I took a double handful of water to the wolf, and sat by him, to let it trickle over his stilllolling tongue. After a bit, he stirred feebly, enough to pull his tongue back into his mouth.
I made another effort for the Fool. “I know that you did what you did to save my life. Thank you.”
He saved both our lives . He spared us continuing in a way that would have destroyed us both. The wolf did not open his eyes, but his thought was strong with passion.
However, what he did
Was it worse than what you did to me?
I had no answer for that. I could not be sorry that I had kept him alive. Yet
It was easier to speak to the Fool than follow that thought. “You saved both our lives. I had gone . . . somehow, I had gone inside Nighteyes. With the Skill, I think.” A flash of insight broke my words. Was this what Chade had spoken of to me, that the Skill could be used to heal? I shuddered. I had imagined it as a sharing of strength, but what I had done I pushed the knowledge away. “I had to try and save him. And ... I did help him. But then I could not find my way out of him. If you hadn't drawn me back ...” I let the words trail off. There was no quick way to explain what he had rescued us from. I knew now, with certainty, that I would tell him the tale of our year among the Old Blood. “Let's go back to the cabin. There is elfbark there, for tea. And I need rest as much as Nighteyes does.”
“And I, also,” the Fool acceded faintly.
I glanced over him, noting the gray pallor of fatigue that drooped his face and the deep lines clenched in his brow. Guilt washed through me. Untrained and unaided, he had used the Skill to pull me back into my own body. The magic was not in his blood as it was in mine; he had no hereditary predilection for it. All he had possessed was the ancient Skill marks on his fingers, the memento of his accidental brush against Verity's Skillencrusted hands. That and the feeble bond we had once shared through that touch were his only tools as he had risked himself to draw me back. Neither fear nor ignorance had stopped him. He had not known the full danger of what he did. I could not decide if that made his act less brave or more so. And all I had done was rebuke him for it.
I recalled the first time that Verity had used my strength to further his own Skill. I had collapsed from the drain of it. Yet the Fool still stood, swaying slightly, but he stood. And he made no complaint of the pain that must be playing hammer and tongs on his brain. Not for the first time, I marveled at the toughness that resided in his slender body. He must have sensed my eyes on him, for he turned his gaze to mine. I attempted a smile. He answered it with a wry grimace.
Nighteyes rolled onto his belly, then lurched to his feet. Wobbly as a new foal, he tottered to the water and drank. Satisfying his thirst made both of us feel better, yet my legs still trembled with weariness.