I had understood Bloodblade’s words but the full import of their meaning escaped me. Obviously there was custom here we were not familiar with, and I questioned what we had blundered into with our matchmaking. Bleakly I wondered if we had not fallen into a trap. Was the Blackwater family of the Narwhal Clan intent on kindling war between the Six Duchies and the Out Islands? Had their offer of the Narcheska been a sham, to draw us into a situation in which regardless of the outcome, we had invited bloodshed yet again to our shores?
I studied Peottre Blackwater’s face. His expression was stolid and still, his eyes turned inward. He seemed impassive to the dilemma his sister-daughter had set us, and yet I felt he was not. I sensed rather that we balanced on the knife blade that had already cut deep into him. He looked, I suddenly thought, like a man without choices. A man who could no longer hope, because he knows that no action of his own can save him. He was waiting. He did not plan or plot. He had already done the task he had set out to do. Now he could only wait to see how other men would carry it out. I was certain I was right, and yet what I could not understand or even imagine was why. Why had he done it? Or, as her father had said, was it beyond his control, the will of a woman who might be younger than he was and dependent on him, and yet controlled who might walk on the earth of his mother-holdings?
I looked around me. There were simply too many differences between us, I decided. How could the Six Duchies ever make a peace with the Out Islands when our customs varied so widely? Yet, tradition had it that the Farseer line had its roots in the Out Islands, that Taker, the first Farseer monarch, had begun his life as an Out Island raider who had seen the log fortress that Buckkeep once was and decided to make it his own. Our lines and our ways had diverged far since those days. Peace and prosperity depended on us finding some common ground.
The likelihood of that did not seem great.
I lifted my eyes to find the Prince’s gaze fixed on me. I had not wanted to distract him before. Now I sent him a reassuring thought. Thick is resting in his chamber upstairs. He ate and drank before he went to sleep.
I wish I could be doing the same. They did not give me so much as a chance to wash my face before they convened the Hetgurd. And now it shows no sign of ending.
Patience, my prince. They’ll end this eventually. Even Outislanders must eat, drink, and sleep some time.
Do they piss, do you think? That’s starting to be a very immediate concern to me. I’ve thought of excusing myself quietly, but don’t know how it would be interpreted if I stood and walked out now.
The hair stood up on the back of my neck as I felt a fumbling Skill-touch. Thick?
It was Chade. I saw Dutiful start to reach out his hand, to touch Chade and add his strength to the old man’s. I stopped him. No. Don’t. Let him try it on his own. Chade, can you hear us?
Barely.
Thick is asleep upstairs. He ate and drank before he fell asleep.
Good. I sensed the effort he put into that brief reply. Nonetheless, I was grinning. He was doing it.
Stop. Silly grin. He scolded me. He looked around the room gravely. Bad situation. Need time to think. Need to stop this before it goes too far without us.
I made my face solemn. The expression was far more in keeping with that of those around me. Arkon Bloodblade was surrendering the speaking circle to a man who wore an Eagle badge. They paused to clasp wrists in a warrior’s greeting before the Eagle entered the circle. The Eagle kaempra was an old man, possibly the oldest man in the assembly. Grey and white streaked his thinning hair, yet he still moved like a warrior. He stared around at us accusingly, and then spoke abruptly, the ends of his words softened by his missing teeth.
‘Doubtless a man must do what he has said he will do. It wastes our day to even discuss that. And men must honour their kinship bonds. If this foreign Prince came here and said, “I have promised a woman that I would kill Orig of the Eagle Clan”, all of you would say, “Then you must try, if you have promised to do it”. But we would also say, “But know that some of us have kinship bonds with Orig. And we will kill you before we let you do this thing.” And we would expect the Prince to accept that as obviously correct, also.’ His slow gaze travelled the assembly disdainfully. ‘I smell merchants and traders here, who used to be warriors and honourable men. Shall we sniff after Six Duchies goods like a dog grovelling after a bitch? Will you trade your own kin for brandy and summer apples and red wheat? Not this Eagle.’
He gave a snort of contempt for all who thought there was any need of more discussion, left the circle and crabbed back to sit amongst his warriors. A silence fell as we all pondered his words. Some exchanged glances: I sensed the old man had cut close to the bone. There were many here uneasy at the thought of letting the Prince kill their dragon, but they were also hungry for peace and trade. War with the Six Duchies had cut them off from all trade from points south of us. Now the Chalcedean quarrel with the Bingtown Traders was throttling that route. If they did not gain free trade with the Six Duchies, they would have to forgo all goods and luxuries that warmer countries could provide for them. It was not a thought to relish. Yet no one there could oppose the Eagle’s stance without taking the name of greedy trader to himself.
We have to end this somehow. Now, before anyone adds their spoken approval to his words. Chade’s thin Skilling sounded desperate.
No one else stepped forward into the speaking circle. No one had a solution to offer. The longer the silence stretched, the more charged the room became. I knew Chade was right. We needed time to think of a diplomatic solution to our position. And if there wasn’t one, we still needed time to discover how many of the Outislander clans would actively oppose us and how many would simply disapprove. Given the disapproval of the other clans, would the Narcheska persist in her challenge to Dutiful or would she withdraw it? Could she honourably recall it? Here we were, not even a full day on this island’s soil and already we seemed on the verge of confrontation.
Adding to my discomfort was that I was becoming aware of Dutiful’s need to urinate. I started to shield myself from his Skill, and then had a different idea. I recalled how Thick’s uneasiness aboard the ship had spread to infect the sailors. I wondered if Dutiful’s current discomfort could be used in a like manner.
I opened myself to his unwitting sending, amplified it and then sent my Skill questing out through the room. None of the Outislanders that I touched had any strong aptitude for the Skill, but many were susceptible to its influence in varying degrees. Once Verity had used a similar technique to baffle Red Ship navigators, convincing them that they’d already passed key landmarks and thus sending their ships onto the rocks. Now I used it to end this Hetgurd gathering by reminding every man my Skill could touch of his urgent need to empty his bladder.
All around the room, men began to shift in their seats.
Doing? Chade demanded.
Ending this meeting, I told him grimly.
Ah! I felt Dutiful’s sudden comprehension, and then felt him join his persuasion to mine.
Who is in charge? I asked him.