“Fine words!” Chade fumed. “Grand words, but you've no idea what you've chosen. And neither do I! If that thing breaks out of there and is hungry, will he ‘choose life' for us? Or a hearty meal? I admit I've been shortsighted. Perhaps you were wise not to kill him. But that does not mean you were wise to wake him. Who will thank you for this, FitzChivalry, when this long day is done?”
“FitzChivalry?” I heard Civil say, striding up behind Chade. “FitzChivalry? Is that who he means? Tom Badgerlock is FitzChivalry, the Witted Bastard?” He turned to clutch Web's arm incredulously, demanding an answer. His eyes were wide, and he was breathless with shock. Dutiful's friend stared at me as if he had never seen me before, but there was no admiration in his eyes. He was a man cheated of a legend, shown common earth when he had expected the gleam of gold.
“Hush.” It was Web, silencing a secret that had outgrown its shroud. “Not now. Later, I'll explain. There is no time now. He has wakened Icefyre. It's up to us to free him.” Web measured me with his eyes and seemed pleased with what he saw. He gave me a nod that was almost a bow, and then strode past us.
For the first time, I noted that the Witted coterie carried their digging tools, shovels and pry bars. A new purpose animated them all. Swift and Cockle were bringing up the sled to haul away the ice. Swift did not look at Burrich or me as he passed. Nonetheless, Burrich was aware of him and undeterred by his son's cold silence. “Be careful, son,” he admonished him as the boy passed us. “No one knows what Fitz has awakened there, or what his feelings toward us will be.”
Then Burrich turned his gaze to me, and I had not known that clouded eyes could still pierce a man. “What did you do up there? And why?”
Perhaps it was time for that truth, too. “It wasn't me. Not completely. I knew the dragon was alive, but I couldn't reach him with my Skill, only my Wit. My Skill wasn't strong enough. But then Nettle found me. And—”
“And Nettle waked him up!” Thick announced happily as he finally trudged up to us. “And I saved her and put her safe. She loves me.”
“What?” This burst from Burrich, a cry of outrage and pain. “Nettle, my Nettle? Witted? It isn't possible, it cannot be!”
“No. Not Witted. Skilled.” Chade sounded impatient. “But untrained. Dangerously untrained. Another consequence for which we must thank Fitz and his whims. We nearly lost her in the Skill-current, but Thick knew her well enough to find her and take her out of it. She's safe now, Burrich. Probably very confused as to what happened to her just then, but safe.”
“This is too much. I cannot deal with this.” Burrich had been holding my arm, but now I was suddenly supporting him. He shuddered out a breath. “I suspected she had a touch of Chivalry's magic. I suspected for a long time, and when she told me of her wolf dream . . . that was when I knew I must go to Kettricken, to find out what it meant and to arrange for Nettle to be taught.” He gave me a strange smile, torn between pride in her and fear for her future. “She was strong enough to wake a dragon?”
Then all of us were rocked by a blast of thought that sent Chade tottering, and then sinking to his knees. It was dragon speech, reaching into our minds. Tintaglia had found us.
Go and help him! Dig Icefyre out, and harm not a scale upon him. I come swift as flame, for by touch of our minds, I know where he is and no longer need the guidance of a bird! I warn you, I am not far away, and when I arrive, I expect to see him standing to meet me. If he is not, woe upon you all!
It was neither the Skill nor the Wit, and yet it struck my mind with the force of a strong Skill-sending. Icefyre's recent use of my mind had left me raw to the Skill, and the force of Tintaglia's thought physically staggered me. I suspect that those of us versed in the Skill were more susceptible to her thoughts than the others. Certainly it staggered Dutiful's entire Skill coterie. Those of his Wit coterie reacted in a variety of ways, some seeming to take the full import of her words, others looking about as if puzzled, and Cockle showing no awareness of it at all. Civil raised a shout. “You all heard her! Tintaglia commands that we dig Icefyre out! Let's do it!” He raced up the hill as if leading a charge against an enemy.
Among the Outislanders, as least one prostrated himself, believing that a god or demon had spoken to him. Two of the others stared off in the distance, as if questing after something they might have heard. The others gave no reaction. Burrich, long sealed off to the Skill by my father in order to protect him, looked puzzled for a moment, as if he had almost recalled something. I suspect his Wit made him vaguely aware of a sending without comprehending the thought that had accompanied it.
