out to seize the line their father threw to them, and helping to pull his laden boat up onto the beach. Two Buck girls, still as alike as apple pips, wanting to be the first ones to tell their Papa they had been chosen for Skilltraining.
Papa said we were one soul in two bodies.
Open, then, and let her out. Let both of you out to live.
I fell silent, waiting. Kestrel was in a part of her memories she had denied for longer than other folk lived. A place of fresh wind and girlish laughter, and a sister so like yourself you scarcely needed to speak to one another. The Skill had been between them from the moment they were born.
I see what I must do now. I felt her overwhelming surge of joy and determination. I must let her out, I must put her into the dragon. She will live forever in the dragon, just as we planned it. The two of us, together again.
Kettle stood up, letting go of my hands so suddenly that I cried out at the shock. I found myself back in my body. I felt I had fallen there from a very great distance. The Fool and Nighteyes were still near me, but no longer a part of a circle. I could scarcely feel them for all else I felt. Skill. Racing through me like a riptide. Skill. Emanating from Kettle like heat from a smith's furnace. She glowed with it. She wrung her hands, smiled at the straightened fingers.
'You should go and rest now, Fitz,' she told me gently. 'Go on. Go to sleep.'
A gentle suggestion. She did not know her own Skillstrength. I lay back and knew no more.
When I awoke, it was full dark. The weight and warmth of the wolf's body were comfortable against me. The Fool had tucked a blanket around me and was sitting by me, staring raptly into the fire. When I stirred, he clutched at my shoulder with a sharp intake of breath.
'What?' I demanded. I could make no sense of anything I heard or saw. Fires had been kindled up on the stone dais beside the dragon. I heard the clash of metal against stone, and voices lifted in conversation. In the tent behind me, I heard Starling trying notes on her harp.
'The last time I saw you sleep like that, we had just taken an arrow out of your back and I thought you were dying of infection.'
'I must have been very tired,' I smiled at him, able to trust he understood. 'Are not you wearied? I took strength from you and Nighteyes.'
'Tired? No. I feel healed.' He did not hesitate, but added, 'I think it is as much that the false coterie has fled my body, as knowing that you do not hate me. And the wolf. Now, he is a wonder. Almost, I can still sense him.' A very strange smile touched his face. I felt him groping out for Nighteyes. He had not the strength to truly use the Skill or the Wit on his own. But it was unnerving to feel him try. Nighteyes let his tail rise and fall in one slow wag.
I'm sleepy.
Rest then, my brother. I set my hand to the thick fur of his shoulder. He was life and strength and friendship I could trust. He gave one more slow wag to his tail and lowered his head again. I looked back to the Fool and gave a nod toward Verity's dragon.
'What goes on, up there?'
'Madness. And joy. I think. Save for Kettricken. I think her heart eats itself hollow with jealousy, but she will not leave.'
'What goes on up there?' I repeated patiently.
'You know more of it than I do,' he retorted. 'You did something to Kettle. I could understand part of it, but not all. Then you fell asleep. And Kettle went up there and did something to Verity. I know not what, but Kettricken said it left them both weeping and shaking. Then Verity did something to Kettle. And they both began to laugh and to shout and to cry out it would work. I stayed long enough to watch both of them start attacking the stone around the dragon with chisels and mallets and swords and anything else that was to hand. While Kettricken sits silent as a shadow and watches them mournfully. They will not let her help. Then I came down here and found you unconscious. Or asleep. Whichever you prefer. And I have sat here a long time, watching over you and making tea or taking meat to anyone who yells at me for some. And now you are awake.'
I recognized his parody of me reporting to Verity, and had to smile. I decided that Kettle had helped Verity unlock his Skill and that work was proceeding on the dragon. But Kettricken. 'What makes Kettricken sad?' I asked.
'She wishes she were Kettle,' the Fool explained, in a tone that said any moron would have known that. He handed me a plate of meat and a mug of tea. 'How would you feel, to have come this long and weary way, only to have your spouse choose another to help him in his work? He and Kettle chatter back and forth like magpies. All sorts of inconsequential talk. They work and chip, or sometimes, Verity just stands still, his hands pressed to the dragon. And he tells her of his mother's cat, Hisspit, and of thyme that grew in the garden on the tower. And all the while, Kettle speaks to him, with no break, of Gull who did this, and Gull who did that, and all she and Gull did together. I thought they would cease when the sun went down, but that was the only time that Verity seemed to recall Kettricken was alive. He asked her to bring firewood and make fires for light. Oh, and I think he has allowed her to sharpen a chisel or two for him.'
'And Starling,' I said stupidly. I did not like to think of what Kettricken must be feeling. I reined my thoughts away from it.
'She works on a song about Verity's dragon. I think she has given up on you and me ever doing anything of note.'
I smiled to myself. 'She is never about when I do anything of significance. What we wrought today, Fool, was better than any battle I have ever fought. But she will never understand all of that.' I cocked my head toward the yurt. 'Her harp sounds mellower than I recall it,' I said to myself.
In answer, he lifted his eyebrows and waggled his fingers at me.
My eyes, widened. 'What have you been doing?' I demanded.
'Experimenting. I think that if I survive all this, my puppets shall be the stuff of legend. I have always been able to look at wood and see what I wished to call forth. These,' and again he waggled his fingers at me, 'make it so much easier.'
'Be cautious,' I pleaded with him.
'Me? I have no caution within me. I cannot be what I am not. Where are you going?'
'Up to see the dragon,' I replied. 'If Kettle can work on it, so can I. I may not be as strongly Skilled, but I've been linked with Verity for far longer.'
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX. The Wit and the Sword
THE OUTISLANDERS HAVE always raided the coastline of the Six Duchies. The founder of the Farseer monarchy was, in fact, no more than a raider grown weary of the sea life. Taker's crew overwhelmed the original builders of the wooden fort at the mouth of the Buck River and made it their own. Over a number of generations, the black stone walls of Buckkeep Castle replaced it, and the OutIslander raiders became residents and monarch.
Trade and raiding and piracy have all existed simultaneously between the Six Duchies and the OutIslands. But the commencement of the Red-Ship raids marked a change in this abrasive and profitable interchange. Both the savagery and destruction of the raids were unprecedented. Some attributed it to the rise to power in the OutIslands of a ferocious chieftain who espoused a bloody religion of vengeance. The most savage of his followers became Raiders and crew for his Red-Ships. Other Outlslanders, never before united under one leader, were coerced into swearing fealty to him, under threat of Forging for those and their families who refused him. He and his raiders brought their vicious hatred to the shores of the Six Duchies. If he ever had any intent beyond killing, raping, and destroying, he never made it known. His name was Kebal Rawbread.
'I don't understand why you deny me,' I said stiffly.
Verity stopped his endless chopping at the dragon. I had expected him to turn and face me, but instead he only crouched lower, to brush away rock chips and dust. I could scarcely believe the progress he had made. The entire clawed right foot of the dragon now rested upon the stone. True, it lacked the fine detail of the rest of the dragon, but the leg itself was now complete. Verity wrapped a careful hand over the top of one of its toes. He sat motionless beside his creation, patient and still. I could not see any movement of his hand, but I could sense Skill
