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.
No one. They share authority here. Or so they say. Dutiful obviously thought it a poor system.
Bear opened meeting. Chade told me tersely. I felt him draw my attention to a man who wore a bear’s tooth necklace. I was suddenly aware of how much strength it was taking from Chade for him to do this feeble Skilling.
Don’t tax yourself, I warned him.
Know my own strength! His reply was angry but even from where I stood, I could see his shoulders drooping.
I singled out the Bear and focused my attention on him. Fortunately for me, he had little wall against the Skill and a full bladder. I pressed urgency on him and he suddenly stood up. He came forward to claim the speaking circle and the others ceded it to him with hand motions of giving.
‘We need to ponder on this. All of us.’ He suggested, ‘let us go apart, to talk with our own clans and see what thoughts they have for us. Tomorrow, let us gather again and speak of what we have learned and thought. Do any think this is wise?’
A forest of hands rose in spiralling gestures of assent.
‘Then let our meeting be over for this day,’ the Bear suggested.
And just that quickly, it was over. Men stood immediately and began moving toward the door. There was no ceremony to it, no precedence for those of higher rank, just a push of men toward the exit, some with a greater insistence than others.
Tell your captain that you must check on your ward. That, until he is fit, I have commanded that you continue to tend him. We’ll soon join you upstairs.
I obeyed my prince’s command. When Longwick released me, I retrieved the washing basin I’d left outside the door and returned to Thick’s chamber. He had not stirred that I could see. I felt his forehead. He was still feverish, but it did not burn as it had aboard the ship. Nonetheless, I roused him and coaxed him to drink water. He took little urging to down a whole mug of it, and then settled back into the bed again. I was relieved. Here, in this strange room and away from the perspective of his sick bed on the ship, I could truly see how wasted Thick was. Well, he would recover now. He had all he needed: quiet, a bed, food and drink. Soon he would be better. I tried to convince myself that my hope was a fact.
I heard Prince Dutiful and Chade conversing in the hall with someone. I stood and went to the door, ear pressed to it. I heard Dutiful pleading weariness, and then the closing of the door of the next chamber. His servants must have been waiting for him there. Again, there was a murmur of conversation, and then I heard him dismiss them. A little time passed and then the connecting door opened and Dutiful wandered in. He held a small black square of the food in his hand. He looked depressed. He held the food up and asked me, ‘Any idea what this is?’
‘Not really, but it has fish paste in it. Maybe seaweed, too. The cakes with the seeds are sweet. Oily but sweet.’
Dutiful regarded the food in his hand with distaste, then gave the shrug of a fifteen-year-old who hasn’t been fed for several hours and ate it. He licked his fingers. ‘It’s not bad, as long as you expect it to taste like fish.’
‘Old fish,’ I observed.
He didn’t reply. He’d crossed over to where Thick slept and stood looking down on him. He shook his head slowly. ‘This is so unfair to him. Do you think he’s getting better now?’
‘I hope so.’
‘His