They spoke too of leaving an offering for the Black Man of Aslevjal. Some spoke as if he were a hermit, others as if he were a spirit guardian of the dragon. All agreed he was dangerous, and that it was wise to mollify him with a gift. Some said raw red meat was the best offering; others contended his goodwill could be purchased with packets of tea herbs, bright beads, or honey.
Twice I heard the island mentioned in connection with the Red Ship War. There was less talk of this; few dwell long on tales of wars that were not gloriously won. I gathered that during the war, Kebal Rawbread and the Pale Woman had wished to establish a stronghold on Aslevjal. No one spoke of why, but many captured Six Duchies folk had been borne there, to work out the rest of their days as slaves. It seemed that Rawbread had made slaves too of the kin of any Outislanders who opposed his war. They had been Forged by him, and carried off to Aslevjal Island, never to be seen or heard from again. Thus the island had gained an aura of shame and misery that vied with its legendary dragon. Few wished to make a pilgrimage there to prove their mettle anymore.
All of these things I held in my mind, and reported them in detail to both Chade and Dutiful. In late-evening talks, my old mentor and I tried to see how these things might help or hinder us in our quest. Sometimes I felt we only discussed these nebulous rumors because there was so little that we knew for certain.
Dutiful had two long meetings with the Hetgurd, each lasting several days. The end result of them was that they had set the terms of our dragon hunt as if it were some sort of wrestling or shooting contest. What had Chade chewing his tongue was that the Boar Clan had arranged this negotiation and bound us to it without consulting him at all. Although I did not witness it, I heard that Arkon Bloodblade was surprised when the Prince, with cold courtesy, expressed dismay at the terms.
“We cannot change what he agreed to for us,” Chade told me grimly. “But it was worthwhile to see Bloodblade's face when Dutiful told him, ‘My word is mine, and I am the only man who can give it. Never again presume to speak for me.' ”
This he told me over brandy, in the same room in the stronghouse we had originally occupied. Thick and Dutiful were in the adjoining room. I could hear only the tone of their conversation: Dutiful was calmly explaining why Thick must board the ship the next day and Thick's voice was varying from a child's whine to a man's angry refusal. It did not sound as if it were going well. But, given what Bloodblade had committed us to, I did not think any of it could go much worse than it had.
Our nobles had done well in our absence, better than I had expected. Trading alliances between varying clans and Six Duchies houses were already being formalized. Displaying their own insignia had seemed to distance them sufficiently from the Buck of the Farseers to allow them to approach the varying clans without prejudice. Dutiful dined with his nobles almost every night, and each evening seemed to bring news of more trade negotiations. If the Prince was able to present a dragon head to the Narcheska, we would have succeeded in our goal. The Six Duchies and the Out Islands would be so tied together with marriage and trade that future wars would not profit anyone.
But the Hetgurd seemed determined it would not be easy for us. The Farseer Prince would be allowed to challenge the dragon, but the Hetgurd had set the rules for the confrontation. When we departed for Aslevjal, we would not be taking the Prince's Guard with him, but only a set number of warriors. Dutiful's Wit coterie took up most of that count, and so far he had refused to consider Chade's suggestion that he leave his Witted allies and take hardened fighters instead. As Dutiful had challenged her, the Narcheska would be accompanying us. We assumed that meant Peottre as well, and perhaps a few warriors from Narwhal or Boar clans, though their help had not been promised to us. A boat selected by the Hetgurd would transport us to Aslevjal. It would also transport the six Hetgurd representatives, who would see that we adhered to their rules. They would be warriors, selected from six different clans other than Boar or Narwhal clans. They would be allowed to defend themselves, if the dragon threatened them, but otherwise not harm him or assist us in any way. What we took with us would be limited to what the ship could carry, and once we were ashore, we'd be carrying it on our backs.
“I'm surprised they didn't specify the Prince must fight the dragon in single combat.”
“They came close to it,” Chade said sourly. “He is supposed to be the first man to challenge the beast. And it was strongly suggested that he should attempt to deal the death blow, if there is one. They are warriors enough to know that in the heat of a battle, no one can say which blow will actually do the deed. One of their bards will be accompanying us, as witness. Just what we needed.” He scratched a whiskery cheek wearily. “Not that we are greatly concerned about any of that. As I've said from the start, I think this is more a case of digging something out of the ice than battling any living creatures. I had looked forward to having a larger workforce for that part of this business.” He coughed slightly and looked mildly pleased with himself as he said, “But perhaps I have something that will serve us as well as the extra men would have.”
