Dutiful gave Burrich the strip of fabric and began dishing the soup from the kettle to a bowl and pouring tea for me as if he were my page. He spoke as he did so, and yet I do not think the words were addressed to anyone. “There is nothing more I can do here. I try to think what I am to do, but nothing comes to me.” A time of quiet followed his words. I ate and Burrich worked on my shoulder. When he had finished strapping my arm to my body, he sat back on the pallet, his game leg stretched out awkwardly before him. Chade looked as if he had aged a decade. He had been pondering the Prince's words, for he said slowly, “There are several paths you can take, my prince. We could simply leave tomorrow. That tempts me, I'll admit, if only for the prospect of abandoning all those who deceived and betrayed us. But it would be a petty vengeance, and in the end would win us nothing. Another choice is that we could fall in with Web's plan, and do all we can to free the dragon, abandoning our hopes of an alliance with the Out Islands, and hoping instead to win the goodwill of Tintaglia and the Bingtown Traders.”
“Deserting the Fool,” I added quietly.
“And Riddle and Hest. Abandoning Elliania's mother and sister, and breaking the word that I gave. Breaking my word, before not just my own dukes, but before the Outislanders as well.” He crossed his arms on his chest, looking ill. “A fine king I shall make.”
“Abandoning the Fool cannot be helped,” Chade said. He spoke the words as gently as he could and yet they stabbed me. “Leaving behind Elliania's relatives and breaking your word can be forgiven, for they used deception to win your promise. As in so many things, much will depend on how it is presented.”
Dutiful sounded subdued. “Deception. What would we have done? Elliania's mother and her little sister. No wonder there is so much sorrow in her eyes. And that is why our betrothal ceremony at her mothershouse was so odd, and why her mother has been absent through all our negotiations. I thought Forging was an evil in the past. I never thought it would reach out and touch my life today.”
“But it has. And it explains much of Peottre's and the Narcheska's behavior,” Chade added.
I flung all discretion to the winds. There was too much at stake for me to sit still through Chade's laborious plotting of possible courses. “We go now, tonight, Dutiful and I only, in secrecy. Chade has created an exploding powder, one that has the force of a lightning bolt. We use it to kill the dragon. We will get our people back, one way or another, from her. And when they are safe”—dead, I thought to myself coldly—“then I will find a way to get to her and kill her.”
Chade and the Prince stared at me. Then Chade nodded slowly. The Prince looked as if he wondered who I was.
“Think!” Burrich barked at me suddenly. “Think it through for yourself, with no assumptions. There is much here that makes no sense to me, questions that you should answer before you blindly do her wishes, regardless of what threat she holds over you. Why hasn't she simply killed the dragon herself? Why does she bid you do it, and then cast you out of her stronghold, when it would be easier for her to assist you in reaching him?” In an aside to no one, he muttered, “I hate this. I hate thinking this way, the intrigue and the plotting. I always have.” He stared blindly into the recesses of the dim tent. “All these intricate balances of power, ambition, and the Farseer drive to set forces in motion and ride them out. All the secrets. That is what killed your father, the finest man I ever knew. It killed his father, and it killed Verity, a man I was proud to have served. Must it kill yet another generation, must it end your whole line before you stop it?” He turned his gaze, and suddenly seemed to see the Prince. “End it, my lord. I beg you. Even at the cost of the Fool's life, even at the cost of your betrothal. End it now. Cut your losses, which are already far too high. Death is all you can buy for the Narcheska's family. Walk away from all of it. Leave here, sail home, marry a sensible woman, and have healthy children. Leave this woeful cup to the Outislanders who brewed it. Please, my prince, blood of my dearest friend. Leave this. Let us go home.”
His words shocked all of us, not least the Prince. I could see Dutiful's mind racing as he stared at Burrich. Had it ever occurred to the youngster that he could take such a step? He looked at each of us in turn, then stood up. Something changed in his face. I had never seen it happen, never suspected that perhaps a single moment could carry a boy to manhood. I saw it then. He stepped to the door of the tent. “Longwick!”
Longwick thrust his head inside. “My prince?”