What dragon?
This one! I pointed frantically, Wit and Skill, but Icefyre was gone again. Wait, wait! I begged her. He dives deep right now, but he is here, I promise you. Wait and watch with me. In a moment, he’ll be back.
Are you all right? Why haven’t you come out yet? Have you placed the powder? It was a panicky Skilling from Dutiful, breaking into my desperate thoughts to Nettle.
A moment or two longer, my prince. There is something I must do here. Then, as the dragon suddenly surged back into existence below me, I frantically summoned Nettle with, There! There he is. Wake him, reach him! Tell him he is not the last of his kind, tell him of Tintaglia. Tell him that she comes for him, to wake him and restore dragons to the air and earth.
Then, like a roll of doom, Chade burst in with, Fitz, what do you do? Would you betray us? Would you betray me, after all these years? Would you betray the Farseer throne and your own blood?
I do what I must! I Skilled it out wildly, feeling the strength of my magic wobble and fail. I could not tell if anyone heard me. I found I was lying flat on the ice in the tunnel. The dragon had receded again. By my head, the kettle glowed red. The container of powder was by my hand. I summoned my magic, hammered it like red iron and thrust it out into the world. I begged, hoping Nettle heard my thought. Tell him to turn away from death and choose life. Choose struggle and toil and pain and lovely, lovely life. Speak to him and tell him that Tintaglia still lives. Speak to him for me.
I will try, she agreed dubiously. She had held our link. I felt her thought but could no longer see her. I do not perceive this dragon that you speak of. But if you can show him to me, show me his dream, perhaps I can enter it and find him there.
I held a feeble Skill-wall against Chade’s threats, imprecations and pleas and Dutiful’s confusion while I pressed myself against the floor of ice and sought for the dragon that had no awareness of me. I could not reach him. Time both raced and dragged for me. I needed to reach him soon, before Chade could act against me, physically or with the Skill. I did not doubt that he would stop me if he could.
I recalled there had been a place where our spirits had touched, the dragon’s and mine, and I had entered his dream. I did not want to return to that time and that memory. It had been a turning point in time, not unlike this one, I suddenly realized. It had been one of the Fool’s crossroads; a place where a decision made by one had altered all that had followed. Burrich had chosen, for love of me, to use a magic he found hateful. I had chosen to trust the wolf and embrace a death that was not a death. In doing so, I had unwittingly chosen to go on living.
I found the place where my experience matched Icefyre’s. I found the cold and the dark and the despair, I found the longing for a death that I could not reach on my own. I returned my soul to Regal’s dungeon of beatings and isolation.
It was one thing to know I had been in a place like that. It was another to reach for it, to taste again old blood around my loosened teeth, to smell the stink of my own festering wounds, and feel the numbing cold of the stone walls that was still not enough to dull the aching of my battered flesh. I put my soul back into that trapped body and knew again the despair of reaching for a death that would not come to me. I pushed the life from my body and held it at bay, only to have it flow relentlessly back into my flesh the moment I relaxed my guard against it.
Sweet Eda, was that really you, trapped like that? I thought it but one of your nightmares!
Nettle’s horror nearly ripped me from my despair, but in that moment, I felt the dragon once more surge back to the edge of life’s shores. In that instant, we touched and duplicated one another. My nightmare and his were the same, and I felt Nettle’s awareness flow from my nightmare into the dragon’s dark dream.
An instant later, I grasped the fullness of my error. His dream closed around her and took her down as he submerged his life again. I heard Nettle’s fading wail at the complete foreignness of the consciousness that now enmeshed her.
I had time only to gasp. Then she was gone, fallen into a tarry darkness that engulfed her.
I Skilled uselessly after her. It was like groping in cold black water. And then even my awareness of the dragon was snatched from me, and my daughter was carried down with him, into the death he so avidly sought.
Once, I had seen a motley-fish leap from the water and seize a sea bird in its jaws and bear it down. So had it been. One moment Nettle had been with me, poised at my request to plunge in where I bid her go. And she had and now she was gone, carried down to a place I could not even imagine. I had risked her, weaponless, untrained in the Skill. She had gone at my request. The magnitude of my stupidity gutted me. I could neither blink nor breathe.
I had fed my daughter to a dragon.
I tried to unbelieve that it had happened, to force time back by sheer effort of will. It was impossible that such a terrible thing could have happened so instantaneously, impossible that so dreadful an error could be irreversible. The injustice of it alone would have seemed to make it impossible. She had done nothing to deserve such an end. It was my fault; it should have fallen upon me. Horror hollowed me as I scratched my claws against iron-hard reality. I could not unmake that moment of foolishness. What had possessed me, why hadn’t I paused to think before I flung her into the dragon’s dream?
Dimly, I was aware of the others.
Where did she go? What happened? This from Dutiful.
She went in the dragon. I been there. The music is big, but he doesn’t let you go. He doesn’t find you and he doesn’t care. You have to be his music, down there. No room for your own music. Thick’s Skilling was full of awe and fear.
But worst was Chade’s woeful, Oh, Fitz, what have you done? What have you done?
I wanted to die, if dying could undo my shame and remorse. I needed to die, because I could not live through feeling those things.