Fool's Fate (Tawny Man #3)

Fool's Fate (Tawny Man #3) Page 207

But Chade's enthusiasm for an immediate test of his wonderful powder had already grown beyond all caution. He was like a boy with an untested kite or boat. “This isn't like that at all. That was a fine measurement, and it had to be done in more haste than I liked. Have you any idea what was involved in treating all those candles and the firewood supply for that evening, with no one the wiser? No one has ever appreciated that, no, nor any of the other wonders I've worked for the Farseer reign. But even so, this is different. It will happen on a much larger scale, and I am free to use as much of the powder as we think necessary. There will be no half-measures this time.”

Burrich shook his head at me as I freed my arm from its binding and carefully threaded my left hand into my shirtsleeve. It was sore, but I could use it. Carefully. The prospect that the dragon might be slain tonight had fired me. A calm part of me knew that all I had was the Pale Woman's word that she would release the Fool as soon as Icefyre was dead. It was scarcely reliable, and yet it was the only chance I had. And if Chade's powder did slay the beast, but did not win the Fool's release, then a second dose of it, used alongside the dragon's body, might very well open up a passageway into her realm under the ice. I kept that thought to myself for now.

“What are the dangers?” Dutiful asked, but Chade waved a dismissive hand.

“I made extensive tests of it. I dug holes on the beach, built fires in the bottom of them, and when it was burning well, put in the box of powder and retreated. When the powder burst, it created a pit on the beach, the size proportionate to the amount of powder in the sealed container. Why should ice and snow be any different? Oh, I'll grant you that they are heavier and thicker, but that is why we'll use a larger container of powder. Now as for the fire—”

“Easily done,” I said. My mind was already racing. I had found Chade's cloak. I settled it around my shoulders. “A container of some kind, a large cooking pot. That kettle we use for stew and melting snow for water. That will do. Kindling to start a small fire in the bottom of it, and then the Fool's burning oil. He had it with his tent, so it will be there still. I will crawl down the excavated tunnel, get the fire going, and then put in the powder and crawl out. Hastily.” Chade and I grinned at one another. I was already infected with his enthusiasm.

Chade nodded, then knit his brows. “But the kettle's not big enough to hold the whole cask. Ah, let me think, let me think. I have it. Several layers of cured leather under the kettle. When you have the fire going well in the kettle, tip it over onto the leather. It will contain it well enough for the short time it will take. Then thrust the cask into the fire. And come out of the tunnel. Quickly.” He grinned at me as if it were all a fine jest. Peottre looked alarmed, the Narcheska confused. Burrich was scowling, his face gone black as a thundercloud. Prince Dutiful looked torn between a boy's desire to make things happen and a monarch's need to consider all decisions carefully. When he spoke, I knew which side had won.

“I should do it, not Fi— Tom Badgerlock. His arm is all but useless. And I said I would do it. It's my task.”

“No. You're the heir to the Farseer throne. We can't risk you!” Chade forbade it.

“Ah! Then you admit there is a risk!” Burrich growled as I dragged Chade's boots on to my feet. They were too big for me. I had never realized the skinny old man had such long feet.

My mind churned with plans. “I need the kettle, the oil from the Fool's supplies, kindling and tinder, a tinderbox, two treated hides. And the keg of powder.”

“And a lantern. You'll need light to see what you're doing down there in the dark. I'll bring the lantern.” Dutiful had ignored Chade's warning.

“No. No lantern. Well. Perhaps a small one. We go now and we go silently. If the rest of your Witted coterie gets wind of what we're up to . . . well. We just don't need that to happen.” As I had struggled with the boots, I had realized I'd need someone to help me. My shoulder was still twinging at the slightest demand on it. The Prince would be that person. I'd send Dutiful out of the tunnel as soon as I had the fire started. He could stand beside me on the edge of the pit while we waited for the powder to burst. Surely that would be enough to fulfill his word as a Farseer that he would take the dragon's head.

“Witted coterie!” Burrich exploded.

I felt impatient. I spoke as I sorted through Chade's and Dutiful's clothing. I took Chade's fur hat. “Yes. The circle of Witted ones who serve the Farseer King. Did you think the Skill was the only magic that could be employed that way? Ask Swift about it. He's close to being a member of it. And despite Web's betrayal of our plan, I do not think it a bad idea.” Then, as Burrich stared at me, both dumbfounded and insulted, I reminded Chade, “Send Longwick to gather those supplies himself. He's tight-lipped and loyal; he won't let a rumor start.”