In my tower workroom, it was much the same. If Chade had noticed that Chivalry's sword now hung over the mantelpiece, he'd chosen not to comment on it. I moved ineffectually around the room, putting away the things that Chade had left scattered from his packing. The charts of the Out Islands and all other writings that Chade thought might be needed had already been packed. For lack of anything else to do, I lay on the bed and teased the ferret. But soon even Gilly tired of that. He went off to hunt rats. I took myself off to the steams, scrubbed myself raw, and then shaved twice. Afterward, I went to my barracks and got into the narrow bed there. The rest of the long room was quiet and nearly deserted. Only a few old hands had chosen an early bed as I had. The others were out and about Buckkeep Town, bidding the taverns and whores farewell. I pulled the blankets around me and stared up at the shadowed ceiling.
I wondered how hard the Fool would try to follow us. Chade had assured me that he wouldn't be able to get passage out of Buckkeep Town. He'd have to travel to a different port, and pay a lot of money to persuade a ship's captain to sail after us. Lord Golden wouldn't have that money. After his recent escapades, I doubted he'd find any friends willing to loan him any. He'd be stuck.
And furious with me, I decided. He had a keen mind. He'd soon deduce who had been behind his abandonment. He would know that I had chosen his life over what he perceived as his destiny. He'd feel no gratitude. His Catalyst was supposed to aid him in changing the course of the world, not thwart him.
I closed my eyes and sighed. It took me several tries to compose myself. When finally I floated just beneath the surface of sleep, I reached out for Nettle. This time, she was sitting in an oak tree, wearing a gown of butterfly wings. I looked up at her from the knoll beneath the tree. I was the man-wolf, as I always was in her dreams. “All those dead butterflies,” I said sorrowfully, shaking my head at her.
“Don't be silly. It's only a dream.” She stood up on the branch and leaped. I reared onto my hind legs and opened my arms to catch her, but the butterflies of her gown all fluttered simultaneously, and she floated, light as thistledown, and landed on her feet beside me. She wore one large yellow butterfly in her hair like a hair ribbon. It slowly fanned its wings. The color of her gown shifted in waves as the butterflies wafted their wings lazily.
“Ew. Don't all the little legs tickle?”
“No. It's a dream, remember? You don't have to keep the unpleasant parts.”
“You never have nightmares, do you?” I asked in admiration.
“I think that I used to, when I was very small. But I don't anymore. Why would anyone stay in a dream that didn't please her?”
“Not all of us can control our dreams the way you can, child. You should count it as a blessing.”
“Do you have nightmares?”
“Sometimes. Don't you recall where you found me last time, crossing that talus slope?”
“Oh. Yes, I remember that. But I thought it was something you liked to do. Some men like doing dangerous things, you know.”
“Perhaps. But some of us have had our fill of that, and would avoid nightmares if we could.”
She nodded slowly. “My mother has terrible nightmares sometimes. Even when I go into them and tell her to come out, she won't. She either won't or can't see me. And my father . . . I know he has bad dreams, because sometimes he shouts aloud. But I can't find my way into his dreams at all.” She stopped for a moment's thought. “I think that's why he started drinking again. When he's drunk, he passes out instead of falling asleep. Do you think he could be hiding from his nightmares?”
“I don't know,” I said, and wished she had not told me such things. “I bring you news that may ease both of them, however. Swift is on his way back home.”
She clasped her hands together and took a deep breath. “Oh, thank you, Shadow Wolf. I knew you could help me.”
I tried to be stern. “I wouldn't have to help you if you'd used common sense. Swift is far too young to be out and about on his own. You shouldn't have helped him run away.”
“I know that, now. But I didn't then. Why can't real life be like dreams? In a dream, if something starts to go wrong, you can simply change it.” She lifted her hands to her shoulders and smoothed them down the front of her gown. Suddenly, she was wearing a dress of poppy petals. “See? No tickly legs now. You just have to tell the parts you don't like to go away.”
“Like you sent away the dragon?”
