I shot to my feet, head slapping against the tent roof and nearly bringing the whole structure down around me. "No one in this whole company can talk about anything!" I declared furiously. "Except me. And I intend to talk about everything."
I left the Fool leaning up on one elbow and staring after me. I don't know if his expression was amused or aghast. I didn't care. I strode from the tent, scrabbled up the pile of tailings to the pedestal where Verity carved his dragon. The steady scrape, scrape, scrape of his sword point against the stone was like a rasp against my soul. Kettricken sat by him, hollow-eyed and silent. Neither paid me the slightest bit of attention.
I halted a moment and got my breathing under control. I swept my hair back from my face and tied my warrior's tail afresh, brushed off my leggings and tugged the stained remnants of my shirt straight. I took three steps forward. My formal bow included Kettricken.
"My lord, King Verity. My lady, Queen Kettricken. I have come to conclude my reporting to the King. If you would allow it."
I had honestly expected both of them to ignore me. But King Verity's sword scraped twice more then ceased. He looked at me over his shoulder. "Continue, FitzChivalry. I shall not cease my work, but I shall listen."
There was grave courtesy in his voice. It heartened me. Kettricken suddenly sat up straighter. She brushed the straggling hair back from her eyes, then nodded her permission at me. I drew a deep breath and began, reporting as I had been taught, everything that I had seen or done since my visit to the ruined city. Sometime during, that long telling, the scraping of the sword slowed, then ceased. Verity moved ponderously to take a seat beside Kettricken. Almost he started to take her hand in his, then stopped himself and folded his own hands before him. But Kettricken saw that small gesture, and moved a trifle closer to him. They sat side by side, my threadbare monarchs, throned on cold rock, a stone dragon at their backs, and listened to me.
By one and by two, the others came to join us. First the wolf, then the Fool and Starling, and finally old Kettle ranged themselves in a half circle behind me. When my throat began to grow dry and my voice to rasp, Kettricken lifted a hand and sent Starling for water. She returned with tea and meat for all of us. I took but a mouthful of the tea and went on while they picnicked around me.
I held to my resolution and spoke plainly of all, even that which shamed me. I did not leave out my fears nor foolishness. I told him how I had killed Regal's guard without warning, even giving him the name of the man I had recognized. Nor did I skirt about my Wit experiences as I once would have. I spoke as bluntly as if it were only Verity and me, telling him of my fears for Molly and my child, including my fear that if Regal did not find and kill them, Chade would take the child for the throne. As I spoke, I reached for Verity in every way I could, not just my voice, but Wit and Skill, I tried to touch him and reawaken him to who he was. I know he felt that reaching, but try as I might, I could stir no response from him.
I finished by recounting what the Fool and I had done with the girl on a dragon. I watched Verity's face for any change of expression, but there was none I could see. When I had told him all, I stood silent before him, hoping he would question me. The old Verity would have taken me over my whole tale again, asking questions about every event, asking what I had thought, or suspected, of anything I had observed. But this gray-headed old man only nodded several times. He made as if to rise.
"My king!" I begged him desperately.
"What is it, boy?"
"Have you nothing to ask me, nothing to tell me?"
He looked at me, but I was not sure he was really seeing me. He cleared his throat. "I killed Carrod with the Skill. That is true. I have not felt the others since then, but I do not believe they are dead, but only that I have lost the Skill to sense them. You must be careful."
I gaped at him. "And that is all? I must be careful?" His words had chilled me to the bone.
"No. There is worse." He glanced at the Fool. "I fear that when you speak to the Fool, he listens with Regal's ears. I fear it was Regal who came to you that day, speaking with the Fool's tongue, to ask you where Molly was."
My mouth went dry. I turned to look at the Fool. He looked stricken. "I do not recall … I never said …" He took a halfbreath, then suddenly toppled to one side in a faint.
Kettle scrabbled over to him. "He breathes," she told us.