CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Neatbay

    THE POCKED MAN Is the legendary harbinger of disaster for the folk of the Six Duchies. To see him, striding down the road, is to know that disease and pestilence will soon come to call. To dream of him is said to be a warning of a death to come. Often the tales of him show him appearing to those deserving of punishment, but sometimes he is used, most often in puppet shows, as a general omen of disaster to come. A marionette of the Pocked Man, hung dangling across the scenery, is a warning to all in the audience that soon they will witness a tragedy.

    The days of winter dragged agonizingly slow. With every passing hour, I was braced for something to happen. I never walked into a room without surveying it first, ate no food I had not seen prepared, drank only the water I drew from the well myself. I slept poorly. The constant watchfulness told on me in a hundred ways. I was snappish to those who spoke to me casually, moody when I checked on Burrich, reticent with the Queen. Chade, the only one to whom I could have unburdened myself, did not summon me. I was miserably alone. I dared not go to Molly. I kept my visits to Burrich as brief as possible for fear of bringing my troubles down on him. I could not openly leave Buckkeep to spend time with Nighteyes, and I feared to leave by our secret way lest I be watched. I waited and I watched, but that nothing further happened to me became a sophisticated torture of suspense.

    I did call on King Shrewd daily. I watched him dwindle before my eyes, saw the Fool become daily more morose, his humor more acid. I longed for savage winter weather to match my mood, but the skies continued blue and the winds calm. Within Buckkeep, the evenings were noisy with gaiety and revel. There were masked balls, and summonings of minstrels to compete for fat purses. The Inland Dukes and nobles ate well at Regal's table, and drank well with him late into the night.

    "Like ticks on a dying dog," I said savagely to Burrich one day as I was changing the dressing on his leg for him. He had made comment that it was no trick to stay awake on his night guard duty at Kettricken's door, for the noise of the revelry would have made it difficult to sleep.

    "Who's dying?" he asked.

    "All of us. One day at a time, we're all dying. Did no one ever tell you that? But this is healing, and surprisingly well for all you've done to it."

    He looked down at his bared leg and cautiously flexed it. The tissue pulled unevenly, but held. "Maybe the gash is closed up, but it doesn't feel healed inside," he observed. It was not a complaint. He lifted his brandy cup and drained it off. I eyed it narrowly. His days had a pattern now. Once he left Kettricken's door in the morning, he went to the kitchen and ate. Then he came back to his room and began drinking. After I appeared and helped him change the bandaging on his leg, he would drink until it was time for him to sleep. And wake up in the evening, just in time to eat and then go guard Kettricken's door. He no longer did anything in the stables. He had given them over to Hands, who went about looking as if the job were a punishment he hadn't deserved.

    Every other day or so, Patience sent Molly up to tidy Burrich's room for him. I knew little of these visits other than that they happened, and that Burrich, surprisingly, tolerated them. I had mixed feelings about them. No matter how much Burrich drank, he always treated women graciously; yet the emptied brandy bottles in a row could not but remind Molly of her father. Still, I wished them to know one another. One day I told Burrich that Molly had been threatened because of her association with me. "Association?" he had asked sharply.

    "Some few know that I care for her," I admitted gingerly.

    "A man does not bring his problems down on a woman he cares for," he told me severely.

    I had no reply to that. Instead I gave him the few details Molly had recalled about her attackers, but they suggested nothing to him. For a time he had stared off, right through the walls of his room. After a time he picked up his cup and drained it. He spoke carefully. "I am going to tell her that you are worried about her. I am going to tell her that if she fears danger, she must come to me. I am more in a position to deal with it." He looked up and met my eyes. "I am going to tell her that you are wise to stay away from her, for her sake." As he poured himself another drink he had added quietly to the tabletop, "Patience was right. And she was wise to send her to me."

    I blanched to consider the fill implications of that statement. For once, I was smart enough to know when to be quiet. He drank his brandy down, then looked at the bottle. Slowly, he slid it across the table toward me. "Put that back on the shelf for me, will you?" he requested.

    Animals and winter stores continued to be drained from Buckkeep. Some were sold off cheaply to Inland Duchies. The very finest of the hunting and riding horses were barged up the Buck, to an area near Turlake. Regal announced this as a plan to preserve our best breeding stock far from the ravages of the Red-Ships. The mutter of the folk in Buckkeep Town, so Hands told me, was that if the King could not hold his own castle, what hope was there for them? When a shipment of fine old tapestries and furniture were sent upriver as well, the murmur became that soon the Farseers would abandon Buckkeep entirely, without even a fight, without even waiting for an assault. I had the uncomfortable suspicion the rumor was correct.

    Confined as I was to Buckkeep, I had little direct access to the talk of the common folk. A silence greeted my entry to the watchroom now. With, my restriction to the Keep had come gossip and speculation. The talk that had flown about me on the day I had failed to save the little girl from the Forged ones found new life. Few of the guard spoke to me of anything other than the weather or other pleasantries. While they did not make me a total pariah, I was banished from the easy conversations and rambling arguments that usually filled the watchroom. To talk to me had become bad luck. I wouldn't inflict that on men and women I cared about.

    I was still welcome about the stables, but I strove not to talk to any one person too much, or appear too close to any of the beasts. The stable workers were a morose lot these days. There was not enough work to busy them, so quarrels were more frequent. The stable hands were my major source of news and rumors. None of it was cheery. There were garbled stories of raids on Beams towns, gossip about brawls in the taverns and on the docks of Buckkeep Town, and accounts of folk moving south or inland as their means allowed. What talk there was of Verity and his quest was demeaning or ridiculing. Hope had perished. Like me, the folk of Buckkeep were waiting in suspense for disaster to come to their doorsteps.

    We had a month of stormy weather, and the relief and rejoicing in Buckkeep were more destructive than the preceding period of tension had been. A waterfront tavern caught fire during an especially wild evening of revelry. The fire spread, and only the drenching rain that followed the gusting winds saved it from spreading to the dock warehouses. That would have been a disaster in more than one way, for as Regal drained the Keep warehouses of grain and supplies, folk in the town saw little reason to conserve what was left. Even if the Raiders never came to Buckkeep itself, I was resigned to short rations before the winter was out.

    I woke one night to stark stillness. The howl of the storm winds and the rattling of rain had stilled. My heart sank. A terrible premonition filled me, and when I rose to a clear blue morning, my dread increased. Despite the sunny day, the atmosphere in the Keep was oppressive. Several times I felt the tickling of the Skill against my senses. It nearly drove me mad, for I did not know if it was Verity attempting better contact, or Justin and Serene prying. A late-afternoon visit to King Shrewd and the Fool disheartened me further. The King, wasted to little more than bones, was sitting up and smiling vaguely. He Skilled feebly toward me as I came in the door, and then greeted me with, "Ah, Verity, my lad. How did your sword lesson go today?" The rest of his conversation made as much sense. Regal appeared almost immediately after I arrived. He sat on a straight-backed chair, arms crossed on his chest, and looked at me. No words were exchanged between us. I could not decide if my silence were cowardice or self-restraint. I escaped him as soon as I decently could, despite a rebuking look from the Fool.

    The Fool himself looked little better than the King. On so colorless a creature as the Fool, the dark circles under his eyes looked painted on. His tongue had grown as still as the clappers in his bells. When King Shrewd died, nothing would stand between the Fool and Regal. I wondered if there was any way I could aid him.

    As if I could aid myself, I reflected sourly.

    In the solitude of my room that evening, I drank more than I should of the cheap blackberry brandy that Burrich despised. I knew I would be sick from it tomorrow. I didn't care. Then I lay on my bed, listening to the distant sounds of merriment from the Great Hall. I wished Molly were there to scold me for being drunk. The bed was too large, the linens glacier white and cold. I closed my eyes and sought comfort in the company of a wolf. Confined as I was to ,the Keep, I had begun to seek his dream company on a nightly basis, just to have an illusion of freedom.

    I came awake just before Chade seized me and shook me. It was good I had recognized him in that split instant, for otherwise I am sure I would have tried to kill him. "Up!" he whispered hoarsely. "Get up, you sodden fool, you idiot! Neatbay is under siege. Five Red-Ships. I wager they'll leave nothing standing if we delay. Get up, damn you!"

    I staggered to my feet, the muzziness of drink giving way before the shock of his words.

    "What can we do?" I asked stupidly.

    "Tell the King. Tell Kettricken, tell Regal. Surely not even Regal can ignore this, it is at our very doorstep. If the Red-Ships take and hold Neatbay, they will have us bracketed. No ships will get out of Buck Harbor. Even Regal will see that. Now go! Go!"

    I dragged on trousers and a tunic, ran for the door barefoot with my hair draggling about my face. I halted there. "How do I know this? Whence do I say this warning comes?"

    Chade hopped up and down in frustration. "Damn and damn! Tell them anything! Tell Shrewd you had a dream of the Pocked Man scrying it in a pool of water! He at least should understand that! Tell them an Elderling brought you the news! Say anything, but get them to act and now!"

    "Right!" I raced off down the hallway, skidded down the steps, and raced down the corridor to King Shrewd's chambers. I hammered on Shrewd's door. At the far end of the hall, Burrich stood beside his chair outside Kettricken's door. He looked at me, drew his short sword, and took a ready stance, eyes darting everywhere. "Raiders!" I called down the hall to him, not caring who overheard or how they reacted. "Five Red-Ships in Neatbay! Rouse Her Majesty, tell her they need our aid now!"

    Burrich turned without a question to tap on Kettricken's door and be immediately admitted. It did not go so easily for me. Wallace finally opened the door a grudging crack, but would not budge until I suggested he should be the one to race down the stairs and inform Regal of my tidings. I believe it was the prospect of making a dramatic entrance and conferring with the Prince before all the merrymakers that decided him. He left the door unguarded as he hurried to his small antechamber to make himself presentable.

    The King's bedchamber was in total darkness and heavy with the reek of Smoke. I took a candle from his sitting room, kindled it at the dwindling fire, and hastened in. In the darkness, I nearly trod upon the Fool, who was curled up like a cur at the King's bedside. I gaped in astonishment. He had not so much as a blanket or cushion for comfort, but huddled on the rug beside the King's bed. He uncurled stiffly, coming awake, and then alarmed in an instant. "What is it? What's happened?" he demanded.

    "Raiders in Neatbay. Five Red-Ships. I have to rouse the King. What are you doing, sleeping here? Are you afraid to go back to your own room anymore?"

    He laughed bitterly. "More like I fear to leave this one, lest I never be allowed in again. The last time Wallace locked me out, it took me an hour of yammering and hammering before the King realized I was missing and demanded to know where I was. The time before that, I slipped in with the breakfast things. The time before that-"

    "They seek to separate you from the King?"

    He nodded. "With honey or a whip. This night, Regal offered me a purse with five bits of gold in it, if I would make myself presentable and come down to entertain them. Oh, how he did go on after you had left, over how badly I was missed at the court below, and what a shame it was for me to waste my youth shut away up here. And when I said I found King Shrewd's company more congenial than that of other fools, he flung the teapot at me. Put Wallace in a fair bit of a huff, for he had just brewed up as nasty a mess of herb tea as would make one long for the perfume of farts."

    The Fool had been kindling candles and poking up the fire on the King's hearth as we spoke. Now he drew back one of the heavy bed curtains. "My liege?" he said as gently as one might speak to a sleeping child. "FitzChivalry is here with important tidings for you. Will you awaken and hear him?"

    At first the King made no response. "Your Majesty?" the Fool called to him again. He damped a cloth in a bit of cool water and patted the King's face with it. "King Shrewd?"

    "My king, your folk have need of you." The words tumbled from me in desperation. "Neatbay is besieged by Red-Ships. Five of them. We must send aid now, or all is lost. Once they have a toehold there-"

    "They could close Buck Harbor." The King's eyes opened as he spoke. He did not move from his prone position, but he squeezed his eyes more tightly shut as if clenching them against pain. "Fool. A bit of the red wine. Please." His voice was soft, scarce more than a breath, but it was the voice of my king. My heart surged as if I were an old dog hearing the voice of a returning master.

    "What must we do?" I begged of him.

    "Every ship we have, down the coast to them. Not just the warships. Roust out the fishing fleet. We fight for our lives now. How dare they come this close, how came they to such boldness! Send horse overland. On their way tonight, within the hour, I say. They may not get there until day after tomorrow, but send them all the same. Put Keen in charge of it."

    My heart flip-flopped in my chest. "Your Majesty," I broke in gently. "Keen is dead. Coming back from the mountains, with Burrich. They were attacked by highwaymen."

    The Fool glared at me, and I instantly regretted my interruption. The command faded from King Shrewd"s voice. Uncertainly, he said, "Keen is dead?"

    I took a breath. "Yes, Your Majesty. But there is Red. Kerf is also a good man."

    The King took the wine the Fool proffered. He sipped, and seemed to draw strength with it. "Kerf. Give it to Kerf, then." A shade of the confidence came back. I bit my tongue against saying that what horse we had left was not worth sending. Doubtless the folk of Neatbay would welcome whoever came to reinforce them.

    King Shrewd considered. "What is the word from South Cove? Have they sent out warriors and ships?"

    "Your Majesty, there is no word from there as yet." This was not a lie.

    "What goes on here?" The shouting began before he even reached the bedchamber. It was Regal, puffy with drink and fury. "Wallace!" He pointed an accusing finger at me. "Get him out of here. Get help to do it if you need it. You needn't be gentle! "

    Wallace had not far to look. Two of Regal's brawny inland guardsmen had followed him up from the feasting. I was lifted off my feet; Regal had chosen burly men for this duty. I looked about for the Fool, for any ally, but the Fool had vanished. I caught a glimpse of a pale hand vanishing under the bed and resolutely looked away. I did not blame him. There was nothing he could do for me by staying except be thrown out with me.

    "My father, has he disturbed your rest with his wild tales? And you so ill?" Regal bent solicitously over the bed.

    They had me almost to the door when the King spoke. His voice was not loud, but command was in it. "Stand where you are," King Shrewd ordered the guards. He still was prone in his bed, but he turned his eyes to Regal. "Neatbay is besieged," King Shrewd said firmly. "We must send aid."

    Regal shook his head sadly. "It is just another of the Bastard's ploys, to upset you and steal rest from you. There has been no call for help, no message of any kind."

    One of the guards was very professional in his grip. The other seemed intent on dislocating my shoulder even if I refused to struggle against him. I carefully memorized his face while trying not to show the pain.

    "You need not have troubled yourself, Regal. I will discover the truth or the lie here." Queen Kettricken had paused to dress. Short white fur jacket, purple trousers and boots. Her long Mountain sword was at her side and Burrich stood in the door, holding a heavy-hooded riding cloak and gloves. She spoke as one would to a spoiled child. "Go back to your guests. I will ride to Neatbay."

    "I forbid it!" Regal's voice rang out strangely shrill. Stillness suddenly flooded the room.

    Queen Kettricken pointed out quietly what everyone in the room already knew. "A Prince does not forbid the Queen-in-Waiting. I ride tonight."

    Regal's face purpled. "This is a hoax, a plot of the Bastard's to throw Buckkeep into an uproar, and instill fear in the folk. There has been no word of an attack on Neatbay."

    "Silence!" The King spat out the word. Everyone in the room froze. "FitzChivalry? Damn it, release that man. FitzChivalry, stand before me. Report. Whence came your news?"

    I tugged my jerkin square again and smoothed my hair back. As I went to stand before my king I was painfully aware of my bare feet and tousled hair. I took a breath and threw it all away. "In my sleep I had a vision, sire. Of the Pocked Man, scrying in a pool of water. He showed me the Red-Ships at Neatbay."

    I dared emphasize no word. I stood firm before them. One of the guardsmen snorted in disbelief. Burrich's jaw dropped open and his eyes widened. Kettricken merely looked confused. On the bed, King Shrewd closed his eyes and breathed out slowly.

    "He's drunk," Regal declared. "Get him out of here." I had never heard so much satisfaction in Regal's voice. His guards reacted swiftly to seize me again.

    "As ..."--the King drew a deep breath in, obviously fighting pain--"I commanded." He found a bit of strength. "As I commanded. Go now. NOW!"

    I jerked my arms free from the astonished guards. "Yes, Your Majesty," I said into the silence. I spoke clearly for the benefit of all. "That is, all warships dispatched to Neatbay, and as many of the fishing fleet as can be rallied. And all available horse to be sent overland, under Kerf's command."

    "Yes." The King sighed the word. He swallowed, took a breath, opened his eyes. "Yes, I order it so. Now go."

    "Some wine, my liege?" The Fool had materialized on the other side of the bed. I was the only one who startled. The Fool smiled a secret smile over that. Then he bent over the King, helping him to raise his head and sip at the wine. I bowed deeply, deeply, to my king. I straightened and turned to leave the room.

    "You may ride with my guard, if you wish," Queen Kettricken told me.

    Regal's face was scarlet. "The King did not tell you to go!" he sputtered at her.

    "Nor did he `forbid' it." The Queen looked at him flatly.

    "My queen!" One of her guard announced herself at the door. "We are ready to ride." I looked at her in astonishment. Kettricken merely nodded.

    She glanced at me. "You'd best make haste, Fitz. Unless you plan to ride like that."

    Burrich shook out the Queen's cloak for her. "Is my horse ready?" Kettricken asked her guard.

    "Hands promised it at the door by the time you descended."

    "I will need but a moment or two to ready myself," Burrich said quietly. I noticed he did not phrase it as a request.

    "Go then. Both of you. Plan on catching up with us as quickly as you can."

    Burrich nodded. He followed me to my room, where he helped himself to winter garb from my clothing chest while I got dressed. "Brush your hair back and wash your face," he ordered me tersely. "Warriors have more confidence in a man who looks like he expected to be awake at this hour."

    I did as he advised and then we hastened down the stairs. His lame leg seemed forgotten tonight. Once we were in the courtyard, he started bellowing for stable boys to bring up Sooty and Rud. He sent another boy scrambling to find Kerf and pass on the orders, and another to ready every available horse in the stables. Four men he dispatched to town, one to the warships, three others to make the rounds of the taverns and rally the fleet. I envied his efficiency. He did not realize he had taken command away from me until we were mounting. He looked suddenly uncomfortable. I smiled at him. "Experience counts," I told him.

    We rode for the gates. "We should be able to catch up with Queen Kettricken before she reaches the coast road," Burrich was saying just as a guardsman stepped out to bar our way.

    "Hold!" he commanded, his voice breaking on the word.

    Our horses reared back in alarm. We reined in. "What's this?" Burrich demanded.

    The man stood firm. "You may pass, sir," he told Burrich respectfully. "But I have orders that the Bastard is not allowed out of Buckkeep."

    "The Bastard?" I had never heard such outrage in Burrich's voice. "Say 'FitzChivalry, son of Prince Chivalry.' "

    The man gaped at him in astonishment.

    "Say it now!" Burrich bellowed, and pulled steel. He suddenly seemed twice as large as he had. Anger radiated from him in waves I could feel.

    "FitzChivalry, son of Prince Chivalry," the man babbled.

    He took a breath and swallowed. "But however I call him, I have my orders. He is not allowed out."

    "Not an hour ago I heard our queen command us to ride with her, or to catch up as swiftly as we might. Do you say your order is superior to hers?"

    The man looked uncertain. "One moment, sir." He stepped back into the guardhouse.

    Burrich snorted. "Whoever trained him ought to be ashamed. He relies entirely on our honor to keep us from riding through."

    "Maybe he just knows you," I suggested.

    Burrich glared at me. After a moment the captain of the watch came out. He grinned at us. "Ride well, and best of luck at Neatbay."

    Burrich flung him something between a salute and a farewell, and we urged our horses through. I let Burrich choose the pace. It was dark, but once we were down the hill, the road was straight and good and there was a bit of a moon. Burrich was as reckless as I had ever seen him, for he put the horses to a canter and kept up the pace until we saw the Queen's guard ahead of us. He slowed us just short of joining them. I saw them turn to recognize us, and one soldier raised a hand in greeting.

    "A pregnant mare, in early pregnancy, does well to be exercised." He looked over at me through the darkness. "I don't know that much about women," he said hesitantly.

    I grinned at him. "And you think I do?" I shook my head and grew sober. "I don't know. Some women don't ride at all when they are carrying. Some do. I think Kettricken would not put Verity's child at risk. Besides. She is safer with us here than left behind with Regal."

    Burrich said nothing, but I sensed his assent. It was not all I sensed.

    We hunt together again at last!

    Quietly! I warned him with a sideways glance at Burrich. I kept my thoughts tiny and private. We go far. Will you be able to keep pace with the horses?

    Over a short distance they can outspeed me. But nothing outdistances the trotting wolf.

    Burrich stiffened slightly in his saddle. I knew Nighteyes was off to the side of the road, trotting through the shadows. It did feel good to be out and alongside him again. It felt good to be out and doing things. It was not that I rejoiced at Neatbay being attacked; it was that at last I would have a chance to do something about it, even if it was only to clean up whatever was left standing. I glanced over at Burrich. Anger radiated from him.

    "Burrich?" I ventured.

    "It's a wolf, isn't it?" Burrich spoke grudgingly into the darkness. He looked straight ahead as we rode. I knew the set of his mouth.

    You know I am. A grinning, tongue-lolling reply.

    Burrich flinched as if poked.

    "Nighteyes," I admitted quietly, rendering the image of his name into human words. Dread sat me. Burrich had sensed him. He knew. No point in denying anything anymore. But there was a tiny edge of relief in it as well. I was deathly tired of all the lies I lived. Burrich rode on silently, not looking at me. "I did not intend for it to happen. It just did." An explanation. Not an apology.

    I gave him no choice. Nighteyes was being very jocular about Burrich's silence.

    I put my hand on Sooty's neck, took comfort in the warmth and life there. I waited. Burrich still said nothing. "I know you will never approve," I said quietly. "But it is not something I can choose. It is what I am."

    It is what we all are. Nighteyes smirked. Come, Heart of the Pack, speak to me. Will not we hunt well together?

    Heart of the Pack? I wondered.

    He knows it is his name. It is what they called him, all those dogs that worshiped him, when they all gave tongue in the chase. It was what they taunted one another with. "Heart of the Pack, here, here, the game is here, and I have found it for you, for you!" So they all yelped and tried to be first to yelp it to him. But now they are all gone, taken far away. They did not like to leave him. They knew he heard, even if he would not reply. Had you never heard them?

    I suppose I tried not to.

    A waste. Why choose to be deaf? Or mute?

    "Must you do this in my presence?" Burrich's voice was stiff:

    "Beg pardon," I said, gravely aware that he was truly offended. Nighteyes snickered again. I ignored him. Burrich would not look at me. After a bit he nudged Ruddy and cantered forward to overtake Kettricken's guard. I hesitated, then kept pace with him. He formally reported to Kettricken of all he had done before leaving Buckkeep, and she nodded gravely as if accustomed to taking such reports. At a signal from her, we were honored to fall back and ride to her left, while her captain of the guard, one Foxglove, rode to her right. Before dawn found us, the rest of the mounted soldiers from Buckkeep had caught up with us. When they joined us, Foxglove slowed the pace for a time, to allow their winded horses to breathe. But after we had come to a stream and let all the beasts water, we pushed on determinedly. Burrich did not speak to me.

    Years earlier, I had made a trip to Neatbay as part of Verity's entourage. Then it had taken us five days, but we had traveled with wagons and litters, jugglers and musicians and valets. This time we traveled by horse, with seasoned warriors, and we need not keep to the wide coast road. The only thing that did not favor us was the weather. By midmorning of our first day out, a winter storm swept in. It was miserable riding, not just for the physical discomfort but in the unsettling knowledge that the driving winds would slow our companion ships. Whenever our path took us overlooking the water, I watched for sails, but never saw any.

    The pace Foxglove set was demanding but not destructive to horse or rider. While stops were not frequent, she varied the pace and saw that no animal wanted for water. At such stops, there was grain for the horses and hard bread and dried fish for their riders. If anyone ever noticed a wolf shadowing us, no one spoke of it. Two full days later, as dawn and a gap in the weather found us, we were looking out over the wide river valley that opened onto Neatbay.

    Bayguard was the Keep of Neatbay. And Bayguard was the home Keep of Duke Kelvar and Lady Grace, the heart of Rippon Duchy. The watchtower was on a sandy cliff above the town. The Keep itself had been built on fairly level land, but fortified with a series of earthen walls and ditches. Once I had been told that no enemy had ever made it past the second wall. It was no longer true. We halted and looked out over the destruction.

    The five Red-Ships were still drawn up on the beach. The boats of Neatbay, mostly small fishing vessels, were a burned and scuttled wreckage spread along the beach. The tides had played with them since the Raiders had destroyed them. Blackened buildings and smoldering wreckage fanned out from where they had landed, marking their path like a spreading contagion. Foxglove stood in her stirrups and pointed out over Neatbay, combining her observations with what she knew of the town and Keep. "It's a shallow, sandy bay, all the way out. So when the tide goes out, it goes way out. They've drawn their boats up too high. If we can force them to retreat, we want to do it on a low tide, when their ships are sitting high and dry. They've cut through the town like a hot knife through butter: I doubt there was much of an effort to defend it, it's not really defensible. Probably everyone headed for the Keep at the first sight of a red keel. It looks to me like the Outislanders have battered their way in past the third circle. But Kelvar should be able to hold them off almost indefinitely now. The fourth wall is worked stone. It took years to build. Bayguard has a good well, and her warehouses should still be fat with grain, this early in winter. She won't fall unless she falls to treachery." Foxglove stopped gesturing and settled in her saddle again. "It makes no sense, this attack," she said more softly. "How can the Red-Ships expect to sustain a long siege? Especially if they are, in turn, attacked by our forces?"

    "The answer could be that they did not expect anyone to come to Bayguard's aid," Kettricken said succinctly. "They have the town to pillage for supplies, and perhaps other ships are expected." She turned to Kerf, motioned him alongside Foxglove. "I have no battle experience," she said simply. "You two will have to plan this. I listen now, as a soldier. What should we do next?"

    I saw Burrich wince. Such honesty is admirable, but not always good leadership. I saw Foxglove and Kerf exchange measuring glances. "My queen, Kerf has more battle experience than I. I would accept his command," Foxglove offered quietly.

    Kerf looked down, as if mildly ashamed. "Burrich was Chivalry's man. He has seen far more battles than I have," he observed to his mare's neck. He looked up suddenly. "I commend him to you, my queen."

    Burrich's face was a struggle of conflicting emotions. For a moment his eyes lit. Then I saw a hesitation build.

    Heart of the Pack, they will hunt well for you, Nighteyes urged him.

    "Burrich, take command. They will fight with heart for you."

    My skin prickled to hear Queen Kettricken virtually echo Nighteyes' thought. From where I sat, I could actually see a shiver run over Burrich. He straightened in his saddle. "We have no hope of surprising them in this flat country. And the three circles they have already gained can become defenses for them. We are not a vast force. What we have most of, my queen, is time. We can pen them. They have no access to fresh water. If Bayguard stands, and we keep the Outislanders trapped where they are, between the third earthwork and the wall, we can simply wait for our ships to arrive. At that time we can judge if we wish to join an attack on them, or simply starve them out."

    "This seems wise to me," the Queen approved.

    "They are fools if they have not left at least a small force with their ships. Those we will have to contend with immediately. Then we must set our own guards to the ships, with orders to destroy them if it looks like any of the Outislanders have gotten past us and are trying to escape. If not, you will have ships to add to King-in-Waiting Verity's fleet."

    "This, too, seems sensible." The idea clearly pleased Kettricken.

    "It is tidy, but only if we act swiftly. They will soon be aware of us, if they are not already. Certainly they will see the situation as clearly as we have. We need to get down there, and contain those besieging the Keep and destroy those guarding the ships."

    Kerf and Foxglove were both nodding. Burrich looked at them. "I want your archers for our circle around the Keep. We want to contain them there, not get into any close fighting. Simply pin them down where they are. Wherever they breached the walls is where they will try to trickle out again. Guard most heavily there, but watch all along the outer wall. And for now, do not try to go within the outer wall at all. Let them scuttle about like crabs in a pot."

    Terse nods from both captains. Burrich continued.

    "I want swords for the ships. Expect the fighting to be nasty. They'll be defending their only escape routes. Send a few lesser archers, and have them prepare fire arrows. If all else fails, burn the ships where they're beached. But try to take them first."

    "The Rurisk ! " Someone in the back ranks gave a cry. All heads turned to the water. There was the Rurisk, rounding the north tooth of Neatbay. In a moment a second sail appeared. Behind us, the mounted warriors raised a shout. But out beyond our ships, anchored in deep water, white as a dead man's belly and her sails as bloated, floated the white ship. The moment I saw it, an icicle of terror sliced my guts.

    "The white ship!" I choked. Fear sent a shudder through me that was almost like pain.

    "What?" Burrich asked, startled. It was the first word he had spoken to me that day.

    "The white ship!" I repeated, and pointed a hand.

    "What? Where? That? That's a fog bank. Our ships are coming into the harbor over there."

    I looked. He was right. A fog bank, melting in the morning sun even as I watched. My terror receded like the ghost of mocking laughter. But the day seemed suddenly chillier, and the sun that had briefly parted the storm clouds a weak and watery thing. An evil cast lingered on the day, like a bad smell.

    "Split your forces and deploy them now," Burrich said quietly. "We don't want our ships to meet any resistance as they come into shore. Quickly, now. Fitz. You're to go with the force that attacks the Red-Ships. Be there when the Rurisk beaches, and let those on board know what we've decided. As quickly as those Red-Ships are cleaned out, we shall want all fighters to join us in containing the Outislanders. I wish there was a way to get word to Duke Kelvar of what we're doing. I suppose he'll see, soon enough. Well, let's get going."

    There was some milling about, some conferring between Kerf and Foxglove, but in a surprisingly short time I found myself riding behind Foxglove with a contingent of warriors. I had my sword, but what I really missed was the ax I had become so comfortable with over the summer.

    Nothing was as tidy as was planned. We encountered Outislanders in the wreckage of the town, long before we reached the beach. They were moving back toward their ships and were hampered with a coffle of prisoners. We attacked the Raiders. Some stood and fought, and some abandoned their prisoners and ran before our horses. Our troops were soon scattered throughout the still-smoldering buildings and debris scattered streets of Neatbay. Some of our force stayed to cut the ropes on the prisoners and help them as best they could. Foxglove swore at the delay, for the Raiders that had fled would warn the ship guards. Swiftly she split our force, leaving a handful of soldiers to help the battered townsfolk. The smells of dead bodies and rain on charred timbers brought back my memories of Forge with a vividness that almost unmanned me. There were bodies everywhere, far more than we had expected to find. Somewhere I sensed a wolf prowling through the ruins, and took comfort from him.

    Foxglove cursed us all with surprising skill, and then organized those she kept with her into a wedge. We swept down on the Red-Ships in time to see one being launched into the retreating tide. There was little we could do about that, but we were in time to prevent a second ship from getting off. We killed those ones with surprising alacrity. There were not many, only a skeleton rowing crew. We even managed to kill them before they could slay most of their captives who lay bound on the thwarts of the ships. We suspected that the ship that got off had been similarly laden. And hence, I surmised to myself, not initially planning to engage the Rurisk or any of the ships that now converged on the one that had eluded us.

    But the Red-Ships had been outward bound with hostages. To where? To a ghost ship that only I had glimpsed? Even to think of the white ship brought a shudder over me and a pressure in my head like the beginning of pain. Perhaps they had intended to drown their hostages, or to Forge them, however that was done. I was not in a position to give it great thought then, but I saved the knowledge for Chade. Each of the three remaining beached ships had a contingent of warriors, and they fought as desperately as Burrich had predicted they would. One ship was set afire by an, overzealous archer, but the others were taken intact.

    We had secured all the ships by the time the Rurisk was beached. There was time now to lift my head and to look out over Neatbay. No sign of the white ship. Perhaps it had been only a cloud bank. Behind the Rurisk came the Constance, and behind them a flotilla of fishing vessels and even a couple of merchant ships. Most of them had to anchor out in the shallow harbor, but the men aboard them were ferried swiftly ashore. The warship crews waited for their captains to hear word of what went on, but those from the fishing vessels and merchant ships swept past us and headed directly for the besieged Keep.

    The trained crews from the warships soon over took them, and by the time we reached the outer walls of the Keep, there was an attitude of cooperation, if not any real organization. The prisoners we had freed were weak from lack of food and water, but recovered quickly and were indispensable in giving us intimate knowledge of the outer earthworks. By afternoon, our siege of the besiegers was in place. With difficulty, Burrich persuaded all involved that at least one of our warships should remain fully manned and on alert, in the water. His premonition was proven correct the next morning, when two more Red-Ships sailed around the northern point of the bay. The Rurisk ran them off, but they fled too easily for us to take any satisfaction in it. All knew they would simply find an undefended village to raid farther up the coast. Several of the fishing vessels belatedly gave chase, though there was little chance of them catching the oared vessels of the Raiders.

    By the second day of waiting, we were beginning to be bored and uncomfortable. The weather had turned foul again. The hard bread was starting to taste of mold, the dried fish was no longer completely dry. To cheer us, Duke Kelvar had added the Buck flag of the Six Duchies to his own pennon flying over Bayguard to acknowledge us. But like us, he had chosen a waiting strategy. The Outislanders were penned. They had not attempted to break out past us, nor to advance closer to the Keep. All was still and waiting.

    "You don't listen to warnings. You never have." Burrich spoke quietly to me.

    Night had fallen. It was the first time since our arrival that we had had more than a few moments together. He sat on a log, his injured leg stretched straight in front of him. I crouched by the fire, trying to warm my hands. We were outside a temporary shelter set up for the Queen, tending a very smoky fire. Burrich had wanted her to settle in one of the few intact buildings left in Neatbay, but she had refused, insisting on staying close to her warriors. Her guard came and went freely, in her shelter and at her fire. Burrich frowned over their familiarity, but also approved her loyalty. "Your father, too, was like that," he observed suddenly as two of Kettricken's guard emerged from her shelter and went to relieve others still on watch.

    "Didn't take warnings?" I asked in surprise.

    Burrich shook his head. "No. Always his soldiers, coming and going, at all hours. I've always wondered when he found the privacy to create you."

    I must have looked shocked, for Burrich suddenly flushed as well. "Sorry. I'm tired and my leg is ... uncomfortable. I wasn't thinking what I was saying."

    I found a smile unexpectedly. "It's all right," I said, and it was. When he had found out about Nighteyes, I was afraid he was going to banish me again. A jest, even a rough jest, was welcome. "You were saying about warnings?" I asked humbly.

    He sighed. "You said it. We are as we are. And he said it. Sometimes they don't give you a choice. They just bond to you."

    Somewhere off in the darkness, a dog howled. It was not really a dog. Burrich glared at me. "I can't control him at all," I admitted.

    Nor I, you. Why should there be control, one of the other?

    "Nor does he stay out of personal conversations," I observed.

    "Nor personal anything," Burrich said flatly. He spoke in the voice of a man who knew.

    "I thought you said you never used ... it." Even out here, I would not say "the Wit" aloud.

    "I don't. No good comes of it. I will tell you plainly now what I've told you before. It ... changes you. If you give in to it. If you live it. If you can't shut it out, at least don't seek after it. Don't become-"

    "Burrich?"

    We both jumped. It was Foxglove, come quietly out of the darkness to stand on the other side of the fire. How much had she heard?

    "Yes? Is there a problem?"

    She hunkered down in the darkness, lifted her red hands to the fire. She sighed. "I don't know. How do I ask this? Are you aware she's pregnant?"

    Burrich and I exchanged glances. "Who?" he asked levelly.

    "I've got two children of my own, you know. And most of her guard is women. She pukes every morning, and lives off raspberry-leaf tea. She can't even look at the salt fish without retching. She shouldn't be here, living like this." Foxglove nodded toward the tent.

    Oh. The Vixen.

    Shut up.

    "She did not ask our advice," Burrich said carefully.

    "The situation here is under control. There is no reason she should not be sent back to Buckkeep," Foxglove said calmly.

    "I can't imagine `sending her back' to anywhere," Burrich observed. "I think it would have to be a decision she reached on her own."

    "You might suggest it to her," Foxglove ventured.

    "So might you," Burrich countered. "You are captain of her guard. The concern is rightly yours."

    "I haven't been keeping watch outside her door each night," Foxglove objected.

    "Perhaps you should have," Burrich said, then tempered it with a "Now that you know."

    Foxglove looked into the fire. "Perhaps I should. So. The question is, who escorts her back to Buckkeep?"

    "All of her personal guard, of course. A Queen should travel with no less."

    Somewhere off in the darkness there was a sudden outcry. I sprang to my feet.

    "Stand fast!" Burrich snapped at me. "Wait for word. Don't rush off until you know what is happening!"

    In a moment Whistle of the Queen's guard reached our fire. She stood before Foxglove to report. "Two-pronged attack. At the breach just below the south tower, they tried to break out. And some got through at"

    An arrow swept through her and carried off forever whatever she had begun to tell us. Outislanders were suddenly upon us, more of them than my mind could grasp, and all converging on the Queen's tent. "To the Queen!" I shouted, and had the slim comfort of hearing my cry taken up farther down the line. Three guards rushed out of the tent to put their backs to its flimsy walls while Burrich and I stood our ground in front of it. I found my sword in my hand, and from the corner of my eye saw firelight run red up the edge of Burrich's. The Queen appeared suddenly in the door of the tent.

    "Don't guard me!" she rebuked us. "Get to where the fighting is."

    "It's here, my lady," Burrich grunted and stepped forward suddenly to take off the arm of a man who had ventured too close.

    I remember those words clearly and I remember seeing Burrich take that stride. It is the last coherent memory I have of that night. After that, all was shouting and blood, metal and fire. Waves of emotions pounded against me as all around me soldiers and Raiders fought to the death. Early on, someone set fire to the tent. Its towering blaze lit the battle scene like a stage. I remember seeing Kettricken, robe looped up and knotted, fighting bare-legged and barefoot on the frozen ground. She held her ridiculously long Mountain sword in a two handed grip. Her grace made a deadly dance of the battle that would have distracted me at any other time.

    Outislanders continued to appear. At one point I was sure I heard Verity shouting commands, but could not make sense of any of them. Nighteyes appeared from time to time, fighting always at the edge of the light, a low sudden weight of fur and teeth, hamstringing with a slash, adding his weight to change a Raider's charge to a stumble. Burrich and Foxglove fought back-to-back at one point when things were going poorly for us. I was part of the circle that protected the Queen. At least, I thought I was, until I realized she was actually fighting beside me.

    At some time I dropped my sword to snatch up a fallen Raider's ax. I picked my blade up the next day from the frozen ground, crusted with mud and blood. But at the moment I did not even hesitate to discard Verity's gift for a more savagely effective weapon. While we were fighting there was only the now to consider. When at last the tide of the battle turned, I did not consider the wisdom of it, but pursued and hunted scattered enemy through the night-black fire-stinking wreckage of Neatbay village.

    Here, indeed, Nighteyes and I hunted very well together. I stood toe to toe with my final kill, ax against ax, while Nighteyes snarled and savaged his way past a smaller man's sword. He finished his but seconds before I dropped my man.

    That final slaughtering held for me a wild and savage joy. I did not know where Nighteyes left off and I began; only that we had won and we both still lived. Afterward we went to find water together. We drank deep from a communal well's bucket, and I laved the blood from my hands and face. Then we sank down and put our backs to the brick well to watch the sun rise beyond the thick ground mist. Nighteyes leaned warm against me, and we did not even think.

    I suppose I dozed a bit, for I was jostled alert as he quickly left me. I looked up to see what had startled him, only to discover a frightened Neatbay girl staring at me. The early sun struck glints off her red hair. A bucket was in her hand. I stood and grinned, lifting my ax in greeting, but she sheered off like a frightened rabbit among the ruined buildings. I stretched, then made my way back through the trailing fog to where the Queen's tent had been. As I walked, images of last night's wolf hunting came back to me. The memories were too sharp, too red and black, and I pushed them down deep in my mind. Was this what Burrich had meant by his warning?

    Even by the light of day, it was still difficult to understand all that had happened. The earth around the blackened remains of the Queen's shelter was trampled into mud. Here the fighting had been heaviest. Here was where most of the enemy had fallen. Some bodies had been dragged aside and tumbled into a heap. Others still lay where they had fallen. I avoided looking at them. It is one thing to kill in fear and anger. It is another thing to consider one's handiwork by the chill gray light of morning.

    That the Outislanders had tried to break through our siege was understandable. They had, perhaps, had a chance of making it as far as their ships and reclaiming one or two of them. That the attack seemed to focus on the Queen's tent was least comprehensible. Once clear of the earthworks, why had not they seized their chance for survival and headed for the beach?

    "Perhaps," observed Burrich, gritting his teeth as I probed the angry swelling on his leg, "they did not hope to escape at all. It is their Outislander way, to decide to die, and then to attempt to do as much damage before doing so. So they attacked here, hoping to kill our queen."

    I had discovered Burrich, limping about the battleground. He did not say he had been looking for my body. His relief at seeing me was evidence enough of that.

    "How did they know it was the Queen in that tent?" I pondered. "We flew no banners, we issued no challenges. How did they know she was here? There. Is that any better?" I checked the bandage for snugness.

    "It's dry and it's clean and the wrapping seems to help the pain. I don't suppose we can do much more than that. I suspect that whenever I work that leg hard, I'm going to have the swelling and heat in it." He spoke as dispassionately as if he discussed a horse's bad leg. "At least it stayed closed. They did seem to make straight for the Queen's tent, didn't they?"

    "Like bees to honey," I observed tiredly. "The Queen is in Bayguard?"

    "Of course. Everyone is. You should have heard the cheer when they opened the gates to us. Queen Kettricken walked in, her skirts still bundled to one side, her drawn blade still dripping. Duke Kelvar went down on his knees to kiss her hand. But Lady Grace looked at her, and said, `Oh, my dear, I shall have a bath drawn for you at once."

    "Now there is the stuff they make songs of," I said, and we laughed. "But not all are up at the Keep. I saw a girl just now, coming for water, down in the ruins."

    "Well, up at the Keep they are rejoicing. There will be some who will have small heart for that. Foxglove was wrong. The folk of Neatbay did not yield easily before the Red-Ships. Many, many died before the Neatbay folk retreated to the Keep."

    "Does anything strike you as odd about that?"

    "That folk should defend themselves? No. It is-"

    "Does not it seem to you that there were too many Outislanders here? More than five ships' worth?"

    Burrich halted. He looked back to the scattered bodies. "Perhaps those other ships had left them here, and then gone out on patrol ...."

    "That is not their way. I suspect a larger ship, transporting a sizable force of men."

    "Where?"

    "Gone now. I think I glimpsed it, going into that fog bank."

    We fell. silent. Burrich showed me to where he had tethered Ruddy and Sooty and we rode together up to Bayguard. The great doors of the Keep stood wide open, and a combination of Buckkeep soldiers and Bayguard folk mingled there. We were greeted with a shout of welcome, and offered brimming cups of mead before we were even dismounted. Boys begged to take our horses for us, and to my surprise, Burrich let them. Within the hall was genuine rejoicing that would have put any of Regal's revels to shame. All of Bayguard had been thrown open for us. Ewers and basins of warm scented water had been set out in the Great Hall for us to refresh ourselves, and tables were heavy with food, none of it hard bread or salt fish.

    We remained three days at Neatbay. During this time our dead were buried, and the bodies of the Outislanders burned. Buckkeep soldiers and Queen's guard fell in alongside the people of Neatbay to assist in the repairs to Bayguard's fortifications and in salvaging what was left of Neatbay Town. I made a few quiet inquiries. I found that the watchtower signal had been lit as soon as the ships were sighted, but that the Red-Ships had made extinguishing it one of their first goals. What of their coterie member? I asked. Kelvar looked at me in surprise. Burl had been recalled weeks ago, for some essential duty inland. He had gone to Tradeford, Kelvar believed.

    The day after the battle, reinforcements arrived from South Cove. They had not seen the signal fire, but the messengers sent out on horse had gotten through to them. I was present when Kettricken commended Duke Kelvar for his foresight in setting up a relay of horse for such messages, and sent her thanks also to Duke Shemshy of Shoaks for his response. She suggested they divide the captured Red-Ships, that they need no longer wait for warships to arrive, but could dispatch their own, for mutual defense. This was a sumptuous gift, and it was received in an awed silence. When Duke Kelvar recovered himself, he rose to offer a toast to his queen and to the unborn Farseer heir. So swiftly had the rumor become general knowledge. Queen Kettricken colored prettily, but managed her thanks well.

    Those brief days of victory were a healing balm to us all. We had fought, and fought well. Neatbay would rebuild, and the Outislanders had no hold in Bayguard. For a brief time it seemed possible that we could win free of them entirely.

    Before we had left Neatbay, the songs were already being sung, about a Queen with her skirts bundled up standing bold against the Red-Ships, and of the child in her womb who was a warrior before birth. That the Queen would risk not only herself but the heir to the throne for Rippon Duchy was not lost upon any of them. First Duke Brawndy of Beams, and now Kelvar of Rippon, I thought to myself. Kettricken was doing well at winning the Duchies' loyalty.

    I had my moments at Neatbay, both warming and chilling. For Lady Grace, on seeing me in the Great Hall, recognized me and came to speak to me. "So," she had said after greeting me quietly, "my kitchen dog boy has the blood of kings in him. No wonder you advised me so well, those years ago." She had grown well into being a lady and a Duchess. Her feist dog still went everywhere with her, but now he ran about at her heels, and this change pleased me almost as much as her easy carriage of her title and her obvious affection for her duke.

    "We have both changed much, Lady Grace," I replied, and she accepted the compliment I intended. The last time I had seen her had been when I had traveled here with Verity. She had not then been so comfortable being a Duchess. I had met her in the kitchens, when her dog had been choking on a bone. I had persuaded her then that her duke's coin was better spent on watchtowers than jewelry for her. Back then, she had been very new to being a Duchess. Now she seemed never to have been anything else.

    "Not a dog boy anymore?" she asked with a wry smile.

    "Dog boy? Man wolf!" observed someone. I turned to see who had spoken, but the hall was crowded and no face seemed turned to watch us. I shrugged as if the remark were of no consequence, and Lady Grace appeared not to have even heard it. She presented me with a token of her favor before I left. It still makes me smile to think on it: a tiny pin in the shape of a fish's bones. "I had this made, to remind me ... I should like you to have it now." She herself seldom wore jewelry anymore, she told me. She handed it to me on a balcony, on a dark evening when the lights of Duke Kelvar's watchtowers glittered like diamonds against the black sky.