Peottre called a halt in the grey of evening and we made a quiet camp. We used two of the tents to erect a makeshift shelter around the sled that the injured men were on so we would not have to move them. The other two were able to speak and eat, but Burrich was still and quiet. I brought Swift food and drink, and sat with him for a time, but after a while, I sensed that he wished to be alone with his father. I left him there and went out to walk under the stars.
There is no true dark to a night in that land. Only the brightest of the stars showed. The night was cold and the constant wind blew, heaping loose snow against the shelters. I could not think of anywhere I wanted to be or anything I wanted to do. Chade and the Prince were crowded into the Narcheska’s tent with Peottre’s family. There was triumph and rejoicing there; both were foreign emotions to me. The Hetgurd men and the recovered Outislanders were having a reunion of sorts. I walked past a tiny fire where Owl was matter-of-factly burning a dragon-and-serpent tattoo off a man’s forearm. The smell of roasting flesh rode the wind while the man grunted and then roared with the pain. Dutiful’s Wit-coterie, sans Swift, had also crammed themselves into a small tent. I heard Web’s deep voice as I went past and caught the gleam of a cat’s eye peering out. Doubtless they shared the Prince’s triumph. They had freed the dragon and he’d won the Narcheska’s regard.
Longwick sat alone before a small fire in front of a darkened tent. I wondered where he had got the brandy I smelled. I nearly walked past him with a silent nod, but something in his face told me that here was where I belonged tonight. I hunkered down and held my hands over the tiny fire. ‘Captain,’ I greeted him.
‘Of what?’ he retorted. He rolled his head back with a crackling sound, and then sighed. ‘Hest. Riddle. Deft. Doesn’t say much for me that all the men who accompanied me here are dead and I still live.’
‘I’m still alive,’ I pointed out to him.
He nodded. Then he gestured with his chin toward the tent and said, ‘Your half-wit’s in there, asleep. He looked a bit lost tonight, so I took him in.’
‘Thanks.’ I knew a moment of guilt, and then asked myself if I should have left Burrich to tend Thick. And reflected that perhaps having someone to oversee had been the best thing for Longwick. He shifted, and then offered me a brandy flask. It was a soldier’s flask, dented and scratched, his own hoard of spirits, and a gift to be respected. I drank from it sparingly before returning it to him.
‘Sorry about your friend. That Golden fellow.’
‘Yes.’
‘You went back a way.’
‘We were boys together.’
‘Were you? Sorry.’
‘Yes.’
‘I hope that bitch died slowly. Riddle and Hest were good men.’
‘Yes.’ I wondered if she had died at all. If she were still alive, could she be any threat to us? Dragon, Rawbread, and Forged servants had all been taken from her. She was Skilled, but I could think of no way she could use that against all of us. If she was alive, she was as alone as I was. Then I sat for a time, wondering which I hoped: that she was dead or alive and suffering? Finally, it came to me. I was too tired to care.
Some time later, Longwick asked me, ‘Are you really him? Chivalry’s Bastard?’
‘Yes.’
He nodded slowly to himself, as if that explained something. ‘More lives than a cat,’ he said quietly.
‘I’m going to bed,’ I told Longwick.
‘Sleep well,’ he said, and we both laughed bitterly.
I found my pack and bedding and took it into Longwick’s tent. Thick stirred slightly as I made my bed alongside him. ‘I’m cold,’ he mumbled.
‘Me, too. I’ll sleep against your back. That will help.’
I lay down in my blankets but I didn’t sleep. I wondered useless things. What had she done to the Fool? How had she killed him? Had he been completely Forged before she killed him? If she’d sent him into the dragon, did that mean he’d felt some final pain when the stone dragon died? Stupid, stupid questions.
Thick shifted heavily against my back. ‘I can’t find her,’ he said quietly.
‘Who?’ I asked sharply. The Pale Woman was large in my thoughts.
‘Nettle. I can’t find her.’
My conscience smote me. My own daughter, the man who had raised her dying, and I hadn’t even thought of reaching out to her.
Thick spoke again. ‘I think she’s afraid to go to sleep.’
‘Well. I can’t blame her.’ Only myself.
‘Are we going back home now?’
‘Yes.’
‘We didn’t kill the dragon.’
‘No. We didn’t.’
There was a long pause and I hoped he had gone back to sleep. Then he asked me quietly, ‘Are we going home on a boat?’
I sighed. His childish concern was the only thing that could have weighed me heavier. I tried to find sympathy for him. It was difficult. ‘It’s the only way we can go home, Thick. You know that.’
‘I don’t want to.’
‘I don’t blame you.’
‘Me, neither.’ He sighed heavily. After a time he said, ‘So this was our adventure. And the Prince and the Princess get married and live happily ever after, with many children to warm them in their old age.’
He had probably heard that phrase thousands of times in his life. It was a common way for a minstrel to end a hero tale.
‘Perhaps,’ I said cautiously. ‘Perhaps.’
‘What happens to the rest of us?’
Longwick came into the tent. Quietly he began to make up his bed. From the way he moved, I suspected he had finished his brandy.
‘The rest of us go on with our lives, Thick. You’ll go back to Buckkeep and serve the Prince. When he becomes the King, you’ll be at his side.’ I reached to find his happy ending. ‘And you’ll live well, with pink sugar cakes and new clothes whenever you need them.’
‘And Nettle,’ he said with satisfaction. ‘Nettle is at Buckkeep now. She’s going to teach me how to make good dreams. At least, that’s what she said. Before the dragon and all.’
‘Did she? That’s good.’
With that, he seemed to settle for the night. In a short time, his breathing took on the slower rhythm of sleep. I closed my eyes and wondered if Nettle could teach me how to make good dreams. I wondered if I’d ever have the courage to meet her. I didn’t want to think about her right now. If I thought about her, then I had to think about telling her about Burrich.
‘What will you do, Lord FitzChivalry?’ Longwick’s question in the dark was like a voice out of the sky.
‘That isn’t me,’ I said quietly. ‘I’ll go back to the Six Duchies and be Tom Badgerlock.’
‘Seems like a lot of people know your secret now.’
‘I think they are all men who know how to hold their tongues. And will do so, at Prince Dutiful’s request.’
He shifted in his blankets. ‘Some might do so merely at Lord FitzChivalry’s request.’
I laughed in spite of myself, then managed to say, ‘Lord FitzChivalry would greatly appreciate that.’
‘Very well. But I think it’s a shame. You deserve better. What of glory? What of men knowing what you have done and who you are, and giving you the acclaim you deserve for your success? Don’t you want to be remembered for what you’ve done?’
I didn’t need to think long. What man has not played that game, late at night, staring into the fire’s embers? I had been down the road of what might have been so often that I knew every crossroad and pitfall in it. ‘I’d rather be forgotten for the things people think I’ve done. And I’d give it all if I could forget the things I failed to do.’