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“I don’t even know if this will work,” Dwalia said, and her voice shook. She unrolled the scroll and held it by the tiny fire. They had shielded it with packed snow on all sides to keep us from seeing it too soon. She had to bend close. She studied something written on it, then straightened and ordered, “Bring her, bring both of them to the stone. I will go first, then Vindeliar. Alaria, take Vindeliar’s hand and grip the shaysim tight. Reppin, you take the shaysim’s other hand, and also Kerf’s. Kerf, bring the woman. Soula, you are last. We’ll have to leave the horses.”

My head was spinning. Still caught, still dragged along with them, into ever greater danger. I could imagine no good ending for us. I had no idea why she wished us all to hold hands. Reppin gripped my wrist as if she wished to break it. Perhaps she did. Kerf was not as mean but he had stripped his mittens off to grip my other wrist. There would be no tugging free. I tried. He smiled benignly as I struggled. How had I not seen how dazed he was?

I heard voices through the trees. Chalcedean. They were calling to one another in Chalcedean. “Now!” Dwalia cried, and she sounded almost hysterical. I could not make out what she intended to do, and then I saw the standing stone that now leaned drunkenly, nearly toppled by the immense spruce that had grown up beside it.

“No!” I cried as Dwalia gripped Vindeliar and reached toward the faded glyph with her gloved hand. “No, it’s dangerous! My father said it’s dangerous!” But her hand touched the stone and I saw her dragged in. She did not release Vindeliar and he followed her, and then Alaria. I screamed and I heard an answering scream from Shun. Then, in an instant as brief as a flash of lightning, I saw. I understood. Change it. One tiny chance to change it. Not for me. My escaping was too unlikely. Reppin would never release me, and if she did, they’d come back for me. But I could change it for Shun. I suddenly coiled down, mouth wide, to where Kerf’s bared hand gripped my wrist. I bit his forefinger as hard as I could, sinking my teeth into the second joint, tasting his blood as he yelped. He let go of Shun to slap at me but I held tight to his hand, teeth, and fingers as I dragged him with me into a tarry darkness dotted with distant stars.

Chapter Twenty-Seven
Aftermath

...

The Black Prophet has likely been at the root of our near failures. Without his alliance, it is doubtful that Beloved would have enjoyed any success with his rebellion. Prilkop vanished from our records generations ago and we are beyond any doubt that his disappearance was deliberate. Since he was discovered as a natural-born rather than bred at Clerres, his time at our school was too short to be certain of his loyalty.

Perhaps the most astonishing part of this disaster has been that both Prilkop and Beloved returned to Clerres of their own volition. And initially both he and Beloved were inclined to share a complete and true report of all their activities. But something in our questions caused both of them to soon become recalcitrant. When gentler means failed and we could not lull them into contentment with their situation, we were forced to move into more energetic methods of questioning them. All know that knowledge gained by such means is often untrustworthy. We have recorded separately information garnered from questioning both Beloved and Prilkop, and recorded as reliable only that which corresponds.

Our knowledge of the traveling stones, of those who made them and how they were constructed, and even what locations the runes signify is fragmented but fascinating.

That long, cold day faded slowly.

The lone surviving Chalcedean died quickly. I tried to ask him about Bee, but he only shook his head and groaned. Any information the others knew had been lost with their lives.

I stood, shaking my head. The commander of the Ringhill Guard, one Spurman, was already giving his men orders to gather the bodies. Foxglove rode over to me. Her face was full of hope as she dismounted. “No,” I said softly to her unspoken question. “She was here and so was Shine. But the Chalcedeans and the captives fought a day or more ago. Bee and Shine fled when the Chalcedeans turned on one another. They are at least a day gone, perhaps two. Where they are now, no one seems to know.”

“I’ll organize a search,” she replied calmly. “They can’t have gone far. Fitz, we’ll find them.”

“So we all hope.” I lifted my voice as I turned to my guard. “Captain Foxglove will be conducting a search for escaped Chalcedeans. Watch for any of their captives or any stragglers.” I turned a firm gaze on my Rousters, where they had assembled in a rough formation separate from my guard. “Alive,” I cautioned them. “Any pale rider in white furs, any captive of theirs, or any Chalcedean mercenary you find, take them alive.”

Foxglove was shaking her head. “Not likely. We’ve seen two bodies in white furs. Both looked as if they’d cut their own throats. Probably rather than be taken by the Chalcedeans. We ambushed some Chalcedeans on their way to the ship. And chased what remained of them back here.”

“Do what you can, then,” I said quietly.

I left Foxglove to organize the search while I returned to the tent where Bee and Shine had slept. A more leisurely inspection of it turned up nothing that I connected to either of them. A very pale Lant had followed me there. He stared at the corner where they’d slept.

“How do you know they were here?” he asked me as Riddle came into the tent.

I picked up a blanket and tossed it to him. “Shine’s perfume lingers on some of the bedding. It’s not strong, but it’s there.”

He nodded slowly, and held the blanket to his breast. Slowly he turned and left the tent, still clutching it. “He shouldn’t be here,” Riddle said to me in a low voice.

“On that, we agree.”

“I mean that he’s injured. And heartsick. Not that he’s incompetent.”

I kept silent.

“You’re too hard on him, Fitz. He can’t help who he is, or what he isn’t. I, for one, am glad for what he isn’t. And I was very glad of his sword a short time ago. Nettle was nearly a widow before she was a mother.”

“I don’t dislike him,” I said, and wondered if that were true. “He’s just not the sort of man I need backing me right now.”

“Nor am I, then, I suppose.”

I stared at him. He turned and left the tent. I followed. In the thin winter sunlight, he stretched and then turned to look back at me. “You drugged us and left us. Like discarded baggage. I understand the other two. Per is just a boy yet, and Lant is injured. But why me?”

“I couldn’t get them to drink it without your sharing it, too.”

He looked away from me. “No, Fitz. I can think of a dozen ways around that, from joggling my arm when I started to drink to telling me what you were doing.”

It was hard to admit the truth. “I didn’t want any of you to witness what I might have to do. I didn’t want you to see me as … what I truly am. What I had to be today.” I glanced toward where Hogen’s body had been. Foxglove was there, ordering it dragged away by the Ringhill Guard to join the other bodies piled for burning. I wondered if anyone would notice how I’d mutilated him.

“I think I know who you are.”

I met his gaze and gave him honesty. “Probably you do. I’m still not proud to have you see it. Let alone watch me do it.” I looked away from him. “I’d rather that my daughter’s husband, the father of my grandchild, not be a party to things like this.”

He looked at me.

I tried to explain. “Once you are a father, you have to try to be a better man than you truly are.”

He stared. Then he laughed. “Me especially?”

“No. No, not you. I meant myself. That I tried.”

He clapped me on the shoulder. “The carris seed is catching up with you, Fitz. But I do know what you mean.”

“How did you know?”

“Your breath reeks of it.”

“I needed it,” I excused myself.

“So. Share with me now. And let’s get started on our own search. If you were Bee and Shine and able to flee, where would you go?”

“I’d probably backtrack to that town, assuming they passed through it.” I passed him the folded paper that had held the carris seed. He shook the few remaining seeds into his palm then clapped them to his mouth. He chewed.

“Me, too,” he agreed. “Let’s send Lant, the boy, and your roan horse on to Ringhill Keep. Have Lant give a report to the Skill-user there to relay to Nettle and Dutiful while you and I begin our search.”

It was past dark when Riddle and I rode through the gates of Ringhill Keep. Our searches had yielded nothing, nor had Foxglove’s soldiers discovered anything. Four times Riddle and I had followed tracks. We’d found one wandering horse that had probably just bolted and a Chalcedean body, and twice the tracks had merged with well-traveled roads. We’d asked in the village, and visited four different isolated farmsteads. No one had seen anything or anyone. By the time we returned to the campsite for a final visit, the area had been so overridden that there were no longer any tracks worth following. The smoldering remains of the bone-fire gave off a greasy smell. Night was coming on, and I was finished.

As its name suggested, the Ringhill Keep fortification ringed one of the hills that overlooked the coast of Buck. From its vantage, one could watch ships approach Forge, Salter’s Deep, and the smaller fishing villages that fringed that part of the coast. It was not a grand keep, but like many settlements in Buck it was growing. We allowed the stable boys to take our horses. I had used Perseverance’s mount. The lad had ridden Priss and gentled Fleeter here. I thought of checking on her but as I knew it must, the carris seed had deserted me. I was weary past exhaustion, and the dark mood of elfbark had claimed me.

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