But at last she reached the re­l­at­ive sta­bil­ity of the lar­ger rocks where I stood. She clutched at me and I held her, feel­ing the trem­bling that rattled through her. After a long mo­ment, I gripped her up­per arms firmly and held her a little apart from me. ‘You have to go on, now. It’s not far. When you get there, stay there and keep the jep­pas bunched to­gether. Do you un­der­stand?’

  She gave a quick nod and then took a deep breath. She stepped free of me and began cau­tiously to fol­low the trail the jep­pas and I had left. I let her get a safe dis­tance away be­fore I took my first cau­tious steps to­ward the Fool.

  The rocks shif­ted and grated more no­tice­ably un­der my greater weight. I wondered if I would be wiser to walk higher or lower on the slope than she had. I thought of go­ing back to the jep­pas for a rope, but could think of noth­ing to se­cure it to. And all the while I kept mov­ing for­ward, one cau­tious step at a time. The Fool him­self did not move.

  Rocks began to move around my feet, tap­ping against my ankles as they tumbled past me, slip­ping out from un­der my feet. I hal­ted where I was, frozen by the gravel hur­ry­ing past me. I felt one of my feet start to slip, and be­fore I could con­trol my­self, I plunged for­ward a step. The ex­odus of small rocks be­came swifter and more de­term­ined. I did not know what to do. I thought of fling­ing my­self flat and spread­ing my weight, but de­cided swiftly it would only make it more easy for the tum­bling rocks to carry me with them. Not one of the mov­ing stones was big­ger than my fist, but there were so many of them. I froze where I was and coun­ted ten breaths be­fore the rat­tlings settled again.

  It took every scrap of cour­age I could muster to take the next step. I stud­ied the ground for a time and se­lec­ted a place that looked least un­stable. I eased my weight to that foot and chose a place for my next step. By the time I reached the Fool’s prone body, my shirt was sweated to my back and my jaw ached from clench­ing it. I eased my­self down be­side him.

  Starling had lif­ted the blanket’s corner to shel­ter his face, and he still lay covered like a dead man. I lif­ted it away, to look down at his closed eyes. He was a hue I had never seen be­fore. The deathly white of his skin at Buck­keep had taken on a yel­low­ish cast in the Moun­tains, but now he was a ter­rible dead col­our. His lips were dry and chapped, his eye­lashes crus­ted yel­low. And he was still warm to the touch.

  ‘Fool?’ I asked him gently, but he made no re­sponse. I spoke on, hop­ing some part of him would hear me. ‘I’m go­ing to have to lift you and carry you. The foot­ing is bad, and if I slip, we’re go­ing to fall all the way. So once I have you up in my arms, you must be very, very still. Do you un­der­stand?’

  He took a slightly deeper breath. I took it for as­sent. I knelt down­hill of him and worked my hands and arms un­der his body. As I straightened up, the ar­row scar in my back screamed. I felt sweat pop out on my face. I knelt up­right for a mo­ment, the Fool in my arms, mas­ter­ing my pain and gain­ing my bal­ance. I shif­ted one leg to get my foot un­der me. I tried to stand up slowly, but as I did so rocks began cas­cad­ing past me. I fought a ter­rible urge to clutch the Fool to me and run. The rat­tling and scat­ter­ing of loose shale went on and on and on. When it fi­nally ceased, I was trem­bling with the ef­fort of stand­ing per­fectly still. I was ankle-deep in loose scree.

  ‘FitzChiv­alry?’

  I turned my head slowly. Kettricken and Kettle had caught up. They were stand­ing up­hill of me, well off the patch of loosened stone. They both looked sickened at my pre­dic­a­ment. Kettricken was the first to re­cover.

  ‘Kettle and I are go­ing to cross above you. Stay where you are, and be as still as you can. Did Starling and the jep­pas make it across?’ I man­aged a small nod. I had not the spit to speak.

  ‘I’ll get a rope and come back. I’ll be as quick as it is safe to be.’

  An­other nod from me. I had to twist my body to watch them, so I did not. Nor did I look down. The wind blew past me, the stone ticked un­der my feet, and I looked down into the Fool’s face. He did not weigh much, for a man grown. He had al­ways been slight and bird-boned, re­ly­ing on his tongue for de­fence rather than fist and muscle. But as I stood and held him, he grew weight­ier and weight­ier in my arms. The circle of pain in my back slowly ex­pan­ded, and some­how man­aged to make my arms ache with it.

  I felt him give a slight twitch in my arms. ‘Be still,’ I whispered.

  He prised his eyes open and looked up at me. His tongue sought to moisten his lips. ‘What are we do­ing?’ he croaked.

  ‘We’re stand­ing very still in the middle of an ava­lanche,’ I whispered back. My throat was so dry it was hard to talk.

  ‘I think I could stand,’ he offered weakly.

  ‘Don’t move!’ I ordered him.

  He took a slightly deeper breath. ‘Why are you al­ways near when I get into these sort of situ­ations?’ he wondered hoarsely.

  ‘I could ask you the same,’ I re­tor­ted, un­fairly.

  ‘Fitz?’

  I twis­ted my scream­ing back to look up at Kettricken. She was sil­hou­et­ted against the sky. She had a jeppa with her, the lead one. She had a coil of rope looped on one shoulder. The other end was fixed to the jeppa’s empty pack har­ness.

  ‘I’m go­ing to throw the rope to you. Don’t try to catch it, let it go past you and then pick it up and wrap it around your­self. Un­der­stand?’

  ‘Yes.’

  She could not have heard my an­swer, but she nod­ded back to me en­cour­agingly. In a mo­ment the rope came flop­ping and un­coil­ing past me. It un­settled a small amount of pebbles, but their scur­ry­ing mo­tion was enough to make me sick. The length of the rope sprawled across the rock, less than an arm’s length from my foot. I looked down at it and tasted des­pair. I steeled my will.

  ‘Fool, can you hold onto me? I have to try to pick up the rope.’

  ‘I think I can stand,’ he offered again.

  ‘You may have to,’ I ad­mit­ted un­will­ingly. ‘Be ready for any­thing. But whatever else, hold onto me.’

  ‘Only if you prom­ise to hold onto the rope.’

  ‘I’ll do my best,’ I prom­ised grimly.

  My brother, they have stopped where we camped last night. Of the six men –

  Not now, Nighteyes!

  Three have gone down as you did, and three re­main with the horses.

  Not now!

  The Fool shif­ted his arms to get an awk­ward hold on my shoulders. The dam­nable blankets that had swathed him were every­where I didn’t want them to be. I clutched at the Fool with my left arm and got my right hand and arm some­what clear even though my arm was still un­der him. I fought a ri­dicu­lous im­pulse to laugh. It was all so stu­pidly awk­ward and dan­ger­ous. Of all the ways I had thought I might die, this one had never oc­curred to me. I met the Fool’s eyes and saw the same pan­icky laughter in them. ‘Ready,’ I told him, and crouched to­ward the rope. Every taut muscle in my body screeched and cramped.

  My fin­gers failed to touch the rope by a hands­breadth. I glanced up to where Kettricken and the jeppa were anxiously poised. It came to me that I had no idea what was sup­posed to hap­pen once I had the rope. But my muscles were already ex­ten­ded too far to stop and ask ques­tions. I forced my hand to the rope, even as I felt my right foot slid­ing out from un­der me.

  Everything happened sim­ul­tan­eously. The Fool’s grip on me tightened con­vuls­ively as the whole hill­side be­neath us seemed to break into mo­tion. I grasped the rope but was still slid­ing down­hill. Just be­fore it tightened I man­aged to flip one wrap around my wrist. Above us and to the east of us, Kettricken led the sure-footed jeppa on. I saw the an­imal stag­ger as it took part of our weight. It dug in its feet and kept mov­ing across the slide zone. The rope tightened, bit­ing into my wrist and hand. I held on.

  I don’t know how I scrabbled my feet un­der me, but I did, and made a semb­lance of walk­ing as the hill kept rat­tling away be­neath me. I found my­self swinging like a slow pen­du­lum with the taut rope provid­ing me just enough res­ist­ance to keep me atop the rat­tling stone slid­ing down­hill past me. Sud­denly I felt firmer foot­ing. My boots were full of tiny pebbles, but I ig­nored them as I kept my grip on the rope and moved stead­ily across the slide area. By now we were far down­hill of the ori­ginal path I had chosen. I re­fused to look down and see how close we were to the edge. I con­cen­trated on keep­ing my awk­ward grip on the Fool and the rope and keep­ing my feet mov­ing.

  Ab­ruptly, we were out of danger. I found my­self in an area of big­ger rocks, free of the loose scree that had nearly ended our lives. Above us, Kettricken kept mov­ing stead­ily and so did we, and then we were climb­ing down onto the blessedly level road bed. In a few more minutes we were all on flat snowy ground. I dropped the rope and slowly sagged down with the Fool. I closed my eyes.

  ‘Here. Drink some wa­ter.’ It was Kettle’s voice, and she was of­fer­ing me a wa­ter­skin as Kettricken and Starling pried the Fool out of my arms. I drank some wa­ter and shook for a short while. Every part of me hurt as if bruised. As I sat re­cov­er­ing, some­thing pushed into the front of my mind. I sud­denly staggered to my feet.

  ‘Six of them, and three have gone down as I did, he said.’

  All eyes turned to me at my blur­ted words. Kettle was get­ting wa­ter down the Fool, but he did not look much bet­ter. Her mouth was pursed with worry and dis­pleas­ure. I knew what she feared. But the fear the wolf had given me was more com­pel­ling.

  ‘What did you say?’ Kettricken asked me gently, and I real­ized they thought my mind was wan­der­ing again.

  ‘Nighteyes has been fol­low­ing them. Six men on horses, one pack an­imal. They stopped at our old camp­site. And he said that three of them went down as I did.’

  ‘Mean­ing to the city?’ Kettricken asked slowly.

  To the city, Nighteyes echoed. It chilled me to see Kettricken nod as if to her­self.

  ‘How can that be?’ Starling asked softly. ‘Kettle told us the sign­post only worked for you be­cause you had had Skill-train­ing. It didn’t af­fect any of the rest of us.’

  ‘They must be Skilled ones,’ Kettle said softly and looked at me ques­tion­ingly.

  There was only one an­swer. ‘Regal’s co­terie,’ I said and shuddered. The sick­ness of dread rose in me. They were so hor­ribly close, and they knew how to hurt me so badly. An over­whelm­ing fear of pain flooded my mind. I fought panic.

  Kettricken pat­ted my arm awk­wardly. ‘Fitz. They’ll not get past that slide eas­ily. With my bow, I can pick them off as they cross.’ Kettricken offered these words. There was irony in my queen of­fer­ing to pro­tect the royal as­sas­sin. Some­how it stead­ied me, even as I knew her bow was no pro­tec­tion from the co­terie.

  ‘They don’t need to come here to at­tack me. Or Ver­ity.’ I took a deep breath, and sud­denly heard an ad­di­tional fact in my words. ‘They don’t need to phys­ic­ally fol­low us here to at­tack us. So why have they come all this way?’

  The Fool leaned up on an el­bow. He rubbed at his pasty face. ‘Maybe they don’t come here to pur­sue you at all,’ he sug­ges­ted slowly. ‘Maybe they want some­thing else.’

  ‘What?’ I de­man­ded.

  ‘What did Ver­ity come here for?’ he de­man­ded. His voice was weak but he seemed to be think­ing very care­fully.

  ‘The aid of the Eld­er­lings? Regal never be­lieved in them. He saw it only as a way to get Ver­ity out of his path.’

  ‘Per­haps. But he knew the tale he spread of Ver­ity’s death was a fab­ric­a­tion of his own. You your­self say that his co­terie waited and spied upon you. In what hopes, if not to dis­cover Ver­ity’s where­abouts? By now, he must won­der as much as the Queen does, why Ver­ity has not re­turned. And Regal must won­der, what er­rand was so im­port­ant that the Bas­tard turned aside from killing him to set forth on it. Look be­hind you, Fitz. You have left a trail of blood and may­hem. Regal must won­der where it all leads.’

  ‘Why would they go down into the city?’ I asked, and then a worse ques­tion, ‘How did they know how to go down into the city? I blundered into it, but how did they know?’

  ‘Per­haps they are far stronger than you in the Skill. Per­haps the guide­post spoke to them, or per­haps they came here already know­ing much more than you did.’ Kettle spoke care­fully, but there was no ‘per­haps’ in her voice.

  It was all sud­denly clear to me. ‘I don’t know why they are here. But I know I am go­ing to kill them be­fore they can get to Ver­ity, or trouble me any fur­ther.’ I heaved my­self to my feet.

  Starling sat star­ing at me. I think she real­ized at that mo­ment ex­actly what I was. Not some ro­man­ti­cized princeling in ex­ile who would even­tu­ally do some heroic task, but a killer. And not even a very com­pet­ent one.

  ‘Rest a bit first,’ Kettricken ad­vised me. Her voice was steady and ac­cept­ing.

  I shook my head. ‘I wish I could. But the op­por­tun­ity they’ve given me is now. I don’t know how long they’ll be in the city. I hope they’ll spend some time there. I’m not go­ing down to meet them, you see. I’m no match for them in the Skill. I can’t fight their minds. But I can kill their bod­ies. If they’ve left their horses, guards and sup­plies be­hind them, I can take those things from them. Then when they come back, they’ll be trapped. No food, no shel­ter. No game to hunt around here, even if they re­membered how to hunt. I won’t get a chance as good as this again.’

  Kettricken was nod­ding re­luct­antly. Starling looked ill. The Fool had sagged back into his bed­ding. ‘I should be go­ing with you,’ he said quietly.

  I looked at him and tried to keep amuse­ment out of my voice. ‘You?’

  ‘I’ve just a feel­ing … that I should go with you. That you should not go alone.’

  ‘I won’t be alone. Nighteyes is wait­ing for me.’ I ques­ted out briefly and found my com­rade. He was crouched on his belly in the snow, down­trail of the guards and horses. They had built a small fire and were cook­ing food over it. It was mak­ing the wolf hungry.

  Shall we have horse to­night?

  We shall see, I told him. I turned to Kettricken. ‘May I take your bow?’

  She handed it over re­luct­antly. ‘Can you shoot it?’ she asked.

  It was a very fine weapon. ‘Not well, but well enough. They’ve no cover worth men­tion­ing, and they aren’t ex­pect­ing an at­tack. If I’m lucky, I can kill one be­fore they know I’m even around.’

  ‘You’ll shoot one without even is­su­ing a chal­lenge?’ Starling asked faintly.

  I looked into the sud­den dis­il­lu­sion­ment in her eyes. I closed my eyes and fo­cused on my task in­stead. Nighteyes?

  Shall I drive the horses over the cliff, or just down the trail? They’ve already scen­ted me and are get­ting anxious. But the men pay no at­ten­tion.

  I’d like the sup­plies they are car­ry­ing, if it can be man­aged. Why did killing a horse bother me more than killing a man?

  We’ll see, Nighteyes replied ju­di­ciously. Meat is meat, he ad­ded.

  I slung Kettricken’s quiver over my back. The wind was kick­ing up again, prom­ising more snow. The thought of cross­ing the slide area again turned my bowels to wa­ter. ‘There is no choice,’ I re­minded my­self. I looked up to see Starling turn­ing away from me. She had evid­ently taken my re­mark as her reply. Well, it would serve there as well. ‘If I fail, they will come after you,’ I said care­fully. ‘You should get as far from here as you can; travel un­til you can’t see any more. If all goes well, we’ll catch up with you soon enough.’ I crouched down be­side the Fool. ‘Can you walk at all?’ I asked him.

  ‘For a way,’ he said dully.

  ‘If I must, I can carry him.’ Kettricken spoke with quiet cer­tainty. I looked at the tall wo­man and be­lieved her. I gave a short nod of my head.

  ‘Wish me luck,’ I told them, and turned back to the slide zone.

  ‘I’m com­ing with you,’ Kettle an­nounced ab­ruptly. She stood up from rety­ing her boots. ‘Give me the bow. And fol­low where I walk.’

  I was speech­less for a mo­ment. ‘Why?’ I de­man­ded at last.

  ‘Be­cause I know what I’m do­ing cross­ing that rock. And I’m more than “good enough” with a bow. I’ll wager I can drop two of them be­fore they know we’re there.’

  ‘But –’

  ‘She is very good on the slide,’ Kettricken ob­served calmly. ‘Starling, take the jep­pas. I’ll bring the Fool.’ She gave us an un­read­able look. ‘Catch up as soon as you can.’

  I re­called that I’d tried to leave Kettle be­hind once be­fore. If she was go­ing with me, I wanted her to be with me, not com­ing up be­hind me when I didn’t ex­pect it. I glared at her, but nod­ded.

  ‘The bow,’ she re­minded me.

  ‘Can you really shoot well?’ I asked her as I grudgingly sur­rendered it.

  A funny smile twis­ted her face. She looked down at her crooked fin­gers. ‘I would not tell you I could do a thing if I could not. Some of my old skills are still mine,’ she said quietly.

  We set out to clam­ber back up onto the tumbled rock. Kettle went first, her prob­ing staff in hand, and I came be­hind her, one staff length back as she had bid me. She didn’t say a word to me as she glanced back and forth between the ground at her feet and where she wished to take us. I could not dis­cern what it was that de­cided her path, but the loose stone and crys­tal­line snow re­mained quiet un­der her short steps. She made it look easy enough that I began to feel fool­ish.