Assassin's Quest

Kettle hesitated, then set her hand in mine. We stood, clasping hands, looking at one another. I reached for her with the Skill, but felt no response. I looked at her and tried to tell myself I knew her, that it should be easy to reach Kettle. I ordered my mind and recalled all I knew of the irascible old woman. I thought of her uncomplaining perseverance, of her sharp tongue, and her clever hands. I recalled her teaching me the Skill game, and how often we had played it, heads bent together over the gamecloth. Kettle, I told myself sternly. Reach for Kettle. But my Skill found nothing there.

I did not know how much time had passed. I only knew that I was very thirsty. "I need a cup of tea," I told her, and let go of her hand. She nodded at me, keeping her disappointment well hidden. It was only when I let go her hand that I became aware of how the sun had moved above the mountaintops. I heard again the scrape, scrape, scrape of Verity's sword. Kettricken still sat, silently watching him. I did not know where the others had gone. Together we left the dragon and walked down to where our fire still smoldered. I broke wood into pieces as she filled the kettle. We said little as it heated. There were still herbs that Starling had gathered earlier for tea. They were wilted, but we used them, and then sat drinking our tea together. The scraping of Verity's sword against the stone was a background noise, not unlike an insect sound. I studied the old woman beside me.

My Wit-sense told me of a strong and lively life within her. I had felt her old woman's hand in my own, the flesh soft on the swollen, bony fingers save where work had callused her skin. I saw the lines in her face around her eyes and at the corners of her mouth. Old, her body said to me. Old. But my Wit-sense told me that there sat a woman of my own years, lively and wild-hearted, yearning for love and adventure and all that life might offer. Yearning; but trapped. I willed myself to see, not Kettle, but Kestrel. Who had she been before she had been buried alive? My eyes met hers. "Kestrel?" I asked her suddenly.

"So I was," she said quietly, and her grief was still fresh. "But she is no more, and has not been for years."

When I said her name, I had almost sensed her. I felt I held the key, but did not know where the lock was. There was a nudge at the edge of my Wit. I looked up, annoyed at the interruption. It was Nighteyes and the Fool. The Fool looked tormented and I ached for him. But he could not have picked a worse time to come to speak to me. I think he knew it.

"I tried to stay away," he said quietly. "Starling told me what you were doing. She told me all that was said while I was gone. I know I should wait, that what you do is vital. But … I cannot." He suddenly had trouble meeting my eyes. "I betrayed you," he whispered softly. "I am the Betrayer."

Linked as we were, I knew the depth of his feelings. I tried to reach through that, to make him feel what I felt. He had been used against me, yes, but it was no doing of his own. But I could not reach him. His shame, guilt, and remorse stood between us, and blocked him from my forgiveness. Blocked him, too, from forgiving himself.

"Fool!" I suddenly exclaimed. I smiled at him. He looked horrified that I could smile at all, least of all at him. "No, it is all right. You have given me the answer. You are the answer." I took a breath and tried to think carefully. Go slowly, be careful, I cautioned myself, and then, No, I thought. Now. Now is the only time in which to do this. I bared my left wrist. I held it out to him, my palm up. "Touch me," I commanded him. "Touch me with the Skill on your fingers, and see if I feel you have betrayed me."

"No!" Kettle cried, aghast, but the Fool was already reaching for me like a man in a dream. He took my hand in his right hand. Then he laid three silver fingertips against my upturned wrist. As I felt the cold burn of his fingers on my wrist, I reached over and grabbed Kettle's hand. "KESTREL!" I cried aloud. I felt the stir of her, and I pulled her into us.

I was the Fool and the Fool was me. He was the Catalyst and so was I. We were two halves of a whole, sundered and come together again. For an instant I knew him in his entirety, complete and magical, and then he was pulling apart from me laughing, a bubble inside me, separate and unknowable, yet joined to me. You do love me! I was incredulous. He had never truly believed it before. Before, it was words. I always feared it was born of pity. But you are truly my friend. This is knowing. This is feeling what you feel for me. So this is the Skill. For a moment he reveled in simple recognition.

Abruptly, another joined us. Ah, little brother, you find your ears at last! My kill is ever your kill, and we shall be pack forever!

The Fool recoiled at the wolf's friendly onslaught. I thought he would break the circle. Then suddenly he leaned into it. This? This is Nighteyes? This mighty warrior, this great heart?