Читать книгу The Rain Wild Chronicles: The Complete 4-Book Collection - Робин Хобб - Страница 26

Thymara had never felt comfortable meeting new people. Inevitably, they ran their eyes over her and realized that she should not have survived. It was even more uncomfortable to stand alone before a committee of some of the most revered Rain Wild Traders and answer questions about herself. There were eight of them, mostly middle-aged and male, all dressed in their formal Trader robes. They sat in solid chairs made of dark wood in the opulent chamber at a long heavy table. The floor under her feet was built from thick plank. Even the walls and the ceiling of the room were made of wood. Never before had she been in a structure so heavy and substantial. She and her father had journeyed far down the trunks to reach this place. He was waiting for her outside. It was the Rain Wild Traders’ Concourse, a structure so old and so close to the ground that it more resembled a Jamaillian mansion than a Rain Wilds house. Only this far down the trunk did such large and imposing constructions exist. She was oddly aware at all times of how massive it was; but instead of making her feel safe, the solidity of the structure seemed to threaten at any moment to crash to the earth below. Even the air seemed trapped and still inside it.

Only two of the committee seemed able to meet her gaze. The others looked aside, or past her, or down at the papers on the long table before them. Of the two who could look at her one was Trader Mojoin, the head of the committee. He looked her up and down in a way that plainly said what he thought of her before he asked her bluntly, ‘How is it that you were not exposed at birth?’

She had not expected such a bald question. For a moment, she stood dumbly before him. If she spoke the truth, how much trouble would she bring down on her family? Her father had broken all the rules when he secretly followed the midwife and brought his infant back home instead of leaving her exposed for the animals and weather to finish. She took a breath and hedged. ‘My defects manifested as I grew. They were not completely obvious at my birth.’

Trader Mojoin gave a brief snort of disbelief. One of the other Traders shifted in embarrassment for her. ‘Do you understand the terms of your employment?’ Mojoin asked her bluntly. ‘Does your family accept that after you leave with the dragons, we will not guarantee your safety or even your return?’

She was surprised at how calm her voice was when she replied. ‘My parents both signed the papers before you. They understand, and more importantly, I understand. I am of age to make this commitment.’ As Mojoin gave a curt nod and leaned back in his seat, she added, ‘But I would like to know more clearly exactly what my tasks are, and what our final mission is.’

He scowled. ‘Didn’t you read the contract you were given, girl? The offer states it plainly. The dragons have requested that humans accompany them up the river to their new home. You’ll be assigned a dragon or dragons. You’ll assist in moving the dragons upriver to a location more suitable for them, in ways the dragons may request or as you are assigned. You will help provide for your dragon or dragons by hunting or fishing. And you will remain at the dragons’ new location until they have established themselves there and are self-sufficient, or otherwise no longer need you.’

She spoke her next words coolly. ‘So if my dragon or dragons die, I’m free to return home.’

Mojoin sat up straight. ‘That isn’t the sort of attitude we’re looking for! We expect you to do all in your power to uphold the contract the Traders signed with the dragon Tintaglia. Your task is to help your dragon or dragons find a better area in which to live, and to become more self-sufficient.’ He shifted slightly in his seat and added, almost reluctantly, ‘It’s no secret that we are hoping the dragons can lead you to this Elderling city they claim to recall. Kelsingra.’

She bit back other words and questions to ask, ‘Is there a specific location that we are journeying toward? Has anyone scouted it out, so that we might know how long we should expect to travel?’

Mojoin’s mouth worked as if he’d tasted something foul and wished he could spit it out. When he spoke, his words were evasive. ‘The dragons themselves seem to have some inherited memories of where it might be. They will be your best guides in finding an appropriate place where they can establish themselves. While the ancient city may be your eventual destination, it’s entirely possible that you will discover a different area better suited to the dragons.’

‘I see,’ she responded curtly. And she did. Her father had been right. This was not an emigration, but an exile. A banishment of both the annoying dragons and an assortment of misfits from the population.

‘You see? Excellent!’ Trader Mojoin’s response was instant and relieved. ‘Then we are in accord.’ He picked up a seal from the table beside him and stamped the papers. ‘Once you sign, you are officially hired. When you leave this chamber, you will be given your supply pack and taken down to meet the dragons. You will receive half your wages in advance. You should make your farewells to your family quickly, for you depart as soon as is possible.’ He pushed a paper across the table to her. ‘Can you write? Can you sign this?’

She didn’t dignify that with an answer. She took up the waiting pen and wrote her name carefully. Then she stood up straight. ‘That’s all, then? You’re finished with me?’

‘That we are,’ one of the other men said in a soft voice. Someone else made a noise that might have been an uncomfortable chuckle. She pretended not to notice but inclined her head and stepped forward to receive her stamped copy of the agreement. She was surprised to find that her hands were shaking. It took her a moment to master turning the heavy knob on the large wooden door of the chamber, and then she pushed it too hard and nearly fell out into the antechamber. She caught her balance and then completed her humiliation by shutting the door so firmly that it slammed. The other applicants awaiting their turns looked at her with mild surprise and some disapproval.

‘Good luck,’ she muttered to them, avoiding meeting their gazes, and hurried out of the room. The doors to the outside were even larger and heavier, but this time she was prepared for them. She managed to get through them and out into the air. Even so, it was not the relief she had hoped for. This far down the trunks, so close to the earth and the river, the air seemed thicker and more full of smells. The light was dimmer, too, and she felt as if she could not open her eyes wide enough to see clearly. She spotted her father waiting for her at the edge of the large wooden deck that surrounded the concourse. She hurried toward him, grasping her contract. At more than arm’s length, waiting for her but obviously not with her father, stood Tats.

She spoke in a voice intended to reach them both. ‘I got it. They stamped it. I’ll be part of the expedition to resettle the dragons.’

Tats grinned at her, and as their eyes met, he waved his own rolled contract at her. Her father had been leaning with his back to the old-fashioned railing that surrounded the deck. He stood up as she approached and smiled. But her father’s voice was grave as he said quietly, ‘Congratulations. I know you wanted this. I hope it will be what you think it will be.’

‘I know it will!’ Tats burst out, and her father gave him a look. He hadn’t been pleased to see Tats when they arrived, and although he had greeted him politely enough, it had been without the usual warmth he showed the boy. Thymara suspected that her mother had said something to her father about Tats’ earlier visit, and had probably added significance to her report that simply didn’t exist. Thymara tried to mend the gulf by moving so that she leaned on the railing between them, linking all three of them into a group. She put her back to the Traders’ Concourse and looked out over the river and the swampy land that edged it. It felt odd to be so close to the ground. Behind her, she heard the Concourse door open and shut again. A boy’s voice proclaimed, ‘I’m signed up!’ The members of the committee were not taking long to grant their approval stamps. She wondered if they would refuse anyone. She doubted it.

‘It’s hard to know what it will be, Father. But I know it will be me moving out and standing on my own, and beginning a life that belongs to me. That has to be good, no matter how difficult it is.’

‘As for me, I can’t wait to go see the dragons! They told me that as soon as they’ve signed up the rest of the group, we’ll be heading down there!’

Startled by the stranger’s voice, Thymara jerked her head to look at him. He had come to lean on the railing by Tats. She had seen him earlier, when she had been waiting to go in for her interview. He was plainly Rain Wilder born, and marked almost as heavily as she was. Despite that, he was handsome in a strange and feral way. His eyes were the palest blue she had ever seen on a man, his hair thick and gleaming black. His black toe-claws clicked on the wood as he tapped a foot impatiently, jittering with nerves. ‘It’s going to be great!’ he assured Tats, grinning widely. He stuck out his hand. ‘I’m Rapskal.’

‘They call me Tats,’ Tats said, shaking his hand, and for the first time Thymara realized that probably wasn’t his given name, but something he’d been called since he was small. The stranger was grinning at her now, and holding a hand out to her father, who took it, saying, ‘My name is Jerup. This is my daughter, Thymara.’

Rapskal shook her father’s hand vigorously, and then asked gracelessly, ‘So are you going with the dragons, or only her? You look a bit old to be part of this group if you don’t mind my saying so. A bit old, and not near strange enough!’ He laughed heartily at his own rough jest. Behind him, Tats scowled.

Her father kept his aplomb. ‘I won’t be going. Only Thymara. But like you, I’ve noticed that most of those going are heavily marked by the Rain Wilds.’

‘Yes, that you could say!’ Rapskal agreed cheerfully. ‘Either they think it makes us tougher, or they’re hoping the dragons and river will do what our parents didn’t do when we were born.’ He swung his gaze to Tats. ‘Except for you, of course. You don’t even look Rain Wilds. Why are you going?’ Rapskal seemed to excel at asking questions so directly that they seemed rude.

Tats straightened up, standing half a head taller than the other boy. ‘Because it pays well. And I like dragons, and I’d like to have a bit of an adventure. And there’s nothing keeping me in Trehaug.’

The boy nodded cheerily, the light scaling on his cheeks flashing as his lips parted in a smile. His teeth were good, a little too large for his mouth. They showed white in his constant grin. He looked, Thymara thought, like a boy on the verge of a sudden growth spurt. ‘Yes, yes! That’s me, too. Exactly.’ He leaned over the railing, spat noisily, and then straightened. ‘Nothing for me in Trehaug for a long time now,’ he added, and for the first time he looked less than optimistic. But an instant later, the light came back into his pale blue eyes and he declared, ‘I just got to build something better for myself. That’s all. What’s past is past. So I’m going to get me a dragon and be best friends with him. We’re going to fly together and hunt together and always, always be friends and never angry at each other. That’s what I want.’

He nodded vigorously at his own fantasy. Tats looked incredulous. Thymara kept her mouth shut, horrified not by his wild dreams but how closely they paralleled her own yearnings. Flying with a dragon, as the Elderlings of old did. How foolish those fancies seemed when he spoke them aloud!

Rapskal didn’t notice the strained silence. His eyes sparked suddenly with a new interest. ‘Look over there! I’ll bet that they’re looking for us. Time to go get our supply packs. And then down to the dragons! Come on!’

He didn’t pause to see if they were following, but darted off to join the group forming about an officious-looking Trader in a yellow robe with a fat scroll in his hand. He was reading off names and handing out chits.

‘That Rapskal makes me tired just watching him,’ Tats said quietly.

‘Reminds me of a darter lizard; never still for more than a minute,’ Thymara agreed. She stared after the stranger, wondering if he were more intriguing or annoying. A strange mixture, she decided. She took a deep breath and added, ‘But he’s right. I think we’d best go find out what we’re supposed to do now.’ She didn’t glance at her father as she crossed the deck. She had the oddest feeling of division; she couldn’t decide if she wished he would say goodbye now and leave her to whatever came next, or if she wanted him by her side through this process. All of the others seemed to be alone. No parent watched over Tats or Rapskal, and she saw only one other adult lurking at the edge of the clustered youths. For youths they were, for the most part. One or two of the Rain Wilders showing a contract and picking up a chit looked to be in their twenties, but just as many looked to be only fourteen or fifteen.

‘Some of them are just children,’ her father complained. He had followed at her heels.

‘And Rapskal was right. All of us are heavily marked. Except for Tats.’ She did glance at her father now. ‘And that explains why most of us are young,’ she said simply. Neither she nor her father needed to be reminded that those who were heavily marked from a young age seldom lived long into their thirties.

Her father caught her wrist. ‘Like lambs to the slaughter,’ he said quietly, and she wondered at his strange words and how tightly he held on to her. Then he added, ‘Thymara, you don’t have to do this. Stay home. I know that your mother makes things difficult for you, but I—’

She cut him off before he could say anything more. ‘Papa, I do have to do this! I signed a contract. What do we always say? A Trader is only as good as his word. And I’ve done more than just given my word, I’ve signed my name to it.’ She thought of her dreams of a dragon bonding with her. She would not speak those. Rapskal’s extravagant fancy still echoed in her mind. She took a deeper breath and added pragmatically, ‘And we both know that I do need to do this. Just so I can say that I stepped up and did something with my life. I love being your daughter, but that can’t be all I ever am. I need to—’ She groped for words. ‘I need to measure myself against the world. Prove that I can stand up to it and be something.’

‘You’re already something,’ he insisted, but the strength had gone out of his argument. When she put her hand over his, he released his grip on her wrist. She stopped where she was. Tats, ahead of them, looked back curiously. She shook her head at him slightly and he moved on.

‘We should say goodbye here,’ she said suddenly.

‘I can’t.’ Her father seemed horrified at the idea.

‘Papa, I have to go. And this is a good time for us to part. I know you’ll worry about me. I know I’ll miss you. But let’s part now, at the beginning of my adventure. Tell me “good luck” and let me go.’

‘But—’ he said, and then suddenly he hugged her tight. He whispered hoarsely into her ear, ‘Go on then, Thymara. Go on, and measure yourself. It won’t prove anything to me because I already know your measure, and I’ve never doubted you. But go find out what you have to find out. And then come back to me. Please. Don’t let this be the last time I see you.’

‘Papa, don’t be silly. Of course I’ll come back,’ she said, but at his words a prickle of dread had run up her spine. No, I won’t. The thought was so strong that she couldn’t voice it. So she hugged him tightly and then, as he released her, she pushed her small pouch of money into his hand. ‘You keep this safe for me, until I come back,’ she told him. Then, before he could react to that, she turned and darted from his embrace. She wouldn’t need the money on their expedition. And perhaps, if she never came back, it would be helpful to him. Let him hold it now, and think it meant a promise to return.

‘Good luck!’ he called after her, and ‘Thanks!’ she called back. She saw Tats look at her father in surprise. He turned as if he, too, would go back to say his farewells, but at that moment, the man with the scroll demanded of him, ‘Do you want your chit or not? You won’t get your supply pack without it!’

‘Of course I want it,’ Tats declared, all but snatching it out of his hand.

The man shook his head at him. ‘You’re a fool,’ he said quietly. ‘Look around you, boy. You don’t belong with these others.’

‘You don’t know where I belong,’ Tats told him fiercely. Then he looked past Thymara and asked, ‘Where did your father go?’

‘Home,’ she said. And she avoided his eyes as she stepped up to the man, showed her contract and said, ‘I’ll need my supply pack chit now.’

The supply packs were barely worthy of the name. The canvas bags were roughly sewn and treated with some sort of wax to weatherproof them. Inside were an adequate blanket, a water skin, a cheap metal plate and a spoon, a sheath knife, and packets of cracker-bread, dried meat and dried fruit. ‘It makes me glad I brought my own supplies from home,’ Thymara commented thoughtlessly, and then winced at the look on Tats’ face.

‘Better than nothing,’ he commented gruffly, and Rapskal, who had attached himself to them like a tick on a monkey, added enthusiastically, ‘My blanket’s blue. My favourite colour. How lucky is that?’

‘They’re all blue,’ Tats replied, and Rapskal nodded again.

‘Like I said. I’m lucky my favourite colour is blue.’

Thymara tried not to roll her eyes. It was well known that some who were heavily marked by the Rain Wilds had mental problems as well. Rapskal might be a bit simple, or simply have an aggressively optimistic outlook. Right now, his cheerfulness bolstered her courage even as his chattiness grated on her nerves. She was baffled by how easily he had attached himself to her and Tats. She was accustomed to people approaching her with caution and maintaining a distance. Even the customers who regularly sought out her family at the market kept her at arm’s length. But here was Rapskal, right at her elbow. Every time she turned to glance at him, he grinned like a twig monkey. His dancing blue eyes seemed to say that they shared a secret.

They squatted in a circle on a patch of bare earth, twelve marked Rain Wilders, most in their teens, and Tats. They’d come all the way down to the ground to receive their supply packs. The contents, they’d been told, should sustain them for the first few days of their journey. They’d be accompanied upriver by a barge that would carry several professional hunters with experience in scouting unfamiliar territory and more supplies both for humans and dragons, but each dragon keeper should attempt to learn to subsist on his own resources as well as maintain his dragon’s health as quickly as possible. Thymara was sceptical. As she studied those who would become her companions, she speculated that few of them had ever had to find their own food, let alone consider feeding a dragon. Uneasiness churned in her belly.

‘They told us we were to help our dragons find food. But there’s nothing in here that’s useful for hunting,’ Tats observed worriedly.

A girl of about twelve edged a bit closer to their group. ‘I’ve heard they’ll give us fishing tackle and a pole spear before we depart,’ she said shyly.

Thymara smiled at her. The girl was skinny, with thin hanks of blonde hair dangling from a pink-scaled scalp. Her eyes were a coppery brown, probably on the turn to pure copper, and her mouth was nearly lipless. Thymara glanced at her hands. Perfectly ordinary nails. Her heart went out to the girl abruptly; she’d probably seemed almost normal when she was born and had only started to change as she edged into puberty. That happened sometimes. Thymara was grateful that she had always known what she was; she’d never had real dreams of growing up to marry and have children. This child probably had. ‘I’m Thymara, and this is Tats. He’s Rapskal. What’s your name?’

‘Sylve.’ The girl eyed Rapskal, who grinned at her. She edged close to Thymara and asked even more quietly, ‘Are we the only girls in the group?’

‘I thought I saw another girl earlier. About fifteen. Blonde.’

‘I think you might have seen my sister. She came with me, to give me courage.’ She cleared her throat. ‘And to take the advance on my wages home. Money won’t be any good to me where we’re going, and my mother is very sick. It might get her the medicines she needs.’ The girl spoke with unselfconscious pride. Thymara nodded. The thought that she and Sylve might be the only females unnerved her a bit. She covered it by grinning and saying, ‘Well, at least we’ll have each other for intelligent conversation!’

‘Hey!’ Tats protested, while Rapskal peered at her and said, ‘What? I don’t get it.’

‘Nothing to get,’ she reassured him. Then turned to Sylve and rolled her eyes in Rapskal’s direction. The other girl grinned.

Sylve sprang suddenly to her feet. ‘Look! They’re coming for us, to take us to see the dragons.’

Thymara came to her feet more slowly. Her pack from home was already on her back. She slung the supply pack they’d issued her over one shoulder. ‘Well, I guess we should go,’ she said quietly. Involuntarily, she glanced up the trunk toward the canopy top and home. She was surprised but not shocked to see that her father had lingered and was watching her from the wide staircase that wound up the tree’s immense trunk. She waved at him a final time and made a small shooing motion for him to go home.

Tats had followed the direction of her glance. He waved wildly at her father and then impetuously shouted up to him, ‘Don’t worry, Jerup! I’ll watch over her!’

‘You’ll watch over me?’ she scoffed, uttering the words loud enough that she hoped they’d reach her father’s ears. Then, with a final wave, she turned and trooped after the others. They were headed for the river dock, and the boats that would carry them upstream from Trehaug to Cassarick and the dragons’ hatching grounds.

‘He doesn’t feel right to me.’

Leftrin scratched his cheek. He needed to shave, but lately his skin had begun to scale more on his cheekbones and the angle of his jaw. Scales he could live with, if they’d hurry up and grow in. Whiskers and a beard annoyed him. Unfortunately, trying to shave near scales usually resulted in lots of nasty little cuts.

‘He’s just not his old self.’

The two comments in swift succession was as good as a speech coming from Swarge. Leftrin shrugged at the tillerman. ‘He’s bound to be changed. We knew that going in. He knew it and accepted it. It was what he wanted.’

‘Are you sure of that?’

‘Of course I’m sure. Tarman’s my ship, the liveship of my family. The bond is there, Swarge. I know what he wants.’

‘I been on his decks close to fifteen years. No stranger to him myself. He seems, well, anxious. Waiting.’

‘I think I know what that’s about.’ Leftrin stared out over the ship’s wake in the river. Overhead, the stars shone in a wide path of open sky. To either side of them, the tall trees of the Rain Wilds leaned in curiously. It was a peaceful time. From the riverbanks came the usual night sounds of creatures and birds. Water purled past the Tarman’s hull as the barge made his way steadily upriver. From the deckhouse, yellow lanternlight shone. The crew was at their evening meal. The clack of crockery, the mutter of conversation, and the smell of fresh coffee drifted out to him. Bellin said something, and Skelly laughed, a warm and gentle sound in the night. Big Eider’s chuckle was a deep undercurrent to their merriment.

Leftrin ran his hands slowly over Tarman’s railing. He nodded to his tillerman. ‘He’s fine. He knew there would be changes.’

‘I been having dreams.’

Leftrin nodded. ‘Me, too.’

A slow smile spread across the tillerman’s face. ‘Wish I could fly.’

‘So does he,’ Leftrin agreed. ‘So do we.’

‘Why did you have to book passage on this ship?’ Sedric demanded abruptly.

Alise looked at him in surprise. They stood together on the deck, leaning on the railing and watching the thick trunks of the immense Rain Wilds trees slip past them in a never-ending parade. Some ancient giants were as big around as watch towers. Strange, how they made the other behemoths look small. Draperies of vine and curtains of lacy moss hung from their outstretched branches, weaving the trees together in a seemingly impenetrable wall. Beneath the canopy of foliage and moss, the forest floor looked swampy and dismal, a land of endless shadow and secretive light.

She had come out on the deck to enjoy the short span of daylight hours. Although the river flowed through a wide swampy valley, the forest that lined the banks of the Rain Wild River was so tall that the tops of the trees formed a leafy horizon. Above them the stripe of blue sky that showed seemed a narrow ribbon even though Alise knew it was almost as wide as the wandering grey flow of the river.

She had been surprised when Sedric came to join her. She’d scarcely seen him since they left Bingtown. He’d even been taking his meals in his cabin. He had been quiet and withdrawn for most of their journey, more subdued and solemn than she’d ever seen him. Obviously, he was not relishing his duty. For her part, she had been astounded to discover the companion that her husband had arranged for her. It made no sense to her. If he wanted to protect her reputation, why send her off chaperoned by his male secretary? Like many things that Hest arbitrarily decided for her life, he hadn’t deigned to explain it to her.

‘I’m putting Sedric at your disposal for your Rain Wilds folly,’ he’d announced abruptly on entering the breakfast room the morning after their confrontation. Standing, he had helped himself to food and tea. ‘Use him however you wish,’ he’d continued. As Sedric entered, Hest hadn’t even glanced at him, and only added, ‘He’s to obey your every command. Protect you. Entertain you. Whatever you wish of him. I’m sure you’ll find him delightful.’ Those last words were uttered with such disdain that she’d flinched.

And then Hest had left the room. As she’d turned toward Sedric in confusion she’d been shocked to see how dejected he appeared. Her efforts at conversation as he picked at his breakfast had faltered and died.

Hest hadn’t even waited for her departure date before embarking on another trading jaunt of his own. He’d filled the house with his busyness, and invited two of his younger friends to accompany him. In the days before his departure, he’d kept Sedric dashing about on errands, securing papers for passage, picking up a new wardrobe that Hest had ordered, and procuring a stock of excellent wine and viands to accompany him on his journey. Sedric’s obvious unhappiness with the situation had made her feel sorry for him, and she had done her best to make her own arrangements for travel, to spare him a bit of time for himself. Yet she could not regret her decision finally to make this journey. And strange as it was that Hest had chosen Sedric to accompany her, she could not have been more delighted with the prospect. The idea of having her old friend to herself for a time while on an adventure to see dragons had filled her with cheery anticipation. She had hoped to find him equally enthused.

But in the weeks before they left, and especially after Hest had departed, Sedric had seemed gloomy, even uncharacteristically snappish with her. He’d obeyed Hest’s directive, arriving promptly at breakfast every day to report travel tasks completed and request his duties for the day. They’d spoken, but not had conversations. A few days before their departure, he’d begged some time to himself, to dine with one of Hest’s Chalcedean trading partners who had arrived unexpectedly in Bingtown. She’d been glad to let him have the evening to himself, in the hopes it would bolster his spirits. But the next morning, when she asked him if his meeting with Begasti Cored had gone well, he had quickly changed the subject to the details of her own journey, and found a dozen tasks for himself to do that day.

Once they’d boarded the Paragon, she had hoped his spirits would lift. Instead, he’d spent the early days of their journey sequestered in his cabin, pleading seasickness. She’d doubted that excuse; he’d travelled so much with Hest that surely he must have the stomach for it by now. Nonetheless, she’d left him in peace and occupied herself with exploring the liveship and trying to get to know the crew. So she had been cheered when Sedric joined her on deck that day, and pleased that he now spoke to her, even if the question was rueful rather than engaged.

‘It was the only ship with room for two passengers that was leaving at the right time,’ she admitted.

‘Ah.’ He pondered that for a moment. ‘So when you told Hest you had already booked passage, that was a lie?’

His words were flat, not really an accusation, but they still stung. She retreated but did not surrender. ‘Not a lie, exactly. I’d made my plans, even if I hadn’t yet purchased my tickets.’ She looked out over the roiled grey water. ‘If I hadn’t said I was going, he’d have ignored me again. Or put me off. I had to do it, Sedric.’ She turned to face him. Despite his glum expression, he looked rather jaunty in a white shirt and blue coat. The sea wind made his uncovered hair dance on his brow. She smiled at him and offered sincerely, ‘I’m sorry that you got caught up in my quarrel with Hest. I know this isn’t a journey you’d choose.’

‘No. Nor would I choose a jinxed ship to make it on.’

‘Jinxed ship? This one?’

‘The Paragon? Don’t look at me like that, Alise. Everyone in Bingtown knows this liveship and his reputation. He rolled and killed his entire crew, what, five times?’ Sedric shook his head at her. ‘And you book us as passengers aboard him for a trip up the Rain Wild River.’

Alise turned away from him. She was suddenly very aware of the railing under her hands. It was made of wizardwood, as they used to call it, as was a great deal of the ship’s hull, and his entire figurehead. The Paragon was a wakened liveship, that is, he was self-aware and his figurehead interacted with his crew, supercargo and dock crews just as if he were human. She had heard that liveships were conscious of every word spoken aboard them, and certainly the very light thrumming of the wood beneath her hands made him seem alive. So she spoke her words firmly. ‘It happened, but I am certain it was not five times. That was long ago, Sedric. From all I have heard, he is a changed ship now, and a much happier one.’ She shot her companion a look that begged him to either be silent or change the subject. He leaned back from her, raising one well-shaped eyebrow in confusion. She continued quickly, ‘Knowing what we know now about the so-called wizardwood, I cannot blame him for anything he did. Indeed, to me it is a wonder that the liveships recovered so well from finally grasping exactly what they were and how they had been created. What we Traders did was unforgivable. In their place, I doubt if I would be so gracious.’

‘I don’t understand. Why should they resent us?’

Alise was feeling more uncomfortable by the instant. She felt as if she were lecturing Sedric for the Paragon’s benefit. ‘Sedric! The Rain Wilders who found the dormant dragons in their cases, sometimes incorrectly called cocoons, had no idea what they were. They thought they had found immense logs of very well seasoned wood, the only sort of wood that seemed impervious to the acid waters of the Rain Wild River. So they sawed that wood up into planks and built ships from it. And if, in the centre of those “logs” they found something that obviously was not part of a tree, they simply discarded it. The half-formed dragons were dumped from their cases, to perish.’

‘But surely they were dead already, having been so long in the chill and the dark.’

‘Tintaglia wasn’t. All it required for her to hatch was some sunlight and a bit of warmth.’ She paused and unbidden a lump rose in her throat. Her words were heartfelt as she said, ‘If only we had understood earlier, dragons would have been restored to the world so much sooner! As it was, we denied them their true shapes. Instead, we fastened planks made from their flesh into ships. Exposed to enough sunlight and interacting intimately with familiar minds, there was a sort of metamorphosis. And they awoke, not as dragons, but as sailing ships.’ She fell silent, overcome at what humans, in their ignorance, had done.

‘Alise, my old friend, I think you torment yourself needlessly.’ Sedric’s tone was gentle rather than condescending, but she still sensed that he was more puzzled by her reaction than stirred to sympathy for the aborted dragons. She felt surprise at that. He was usually so sensitive that his lack of empathy for either the liveships or the dragons puzzled her.

‘Ma’am?’

The man had come up behind her so quietly that she jumped at his voice. She turned to look at the young deckhand. ‘Hello, Clef. Did you need something?’

Clef nodded, and then tossed his head to flip sandy, weather-baked hair from his eyes. ‘Yes, ma’am. But not me, not exactly. It’s the ship, Paragon. He’d like a word with you, he says.’

There was a faint accent to his words that she couldn’t quite place. And in her time aboard the ship, she hadn’t quite decided what Clef’s status was. He’d been introduced to her as a deckhand but the rest of the crew treated him more like the son of the captain. Captain Trell’s wife Althea mercilessly and affectionately ordered him about, and the captain’s small son who randomly and dangerously roved the ship’s deck and rigging regarded Clef as a large, moving toy. As a result, she smiled at him more warmly than she would have toward an ordinary servant as she clarified, ‘You said the ship wishes to speak to me? Do you mean the ship’s figurehead?’

A look of annoyance or something kin to it shadowed his face and was gone. ‘The ship, ma’am. Paragon asked me to come aft and find you and invite you to come and speak with him.’

Sedric had turned and was leaning with his back against the railing. ‘The ship’s figurehead wishes to speak to a passenger? Isn’t that a bit unusual?’ There was warm amusement in his voice. He flashed the grin that usually won people over.

Although Clef remained courteous, he didn’t bother masking his irritation. ‘No, sir, not really. Most passengers on a liveship make a bit of time to greet the ship when they come on board. And some of them enjoy chatting with him. Most anyone who’s sailed with us more than a time or two counts Paragon as a friend, as they would Captain Trell or Althea.’

‘But I’d always heard that the Paragon was a bit, well … not dangerous, perhaps, as he used to be, but … distinctly odd.’ Sedric smiled as he spoke but his charm failed to win the young sailor over.

‘Well, ain’t we all?’ Clef muttered sharply, and then straightened and spoke directly to Alise. ‘Ma’am, Paragon’s invited you to come and talk with him. If you want me to, I’ll tell him you’d rather not.’ He made the offer stiffly.

‘But I’d love to speak with him!’ she declared. The words and the enthusiasm came easily, for they were honest. ‘I’ve wanted to speak to him since I came on board, but I didn’t want to be presumptuous, or get in the crew’s way. I’ll come right now, if I may! Sedric, you needn’t accompany me if it makes you uncomfortable. I’m sure Clef won’t mind escorting me.’

‘Not at all. It will be fascinating, I’m sure.’ Sedric straightened from leaning on the railing.

‘Then let us go, right now.’

Clef looked uncomfortable but stubborn as he firmly interjected, ‘But ma’am, it was you the ship wished to speak to. Not him.’

She was startled. ‘Then you think the ship will not wish him to be present?’

Clef rocked his weight from foot to foot, thinking and then shrugged. ‘Don’t know. As the man said, our Paragon’s a bit odd. Might be offended or might be flattered. Probably only one way to find out.’

‘Then I’ll escort the lady,’ Sedric responded easily. He offered his arm and she took it with pleasure. He might have just annoyed her, but it was easy to forgive him.

‘I’ll just let Paragon know that you’re coming,’ Clef responded quietly. He padded off down the deck, barefoot, swift and silent as a cat. She watched him go and remarked quietly to Sedric, ‘He’s an odd young man. Did you notice the slave tattoo on his face?’

‘It looked as if he’d tried to abrade it away. A shame. He’d be handsomer without the scar.’

‘I suppose in his trade, a scar or two is to be expected. When we came down the docks to board, I noticed that even the figurehead is a bit battered. It looks as if he was carved that way, with a broken nose.’

‘I didn’t really notice,’ Sedric admitted. A moment later, he added, ‘I should apologize to you, Alise. I’ve neglected you shamefully on this voyage. I wasn’t in the mood for travel so soon after returning to Bingtown.’

She smiled and responded to his polite excuse with honesty. ‘Sedric, I doubt you would ever be in the mood to travel to the Rain Wilds, no matter how long you’d been at home. And I do apologize that Hest chose to inflict me on you. I truly hadn’t expected anything of the sort. I was startled to discover that he thought I’d need a chaperone for the journey, and when he said I must have one, I expected him to choose some respected old hen to cluck and scuttle after me. Not you! I never imagined his sparing your time away from him to escort me.’

‘Nor did I,’ Sedric replied drolly, and they both laughed. Alise gave him a genuine smile. This was better, much better. Now he was sounding much more like the Sedric of old.

Without thinking, she squeezed his arm slightly and said, ‘You know, I’ve missed our old friendship. You may not enjoy this journey, but I think I’ll relish it all the more for your company and conversation.’

‘Company and conversation,’ he repeated, and an odd note crept into his voice. ‘I would think you’d prefer your husband for that.’

His comment broke the mood. She was shocked at how deeply she responded to what probably had been intended as a pleasantry. She very nearly told him how very little company and conversation she’d ever had with Hest. Loyalty tied her tongue, or perhaps shame. She teetered on the unpleasant realization that Hest had so completely silenced her. Even out of his presence, he restricted her words. She had no female confidante to divulge her woes to; she’d never had the intimate friendships that she knew some other women enjoyed. Talking with Sedric, recalling how friendly they’d been in their younger years, had wakened a terrible longing for a friend. Yet he was not her friend, not any more. He was her husband’s secretary, and it would be a double betrayal for her to speak frankly of how desiccated a relationship her marriage to Hest was. It was humiliating enough that he knew she had once suspected Hest of infidelity. It would betray her vows to Hest, and worse, it would put Sedric in an untenable position. No. She couldn’t do that to her friend. Had he noticed her sudden silence? She hoped not. She lifted her hand from his arm and broke free of him, hurrying a little ahead to exclaim inanely, ‘There is just no end to these immense trees! How they shade the land and water!’

Clef was standing beside the short ladder that led to the foredeck. He offered her his hand, but she waved him off gaily with a confidence she didn’t feel. The bulk of her skirts and petticoats pressed against the stanchions as she climbed to the foredeck. At the top, she stepped on the hem of her skirt gaining the upper deck, and stumbled forward, narrowly avoiding a fall.

‘Ma’am!’ Clef exclaimed in alarm behind her, and she said ‘Oh, I’m quite all right. Just a bit clumsy. That’s me!’ She patted her hair, smoothed down her skirts and looked around expectantly. The deck narrowed before her, and there seemed to be an inordinate number of ropes and cleats and things she had no names for. As she advanced to the very point of the bow, she could see the back of Paragon’s head below the bowsprit. His hair was dark and curly.

‘Please, go on forward to speak to him,’ Clef urged her. Behind her, she heard Sedric’s muttering as he gained the deck. She didn’t look back at him, but pushed forward until she leaned on a railing and could look over the side. She had known, but it was still a bit startling to see that the much larger-than-life figurehead was not clothed. His bare tanned back was toward her. His muscular arms were crossed in front of him.

‘Good day,’ she began and then halted, tongue-tied. Was that how one addressed a liveship? Should she call him ‘sir’ or ‘Paragon’? Treat him as a man or a ship?

At that moment, he twisted his torso and neck to look back at her. ‘Good day, Alise Kincarron. I’m pleased to finally meet you.’

His eyes were a pale blue, startling in his weathered face. She could not look away from him. He had the colouring of a man but the fine grain of his wizardwood showed in his face. It looked as flexible as skin but obviously was not. She realized she was staring and looked aside. ‘Actually, my name is Alise Finbok,’ she began, and then wondered how he had known her maiden name at all. She pushed the unsettling thought aside and decided to be both bold and blunt. ‘I’m so pleased to speak with you as well. I felt shy about coming forward to meet you; I wasn’t quite sure of the protocol. Thank you so much for inviting me.’

Paragon had turned away from her, putting his attention back on the river. He shrugged one bare shoulder. ‘There is no protocol that I know of for speaking to a liveship, other than what each ship makes for himself. Some passengers come and greet me immediately, before they board. A few never speak a word to me. At least, not intentionally.’ He flashed her a knowing grin over his shoulder, as if amused that his words discomfited her. ‘And some few passengers intrigue me enough that I invite them to come forward for conversation.’ He put his gaze back on the river.

Alise’s heart was beating faster and her cheeks were warm. She could not decide if she were flattered or frightened. Was the ship implying that he’d been aware of their conversation about dragons? He was ‘intrigued’ by her, a high compliment from a creature that should have been a dragon. Yet beneath that giddy feeling of being recognized by such a magnificent being roiled the uneasiness of what Sedric had forced her to recall. This was Paragon, the mad ship, once better known as the Pariah. All sorts of rumours had circulated about him in Bingtown, but that he had killed his entire crew not once but several times was no rumour but undeniable fact. It was only now, speaking to him, watching how he alone seemed to determine his course up the river that she realized how completely in his power she was. It was only now that she realized just how truly alive a liveship was. This was a dangerous creature, to be treated with both caution and respect.

As if he had read her thoughts, Paragon turned his head and bared his white teeth in a smile. It sent a shiver up her spine. She recalled that his original boyish face had been damaged, chopped to pieces; some said by pirates, while others believed his own crew had done it. But someone had re-carved the splintered wood into the visage of a handsome if scarred young man. The youthfulness of that human face collided with her mental image of Paragon as a wise and ancient dragon. The contrast unsettled her. As a result, her words were more stiffly formal than she intended when she asked, ‘Of what did you wish to speak to me?’

He was unruffled. ‘Of dragons. And liveships. I’ve heard gossip that you are headed up river, not just to Trehaug, which is the end of my run, but beyond the deep water and up to Cassarick. Is that true?’

Gossip? she wanted to ask him. Instead she replied, ‘Yes. That’s true. I’m something of a scholar of dragons and Elderlings, and the purpose of my journey is to see the young dragons for myself. I wish to study them. I hope to be able to interview them and ask them what ancestral memories they have of Elderlings.’ She smiled, pleased with herself as she added, ‘I’m actually a bit surprised to discover that no one before me has thought to do this.’

‘They probably have, but discovered it was a waste of time to try to speak to those wretched animals.’

‘I beg your pardon?’ His dismissal of the young dragons shocked her.

‘They’re no more dragons than I am,’ Paragon replied carelessly. When he glanced back at her this time, his eyes were storm-cloud grey. ‘Haven’t you heard? They’re cripples, one and all. They were badly formed when they emerged from their cases and time has not improved them. The serpents were too long in the sea, far, far too long. And when they did finally migrate, they arrived badly nourished at the wrong time of the year. They should have come up the river in late summer, encased, and had plenty of fat and all of winter to change. Instead they were thin, tired, and old beyond counting. They arrived late, and spent too short a time in their cases. More than half of them are already dead from what I hear, and the rest soon to follow. Studying them will teach you nothing about real dragons.’ He was looking away from her, staring upriver. When he shook his head, his curling black hair danced with the motion. In a lower voice he added, ‘True dragons would scorn such creatures. Just as they would scorn me.’

She could not read the emotion behind his words. It could have been deep sorrow or utter defiance of their judgment. She tried to find words that would answer to either. ‘That scarcely seems fair. You cannot help what you are, any more than the young dragons can.’

‘No. That is true. I could not prevent what was done to me, nor can I change what people made of me. But I know what I am and have decided to continue being what I am. That is not the decision a dragon would make. And thus do I know for myself that I am not a dragon.’

‘Then what are you?’ she asked unwillingly. She didn’t like the direction the conversation was going in. His words seemed almost an accusation. Did she feel tension emanating from the figurehead or was she imagining it?

‘I am a liveship,’ he replied, and although he spoke without rancour, there was a depth of feeling to his voice that seemed to thrum though the very planking under her feet. A finality filled those words, as if he spoke of an unending, never-changing fate. He did, she realized abruptly.

‘How you must hate us for what we did to you.’ Behind her, she heard Sedric give a small gasp of dismay. She ignored him.

‘Hate you?’ Paragon slowly digested her words before he spoke again. He did not turn to look at her, but kept his eyes focused on the river ahead of him as the ship moved steadily against the current. ‘Why would I waste my time with hate? What was done to me was unforgivable, of course. Completely unforgivable. Those who did it are no longer alive to be punished or to apologize. Even if they were and did, it would not undo what they did. The torments I endured cannot be undone. The stolen future cannot be given back to me. The companionship of my own kind, the chance to hunt and kill, to fight and mate, to live a life in which I am neither servant or master; all those things are forever lost to me.’

He did glance back at her now; the blue of his eyes had paled to an icy grey. ‘Can you think of anything that anyone could do to make up for it? Any sacrifice that could be offered that would be adequate reparation?’

Her heart was beating so hard that there was a ringing in her ears. Was that why he had rolled so many times and taken so many human lives? Did he think that enough humans had died in expiation for that sin against him, or would he demand more?

She hadn’t answered his questions. His voice was a bit more penetrating as he nudged her with ‘Well? What sacrifice would be adequate?’

‘None that I can think of,’ she replied softly. She tightened her grip on the railing, wondering if he would immediately turn turtle and drown them all.

‘Neither can I,’ he replied. ‘No vengeance could resolve it. No sacrifice would make reparations for it.’ He returned his gaze to the river. ‘And so I have decided to move beyond it. To be what I am now, in this incarnation, as no other is available to me. To have what life I may for as long as the wood of this body lasts me.’

She couldn’t quite believe what she was hearing. ‘Then you have forgiven us?’

Paragon gave a quiet snort. ‘Wrong on two points. I haven’t forgiven anything. And I don’t believe in the “us” you think I might take vengeance on. You didn’t do this to me. But even if you had, killing you would not undo it.’

Behind her, Sedric suddenly spoke. ‘This is the not the attitude I would have expected from a dragon.’

Paragon gave a snort, half contempt, half amusement. ‘I told you. I am not a dragon. And neither are those creatures that you intend to visit and study. That’s why I called you forward. To tell you that. To tell you that there’s no point to your journey. Studying those pathetic wretches will not teach you anything about dragons. No more than studying me would.’

‘How can they not be dragons?’

‘In a world where dragons lived, they would not have survived.’

‘Other dragons would have killed them?’

‘Other dragons would have ignored them. They would have died and been eaten. Their memories and knowledge would have been preserved by those who fed upon them.’

‘It seems cruel.’

‘Would it have been crueller than enabling them to exist as they are now?’

She took a breath and then tried to speak boldly. ‘You have chosen to continue as you are. Should not they be given that choice?’

The muscles in his broad back tightened and she felt a gout of fear. But when he turned back to her, there was a spark of respect in his blue eyes that had not been there before. He gave her a slow nod. ‘A point. But I still ask you to keep in mind, when you study those things, that they cannot teach you what dragons were. I am told that half of them hatched without the memories of their ancestors. How can they be dragons when they emerge not knowing what a dragon is?’

His comment carried her thoughts on a new current. ‘But you do. Because despite the shape you now inhabit, your dragon memories would be intact.’ She gripped the ship’s rail tightly as a wild hope filled her. ‘Oh, Paragon, would you talk about them with me? It would be such an opportunity for me as a scholar of dragons, to hear first hand what you recall! The very concept that dragons can recall their previous lives is so hard for humans to grasp. I should so dearly love to listen to whatever you wished to tell me, and to make a complete record of all you recall. Such conversations alone would make my journey worthwhile! Oh, please, say that you will!’

A taut quiet followed her words. ‘Alise,’ Sedric said warningly, ‘I think you should come away from the railing.’

But she clung there, even though she, too, could feel the wave of uneasiness that swept though the ship. The smoothness went out of his sailing; the deck under her feet shifted subtly. Surely it was her imagination that the wind flowed more chill than it had? Paragon spoke into the roaring silence.

‘I choose not to remember,’ he said. Alise felt as if his words broke a spell. Sound and life came suddenly back to the world. It included the sudden thud of feet on the deck behind her. A woman’s voice said, without preamble, ‘I fear you’re upsetting my ship. I’ll have to ask you to leave the foredeck.’

‘She’s not upsetting me, Althea,’ Paragon interjected as Alise turned to see the captain’s wife advancing on her. Alise had met her when they embarked and had spoken with her several times, but still did not feel at ease with her. She was a small woman who wore her hair in a long black pigtail down her back. She dressed in sailor’s garb; it was well tailored and of quality fabric, but for all that, she was a woman in trousers and a jacket. Less feminine garb Alise could not imagine, and yet the very inappropriateness of it seemed to emphasize her female form. Her eyes were very dark, and right now they sparked with either anger or fear. Alise retreated a step and put her hand on Sedric’s arm. For his part, he turned his body so that he stood almost between them and said, ‘I’m sure the lady meant no harm. The ship asked us to come up and speak with him.’

‘That I did,’ Paragon confirmed. He twisted to look over his shoulder at all of them. ‘No harm done, Althea, I assure you. We were speaking of dragons, and quite naturally, she asked me what I recalled of being one. I told her that I chose to recall nothing at all.’

‘Oh, Ship,’ the woman said, and Alise felt as if she had disappeared. Althea Trell did not even glance at her as she moved forward to take Alise’s place at the bow. She leaned on the railing and stared far ahead up the river as if sharing the ship’s thoughts.

‘Par’gon!’ A child’s voice piped suddenly behind them. Alise turned to watch a small boy of three or four clambering onto the raised foredeck. He was bare-armed and bare-legged, and baked dark by the sun. He scampered forward, dropped to his hands and knees and thrust his head out under the ship’s railing. Alise gasped, expecting him to pitch overboard at any moment. Instead he demanded the ship’s attention with a strident, ‘Par’gon? You awright?’ His babyish voice was full of concern.

The ship swung his head around to stare at the child. His mouth puckered oddly and then suddenly he smiled, an expression that transformed his face. ‘I’m fine.’

‘Catch me!’ the boy commanded, and before his mother could even turn to him, he launched himself into the figurehead’s waiting hands. ‘Fly me!’ the imp commanded the ship. ‘Fly me like a dragon!’

And without a word, the ship obeyed him. He cupped the child in his two immense hands and lifted him high and forward. The boy leaned fearlessly against the ship’s laced fingers and spread his small arms wide as if they were wings. The figurehead gently wove his hands through the air, swaying the youngster from left to right. A squeal of glee drifted back to them. Abruptly the charge of tension in the air vanished. Alise wondered if Paragon even recalled they were there.

‘Let’s leave them, shall we?’ Althea suggested quietly.

‘Is it safe for the child?’ Sedric objected in horror.

‘It’s the safest place the boy can possibly be,’ Althea replied with certainty. ‘And for the ship, it’s the best place, too. Please.’ She indicated the ladder that led down to the deck. As they approached it, she added, ‘Do not take my words the wrong way. But I’d appreciate it if you didn’t speak to Paragon again.’

‘He invited me to come forward!’ Alise objected, her cheeks flaming.

‘I’m sure he did,’ Althea replied smoothly. ‘But all the same, I’d appreciate it if you declined any other invitations.’ She paused as if she were finished speaking. Then, as Alise turned and tried to bustle her skirts out of the way to descend the ladder, she added in a quieter voice, ‘He’s a good ship. He has a great heart. But no one ever knows in advance what topics might upset him. Not even him.’

‘Do you truly believe that he has forgotten his dragon memories?’ Alise dared to ask.

Althea folded her lips tightly for a moment. Then she said, ‘I choose to believe whatever my ship tells me about himself. If he tells me he has forgotten, then I don’t ask him to recall anything about it. Some memories are best left undisturbed. Sometimes, if you forget something, it’s because it’s better forgotten.’

Alise nodded. She was turning to put a foot on the ladder when a man spoke below her.

‘Paragon all right?’ Captain Trell asked, looking up. Alise blushed. She had very nearly stepped off the deck and onto the ladder. Her skirts would have been right over his head.

‘He’s fine now,’ Althea assured him. Then, as she noticed Alise’s dilemma, she smoothly suggested, ‘Brashen, would you offer Trader Finbok some assistance to descend?’

‘Of course,’ he replied, and with his offered hand she was able to descend in a more ladylike manner. In a moment, Sedric had joined her on the deck. He put out his arm and she was glad to take it. The events of the last hour had left her flustered, and for the first time she had serious doubts about the advisability of her journey. It was not just that the ship had told her she could not think of the young dragons as dragons, and implied that they would have no ancestral memories. That was daunting enough, but she suddenly also felt that perhaps she had badly underestimated how intimidating it might be to deal with such creatures. Her conversation with Paragon had rearranged her concept of dragons. She had been, she realized, thinking of them as youngsters. They weren’t. Not any more than Tintaglia had been a youngster when she emerged from her case. They might be smaller or crippled, but dragons came out of their cases, usually, as fully formed adults.

The captain had not moved away from her. Now, as his wife Althea joined him on the deck, they stood side by side, almost blocking her from moving away. The captain spoke courteously but firmly. ‘Perhaps in the future, it might be better if one of us accompanied you if you wished to speak with the ship. Sometimes those unfamiliar with liveships or with Paragon himself can find him unnerving. And sometimes he can be a bit … excitable.’

‘The lady had no intention of alarming your ship,’ Sedric informed Captain Trell, a bit stiffly. He put his hand firmly over Alise’s, a protective gesture that she found oddly reassuring. ‘The ship invited her forward to speak with him. And he was the one who brought up the topic of dragons.’

‘Did he?’ The captain exchanged a glance with his wife. She nodded slightly and he shifted his feet. Alise felt that he granted them permission to move away. His tone was a bit more kindly as he admitted, ‘Well, I’m not surprised. We’ve had troubling news about the hatchlings almost every time we visit Trehaug. I think they weigh on his mind. We encourage Paragon not to dwell on things that he finds upsetting.’

‘I understand,’ Alise replied faintly. She wished the conversation were at an end. She did not do well at confrontation with strangers, she abruptly decided. With her own husband, she had barely been able to take a stand and feel courageous about doing so. But out here in the real world and almost on her own, she felt she had not done well at facing her first challenge. Even as she felt grateful for Sedric’s support, her gratitude shamed her.

‘I think you might warn your passengers before they stumbled into such a circumstance,’ Sedric said firmly. ‘Your ship is not the only one that might become alarmed. Neither of us sought conversation with him. On the contrary, he invited us forward.’

‘So you’ve said,’ Captain Trell replied, and his voice warned of patience wearing thin. ‘You may recall you were told that we do not often take passengers, only cargo. Usually those who ride with us are family or friends. They’re well aware of Paragon’s quirks. I do recall that Trader Finbok was quite insistent that she had to book immediate passage.’

Alise tightened her grip on Sedric’s arm. She wished only to go back to her tiny stateroom. Her vision of herself as an intrepid explorer braving new experiences and acquiring firsthand knowledge of dragons was fading. She felt sure that if Sedric had not been by her side, she would have fled. Or worse, burst into tears. At the thought of it, her eyes began to sting. No. Oh, no, please, not now.

Perhaps the threat of breaking down in front of strangers gave her courage. She drew a deep breath, squared her shoulders and with all her might pretended that she was as brave as she wished she were. ‘Hatchlings,’ she said quietly. Then she firmed her voice and spoke with more force. She pushed a smile onto her face as well. ‘I regret that I upset your ship, sir. But I would be extremely interested if you could share any news you have of the “hatchlings” as you call them. Paragon said that I should not think of them as dragons. I find that an extraordinary statement. Can you clarify what he meant by it? Have you yourself seen them? What did you think of them?’ She stacked her questions one on top of the other as if building a wall to protect herself.

‘I haven’t,’ the captain admitted.

‘I have,’ his wife said quietly. She turned and walked slowly away from them all. As Alise stared after her curiously, she turned and silently beckoned for them to follow. She led them to the captain’s quarters, invited them inside, and closed the door.

‘Would you care to sit down?’ she asked them.

Alise nodded silently. The sudden hospitality was a bit confusing, but also welcome. The confined room was a setting more familiar to her than the open deck. She immediately felt more comfortable. The stateroom was not large but was still impressive. It was efficiently designed and simply furnished, but every item in the chamber was of excellent quality. Shining brass and richly gleaming wood welcomed them. A chart table dominated the room. A compass rose inlaid into the table top was formed from various shades of wood. Heavy damask draperies curtained off a bed in one corner of the wood-panelled room. Scattered about the room were small artefacts that were obviously of Elderling make. A small mobile of fish hung near a window. As the light touched it, the fish ‘swam’ in the air, changing colours as they did so. A fat green pot with a gleaming copper spout sat in the middle of the table. Alise felt as if she had just stepped into the drawing room of a wealthy Bingtown family rather than a stateroom on a ship. She took her offered seat and waited as the others joined her at the table.

Althea smoothed a few stray strands of hair back from her face. She glanced at her husband. Captain Trell had not joined them at the table, but leaned on the wall by a small window, watching the shore slip by. ‘Paragon helped escort the serpents up the Rain Wild River. He accompanied them as far as he could, and had the highest of hopes for them. He was deeply and bitterly disappointed when they emerged as pitiful shadows of the dragons they should have been. Not one of them was near Tintaglia’s size. Since then, they have grown, but still are stunted.’

Althea picked up the pot on the table, hefting it to check if it still held water. ‘Will you have a cup of tea?’ she offered as she set it down again, as if they were indeed in a Bingtown drawing room. She stroked an insignia on the side of the kettle, an image that looked rather like a chicken with a crown. Almost immediately, the pot gave a small rumble and steam began to waft from its spout.

‘Priceless!’ Sedric exclaimed. ‘I’d heard a few such Elderling kettles have been discovered, but none seemed to come to the Bingtown market. It must be worth a fortune.’

‘It was a wedding gift, from family,’ Captain Trell said. ‘Quite a prize. It requires no fire to heat the water. And of course, on a ship, fire is always a concern.’ He had visited a sideboard and now brought a tray laden with cups and a teapot to the table. Althea took over the hostess duties. It was odd to watch her shift from her mannish abilities on the deck to the delicate business of measuring tea into a pot and setting out cups all round. Alise abruptly felt that she glimpsed a possible life that she had never known existed. Why, she wondered, had she never even considered making her own way in the world? Why had marriage or spinsterhood seemed her only choices? She only realized she was staring at Althea when the woman returned her a slightly puzzled glance. Alise immediately redirected the conversation with a question.

‘But Paragon has never seen the new dragons?’

Althea shot her an odd glance. ‘Of course not. The river is too shallow to permit him to venture that far. A great deal of effort went into making that part of the river passable for the serpents. It was not as successful as it could have been, and winter storms and floods in the years since then have mostly destroyed those works. The banks of the river, as you have seen, are marshy and difficult to walk on. The forest is dense and unfriendly to creatures of that size. So the dragons have never moved from their hatching place.’

‘But you went to see them?’

‘Yes. At Paragon’s request, I went. And also because I wished to visit my niece, Malta.’

‘Malta Khuprus? The Elderling queen?’

Althea smiled more broadly. ‘So some name her, though she is not queen of anything. It was a fancy of the Jamaillian Satrap to title Reyn and her as the King and Queen of the Elderlings. In reality, they are both of Trader stock, just as you and I are, and not royalty at all.’

‘But they are Elderlings!’

Althea started to shake her head, and then shrugged instead. ‘So Tintaglia the dragon called them. And they have both physically changed over the years to resemble, more and more, the images of Elderlings that we’ve seen unearthed from the ancient Rain Wilds cities. But Malta was born just as human as I am, and Reyn, though marked as many of the Rain Wild Traders are, was not extraordinarily different. That’s no longer the case, of course. Our family has watched both of them, and Selden Vestrit, my nephew, change substantially since they encountered Tintaglia. It’s my thought that exposure to the dragon was what started their changes. All three have grown taller. Malta is remarkably tall for a woman of my family now. And more beautiful in a way that has nothing to do with human beauty. When she goes uncloaked and unveiled, she reminds me of a jewelled statue come to life. Tintaglia has told them that they may enjoy much longer life spans than ordinary humans. But for all of that, Malta is still Malta.’ Althea sounded as if she almost regretted that fact. Quietly she added, ‘And I think she and Reyn would trade away all their Elderling glory for one healthy baby.’

‘But the dragons?’ Sedric interrupted to demand. ‘Are they really so deformed and mentally deficient? Is it possible that we have come all this way on a useless quest?’

Alise felt doubly annoyed that he had interrupted Althea’s revelations about the only living Elderlings and that he sounded so hopeful her expedition would come to nothing. Althea folded her hands on the edge of the table and considered her rough brown knuckles before she spoke.

‘They are not like Tintaglia,’ she said quietly. ‘None of them can fly. We started up the river escorting one hundred and twenty-nine serpents. Fewer than half successfully cocooned and hatched. And now there are left, what? Fewer than seventeen when last I heard.’ She glanced up and met Alise’s desperate gaze. For a moment, sympathy shone in her eyes. ‘I wish it had been otherwise, if only for Paragon’s sake. It was tremendously important to him that the serpents reach their cocooning grounds. Despite what he said to you, I believe the heart of a dragon still resides in this ship. He longed to restore his kind to the skies; it would have given great meaning to his own fate.

‘But the creatures I saw when I visited Cassarick were pathetic, malformed things. It is telling that Tintaglia seems to have completely abandoned them. Dragons do not pity the weak, but let them meet their fates. The Rain Wilds folk who live closest to them are rapidly losing all sympathy for them. They are unruly and dangerous, intelligent but unreasonable. But perhaps being unreasonable is the only rational response to leading such miserable lives. They have neither respect nor gratitude for humans. They have yet to attack a human, though I’ve heard rumours that they’ve chased a few. And devoured at least one corpse in the midst of the family funeral. I don’t know what’s to become of them, other than gradual decline and death.’ She paused, sighed and said, ‘I think Paragon has decided they are not dragons because that is less painful for him. He can do nothing to help them. So, by separating himself from them, perhaps his shame for them is a bit less. I really think there is nothing any of us can do for them.’

Alise sat very still and silent for three breaths. Then she said quietly, ‘Little of this has been heard in Bingtown.’

Althea smiled, a secret shared between fellow Traders. She poured fragrant tea into the cups. Captain Trell came to the table to accept his cup but immediately returned with it to his post by the window and his watch on the river. ‘Our Rain Wilds brethren have always kept their own affairs quiet. And for generations, those of Bingtown stock have been trained not to gossip about them. It still seems strange to me that the outside world now knows that they exist and wish to visit their cities. For so long we kept them secret, to protect them.’

Alise looked directly at Althea and suddenly felt grateful for the woman’s bluntness. ‘Do you think I will be able to speak with the dragons at all? Learn anything from them?’

Althea shifted in her chair. From the corner of her eye, Alise glimpsed Captain Trell regretfully shaking his head. ‘I don’t think so,’ she said. ‘From what I saw of them, they are fixated on the basics of life. The only talk I heard from them were demands for food. And complaints about their condition. From what little I know of Tintaglia, I would say that dragons do not deem humans worthy of thoughtful conversation. And the hatchlings at Cassarick disdain us as completely as if they were full grown and powerful dragons. Combine that with the bitterness they feel …’ She gave a shrug of her shoulders. ‘I do not think they will confide their ancestral memories to you. If they have any.’

Alise nodded dumbly. She felt empty and sick. She took a sip of her tea to give herself time to think, but no ideas came to her. ‘I feel so foolish,’ she said softly. She looked at Sedric and apologized, ‘I’ve dragged you all this way, for nothing it seems. I should have listened to Hest.’ She laced her fingers together on the table in front of her and spoke to Althea past a lump in her throat. ‘I only booked passage on your ship as far as Trehaug. From there, I planned to travel by one of the cargo barges, the small ones. I didn’t buy tickets for our return, because I hoped to stay weeks if not months learning from the dragons.’ She reached up to massage her own temples. A storm of a headache was brewing in her skull. She tried to keep tears out of her voice as she asked, ‘Is it possible to arrange to return to Bingtown immediately?’

‘You can travel back with us.’ The captain spoke without moving away from his window. There was sympathy in his voice.

‘But you should understand that it takes time for us to unload cargo and take on supplies and more cargo,’ Althea cautioned her. ‘And I had planned to visit Malta while we were here. So we will not be immediately returning to Bingtown. You will have to spend a few days in Trehaug while we do so.’

‘I understand,’ Alise said faintly. ‘I am sure we will find things to see in Trehaug until you are ready to begin the journey back to Bingtown.’

‘Then you don’t plan to even visit Cassarick? I can’t believe that! Alise, you must go. We’ve come so far, it would be foolish not to at least visit it.’

The apparent disappointment in Sedric’s voice startled her. A few minutes ago, he had seemed positively hopeful that their journey had been for naught.

‘What would be the point of it?’ she asked him dully.

‘Well,’ he seemed to flounder briefly for a reason. ‘Well, to say that you’d seen what you’d gone to see. Done what you meant to do. You said you wanted to see the young dragons for yourself. Do so.’ Suddenly he seemed more confident of his words. He leaned across the table and took her hands. He gazed earnestly into her eyes. ‘Isn’t that what you’ve been telling Hest you wanted, for years now? Simply to see for yourself?’ He gave her a twisted smile. ‘Surely you don’t want to go back to Bingtown and admit to him that you came all this way and didn’t even look at a dragon?’

She stared at him. Suddenly she could imagine Hest’s delighted grin at such an admission from her. Bile rose in the back of her throat. No. No. Her disappointment was big enough without letting it be his triumph. She blinked back tears, and suddenly felt a wave of gratitude toward Sedric that he had thought of her and spoken out to save her from such shame. ‘You’re right,’ she said in a shaky voice. She thought of her years of carefully compiled notes, scroll after scroll, page after precisely lettered page. Resolve settled and firmed in her. ‘You’re right, Sedric. I have to go. The least I must do is see them for myself.’ She drew a deeper breath. ‘I’ve committed a grave error, one that too many scholars fall prey to. I’ve let my expectations and hopes colour my opinion. If what I see are deformed and near mindless creatures, then that is what I must observe and document. Just because my studies do not reflect what I hoped to find is no reason to turn aside from them. Thank you, Sedric.’ She sat up, squaring her shoulders and met Althea’s measuring gaze. ‘I will be journeying on to Cassarick.’

Althea slowly nodded. A grim smile of understanding touched her face.

‘But we won’t be staying long,’ Sedric hastily added. ‘I suspect that we will still be travelling downriver with you. In fact, I’d like to secure our passage home right now.’

Both Althea and Brashen were looking at Sedric oddly. Alise understood. If she hadn’t known the man, she too would have wondered at his weather-vane spinning. He’d gone so quickly from persuading her that she must go to Cassarick to declaring that they would stay only a very brief time. But she knew why. She sat silent as he discussed with the captain the likely dates of their departure for Bingtown. Without a word, she signed the note for funds for their return tickets. All the while, she looked at Sedric, not with new eyes, but with fond remembrance of their old friendship. He hadn’t wanted to come to the Rain Wilds. She was certain he didn’t want to make the uncomfortable journey by flat-bottom barge to Cassarick. But he would do it, for her sake. He’d help her save face with Hest, no matter the discomfort and inconvenience to himself.

When their business was concluded and she rose from the table, he offered her his arm, just as he always did. As she took it, she looked up at him and smiled. He smiled back and patted her hand reassuringly. ‘Thank you, my friend,’ she said quietly.

‘Not at all,’ he replied.