Assassin's Quest

"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 at work. If I reached toward it at all, I could feel the tiny fissuring of stone as it flaked away. It truly seemed as if the dragon had been hidden in the stone, and that Verity's task was to reveal it, one gleaming scale at a time.

"Fitz. Stop it." I could hear annoyance in his voice. Annoyance that I was Skill-sharing with him, and annoyance that I was distracting him from his work.

"Let me help you," I begged again. Something about the work drew me. Before, when Verity had been scraping at the stone with his sword, the dragon had seemed an admirable Work of stone-carving. But now there was a shimmering of Skill to him as both Verity and Kettle employed their powers. It was immensely attractive, in the way that a sparkling creek glimpsed through trees draws the eye, or the smell of fresh-baked bread wakes hunger. I longed to put hands on, and help shape this powerful creature. The sight of their working awakened a Skill hunger in me such as I had never known. "I have been Skill-linked with you more than anyone has. In the days when I pulled an oar on the Rurisk, you told me I was your coterie. Why do you turn me away now, when I could help, and you need help so badly?"

Verity sighed and rocked back on his heels. The toe was not done, but I could see the faint outline of scales upon it now, and the beginning of the sheath for the wickedly curved talon. I could feel how the claw would be, striated like a hawk's talon. I longed to reach down and draw forth those lines from the stone.

"Stop thinking about it," Verity bade me firmly. "Fitz. Fitz, look at me. Listen to me. Do you remember the first time I took strength from you?"

I did. I had fainted. "I know my own strength better now," I replied.