I raised an eyebrow at him. 'Thick and Nettle?' I asked bluntly. I wondered if he had kept the Prince in ignorance.

Chade shook his head, tangling his white hair against his blankets. 'No. That link is not ready to bear tidings as heavy as this. Think of the consequences if the message were incorrectly interpreted, or if the girl refused to believe Thick's tidings. No. That arrangement must be trained and tested, with simple messages, both sent and received, before we can rely on it for serious purposes.' He sighed heavily, the sound an unuttered rebuke to me. 'Thick will sleep in our tent tonight. Before he dozes off, Dutiful will ask him to convey greetings to Nettle, and to pass on some simple message to the Queen, one that will provoke a response from her. The creation of that will take some thought. If it goes well, then we will try a more weighty message the next night. But only when we are certain that messages are being relayed accurately will we pass on our suspicions of a traitor.' He nodded to himself, and then rolled bis head to look at the Prince. 'Agreed?'

'Agreed.' Dutiful gave a small sigh of his own. 'Let us hope that Queen I-Highly-Doubt-It will be receptive to communicating with me via the Skill.' And he, too, gave me a pointed look that placed the blame squarely on my doorstep that he and his cousin did not already know one another.

'I did what 1 thought best,' I said stiffly.

And Chade, ever one to seize an advantage, agreed smoothly with, 'Of course you did. You always act from high motives, Fitz. But next time it is up to you to make a significant decision based on what you "think is best", you may remember this, and reflect that perhaps I have a few more years of experience than you do. Perhaps the next time, you will give my opinion of the matter a bit more weight.'

'I will keep your advice in mind,' I agreed, and this time my words were formally cool as well as stiff. Never had I thought to have my loyalty tugged between Chade and the Fool as if it were a rag desired by two puppies. Each had conceded that the decision would be mine, but apparently neither trusted me to make it without prompting. And then Swift returned with a pot packed full of snow so I excused myself and left. The Prince watched me go with thoughtful eyes but I felt no touch of his mind on mine.

By that time, the rest of the camp was well astir. Peottre had arisen early, Riddle told me, and had gone ahead to scout out the first part of our journey. He did not like the balmy breeze, heavy with moisture, that blew over the snowy ground. Even Thick was up and blundering about in the tent, scattering the contents of his pack in an effort to find fresh clothing. When I told him that we were travelling light and would both wear what we had on the day before, he looked quite displeased. I reminded him that when he first came into the Prince's service, he had had but one set of clothing to his name. At that, he knit his brows as if thinking deeply, then shook his head and said he did not recall such a time. I did not think the point worth arguing. I bundled him into his outer clothes and got him out of the tent so our guardsmen could strike it.

I found food for us, plain porridge and a bit of salt fish. He wasn't pleased with the breakfast and neither was I, but it was all that we had. Then I busied myself lightening his pack into mine. All the while I spoke to him encouragingly about the day's travel, saying that now that we knew how to walk over this glacier, we would do better and keep up with the others. He nodded, but in an unconvinced way that made my heart sink.

With a casualness I didn't feel, I observed, 'I didn't sleep well last night. Bad dreams. But doubtless you had Nettle for company, and soothing dreams to welcome you.'

'Nah.' He pulled off his mitten to scratch his nose, and then spent a few moments putting it back on. 'Bad dreams were everywhere last night,' he observed darkly. 'Nettle couldn't change them. When I called her, she just told me, "Come away from there, don't look at that." But I couldn't, because they were everywhere. I walked and walked and walked through the snow, but the dreams just kept

coming up to me and looking at me.' He took off his mitten and poked thoughtfully at his nose. 'One had maggots in his nose. Like boogies, but wriggly. It made me think I had maggots in my nose.'

'No, Thick, your nose is fine. Don't think about it. Come, let's walk around and see what everyone else is doing.'

We were among those first to be ready to depart. I was anxious to be on the move, for the clear sky had filled with low clouds. The wind was damp, and the prospect of either snow or rain was daunting to me. The others seemed to be taking a very long time to get ready, even though Peottre prowled through the camp casting anxious looks at the sky and beseeching us to get an early start. Thick began to complain of being too tired to hike and too bound up with layers of clothing. To distract him, I took him with me to watch the Fool take down his tent. Swift was already there, helping him. The lad's pack, quiver and bow were neatly stacked to one side as he followed the Fool's instructions for dismantling the wooden poles that had supported the tent's airy fabric. I noted in passing that the peculiar arrow I had seen him holding the day before was now in his quiver.

The tent collapsed swiftly. The poles disassembled into pieces no longer than a good arrow. I had thought his little oil pot for his fire was heavy clay, but when I picked it up out of curiosity, it felt light and almost porous. The airy coverlets crushed down into a bundle the size of a small cushion. When all had been stowed, the Fool's pack was sizeable and probably heavier than mine, even with Thick's belongings in it. Nevertheless, he shouldered into its harness and hefted it onto his back without a grunt. Never before had I seen a camp so neatly and swiftly stowed, and my admiration for Elderling skill at devising such things increased.

'The Elderlings made such marvellous things, and then they vanished. I've always wondered what made an end of them.' 1 was not trying to start a conversation so much as distract Thick. He was rubbing at his nose again.

'When the dragons perished, the Elderlings perished with them. The one could not exist without the other.' The Fool spoke as if he observed that leaves were green and the sky blue, as if that were a fact everyone accepted.

Before I could comment on that astonishing statement, Thick dropped his hand from his nose and asked, 'What's an Elderling?'

'No one really knows,' I told him, and then the look on the Fool's face stopped me. He looked as if he would burst with it if I didn't give him a chance to tell. I wondered when he had acquired the knowledge and why he chose now to share it. Swift, sensing excitement, drew closer.

'The Elderlings were an old people, Thick. Old not just in how long ago they prospered, but old in how many years they numbered to a life. I suspect that for some of them, memory reached back beyond even the long spans of their own lives, back into the lives of their forebears.'

Thick's brow was furrowed as he endeavoured to understand. Swift was already enraptured in the tale. I interrupted. 'Do you know these things, or do you guess/'

He pondered this for a moment. 'I am as sure of these things as I can be, without either an Elderling or a dragon to consult.'

Now it was my turn to look puzzled. 'A dragon? Why would you consult a dragon about the Elderlings?'

'They are . . , intertwined.' The Fool appeared to choose his word carefully. 'In all I have read or heard, we never find one without the other. It seems that they create one another, or are somehow necessary to one another's being. I cannot explain it, 1 can only observe it.'

'So, if you succeed in bringing back the dragons, you restore the Elderlings as well?' I asked recklessly.