‘Go. There’s nothing either of us can do here save keep watch.’
‘I’ll be back,’ I promised, and then stepped from the tent to follow Longwick through our camp.
The Prince’s tent was crowded. He, Chade and Thick were there, with Peottre, Oerttre, Kossi and the Narcheska. Thick’s lip was thrust out and I sensed his upset. The Narcheska sat on the floor, a blanket clasped around her shoulders and her back to me. I made my courtesies to all and then waited.
The Prince spoke. ‘We are having a bit of a problem with the Narcheska’s tattoos. She would like them removed, but they haven’t yielded to Thick’s Skill. Chade thought that, as you’d dealt with your own scars, perhaps you might be able to help.’
‘A scar is very different from a tattoo,’ I replied, ‘but I’m willing to try.’
The Prince leaned down to her. ‘Elliania? May he see them?’
She made no response. Her back was very straight as she sat there, and disapproval was plain on her mother’s face. Then, slowly, without a word, Elliania dropped her head forward and allowed the blanket to slide down her back. I knelt down and lifted the light to see more plainly. And then I gritted my teeth and understood why they’d thought of me.
The gleaming beauty of the serpents and dragons was gone. The tattoos were sunken into her back, the skin drawn tight as if they’d been branded in. I suspected it was the Pale Woman’s last act of vengeance. ‘They still cause her pain, from time to time,’ the Prince said quietly.
‘I’m speculating,’ I admitted. ‘Perhaps Thick can’t heal her easily because this isn’t a recent injury. It’s one thing to aid the body in doing what it’s already attempting to do. But these are old, and her body has accepted them.’
‘Your scars went away when we healed you,’ the Prince pointed out.
‘They aren’t hers,’ Thick observed sullenly. ‘I don’t want to touch them.’
I let Thick’s cryptic remark go by. ‘I think the Fool restored me to how he had always seen me. Unscarred.’ I did not want to say more of that just then, and I think they all knew that.
Elliania’s voice shook only slightly as she said, ‘Then burn them off, and heal the burn. I care not what it takes. I only want them gone. I will not wear her marks upon my body.’
No!’ the Prince said in horror.
‘Wait. Please,’ I said. ‘Let me try.’ I lifted a hand and then remembered to ask, ‘May I touch you?’
She dropped her head lower and I saw every muscle in her back go tight. Then she gave a single nod. Peottre towered over us, his arms crossed on his chest. I looked up at him and met his gaze. Then I sat down on the floor behind the Narcheska and carefully laid both my hands flat to her back. By an act of will, I kept them there. The palms of my hands felt the warm back of a young girl, but my Skill felt dragons and serpents writhing beneath my fingers. ‘More than ink is beneath her skin,’ I said, but did not know what it was that I sensed there.
Elliania spoke with an effort. ‘She made the inks from her own blood. So that they would always belong to her and obey her.’
‘She’s bad,’ Thick said darkly.
Elliania had given us the piece of knowledge we needed. Even so, it was a gruelling evening of Skill-work. I did not know Elliania well, and Thick was loath to touch her. He lent us his strength, but every intricate figure had to be separately driven out from her. Her mother and sister sat and watched silently. Peottre stayed for a time, then went out and walked, came back, and then went out again. I did not blame him. I wished I did not have to witness it. Foul-smelling ink oozed reluctantly from the pores on her back. Worse, it hurt her. She clenched her teeth, and then pounded wordlessly on the earth. Her long black hair, pulled forward to be out of our way, grew heavy with perspiration. Dutiful sat facing her, his hands on her shoulders to brace her, while I painstakingly traced each illustration with my fingertip, calling on her skin to push out the Pale Woman’s foulness. As I did so, I saw again the Fool’s back, so exquisitely and cruelly marked, and thanked the fates that his had been forced on him before the Pale Woman had gained and perverted the Skill-learning. I could not understand why her tattoos so resisted us. By the time the last clawed foot had been forced from her skin, I was exhausted, but her back was smooth and clear.
‘It’s done,’ I said wearily, and lifted the blanket to drape her again. She took in a breath that was almost a sob and Dutiful gingerly gathered her into his arms.
‘Thank you,’ he said to me quietly, and then, to Elliania, ‘It’s all finished. She can never hurt you again.’
I knew a moment’s uneasiness, wondering if that were true. But before I could voice any doubts, we heard a welcome cry from outside the tent. ‘Sail! Sail sighted, two sails. One flies the Boar and the other is the Bear!’
TWENTY-SEVEN
Doors
The more I delve into the affairs and associations of Lord and Lady Grayling, the more I am convinced that your suspicions are well founded. Although they have conceded to the Queen’s ‘invitation’ for young Lady Sydel to spend time at the Buckkeep Court, they did not do so graciously or eagerly. Her father was more determined to be hard-hearted in this matter than her mother. Her mother was truly scandalized that he sent her off with no garb fit for an ordinary day at court, let alone for feasting or dancing. The allowance he allotted her is also insufficient for a milkmaid. I believe he hopes that she will embarrass herself at court sufficiently to be sent home.
The woman he chose as her maid is not to be trusted. I suggest that a grievance against Opal be discovered and that she be dismissed from Buckkeep as swiftly as possible. Take care that her grey housecat leaves with her.
Sydel herself seems guilty of little more than being young and flighty. I do not think, for those reasons, that she even knows her parents have declared as Piebalds, let alone is privy to any of their plotting.
Spy’s report, unsigned