‘That sounds fine to me,’ I said as I drowsed off.
And so the next morning we set off. Longwick issued us three days of supplies which, he told us, should be ample for us to reach the beach. We struck the Fool’s elegant tent and packed it on the sled while Longwick gave us last-minute directives. If we reached the beach without encountering the others, we should warn the guard there of our sightings of the Black Man. If we encountered evidence that the others had met with foul play, we should return to the camp immediately and report. If we met the others coming back, we should simply turn around and come back with them. Web’s bird would check on us, from time to time. I nodded as I arranged the Fool’s tent and bedding for three onto the sled. As predicted, we had to load Thick onto the sled. He could not be persuaded to walk. It was not that he resisted; he simply didn’t co-operate. He would take a few steps, and then become lost once more in his musings. Dutiful and Chade both came to bid us farewell. Dutiful snugged Thick’s cap down around his ears. I know that he tried desperately to stir Thick with the Skill. I could not feel it, but I saw the intensity in Dutiful’s face. Thick turned his head slowly to look at the Prince. ‘I’m fine,’ he said sluggishly. And then he stared off in the distance again.
‘Take care of him, Tom,’ Dutiful told me gruffly.
‘I will, my lord. We’ll try to make a quick trip of it.’ And so saying, with Thick sitting on the great sled bundled up like a cocoon, I took up the lines and began to pull.
The heavily-waxed runners moved easily over the snow. Almost too easily, for we were now going downhill rather than up. I had to stop and set the drag to keep the sled from running over the top of me. The Fool went ahead of us, his pack riding high on his shoulders, prodding the snow to make sure our path was sound, even though we were following the line of stakes that Peottre had set up to mark our path for us.
The day was warm, and snow collected, heavy, on my boots. When our path levelled for a time, the runners of the sled began to stick. The sled was cutting a deeper path upon our old one, and as the runners sank into the snow, heavy damp snow began to ride on the tops of the runners. But the day was pleasant and pulling Thick on the sled was still less strenuous than shovelling ice out of a pit. The gaudy sword the Fool had given me tapped against my leg as I strode along, for Longwick had insisted that I, at least, should go armed. We were traversing the trail much more swiftly than we had before, for the path was clearly marked with Peottre’s stakes, and there was at least a slight downhill slope for all of it. Thick’s humming, the squeak of the runners and the crunch of our footsteps on the softened crust of the glacier were not the only sounds. The warmth had wakened the glacier. We heard one distant fall of ice, a thunder that went on for some time. It was followed by lesser creakings and crashes, but always at a distance.
The Fool began to whistle, and I was much cheered when I saw Thick sit up and take notice of the music. He still hummed breathlessly to himself, but I began to make comments on the scenery, uniformly white as it was, and occasionally elicited a response from him. That cheered me unreasonably, but also left me pondering. The Skill was not a magic bounded by distance, and yet Thick seemed to be recovering more of his own awareness of the world the farther we got from the buried dragon. I had no answer to why that might be so, and wished I could discuss it with Dutiful and Chade.
Several times I attempted in vain to reach out with the Skill. A legless man trying to jump would have had more success. The magic was simply gone. If I dwelt on that, I felt a cold pit in the bottom of my belly. I pushed the thought aside. There was nothing I could do about it now.
The daily cycle of warmth and chill combined with the nightly wind had smoothed all the edges of our previous passage’s trail. I made a few vain attempts to read it, trying to discern if Riddle and Hest and their sled had passed this way, with no success. We had a wide view of the snowy lands below us. Nothing moved on them, certainly nothing so large as a sled and two men. It was possible that they had lingered at the beach, I told myself, or that some mishap had delayed their return. I tried not to stack their disappearance with the theft of my Skill and the sightings of the Black Man. I had too few facts to make them add up to anything. Instead, I tried to enjoy the freshness of the day. At one point, I heard the high cry of a seabird, and looked up to see a gull describe a wide circle over us. I lifted a hand and waved a greeting at Risk, wondering if that acknowledgement would be relayed to Web. We passed our previous campsite while we still had plenty of daylight and energy to continue, so we did. That night, we pitched the tent on the trail behind the sled. Thick still periodically hummed to himself, but also expressed both an interest in and then dismay at the simple dinner I prepared. The little tent was a bit more crowded with the three of us, but also warmed more quickly. The Fool told simple children’s stories that night until we were all more than ready for sleep. With every passing tale, Thick hummed less and asked more questions. At one time the constant interruptions to the story would have annoyed me. Now they filled me with relief.
‘Would you tell Chade and Dutiful goodnight for me?’ I asked Thick as he settled into his blankets.
‘Do it yourself,’ he suggested grumpily.
‘I can’t. I ate some bad food, and now I can’t find them in my mind.’
He sat up on one elbow and stared at me. ‘Oh. Yes. Now I remember. You’re gone. That’s too bad.’ He was silent for a time, then said, ‘They say, “goodnight, and thanks for letting us know. And maybe I should stay at the beach, but they’ll decide later.”’ He drew a deep, satisfied breath and dropped back into his blankets.
It was my turn to sit up. ‘Thick. You aren’t coughing any more. Or wheezing.’
‘No.’ He rolled over, managing to kick me in the process. I nearly complained but then he said, ‘He told me, “mend yourself. Don’t be stupid, mend yourself, don’t be annoying.” So I did.’
‘Who told you that?’ I asked, even as I was stricken with guilt. Why hadn’t Chade and Dutiful and I thought of trying to heal Thick? It now seemed obvious. I was ashamed we hadn’t done it.
‘Huh,’ Thick sighed out consideringly. ‘His name is a story, too long to tell. I’m sleepy. Stop talking to me.’
And that was that. He went off into a deep sleep. I wondered if Icefyre had another name, a dragon name.