was glad enough to do so, for his Skill pushed at me like a strong, cold wind. As I went out of the low cabin door, I stood upright too soon and slammed the top of my head into the doorjamb. The jolt was enough to dizzy me as I staggered the rest of the way onto the deck. Thick's cruel laugh was like a second blow.