“No, my prince!” I was shocked that he could think such a thing of her. “Tintaglia found her through stalking my thoughts, or so I believe. When we Skill strongly, I think the dragon can perceive us. Or, as you and Thick discovered, when you are dream-walking. Tintaglia knows something of who I am from the Bingtown delegation's visit to Buckkeep. We were careless of our Skilling then, and I think she marked me. She knows that I visit Nettle. I think that she seeks to threaten Nettle as a way to wring information out of me. She wants to know what we know about the black dragon, Icefyre. As all the young dragons that hatched in the Rain Wilds are feeble, he may be her only hope of a mate. And thus her only hope of perpetuating her kind.”

“And we have no way to protect Nettle.”

A note of pride crept into my voice as I said, “She has proven herself very capable against the dragon. She has defended herself, and me, better than I could have hoped to do.”

He measured me with his eyes. “And doubtless she will continue to do so. As long as the dragon remains a threat that only comes into her dreams. But we do not know much of this Tintaglia. If, as has been suggested, the black dragon is her only hope of a mate, then she may become very desperate, indeed. Nettle may be able to defend herself in her dreams; how will she fare against a dragon alighting in front of her home? Will Burrich's home stand against a dragon's fury?”

That was an image I didn't want to consider. “She only seems to find Nettle at night in her dreams. It may be that she does not know where Nettle actually is.”

“Or it may only be that she chooses to stay close to the young dragons. For now. And that tomorrow night, or an hour hence, driven by desperation, she may take wing to Nettle's home.” He set the heels of his hands to his temples and, eyes closed, rubbed them. When he opened his eyes, he shook his head at me. “I cannot believe that you never considered this. What are we to do?” He did not wait for an answer, but turned to Chade. “Have we messenger birds aboard?”

“Of course, my prince.”

“I will send a message to my mother. Nettle must be taken to safety in Buckkeep . . . oh, this is foolish. It would be far swifter to Skill to her, warn her of her danger, and send her to my mother.” He lifted his hands to his eyes, rubbed them, and then gave a heavy sigh as he lowered them. “I'm sorry, FitzChivalry,” he said, softly and sincerely. “If she were not in danger, perhaps I could leave things as they are. But I cannot. I'm shocked that you would consider doing so.”

I bowed my head. I received his words with a strange sensation, not anger or dismay, but a sense of the inevitable at last winning its way. A shiver ran over me, standing up the hair on my hands and arms. An image of the Fool, smiling in satisfaction, came into my mind. I glanced down to see that I was once more tracing his fingerprints on my wrist. I felt like someone who had just been maneuvered into making a fatal move in a game of Stones. Or like a wolf, brought to bay at last. It was too immense a change to regret or fear. One could only stand frozen, awaiting the avalanche of consequences that must follow it.

“FitzChivalry,” Chade said after a moment or two of my silence. I could hear the concern in his voice and the kindly look he gave me almost hurt.

“Burrich knows,” I said awkwardly. “That I'm alive. I sent him a message through Nettle, one only he would understand. Because I had given Nettle my word, and I needed Burrich to know that his son . . . that Swift was safe and with us. Burrich went to Kettricken. And, perhaps he spoke with the Fool, as well. So . . . he knows.” I took a deep breath. “He may even be expecting something like this, a summons to the court. He must suspect that Nettle has the Skill. How else would she have received knowledge of Swift's safety from me? He was King's Man to Chivalry. He knows what the Skill is. Would that Chivalry had not sealed him off from it. Would that I could touch minds with him, now. Though I do not think I would have the courage . . .”

“Burrich was King's Man to Chivalry?” Dutiful rocked back in his chair, balancing it on the two back legs. He looked from one of us to the other in consternation.

“He loaned Prince Chivalry strength for Skilling,” I confirmed.

Dutiful shook his head slowly. “Another thing that has never been mentioned to me.” He crashed his chair back down onto the deck. “What will it take?” he demanded angrily. “What must happen here, to rattle all the secrets out of you two?”

“That wasn't a secret,” Chade said heavily. “Only a bit of ancient history, long forgotten as it seemed of little import to the present. Fitz, you are sure that Burrich is sealed?”