Chade had crossed to the bottles of spirits. He selected one, poured from it silently, and then turned back to us. “As the creature is frozen in a glacier, don't you think it might be a bit late to worry about preserving his life?” He sipped from his glass. “Or do you truly think that any beast could survive that long, bereft of warmth, water, and food?”
The Fool lifted his shoulders and shook his head. “What do any of us know of dragons? How long had the stone dragons slept before Fitz woke them? If they share any of their natures with true dragons, then perhaps some spark of life still glows within Icefyre.”
“What do you know of Icefyre?” Chade demanded suspiciously. He came back to the table and sat down. I remained standing, watching the two of them.
“I know no more of him than you do, Chade.”
“Then why forbid us the taking of his head, when you know the Narcheska has demanded this as a condition of the marriage? Or do you think the world would be set into a better path if our two realms remained at each other's throats for another century or two?”
I winced at his sarcasm. Never would I have mocked the Fool's stated goal to change the world. It shocked me that Chade did, and made me realize the depth of his antagonism.
“I've no love of strife, Chade Fallstar,” the Fool replied softly. “Yet even a war amongst men is not the worst thing that can occur. Better war than that we do deeper, graver damage to our world itself. Especially when we have the briefest grasp at a chance to repair an almost irreparable wrong.”
“Which is?”
“If Icefyre lives . . . and I concede it would be surpassing strange if he did . . . but if there is some spark of life in him yet, we must abandon all other quests to free him from the ice and restore him to full life.”
“Why?”
“You haven't told him?” He swung an accusing gaze to me. I didn't meet it and he didn't wait for me to reply. “Tintaglia, the Bingtown dragon, is the sole adult female dragon in the world. With every passing year, it becomes more apparent that the young ones which emerged from their cases will remain stunted and weak, unable to hunt or fly. Dragons mate in flight. If the hatchlings never fly, they can never mate. Dragons will die out in the world. And this time, it will be forever. Unless there remains one fully formed male dragon. One who could rise to mate Tintaglia and sire a new generation of dragons.”
I had told Chade all those things. Did he ask his question to test the Fool's frankness?
“You are telling me,” Chade enunciated carefully, “that we must put peace between the Out Islands and the Six Duchies at risk for the sake of reviving dragons. And this will benefit us how?”
“It won't,” the Fool admitted. “On the contrary. It will present many drawbacks for men. And many adjustments. Dragons are an arrogant and aggressive species. They ignore boundaries and have no concept of ‘ownership.' If a hungry dragon sees a cow in a pen, he'll eat it. To them, it's simple. The world provides and you take what you need from it.”
Chade smiled archly. “Then perhaps I should do the same, on behalf of humanity. The world has provided us a time free of dragons. I think I shall take it.”
I watched the Fool. He was not upset by Chade's words. For the space of two breaths he held his peace. Then he said, “As you will, sir. But when the time comes, that decision may not be yours. It may be mine. Or Fitz's.” As Chade's eyes blazed with anger, he added, “And not only the world but humanity itself does need dragons.”
“And why is that?” Chade demanded disdainfully.
“To keep the balance,” the Fool replied. He glanced over at me, and then past me, out of the window, and his eyes went far and pensive. “Humanity fears no rivals. You have forgotten what it was to share the world with creatures as arrogantly superior as yourselves. You think to arrange the world to your liking. So you map the land and draw lines across it, claiming ownership simply because you can draw a picture of it. The plants that grow and the beasts that rove, you mark as your own, claiming not only what lives today, but what might grow tomorrow, to do with as you please. Then, in your conceit and aggression, you wage wars and slay one another over the lines you have imagined on the world's face.”
“And I suppose dragons are better than we are because they don't do such things, because they simply take whatever they see. Free spirits, nature's creatures, possessing all the moral loftiness that comes from not being able to think.”
The Fool shook his head, smiling. “No. Dragons are no better than humans. They are little different at all from men. They will hold up a mirror to humanity's selfishness. They will remind you that all your talk of owning this and claiming that is no more than the snarling of a chained dog or a sparrow's challenge song. The reality of those claims lasts but for the instant of its sounding. Name it as you will, claim it as you will, the world does not belong to men. Men belong to the world. You will not own the earth that eventually your body will become, nor will it recall the name it once answered to.”