Assassin's Quest

"A man died on the stone boar's tusks," I said flatly. "Perhaps that is how you rouse these dragons. With death." I cannot explain the hurt I felt. He had taken what should have been mine and given it to Kettle. He owed that Skill-closeness to me, no other. Who else had come so far, given up so much for him? How could he deny me the carving of his dragon?

It was Skill-hunger, pure and simple, but I did not know it then. At that time, all I could feel was how perfectly linked he was with Kettle, and how firmly he repulsed me from joining that link. He walled me out as firmly as if I were Regal. I had forsaken my wife and child and crossed all of the Six Duchies to be of service to him, and now he turned me away. He should have taken me to the river, been beside me as I had that experience. I had never known myself capable of such jealousy. Nighteyes came back from frisking about Kettricken to push his head under my arm. I rubbed his throat and hugged him. He, at least, was mine.

She understood me, he repeated anxiously. I made her understand, and she told him he must go.

Kettricken, coming to stand beside me, said, "I had the strongest feeling you needed help. It took much urging, but finally Verity left the dragon and went for you. Are you much hurt?"

I got to my feet slowly, dusting myself off. "Only my pride, that my king would treat me as a child. He might have let me know he preferred Kettle's company."

A flash of something in Kettricken's eyes made me recall to whom I spoke. But she hid her twin hurt well, saying only, "A man was killed, you say?"

"Not by me. He fell on the stone boar's tusks in the dark and gutted himself. But I saw no stirring of dragons."

"Not the death, but the spilled life," Kettle said to Verity. "That might be it. Like the scent of fresh meat rousing a dog starved near to death. They are hungry, my king, but not past rousing. Not if you find a way to feed them."

"I like not the sound of that!" I exclaimed.

"It is not for us to like or dislike," Verity said heavily. "It is the nature of dragons. They must be filled, and life is what fills them. It must be given willingly to create one. But dragons will take what they need to sustain them, once they rise in flight. What had you supposed that King Wisdom offered them in return for defeating the Red-Ships?"

Kettle pointed a scolding finger at the Fool. "Pay heed to that, Fool, and understand now why you are so weary. When you touched her with Skill, you linked with her. She draws you to her now, and you think you go out of pity. But she will take from you whatever she needs to rise. Even if it is your whole life."

"No one is making any sense," I declared. Then, as my own scattered wits returned to me, I exclaimed, "Regal has sent soldiers. They are on the march here: They are no more than a few days away at most. I suspect they push themselves and travel swiftly. The men guarding the pillars are placed there to prevent Verity's escape."

It was much later that night before I had it all sorted out. Kettle and Verity had indeed gone to the river, almost as soon as I left. They had used the pillar to get down to the city, and there they had laved Kettle's arms in the stuff and renewed the power in Verity's. Every glimpse of that silvering of her arms woke in me a Skill-hunger that was almost a lust. It was something I masked from myself and attempted to hide from Verity. I do not believe he was deceived, but he did not force me to confront it. I masked my jealousy with other excuses. I told them both hotly it was only the purest luck they had not encountered the coterie there. Verity had calmly replied that he had known the risk and taken it. Somehow it hurt me all the more that even my anger left him so unmoved.

It had been on their return that they had discovered the Fool chipping at the stone that mired Girl-on-a-Dragon. He had cleared an area around one foot, and began on the other. The foot itself remained a shapeless chunk of stone but the Fool insisted that he could feel the foot, intact inside the stone. He felt certain that all she wished from him was that he chop the dragon free of that which mired it. He had been shaking with exhaustion when they found him. Kettle had insisted he go right to bed. She had taken the last piece of often boiled elfbark and ground it down fine, to make one last dose of tea for him. Despite the drug, he remained detached and weary, scarcely even asking a question as to what had happened to me. I felt deep uneasiness for him.