The Black Man was gone.
I used my right arm to lower my left hand to my side as gently as I could. My shoulder screamed when my left arm dangled its full weight, but I gritted my teeth and ignored it. I picked up the lantern and held it aloft and shouted. I saw nothing of the Black Man, only blowing snow. I trudged on, following his trail. It ended in a wind-scoured ridge of rock. But in the next valley, not far below me, I saw the dimly lit tents of our camp and I immediately abandoned all thoughts of the Black Man. Below were friends, warmth and possible rescue for the Fool. I staggered through the snow toward the tents, calling out Chade’s name. At my second shout, Longwick roared a challenge up at me.
‘It’s me, it’s Fitz. No, I mean, it’s Tom, it’s me!’ I doubt that he deciphered anything I said. I was hoarse from shouting and competing with the wind. I well recall my deep relief when I saw the other men stumbling from their tents and lanterns being kindled and held aloft. I staggered and slid down the hill toward them as they fanned out to meet me. I recognized Chade’s silhouette and then the Prince’s. There was no squat Thick amongst them, and I felt a sob build in my chest. Then I was finally within hearing of the line of men, breathlessly calling, ‘It’s me, it’s Tom, let me through, let me in, I’m so cold. Where is Thick, did you find Thick?’
From their midst a broad-shouldered man stepped forth, past Longwick who tried vainly to motion him back. He ran three strides toward me, and I took a deep, unbelieving breath of his scent just before he enfolded me in a bear hug. Despite the pain to my shoulder, I didn’t struggle. I dropped my head on his shoulder, and let him support me, feeling safer than I had in years. Suddenly, it seemed as if everything would be all right, as if everything could be mended. Heart of the Pack was here and he had never let us come to harm.
Over my bent head, Burrich spoke to Chade angrily. ‘Just look at him! I always knew I never should have trusted him to you. Never!’
In the chaos that had erupted, I stood still on my icy feet, ignoring the shouted questions around me. Burrich spoke by my ear. ‘Easy, lad. I’m here to take you home, both of you, you and my Swift. You should have come home years ago. What were you thinking? Whatever were you thinking?’
‘I have to kill the dragon,’ I told him. ‘As soon as possible. If I kill the dragon, she’ll let the Fool live. I have to cut off Icefyre’s head, Burrich. I must.’
‘If you must, then you will,’ he said comfortingly. ‘But not right this moment.’ Then, to Swift, ‘Stop gawking, boy. Fetch dry clothes and make food and hot tea for him. Quickly.’
I gratefully surrendered myself to the steady hands I had always trusted. He steered me through the cluster of staring men to the Prince’s tent, where my heart nearly broke with relief at the sight of Thick sitting up sleepily on his pallet. He looked none the worse for wear, and even seemed glad to see me until he was told he’d have to move his bed for the night to make room for me. He went off with Longwick in charge of him, but not graciously. Thick had Skilled to Chade and the Prince as soon as we’d vanished in the crevice and Chade had immediately sent Longwick and Cockle to fetch him back. He’d spent a miserable night sitting on the sled in the cold, with only his Skill-contact to sustain him. When his rescuers had reached him the next day, they’d found no sign of Lord Golden and me except for the sunken snow that had filled the crevasse.
I sat down, dazed with cold and exhaustion, on Chade’s bedding. Burrich spoke to me as he built up the little fire in the pot. His deep voice and the rhythm of his speech was a familiar comfort from my childhood. For a time I heard his voice without paying attention to the words, and then I realized he was reporting to me just as I had once reported to him. Once he had decided he must fetch Swift and me home, he had come as swiftly as he could, and he was sorry, so sorry that he had taken so long to find us. The Queen herself had helped him hire a boat to Aslevjal, but no man of the crew would willingly set foot on the island. When he had landed, he had tried to persuade Chade’s guards to guide him to us, but they had righteously refused to leave their tent on the beach and the supplies they guarded. And so he had come on by himself, following Peottre’s pennanted poles. He had reached Thick’s sled at almost the same time as Cockle and Longwick. Only their shouts of warning had prevented him from plunging into the same abyss that had claimed the Fool and me. Once he had found a safe crossing point, he had come back to the camp with Cockle and Longwick, bearing the news of the loss of Tom Badgerlock and Lord Golden. Chade had brought him to the privacy of the Prince’s tent, and quietly told him that those names also belonged to the Fool and me. Burrich had journeyed all the way to Aslevjal, only to hear yet again of my death. His voice was impassive as he related this to me, as if his own pain at hearing such words were of no consequence. ‘I am glad to see they were wrong. Again.’ His hands were busy chafing my hands and feet back to painful life.
‘Thank you,’ I said quietly when I could flex my hands again. There was too much to say to Burrich, and no privacy to say it in. So I looked at Chade and asked my most burning question. ‘How close are we to killing the dragon?’
Chade came to sit beside me on his bed. ‘We are closer than when you vanished, but not close enough,’ he said bitterly. ‘We were divided when you left. Now it’s worse. We’ve been betrayed, Fitz. By a man we had all come to trust. Web sent his gull to Bingtown, bearing a message that tells the Traders everything, and bids them send Tintaglia to keep us from killing Icefyre.’
I shifted my gaze to Dutiful and stared in disbelief. ‘You let him do this?’