I considered where the symbol for the quarry was on the pillar and worked my way around to the dragons that were on the opposite side of it. Of the dragons, I chose the fierce-looking fellow with ear tufts that I had remarked on my first visit here. He would cast a fine shadow. I cleared a space behind him of wet grass and leaves and set my fire there. I had only enough fuel for a small fire, but I hoped I would not need more than that. I wanted enough light and smoke to be mysterious without enlightening. I got the fire going well, then slipped away from it in the darkness. Belly in the grass, I worked my way as close to the pillar as I dared. Now I only need wait until the guards noticed my fire. I hoped at least one man would go to investigate it, and that the other two would watch where he had gone. Then a noiseless dash, a slap to the pillar, and I'd be gone.
Save that the guards did not notice my fire. From my vantage, it seemed glaringly obvious. There was rising smoke and a rosy glow through the trees, partially outlining the dragon's silhouette. I had hoped that would pique their interest. Instead it was blocking my fire too well. I decided a few well-placed rocks would draw their attention to my fire. My groping hands found only lush plant life growing in thick loam. After an interminable wait, I realized my fire was going out, and the guards had noticed it not at all. Once more I slipped out of earshot. Once more I gathered dry sticks in the dark. Then my nose as much as my eyes guided me back to my smoldering fire.
My brother, you are long gone. Is all well? There was anxiety in Nighteye's faint thought.
I am hunted. Be still. I shall come as soon as I can. I pushed the wolf gently from my thoughts and stole through the dark toward my dwindling fire.
I refueled it and waited for it to catch. I was just slipping away from it when I heard their voices raised in speculation. I do not think I was careless. It was but an ill twist of luck that as I moved from the cover of a dragon to that of a tree, one guard lifted his torch high, throwing my shadow into stark relief. 'There! A man!' one shouted, and two of them charged out at me. I eeled away through the wet underbrush.
I heard one trip and fall, cursing, in a patch of vines, but the second was a swift and agile fellow. He was on my heels in an instant, and I swear I felt the wind from the first sweep of his sword. I lunged away from it, and found myself half leaping, half falling over the stone boar. I clipped a knee painfully on his rocky back and fell to the earth on the other side of him. Instantly I scrabbled to my feet. My pursuer leaped forward, swinging a mighty blow that surely would have cloven me in two if he had not caught his leg on one curving, razor tusk. He tripped and fell squarely, impaling himself on the second tusk where it thrust up like a scimitar from the boar's red maw. The sound the man made was not a large one. I saw him begin to struggle to rise, but the curve of the tusk was hooked inside him. I leaped to my feet, mindful of the second man who had been pursuing me, and fled into the dark. Behind me rose a long cry of pain.
I kept my wits enough to circle. I had nearly reached the pillar when I felt a questing twist of Skill. I recalled the last time I had felt such a thing. Was Verity himself under attack, back at the quarry? One man still guarded the pillar, but I decided to risk his sword to get back to my king. I emerged from the trees, racing toward the pillar while the guard stared off toward my fire and the cries of the fallen man. Another tendril of Skill brushed me.
'No,' I cried out, 'don't risk yourself!' as my king came through the pillar, notched gray sword clutched in his gleaming silver grip. He emerged behind the guard who had remained on post. My foolish cry had turned him toward the pillar, and he came at my king, sword lifted, even as his face betrayed his terror.
Verity in their firelight looked like a demon out of a tale. His face was splashed with silver from the careless touching of his hands, while his hands and arms gleamed as if made of polished silver. His gaunt face and ragged clothes, the utter blackness of his eyes would have terrified any man. I will have to give Regal's guard this: He stood his post, and caught the King's first blow and turned it. Or so he thought. It was an old trick of Verity's. Instead his blade wrapped the other. His cut should have severed the hand from the arm, but the dulled blade stopped at the bone. Nonetheless the man dropped his sword. As the man fell to his knees clutching at the gouting wound, Verity's sword swept in again, across his throat. I felt a second tremoring of Skill. The lone remaining guard came racing toward us from the trees. His eyes fixed on Verity and he cried out in terror. He halted where he stood. Verity took a step toward him.
'My king, enough! Let us leave!' I cried out. I did not want him to risk himself for me again.
Instead Verity glanced down at his sword. He frowned. Suddenly he grasped the blade in his left hand just below the hilt and drew it through his shining grip. I gasped at what I saw. The sword he brandished now gleamed and came to a perfect point. Even by torchlight, I could see the wavering ripples of the many folded metal of the blade. The King glanced at me. 'I should have known I could do that.' He almost smiled. Then Verity lifted it to the other man's eyes. 'When you are ready,' he said quietly.
What happened next stunned me.
The soldier fell to his knees, casting his sword into the grass before him. 'My king. I know you, even if you do not know me.' Buck accent spoke plainly in his tumbling words. 'My lord, we were told that you were dead. Dead because your queen and the Bastard had conspired against you. Those were who we were told might be found here. It was half for that revenge that I came. I served you well at Buck, my lord, and if you live, I serve my king still.'
Verity peered at him in the flickering torchlight. 'You're Tig, aren't you? Reaver's boy?'
The soldier's eyes widened that Verity recalled him. 'Tag, my lord. Serving my king as my father did before me.' His voice shook a bit. His dark eyes never left the point of the sword Verity had leveled at him.
Verity lowered his blade. 'Do you speak truth, lad? Or simply seek to save your skin?'
The young soldier looked up at Verity and dared to smile. 'I have no need to fear. The prince I served would not strike down a kneeling, unarmed man. I dare say the King will not either.'
Perhaps no other words would have convinced Verity. Despite his weariness, he smiled. 'Go then, Tag. Go as swift as you may and as silent as you may, for those who have used you will kill you if they know you are true to me. Return to Buck. And on the way there, and when you get there, tell everyone that I shall be returning. That I shall bring my good and true Queen with me, to sit the throne, and that my heir will claim it after me. And when you get to Buckkeep Castle, present yourself to my brother's wife. Tell the Lady Patience that I commend you to her service.'
'Yes, my king. King Verity?'
'What is it?'
'More troops are coming. We are but the vanguard. …' He paused. He swallowed. 'I accuse no one of treachery, least of all your own brother. But …'
'Let it not concern you, Tag. What I have asked you to do is important to me. Go quickly and challenge no one on your way. But carry back those tidings as I have asked you.'
'Yes, my king.'
'Now,' Verity suggested.
And Tag rose, took up his sword and sheathed it, and strode off into the darkness.
Verity turned and his eyes shone with triumph. 'We can do it!' he told me quietly. He gestured me fiercely toward the pillar. I reached to palm the symbol and tumbled through as the Skill clutched at me. Verity came on my heels.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN. Feeding the Dragon
BY MIDSUMMER OF that final year, the Six Duchies situation had become desperate. Buckkeep Castle, so long avoided by the Raiders, came under sudden siege from them. They had possessed Antler Island and its watchtowers since midwinter. Forge, the first village to fall victim to the scourge that took its name, had long since become a watering stop for Red-Ships. There had been for some time rumors of Outlsland sailing ships anchoring off Scrim Island, including several sightings of the elusive 'White Ship. ' For most of the spring, no ships had made passage either into or out of Buck Harbor. This strangle of trade was felt not just in Buck, but in every trade village on the Buck, Bear, and Vin Rivers. The Red-Ships had become a sudden reality to the merchants and lords of Tilth and Farrow.
But at the high point of summer, the Red-Ships came to Buckkeep Town. The Red-Ships came in the dead of night after several weeks of deceptive quiet. The fighting was the savage defense of a cornered folk, but they were also a starved and beggared folk. Almost every wooden structure of the town was burned to the ground. It is estimated that only one quarter of the town's residents were able to flee up the steep hills to Buckkeep Castle. Although Lord Bright had endeavored to refortify and supply the castle, the weeks of strangulation had taken their toll. The deep wells of Buckkeep Castle assured them a good supply of fresh water, but all other things were in
