Had we been alone then, I might have told him about how the dragon had threatened Nettle and how she had dismissed the creature. But I did not wish to speak of my daughter in Dutiful's presence, so I only shook my head. He turned back to gaze out over the sea.

"So we may have another enemy to face, besides the cold and ice of Aslevjal. Well. At least tell me how big is this creature? How strong?"

"I don't know. I've only seen her in dreams, and in my dreams, she shifted her size. I don't think we can be sure of anything she has shown us in dreams."

"Oh, well, that's useful," Chade replied, discouraged. He came back to the table and dropped into his chair.

"Did you sense anything of this dragon last night?" he suddenly asked me.

"No. I didn't."

"But you did Skill-walk."

"Briefly." I'd visited Nettle. I wasn't going to discuss that here. He didn't seem to notice my reticence. "I did neither. Despite my best efforts." His voice was as anguished as an injured child's. I met his eyes and saw, not just frustration there, but pain. He looked at me as if I had excluded him from some precious secret or wonderful adventure.

"Chade. It will come in time. Sometimes I think you try too hard." I spoke the words, but I wasn't sure of them. Yet I could not bring myself to say what I secretly suspected: that he had come to these lessons too late, and would never master the magic so long denied him. "So you keep saying," he said hollowly.

And there seemed nothing to reply to that. For the remainder of our session, we worked through several exercises from one of the scrolls, but with limited success. Chade's discouragement seemed to have damped all his ability that day.