I pondered that as our temporary home took shape. Longwick was a good commander. He kept our small force, Wit-coterie and guardsmen alike, in steady motion- He chose a location on the highest clear ground the hill offered us, with a clear view of the surrounding area. Our tents were set up in tidy rows, a waste pit was dug and the beach scoured for driftwood. Water was fetched from an icy stream of snowmelt that flowed from the glacier and past our camp. Hest, the youngest guard at about twenty, was put on general watch and Drub, a grizzled warrior muscled like a bear, was given the cooking duties. Deft and Churry were told to sleep now to relieve Hest later. Riddle was assigned to be at the Prince's convenience, shadowing him wherever he went. And as I expected, I was assigned to keep watch over the Prince's man, Thick. The Wit-coterie members, nominally under Longwick's command now, were given lesser chores about the camp before he let them disperse to explore the beach. It was a strange experience for some of them, 1 am sure, especially for a young noble like Civil, but to his credit the lad did his work willingly and ceded Longwick the respect his position demanded. Several times I saw him cast a disapproving gaze toward the Fool's colourful tent, but he kept his

reservations to himself. Chade and the Prince had accepted the Fool's hospitality, along with the Narcheska, Peottre Blackwater and Arkon Bloodblade.

Thick chose to sit miserably hunched in the tent he would share with Web, Swift and me. Not far away, our cook-fire burned and Drub tended the simmering kettle that held our evening's porridge. I had set a smaller pot at the edge of the fire to heat water for tea. I foresaw that soon fuel would be a problem on this treeless island. I paced restlessly outside the tent, waiting for the kettle to boil, feeling Uke a tethered dog while the others roamed.

The Hetgurd warriors had set up their shelters in a separate row from ours, and brought ashore their own supplies. Each man had pitched his own small tent. I spied on them surreptitiously. These were not young warriors, but seasoned veterans. I did not know their names. 1 had been told that for this duty their own names did not matter, but only their clan membership, and that was proclaimed in their tattoos. The Bear, hulking and dark as his namesake, seemed to be their leadet. The Owl was a thinner, older man: their poet and bard. A Raven was as dark-haired as his bird mentor, and as bright-eyed. The Seal was a short, heavyset man who was missing two fingers from his left hand. There was a Fox who was the youngest of the group. He seemed petulant and unhappy at being on Aslevjal. The Eagle was a tali, rangy man of middle years. He was their watchman tonight, standing and keeping guard while the others sat cross-legged about their fire, eating and talking quietly. He caught me staring at him and returned my gaze expressionless ly.

I sensed no animosity from any of them. They had a duty to see that we adhered to the rules the Hetgurd had set for us, yet they did not seem opposed to our task. Rather they were like men awaiting some contest of champions. On the ship, they had mingled freely with us, and their poet had struck up an amusingly competitive friendship with Cockle. Now that we were ashore, they might set stiffer boundaries, but I doubted those would last more than a night or two. There were too few of us, and the landscape was too bleak.

Two slightly grander tents had been set up alongside the Fool's

colourful one. The Narcheska and Peottre would share one, and Chade and the Prince had the other. I had seen little of any of them since we landed. The Fool had welcomed them to his tent, but I did not know what had passed there. Not so much as a Skill-hint had Chade or the Prince sent me. I'd helped to set up the larger tents beside the Fool's, but the low murmur of conversation from inside that structure had been as tantalizing and insubstantial as the wafting scent of spice tea.

Now, as evening asserted a slow dominance over the land, the Fool and Dutiful's Wit-coterie were all on board the ship, enjoying the farewell meal with Arkon Bloodblade. Neither he nor his Boar warriors would be staying with us. 1 wished I knew the logic of that. Was he disassociating the Boar Clan from a foolish Narwhal endeavour, or was it simply a matter of granting Pcottrc command of the quest? I scowled and kicked at the cold soil. There was too much I didn't know. I wanted to scout the area at least but Thick had steadfastly refused to rcboard the boat, even when tempted with a sumptuous meal, remaining on the island to share our plain rations and useless sentry duty.

Scuffing footsteps on the near-frozen earth turned my head. Riddle gave us a wide wave and a big smile as he approached. 'Exciting place, this. If you like snow, grass and sand.' He crouched down by the fire and held his hands out to it.

'I thought you'd gone back to the ship for the night, with the Prince.1

'No. He dismissed me, saying he'd have no need of me there. And I was just as happy to stay. Standing about watching others eat is not my idea of entertaining. What occupies you this evening?'

'The usual. Keeping Thick company. I'm making him tea right now.'

Riddle spoke quietly. 'If you'd like, I can stay here and make his tea when the water boils- Might give you a chance to stretch your legs and explore a bit.'

I received the offer with gratitude. Turning to our tent, I asked, 'Would you mind if I took a short walk, Thick? Riddle will make the tea for you.'

The little man pulled a blanket closer around his shoulders. 'Don't care,' he replied sullenly. He was hoarse from coughing.

'Well, then. If you're sure you don't want to come? If you got up and moved around a bit, you'd soon feel warmer. Truly, it isn't that cold here, Thick.'

'Nnph.' He turned his face away from me. Riddle nodded commiseration to me, and with a toss of his head, bade me leave.

As I walked away, I heard him say, 'Come on, Thick, buck up. Play us a tune on your whistle. That'll keep the dark at bay.'

To my surprise, Thick took his suggestion. As I walked slowly away, I heard the tentative sounds of Thick's mothersong. I literally felt Thick's attention focus on it, and felt an easing in the Skilled hostility he had been sending me. It was like putting down a heavy pack. Even though the tune was frequently broken as Thick stopped to catch his breath, I hoped that his interest in playing indicated he was recovering. I wished I could likewise soften the discomfort 1 felt hovering between the Fool and me. Not a word had we spoken, nor even stood within a speaking distance, and yet I felt his outrage like a cold wind on my skin. I wished he had stayed ashore tonight in his tent; it would have been a good time for quiet words with him. But he had been invited to share the farewell meal about the ship. I wondered who had issued the invitation: the Prince, because he was intrigued, or Chade because he wished to keep the tawny man where he could watch him.

I walked the beach in the deepening twilight, and found it much as Chade's spy had reported it. The tide was retreating, baring more of the beach. Barnacle-encrusted pilings leaned at odd angles in a double row projecting from the swallowing water, hinting at a one-time dock. At some time, there had been stone cottages along the shore, but they had been tumbled into ruin. Knee-high walls remained, in a row like tooth-sockets in an empty skull. The rest of the stone walls were scattered both inside and around the structures. I frowned. The destruction was too complete. Had this little settlement been raided by someone intent on not just killing the inhabitants but on making it uninhabitable? It was as if someone had tried to obliterate it.

I climbed the low bluff above the shingle of the beach. A rocky