And there we left it.
I suppose I must have slept at some point, because I awoke in the pre-dawn grey. I crawled from my blankets to keep from disturbing Thick and went immediately to Burrich’s bedside. Swift slept curled beside him, holding his father’s hand. My Wit-sense of the Stablemaster told me that he was sinking away from us. He was going to die.
I went to Chade and Dutiful and woke them. ‘I want something from you,’ I told them. Dutiful peered at me blearily from his blankets. Chade sat up slowly in his bedding, alerted by my voice that this was a serious matter.
‘What?’
‘I want the coterie to try to heal Burrich.’ When no one spoke, I added, ‘Now. Before he slips any further away.’
‘The others are going to realize that you and Thick are more than what you seem,’ Chade pointed out to me. ‘It is why I have left my own injury alone. Not that it compares to Burrich’s.’
‘All my secrets seem to have spilled out on this island anyway. If I must live with those consequences, then I’d like to have something to show for it. For all I’ve lost here. I’d like to send Swift home to Molly with his father.’
‘Her husband,’ Chade reminded me quietly.
‘Don’t you think I know that, don’t you think I see all the possible consequences?’
‘Go wake Thick,’ the Prince suggested as he threw back his blankets. ‘I know you want to hurry, but I suggest you get him a good breakfast before we try this. He can’t focus on anything when he’s hungry. And mornings are not his best time. So let’s at least feed him.’
‘Shouldn’t we think this through a bit before –’ Chade began, but Dutiful cut him off.
‘This is the only thing Fitz has ever asked of me. He’s getting it, Lord Chade. And he’s getting it now. Well, as close to now as I can manage. As soon as Thick has had some breakfast.’ He began to dress, and with a groan, Chade threw back his blankets.
‘You act as if I hadn’t thought of this myself. I have. Chivalry sealed Burrich to the Skill. Doesn’t anyone besides me remember that?’ Chade asked wearily.
‘We can try,’ Dutiful replied stubbornly.
And we did. It seemed to take an eternity to get a breakfast made for Thick and while he consumed it in his careful and thorough way, I tried to explain to Swift what I wanted to do. I feared to give him too much hope, and at the same time, I wanted him to understand the risks of what we did. If our attempt at mending Burrich’s crumpled body was too much for his physical reserves and he died, I did not want the lad to think we had killed him recklessly.
I had thought it would be a difficult thing to explain. More difficult was getting Swift to pause and consider what I was telling him. I tried to call him aside to speak to him, for the Bear was not far away, tending the Outislander injured. But Swift refused to leave his father’s side for even a moment so finally I spoke to him where he sat. At the first mention that Prince Dutiful might be able to use the Farseer magic to mend his father’s body, Swift became so avid that I am sure my cautions and warnings of possible failure went right past him. The boy looked like a castaway, his eyes dark-circled and sunken in grief. Whatever sleep he had taken last night had not rested him. When I asked him if he had eaten, he just shook his head as if such an idea exhausted him.
‘When will you start?’ he demanded of me for the third time, and I surrendered. ‘As soon as the rest of them get here,’ I told him, and almost at that moment, Chade lifted the flap of the rough tent we had erected over the sled and entered. Dutiful and Thick crowded in behind him. The number of people in the crude shelter now threatened to collapse it, and with an impatient gesture, Dutiful suggested, ‘Let’s get this down and out of the way. It will be more distraction than shelter while we work.’
So, while Swift chewed his lip impatiently, Longwick and I took down the screening canvas and bundled it up for transport. By the time we had finished, rumour of what we were doing had begun to trickle through the camp and all gathered to watch. I did not relish working in front of everyone, let alone revealing to all how intimate my connection to the Prince was. Yet there was no help for it.
We gathered around Burrich’s body. It was hard to persuade Swift to step aside and let me put my hands on him, yet Web at last drew him aside. He stood behind the lad and held him as if he were a much younger boy. Wit and arms, he wrapped him in a comforting embrace, and I sent him a grateful look. He nodded to me, acknowledging it and bidding me begin.
Chade and Dutiful and Thick joined hands, looking like men about to play some child’s game. I shivered with dread of what we were about to attempt and tried to ignore the avid attention of the onlookers. Cockle the minstrel was wide-eyed and tense with focus. The Outislanders, both Hetgurd and rescued, watched us with suspicion. Peottre stood at a slight distance, his women around him, his face solemn and intent.
When I was a few years older than Swift I had tried, at Burrich’s suggestion, to draw Skill-strength from him as my father had. I had failed, and not just because I had not known what I was doing. My father had used Burrich as a ‘King’s Man’, as a source of physical strength for his Skill-work. But any man so used also becomes a conduit to the user, and so Chivalry had sealed Burrich off to other Skill-users, so that no one could use him as a means to attack Chivalry or spy on him. Today, I would pit my strength and that of Dutiful’s coterie against my father’s ancient barricade and see if I could break past it into Burrich’s soul.
I reached a hand toward the coterie and Thick took it. I set my other hand on Burrich’s chest. My Wit told me that he lingered in his body reluctantly. The animal that Burrich dwelt in was hopelessly injured. If his body had been a horse, Burrich would have put it down by now. That was an unsettling thought and I pushed it aside. Instead, I tried to set my Wit aside and hone my Skill to the sharpness of a blade. I banished all other thoughts and sought for some place to pierce him with that awareness.