‘Yes. I can see that he has.’ There was a look of trust on Thick’s face as the boy led him toward the boarding plank. He hesitated there, halting. Then Swift spoke softly to him, and, still holding the little man’s hand, led him up the gangway. I debated before next I spoke, but curiosity dragged the words from me. ‘I know how to push someone away from me with the Wit. I think I’ve always known how to do that. But how do you draw someone closer with it?’
‘Ah. Well. The pushing away might come by instinct. Usually the drawing close does, too. I would have thought you knew it; now I understand why you’ve never used it with Thick.’ He cocked his head and looked at me appraisingly. ‘Sometimes, the things you don’t know baffle me. As if you’d forgotten or somehow lost some part of yourself.’
I think he saw the uneasiness that his words woke in me, for he suddenly changed his tone and spoke in generality. ‘I think all creatures use that drawing force, to some extent, with their young or when they wish to attract a mate. Perhaps you’ve used it without realizing it. But, you see, that is why a man given this magic should make an effort to learn about it. To be aware of how he’s using it.’ He let a silence fall, then added, ‘I’ll offer again to teach you what you need to know.’
‘I have to go and see to Thick and get him settled.’ I turned hastily to go.
‘Yes. I know that you do. You’ve many tasks and duties, and I won’t claim to know all that you do for our prince. I’m sure that at any moment of the day, you can find some reason to be too busy for this. But a man makes time for what is important in his life. So. I’ll be hoping that you’ll come to me. This is the last time I’ll make the offer. Now it’s up to you to accept it.’
And before I could hurry away, he turned and quietly left me there. Overhead, Risk lifted off from our mast with a lonely cry that rode down the wind. Lines were tossed, the planks were pulled in, and in the little boats men leaned to their oars to pull us away from the docks and out to where the wind could catch us. I promised myself that I’d find the time, today, to speak to Web about privately learning about my magic. I hoped I didn’t lie.
But nothing is ever simple. With the Narcheska, her father Arkon Bloodblade and her Uncle Peottre on board, most of Dutiful’s and Chade’s social time was taken up with one or another of them. I had little private conversation with either of them. Instead, as before, I was confined to Thick’s companionship. As he was miserable, he saw no reason why I shouldn’t be also. The minor bruises and scrapes he had given me on the previous voyage were renewed, and there was little I could do about it. Putting up walls against his subtle Skill-influence would have reduced my awareness of Chade and Dutiful. So I endured.
To make it worse, the water we crossed was nasty. We battled currents and tides that always seemed to oppose us. For two days of our journey, our ship rocked badly and Thick was genuinely seasick, as were Cockle, Swift and Civil. The rest of us ate little and moved from one hand-hold to another. I glimpsed a very pale Narcheska taking a walk on the deck on Peottre’s arm. Neither of them looked as if they were enjoying themselves. The slow days crawled by.
I did not find an opportunity to discuss the Wit with Web. From time to time, I would recall my intention, but it always seemed to come to me at a moment when a dozen other things wanted my attention. I tried to pretend it was circumstance that kept me from approaching him. In reality, I could not name what held me back.
Our destination finally appeared on the horizon. Even from a distance, Aslevjal looked a dismal place. It is among the northernmost of the Out Islands, a toothy isle of grim visage. Summer never really triumphs there. The milder days of summer’s brief visit are not sufficient to melt the snow of the previous winter on its mountains. Most of the island is locked under the glacier that squats within the pronged hold of its peaks. Some say it is actually two islands, bridged by the ice of the glacier, but I do not know the basis for that belief. Low tide bares black sand beaches around it like a dreary skirt. A barren and stony stretch of beach and a bit of cliff are permanently exposed at one end of it. In other places, rocks thrust up through the glacier’s pale coat. I could not tell if the cloudiness around the island was the ice smoking in the sunlight or snow blown by the continuous north wind we were encountering.
Our approach was slow as both wind and water seemed to oppose us. We tacked painfully toward the island. I was at the railing when Dutiful and the Narcheska, accompanied by Chade and Peottre, came out to look at the island. Dutiful scowled at it. ‘It does not look like a place where any creature would willingly reside, let alone something the size of a dragon. Why would a dragon be there?’
The Narcheska shook her head and spoke softly. ‘I do not know. I only know that our legends say that he is there. So, thither we must go.’ She pulled her wool cloak more closely around her. The wind seemed to carry the island’s icy bite to us.
In the afternoon, we rounded a headland and turned back toward Aslevjal’s sole bay. Our spies’ reports had told us it was a deserted place, with the remnants of a dock and a few stone structures tumbling into disrepair. Yet I glimpsed a patch of bright colour on the exposed cliff above the beach. Even as I stared at it, trying to resolve what it was, a figure emerged from it. I decided it was a tent or some sort of shelter. A man came to stand on the tip of the cliff. His black and white hooded cloak struggled and flapped around him. He lifted no hand in greeting, but only stood there and awaited us.
‘Who is that?’ Chade demanded of Peottre when the lookout’s cries to the captain had brought them back onto the deck.
‘I do not know,’ the man replied. Dread was heavy in his voice.
‘Perhaps it is the legendary Black Man of the island,’ Bloodblade suggested. He leaned forward avidly, studying the solitary figure on the bluffs. ‘I’ve always wondered if the tales were true.’
‘I don’t want to find out,’ the Narcheska commented quietly. Her eyes were huge. As we drew closer to the bay, the railing became crowded as we all stared toward our destination and the solitary ominous figure that awaited us there. It was only when we dropped anchor in the bay and our small boats prepared to ferry us and our supplies to shore that he moved. He came down to the beach, and stood at the high tide line. Even before he threw back his hood, something in my heart turned over. I felt sick with dread.
The Fool awaited me.
THIRTEEN
Aslevjal