Читать книгу The Rain Wild Chronicles: The Complete 4-Book Collection - Робин Хобб - Страница 28

Leftrin straightened up from slouching against the railing and peered down the dock at the procession headed toward the Tarman. Was this what Trell was sending his way? He scratched a whiskery cheek and shook his head to himself. Two dock workers were pushing barrows laden with heavy trunks. Another two followed carrying something the size of a wardrobe. And following behind them came a man dressed more for a tea party in Bingtown than for a trip up the Rain Wild River on a barge. He wore a long dark blue jacket over dove grey trousers and low black boots and was bare-headed. He looked fit, in the manner of a man who is generally so but has never developed the muscles of a particular trade. He carried nothing save a walking stick. ‘Never worked a day in his life,’ Leftrin decided quietly.

The woman on his arm looked as if she had at least tried to be practical. A brimmed hat shaded her face; Leftrin supposed that the loose netting attached to it was intended to protect her from insects. Her dress was dark green. The fitted bodice and wrist-length sleeves showed off a tidy upper figure, but he estimated there was enough fabric in the skirts that belled out around her to dress half a dozen women her size. Little white gloves protected her hands. He caught a glimpse of a neat black-booted foot as she walked toward his barge.

The runner had reached him just before he ordered his crew to cast off for their trip upriver to Cassarick. ‘Trell from the Paragon says he’s got a couple of passengers that want to get to Cassarick fast. They’ll pay you well if you’ll wait for them to transfer.’

‘Tell Trell I’ll wait half an hour for them. After that, I’m gone,’ he’d told the boy who had run the message. The lad had bobbed an acknowledgement and scampered off.

Well, he had waited substantially more than half an hour for them. And now that he saw them, he doubted the wisdom of accepting them aboard. He’d expected Rain Wilds folk in a hurry to get home, not Bingtowners with a full complement of luggage. He spat over the side. Well, he hoped they’d meant what they’d said about paying him well to wait for them.

‘Our cargo is here. Get it loaded,’ he ordered Hennesey.

‘Skelly. Get it done,’ the mate passed the command on to the young deckhand.

‘Sir,’ the girl acknowledged him and jumped lightly across to the dock. Big Eider moved to help her. Leftrin remained where he was, watching his passengers approach. They reached the end of the dock and the man visibly recoiled at the sight of the long, low barge that awaited them. Leftrin chuckled quietly as the fellow looked about, obviously hoping there was some other vessel waiting to convey them upriver. Lace. The dandy had lace at the neck of his shirt and showing at the cuffs of his jacket. Then the man looked directly up at Leftrin and he composed his face.

‘Is this the Tarman?’ he asked, almost desperately.

‘It is indeed. And I’m Captain Leftrin. I assume you’re my passengers, in need of swift transport to Cassarick. Welcome aboard.’

The man once more cast a wild glance about. ‘But— I thought—’ He watched in horror as one of their heavy cases teetered on the Tarman’s railing before sliding with a thump to land safely on the deck. He turned to his female companion, ‘Alise, this isn’t wise. This ship isn’t a proper place for a lady. We’ll just have to wait. It can’t hurt for us to take a day or two in Trehaug. I’ve always been curious about this city, and we’ve scarcely glimpsed it.’

‘We’ve no choice, Sedric. Paragon will stay here at Trehaug for ten days at most. The journey from here to Cassarick will take two days, and we have to allot two more days to travel back and meet Paragon before he sails. That gives us only six days in Cassarick, at most.’ The woman’s voice was calm and throaty, with a hint of sadness in it. The veiling on her hat concealed most of her face, but Leftrin glimpsed a small determined chin and a wide mouth.

‘But, well, but Alise, six days should be more than ample, if what Captain Trell told us about the dragons is true. So we can wait here a day, or even two if need be, and find more appropriate transport up the river.’

Skelly was not paying any attention to the quibbling passengers. She had her orders from the mate and that was who she obeyed. She was waving to Hennesey who had swung a small cargo derrick over the side. Hennesey released the line and the girl deftly caught the swinging hook and began making it fast to the wardrobe trunk. Eider and Bellin were standing by to bring it aboard. Leftrin’s crew was good; they’d have the passenger’s luggage loaded while the man was still chewing on his lip. Best find out their intentions now rather than to have to offload it all.

‘You can wait,’ Leftrin told the man. ‘But I don’t think you’ll find anything else going upriver in the next few days. Not much traffic between Trehaug and Cassarick right now. And what there is will be a lot smaller than I am. Still, it’s your choice. But you’ll need to make it quickly. I’ve already waited longer than I should have. I’ve appointments of my own to keep.’

And that was true. The urgently-worded missive from the Traders’ Council at Cassarick sounded as if it could mean a nice little profit for him, if he undertook their rather dubious mission. Leftrin grinned. He already knew he’d take on the task. He’d taken on most of the supplies he’d need for the journey here in Trehaug. But leaving the Traders’ Council in doubt until the last possible minute was one way to push the price up. By the time he reached Cassarick, they’d be ready to promise him the moon. So delaying for these passengers was not really that much of an annoyance. He leaned on the railing to ask, ‘You aboard or not?’

He was waiting for the man to respond to his words, so he was surprised when the woman replied to him. She tipped her head back to speak to him, and the sun reached through her gauzy veil to reveal her features. Her stance reminded him of a flower turning its face to the sun. She had large grey eyes set wide apart in a heart-shaped face. She had bundled her hair out of the way, but what he could see of it was dark-red and curling. Freckles sprinkled her nose and cheeks generously. Another man might have seen her mouth as too generous for her face, but not Leftrin. The single darting glance she gave him seemed to look, not into his eyes but into his heart. And then she looked aside, too proper to meet a strange man’s eyes.

‘… no choice, really,’ she was saying, and he wondered what words he had missed. ‘We’ll be happy to go with you, sir. I’m sure your boat will suit us admirably.’ A rueful smile twitched at her lips and as she turned her attention to her companion, Leftrin felt a pang of loss as she tilted her head and apologized to him sweetly. ‘Sedric, I’m sorry. I’m sorry that you were dragged into this whole mess with me, and ashamed that I must drag you from one boat to the next without even a cup of tea or a few hours on dry land to settle you. But you see how it is. We must go.’

‘Well, if it’s a cup of tea you’d like, that’s something I can brew up for you here in the galley. And if it was dry land you were after, well, there’s little of that in Trehaug, or anywhere else in the Rain Wilds. So you haven’t missed it, it was never there. Come on aboard and welcome.’

That brought her eyes back to his. ‘Why, Captain Leftrin, how kind of you,’ she exclaimed, and the sincere relief in her voice warmed him. She lifted the veiling on her hat to look at him directly, and he nearly lost his breath.

He seized the railing and swung over it, dropping lightly to the dock. He sketched a bow to her. Surprised, she took two small steps backward. Young Skelly made a small sound that might have been a giggle. Her captain shot her a glare and she quickly went back to work. Leftrin turned his attention back to the woman.

‘Tarman may not look as fancy as some of the other ships you’ve seen, but he’ll carry you safely upriver where few vessels as large as he is can manage to go. Shallow draught, you know. And a crew that knows how to find the best channel when the current takes to wandering. You wouldn’t want to wait for one of those little toy boats to carry you. They might look a bit fancier than my Tarman, but they rock like a bird cage in the wind and their crews battle to push them against the current. You’ll be far more comfortable with us. May I assist you in boarding, ma’am?’ He grinned at her and dared to stick out his arm for her to take. She glanced at it uncertainly, then at her disapproving companion. The man merely folded his lips. He was no husband of hers, or Leftrin was certain he would have objected. Better and better.

‘Please,’ Leftrin urged her, and it was only when she set her smooth white glove on the rough, stained fabric of his shirt sleeve that he was recalled to the obvious difference in their stations. She glanced down as he looked at her, and he admired her lashes against her freckled cheeks. ‘This way,’ he told her, and led her to the rough planks that served as a gangway for the Tarman. The ramp creaked and shifted as they trod it, and she gave a small involuntary gasp and gripped his arm tighter. There was a bit of a jump down from the end of the plank to the barge deck. He wished he dared set his hands to her waist and lift her down. Instead, he offered his arm again for her to steady herself on. She leaned heavily on his arm and then gamely hopped. He saw a flash of white petticoat before she landed safely beside him.

‘And here we are,’ he said genially.

A moment later, the man landed with a thud beside them. He glanced at the trunks that Skelly was lashing down with the other deck cargo. ‘Here, we’ll be needing those brought to our cabins,’ he exclaimed.

‘No private cabins on the Tarman, I’m afraid. ‘Course, I’ll be happy to give up my stateroom to the lady for the trip to Cassarick. You and me will have to bunk with the crew in the deckhouse. Not roomy, but as it’s only for a couple of days, I’m sure we can manage.’

The Sedric fellow looked absolutely panic-stricken now. ‘Alise, please reconsider!’ he begged her.

‘Cast off and let’s get underway!’ Leftrin told Hennessey.

As the crew scrambled to the mate’s commands, Grigsby the ship’s cat decided to make an appearance. He sauntered up to the woman, sniffed the hem of her dress boldly, and then abruptly stood up on his hind legs and rested his orange paws on her skirts. ‘Mrow?’ he suggested.

‘Get down!’ Sedric snapped at the cat.

But Leftrin was unreasonably pleased when the woman crouched down to accept the cat’s introduction. Her skirts folded onto the deck around her like a blossom collapsing. She put a hand out to Grigsby, who sniffed it and then bumped his striped head against it. ‘Oh, he’s so sweet!’ she exclaimed.

‘And so are his fleas,’ the man muttered in quiet dismay.

But the woman only laughed softly, a quiet chuckle that reminded Leftrin of river water purring past the bow of his ship.

Night had fallen. The dismal meal eaten on a battered wooden table from tin plates was thankfully over. Sedric sat on the edge of a narrow bunk in the deckhouse and pondered his fate. He was miserable. Miserable but determined.

The deckhouse was exactly as it was named, a low structure built on the deck to house the men. It had three chambers, if one wanted to dignify them with such a word. One was the captain’s stateroom, where Alise was now ensconced. The next was the galley, with a woodstove and a cramped table with benches to either side of it. And the third room was this, the crew’s quarters. A curtain across the end of it granted some privacy to Swarge and his sturdy wife Bellin in the larger bunk they shared there. That was a small mercy, he thought.

He’d avoided his bunk as long as he could, remaining out on the deck with Alise to watch yet more forested bank slip by. The barge moved smoothly and made surprisingly fast time going up the river against the current. The crew who pushed it along made their labour seem effortless. Big Eider and Skelly, Bellin and Hennesey used the stout poles that propelled the barge up the river while Swarge commanded the tiller. The barge moved up the river steadily, avoiding shoals and snags as if bewitched. It was an impressive display of seamanship, and Alise was duly awed by it. While Sedric could appreciate their skill, he tired of watching and commenting on it long before she did. He left her to her enthusiastic conversation with the barge’s grubby captain and wandered aft, searching in vain for a quiet place to rest. He ended up perched on one of his own trunks, shaded somewhat by the wardrobe lashed down next to it. The crew offered no promise of intelligent conversation. One of the deckhands, Eider, was the size of a wardrobe. There was a woman, Bellin, almost as muscled as her husband Swarge. Hennesey the mate had no time to chat with passengers, for which Sedric was grateful. Skelly shocked him by both her youth and her gender; what sort of a ship expected a young girl to do the full work of a deckhand? After one visit to the smelly deckhouse, he’d given up all thought of taking an afternoon nap to make the endless journey pass more swiftly. As well to nap in a kennel.

But now it was night, and insects swarmed. They’d driven him inside and weariness had forced him to his bunk. Around him in the thick darkness, the crew slept. Swarge and his wife had retired to their curtained alcove. Skelly and the cat shared a bed, the girl curled around the orange monster. Skelly was the captain’s niece; the poor girl was his most likely heir and thus had to learn the trade from the deck up. Hennesey the mate sprawled and overflowed his bunk, one muscular arm draped over the side with his hand braced on the deck. The atmosphere seemed thick with the crew’s sweat and the moist snores and occasional grunts they gave off as they shifted in their beds.

There had been four unoccupied bunks for him to choose from; evidently Leftrin had once had a much larger crew on his ship. He’d chosen a lower bunk, and Skelly had not been too prickly about removing all the clutter from it so he could use it. She’d even tossed two blankets onto it for him. The bunks were narrow and cramped. He sat on the edge of his and tried not to think of fleas or lice or larger vermin. The neatly folded blanket on it had looked clean enough but he’d only seen it by lamplight. Through the sounds of the sleeping crew, he could hear the purling of the water outside. The river, so grey and wet and acid, seemed closer and more threatening than it had when he was on the tall and stately liveship. The barge sat lower and closer to the water. The ripe green smell of the water and the surrounding jungly forest penetrated the room.

When night fell and darkness flowed like a second river over the water, the crew had poled the barge to the river shallows and then tied it to the trees there. The ropes they had used were thick and heavy, and surely the knots were secure. But the river wanted the barge, and it sucked at it greedily, making the vessel sway gently and tug creakily against the ropes that bound it. Now and then the barge gave an awkward lurch, as if it had dug in its heels and refused to be dragged out into the current. He wondered what would happen if the knots gave way. There was, he reminded himself, a man on watch; Big Eider would stay up half the night, keeping an eye on things before rousing Hennesey to take his turn. And the captain himself had been up on the deck, still smoking his pipe, when Sedric had finally decided that he would have to give in and sleep in the noisome deckhouse. He had briefly entertained the notion of sleeping out on the open deck; the night was mild enough. But then the stinging gnats had begun to hover and hum, and he had hastened to come inside.

He took off his boots and set them by the edge of the bunk. He folded his jacket and set it reluctantly across the foot of his bed. Then, still clothed, he lay back on top of the thin mattress and blanket. The pillow seemed little more than a larger lump on the bed. It smelled strongly of whoever had last slept in this bunk. He sat up, retrieved his jacket and put it under his head. ‘Only for two days,’ he whispered to himself. He could stand this for two days, couldn’t he? Then the barge would dock in Cassarick, they’d disembark and Alise would, he was confident, find a way to be allowed to study her dragons. And he’d be there, cloaked with her credentials and awaiting his opportunities. They’d stay no longer than six days, ample time as he had already pointed out to her. And then they’d return to Trehaug, board the Paragon, and head back to Bingtown. And his new future.

Home. He missed it badly. Clean sheets and large airy rooms and well-cooked food and freshly-laundered clothes. Was that so much to ask of life? Just that things be clean and pleasant? That one’s table-mates didn’t chew with open mouths, or allow cats to hook bits of meat off the platter? ‘I just like things to be nice,’ he said plaintively to the darkness. And then winced at the memory the words conjured.

He recalled it so clearly. He’d squared his shoulders, swallowed hard and stood his ground. ‘I don’t want to go.’

‘It will make a man of you!’ his father had insisted. ‘And it’s a big opportunity for you, Sedric. It’s a chance not just to prove yourself, but to prove yourself to a man who can advance you in Bingtown. I’ve pulled a few strings to get you this opportunity; half the lads in Bingtown would be willing to jump through hoops to get it. Trader Marley has an opening for a deckhand on his new ship. You won’t be alone; there will be other lads of your age living aboard and learning how to work the decks. The friends you’ll make there will be friends you keep for life! Work hard, bring yourself to the captain’s attention, and it could lead to bigger things for you. Trader Marley’s a wealthy man, in daughters as well as ships and money. If he comes to look favourably on you, well, there’s no telling what future it might bring you.’

‘Tracia Marley’s a very pretty girl,’ his mother added helpfully.

He had felt trapped between the hopeful gazes of both his parents. His numerous sisters had already finished their tea and hurried away from the table. They’d be off to the gardens or the music room or visiting their friends. Yet here he sat, hedged in by his parents’ dreams for him. Dreams he couldn’t share.

‘But I don’t want to work on a boat,’ he said carefully. As his father’s mouth narrowed and his eyes darkened, he added hastily, ‘I don’t mind working. Really, that’s true. But why can’t it be in a shop or an office? Somewhere clean and light, with pleasant people.’ He turned his gaze on his mother and added quickly, ‘I hate the thought of being away from my family for so long. Ships are gone from Bingtown for months, sometimes years. How could I stand not seeing you for that long?’

His mother folded her lips and her eyes grew moist. Such words might win her over. But his father was not impressed. ‘It’s time you were out on your own for a bit, son. Schooling is fine, and I’m proud to have a son who can read and write and figure accurately. If our fortune had fared better these last few years, perhaps that would be enough. But our holdings haven’t prospered, so it’s time for you to go out and find something of your own, something to bring back and add to your inheritance. If you work out on the ship, you’ll be earning a decent wage. You can set something aside for yourself. This is an opportunity for you, Sedric, one that almost any boy in town would jump at.’

He’d gathered his threads of courage. ‘Father, it just doesn’t fit with who I am. I’m sorry. I know that you asked favours to get this opportunity for me. I wish you’d talked to me first. I’ve been on ships and I’ve seen how the crews live aboard. It’s dirty, smelly and wet, with boring food, and half your fellows are coarse, illiterate boors. Deck work demands a strong back and tough hands and little more than that. That’s not who I want to be, a barefoot sailor pulling on a line on someone else’s ship! I do want a future, and I’m willing to work hard. But not like that! I’ll work somewhere clean and decent, among nice people. I just like things to be nice. Is that so wrong of me?’

His father leaned back abruptly in his chair. ‘I don’t understand you,’ he said harshly. ‘I don’t understand you at all. Do you know what it’s taken for me to get this offer for you? Do you know how embarrassed I’ll be if you turn it down? Can’t you appreciate anything I do for you? This is your golden chance, Sedric! And you’re going to turn it down because you “like things to be nice”!’

‘Please don’t shout,’ his mother unwisely interjected. ‘Please, Polon, can’t we be calm and polite about this?’

‘And “nice” too, I suppose!’ His father had snarled. ‘I give up. I’ve tried to do my best by the boy but all he wants to do is wander about the house and read books or go out with his useless idle friends. Well, their fathers have the money to raise useless idle boys, but I don’t! You’re my heir, Sedric, but what you’ll inherit if you don’t take hold soon, I don’t know. Don’t look at the floor! Meet my eyes, son, when I speak to you!’

‘Please, Polon!’ his mother had begged. ‘Sedric just isn’t ready for this yet. He’s right, you know. You should have discussed this with him before you sought it for him. You didn’t even speak of it to me!’

‘Because opportunities such as this don’t wait! They come along, and the man who seizes it is the man who finds a future in it. But it won’t be Sedric, will it? Oh, no. Because he’s not ready, and it’s not “nice” enough for him. So, very well. You keep him at home here with you. You’ve ruined the boy with your indulgence of him. Ruined him!’

Sedric shifted in the narrow bunk, pushing the uncomfortable memory away. It came back in the form of a new question. Did his father still think he was ‘ruined’? He knew that his sire had felt chagrin when Sedric announced he had taken a position as Hest Finbok’s secretary. Even his mother, far more patient and tolerant of Sedric’s ways than his father was, had winced at the idea of him being employed in such a position. ‘It’s just not something that you expect the son of a Trader to do, even a younger son. I know that it’s an upward path, and even your father has said that perhaps you’ll make good connections accompanying Hest on his trading trips. But, don’t you know, it just seems as if you could have started your career a bit higher in life than as a secretary.’

‘Hest treats me well, Mother. And he pays me well, too.’

‘And I hope you are setting money aside from it. For as handsome as Hest Finbok is and as wealthy as his family is, he has a reputation for being fickle in his pursuits. Don’t count on him to be someone you can depend on for the rest of your life, Sedric.’

In the dark of the deckhouse, he groaned softly as he recalled her words. At the time they had seemed like her usual nattering worry for him. Now they seemed like a prophecy. Had he been a fool to let himself depend on Hest so deeply? His hand crept up and touched the small locket he wore around his neck. In the darkness, his finger caressed the single word engraved on its case. Always. Had ‘always’ come to an end for him?

He shifted in his bunk, but it was uniformly hard. Sleep would not come to him, only memories and worries. He was being foolish, of course. This was only a minor tiff with Hest. He and Hest had had quarrels before, and lived to laugh about them later. There had been that business in the Chalcedean town, where Hest, in a towering rage, had left Sedric behind at the inn and Sedric had had to dash through the streets to reach the ship before it sailed. He’d only ever struck Sedric once, and to be fair, Hest had been drinking and in a black temper even before they had quarrelled. Hitting someone was unusual behaviour for Hest. He had other ways of expressing his domination and control. Sarcasm and humiliation were more commonly his weapons. Physical force was his last resort, and it meant that his temper had reached a red hot heat.

But his current anger was different. It was cold. In the days after he’d ordered Sedric to accompany Alise on her expedition, Hest had been formal and chilly with Sedric. He’d smiled at him each morning as he handed him a long list of tasks. He treated him in an absolutely correct, master-to-servant fashion. Every evening, he listened to Sedric report how his tasks had gone. He didn’t seem to care that he’d given Sedric the responsibility for Alise’s journey. He’d expected him to fulfil his regular chores as well.

Thus Sedric had been the one to arrange passage for Hest and Wollom Courser and Jaff Secudus on a ship bound for the Pirate Isles. At the last minute, with great deliberation and a cruel smile, he’d had Sedric write an invitation to Redding Cope as well. The joyous acceptance had arrived less than an hour after the post was sent. Hest had had Sedric read it aloud to him, and then had pleasantly commented how enjoyable a companion Redding Cope was, so affable and full of enthusiasm for any new adventure.

The next afternoon, they had departed. Cope had waved a cheerful farewell to Sedric as the ship slowly moved away from the dock. This was Hest’s first venture at making trading contacts in the formerly dangerous Pirate Islands. It was also a journey that he and Sedric had been discussing for nearly a year. Hest well knew how Sedric had anticipated such a trip. And he’d not only chosen other companions for it, he’d directed Sedric to book his passage on a ship that offered its passengers every comfort that a civilized man could cherish. While Sedric listened to men snore and fart in the darkness around him, Hest and his friends were probably sipping good port in a softly lit card parlour on the southbound ship. Sedric shifted uncomfortably and scratched the back of his neck. Then he worried that the tickling had been a bed bug. Or a louse. He felt his neck but his fingers encountered nothing. Then he surprised himself by yawning.

Well, he was exhausted. Alise had seen to that. He’d packed all their possessions hastily, and then arranged porters and then they had all but run from the Paragon to the Tarman. He’d barely glimpsed the fabled treetop city of Trehaug, let alone had time to wander through any of its bazaars. Trehaug was the prime city in all the Cursed Shores for a trader to find Elderling goods at a reasonable price, and he’d had to race past it without even a glance because Alise feared she wouldn’t get to see her smelly, deformed dragons.

He yawned again in the darkness and resolutely closed his eyes. He would get what sleep he could in such foul conditions, and try to face the morrow with good graces. If all went well, he’d be with Alise when she wangled an invitation to visit the dragons and attempted to speak with them. She’d as much as said that she’d want him right there, to transcribe conversation and make notes and even to help with the sketches she planned to do. He’d be right there, among them, helping her collect her information. If fortune favoured him, that wouldn’t be all he’d be collecting. He hugged himself in the dark, and then gingerly pulled the blanket over himself. Nights were chill on the river, he decided, even in summer. Nights were as cold as Hest himself. But he’d show Hest. He’d show him that he didn’t plan to live his life as only Hest’s secretary. He’d show him that Sedric Meldar could do some bartering of his own, that he did have ambitions and dreams of his own. He’d show them all.

Thymara sat on bare earth and stared at the flames of the cook-fire. ‘Did any of us think we’d be doing this, a month ago? Preparing to meet dragons and escort them up the river? Or even imagine this, sitting around a fire down here on the ground?’ she asked of her new circle of friends.

‘Not me,’ muttered Tats, always at her side. Several of the others laughed in assent. Greft, seated to her right, just shook his head. His dark ringlets danced, as did the fleshy growths that fringed his jaw. When he had first joined their group, he’d been veiled. No one had commented. It wasn’t uncommon for heavily-touched men or women of the Rain Wilds to prefer a veil, especially if they were in the lower levels of Trehaug and might encounter the shocked gapes of someone strange to the city. When, on his second night with the dragon keepers, he’d finally appeared among them unveiled, even Thymara had stared. Greft was more heavily marked than anyone she’d ever seen. At twenty, he had more wattles and growths than she seen even on the oldest folk of the Rain Wilds. The nails of his hands and feet were smooth but iridescent and they curved like claws. His eyes were an unnatural blue and at night they unmistakably glowed. Every part of his exposed skin was heavily scaled. His mouth was lipless and his tongue was blue. He moved with quiet competence, and his maturity and steadiness were attractive to her. In contrast to the boys in the group, he seemed reliable and more thoughtful.

Tonight Greft was just as quiet as the rest of them. Anticipation warred with nervousness. Another day’s travel and they’d finally meet the dragons.

The committee had provided them with sturdy canoes, well sealed against the river’s acid wash. They’d given them two guides, a man and woman who always cooked, ate and slept separately from their charges. So far, food had been provided for them, and some few of the keepers had even found time to try their skills at hunting or scouting for fruit and mushrooms along their journey’s path. But they had discovered that their blankets were barely warm enough for sleeping on the ground, and that the mosquitoes and stinging gnats were just as thick at river level as they’d always been told. They’d learned that down here under the trees, nights were darker, starless and longer than any they’d known in the treetops. They’d already learned to conserve potable water and to gather fresh rainfall at every opportunity. They’d exchanged names and stories.

And somehow, in the few days that they’d been together, they’d become close.

Now Thymara looked around at the circle of faces gleaming in the firelight and wondered at her good fortune. She’d never imagined that there would be so many people who would call her by her name, take food from her hands without flinching at her claws, and speak openly of what it was to be so deformed by the Rain Wilds that not even one’s siblings could look at one easily. They’d come from every layer of the canopy, from Trader families and families that scarcely recalled which Trader bloodline they’d originally sprung from. Some had lived hardscrabble lives and others had known education and meals of red meat and redder wine. She looked from face to face and named them to herself, counting them off as if they were jewels in a treasure box. Her friends.

There was Tats beside her, her oldest friend and still her closest. Next to him was Rapskal, still chortling at some joke he’d made himself, and beside him, shaking her head at the boy’s endless and unfounded optimism, was Sylve. The young girl almost seemed to be enjoying his attention and endless chatter. Kase and Boxter were next, both copper-eyed and squat. They were cousins and the resemblance was strong. They were inseparable, often nudging each other and laughing uproariously over private jokes.

That was something she was discovering about the boys her age. The pranking and foolish jokes seemed constant. Right now, silver-eyed Alum and swarthy Nortel were laughing helplessly because Warken had farted loudly. Warken, long-limbed and tall, seemed to be relishing the mockery rather than being offended by it. Thymara shook her head over that; it made no sense to her that boys found such things so funny, and yet their sniggering brought a smile to her face. Jerd, sitting among the boys, was grinning, too. Thymara did not know Jerd well yet, but already admired her skills at fishing. She had at first been shocked when she realized Jerd was female. Nothing about her solidly built frame suggested it. What hair she had on her scaled skull she had cut into a short blond brush. Both Thymara and Sylve had tried to befriend Jerd, and she had been affable enough, but seemed to prefer male company. Her feet and solidly-muscled legs were heavily scaled and scarred. Jerd went barefoot, something that few Rain Wilders would ever consider doing on the ground.

Next to Jerd were Harrikin and Lecter. They were not related, but Harrikin’s family had taken Lecter in when he was seven and both his parents died. They were as close as brothers, yet the one was long and slim as a lizard while Lecter reminded Thymara of a horny toad, squat and neckless and spiny with growths. Harrikin was twenty, the oldest in their group, save for Greft. Greft was in his middle twenties. In bearing and manner, he made the rest of them seem like boys. And Greft, with his gleaming blue eyes, closed the circle of her friends. He saw her looking at him and canted his head questioningly. A smile stretched his thin mouth.

‘It’s strange to look around this circle and realize everyone here is my friend. I’ve never had friends before,’ she said quietly.

He ran his blue tongue around the edges of his mouth, and then leaned closer to her. ‘Honeymoon,’ he warned her in his raspy voice.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Happens like this. I’ve worked as a hunter a lot. You go out with a group of fellows, and by the third day, every one of them is your friend. By the fifth day, things wear a bit thin. And by the seventh day, the group starts to fragment.’ His eyes roamed over the firelit circle. Across from them, Jerd was in a friendly tussle with two of the boys. Warken appeared briefly to win it when he dragged her over to sit on his lap. But an instant later, she shot to her feet, shook her head at him mockingly, and resumed her place in the circle. Greft had narrowed his eyes, watching the rough play and then said quietly, ‘Two or three weeks from now, you’ll probably hate as many as you love.’

She pulled back a bit from him, his cynicism chilling her. He shrugged at her, sensing that he’d almost offended her. ‘Or maybe not. Maybe it’s just for me that things always seem to go that way. I’m not the easiest fellow to get along with.’

She smiled at him. ‘You don’t seem hard to get along with.’

‘I’m not, for the right people,’ he agreed with her. His smile said she was one of the right people. He extended a hand toward her, palm up, an invitation perhaps. ‘But I have my boundaries. I know what is mine, and I know that it’s my decision whether to share it or not. And there are some things that a man just doesn’t share. In a group like this, with so many youngsters, that’s going to seem harsh or selfish sometimes. But I think it’s only sensible. Now, if I’ve hunted and been successful, and I’ve got enough for myself and some left over, then I don’t mind sharing, and I think I’ve the right to expect the same of others. But you should know I’m not the sort that will short myself for the sake of being nice to someone else. For one thing, I’ve learned it’s seldom appreciated. For another, I know that my ability to hunt is based on my strength. If I weaken myself to be a nice fellow today, perhaps all of us will go hungry tomorrow if I’m too slow or distracted to kill my quarry. So I protect my own interests today, to be in a better position to help everyone tomorrow.’

Tats leaned across her lap to speak to Greft. She hadn’t even realized he’d been listening to him. ‘So,’ he asked conversationally, ‘how do you tell the difference between today and tomorrow?’

‘Beg pardon?’ Greft said, sounding annoyed at the interruption. His affability evaporated.

Tats didn’t move. He was practically lying in her lap. ‘How do you tell when it’s today and when it’s tomorrow, in terms of sharing what you have? At what point do you say to yourself, well, I didn’t share yesterday, so I was strong and hunted and got some meat today, so I can share this meat today. Or do you just keep thinking, I better eat it all myself so that I’ll be strong again tomorrow?’

‘I think you’re missing my point,’ Greft said.

‘Am I? Explain it again, then.’ There was challenge in Tats’ voice.

Thymara gave Tats a small nudge to get him to move. He sat up, but somehow he was closer to her. His hip pressed hers now.

‘I’ll try to explain it to you.’ Greft seemed amused. ‘But you may not understand. You’re a lot younger than I am, and I suspect you’ve lived by a different set of rules than we have.’ He paused and glanced across the fire. Harrikin and Boxter had risen and were in a good-natured shoving match. Hands braced on each other’s shoulders, feet dug into the mud, each strained to push the other back. On the sidelines, the other keepers shouted encouragement to the combatants. Greft shook his head, seeming displeased with their light-hearted play. ‘Life seems different when you haven’t had to deal with people thinking that you don’t have the right to exist. When I was young, no one thought I was entitled to anything. I begged when I was small, and when I was a bit older, I fought for what I needed. And when I was old enough to provide for myself and perhaps do a bit better than that, some people assumed that they had the right to share in whatever I managed to bring down. They seemed to think I should be grateful that they allowed me anything at all, even to exist. So unless you’ve lived under rules like that, I don’t think you can understand how we feel. I see this expedition as the chance to get away from the old rules, and live where I can invent rules for myself.’

‘Is your first new rule to always take care of yourself first?’

‘It might be. But there, I told you that you probably couldn’t understand. Of course, to balance that, there’s something I don’t understand about you. Why don’t you explain to us why you’re going upriver? Why are you discarding your life in Trehaug to set out with a bunch of rejects and misfits like us?’ Greft made his question seem almost friendly.

Across the fire ring, Boxter triumphed. Harrikin crashed to the mud and then rolled away from him. ‘I give in!’ he cried out, to a chorus of laughter. Both came back to take seats by the fire. The laughter died down, and quiet fell as everyone became aware of Tats and Greft staring at one another.

When Tats spoke, his voice was deeper than usual. ‘Maybe I don’t see it that way. And maybe I didn’t have the favoured life that you imagine I did. Maybe I do understand you wanting to get away from Trehaug to a place where you can change the rules to suit yourself. Maybe most of us here are thinking to do just that. But I don’t think the first rule I’ll make is “me first”.’

A silence fell after Tats spoke, a silence that was bigger than the three of them. The fire crackled. Mosquitoes hummed in the darkness around them. The river rushed by as it always did, and somewhere off in the distance, a creature hooted shrilly and then was still. Thymara glanced around the circle and realized that most of the dragon keepers had focused on their conversation. She suddenly felt uncomfortable and trapped sitting between Greft and Tats, as if she represented territory to be won to one side or the other. She shifted her weight slightly away from Tats, and felt cooler air touch her where his body had been against hers.

Greft took a breath as if about to reply angrily. Then he sighed it slowly out. His voice was even, low and pleasant as he said, ‘I was right. You don’t understand what I’m saying, because you haven’t been where I’ve been. Where we’ve all been.’ His voice rose on those last words, including all of them in what he was trying to say to Tats. He paused and smiled at him before adding, ‘You’re just not like us. So I don’t think you can really understand why we’re here. Any more than I can understand why you’re here.’ He dropped his voice a notch but his words still carried. ‘The council was looking for Rain Wilders like us. The ones they’d like to be rid of. But I heard they also offered amnesty to certain others. Criminals, for example. I heard some people were offered a chance to leave Trehaug rather than face the consequences of what they had done.’

Greft let his words hang in the night like the drifting smoke from the fire. When Tats said, ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ his words sounded unconvincing. ‘I just heard the money was good. And that they wanted people with no strong ties to Trehaug, people who could leave the city without leaving obligations behind. And that described me.’

‘Did it?’ Greft asked politely.

It was Tats’ turn to look around at the others watching him. Some were merely following the conversation, but several of them were now regarding him with a curiosity bordering on suspicion. ‘It did,’ Tats said harshly. He stood suddenly. ‘It does. I’ve got no ties to bind me anywhere. And the money is good. I’ve as much a right to be here as any of you.’ He turned away from them. ‘Gotta piss,’ he muttered and stalked off into the surrounding darkness.

Thymara sat still, feeling the empty space where he had sat. Something had just happened, something bigger than the verbal sparring between the two young men. She tried to put a name to it and couldn’t. He’s shifted the balance, she thought to herself as she glanced over at Greft. He had leaned forward and was pushing the ends of the firewood into the flames. He’s made Tats an outsider. And spoken for all of us as if he had the right to do so. Abruptly, he seemed a bit less charming than he had a few moments ago.

Greft settled back into his place in the circle. He smiled at her, but her face remained still. In the dancing firelight, other conversations were resuming as the keepers discussed their immediate concerns. They’d have to sleep soon if they were to get an early start tomorrow. Rapskal was already shaking out his blanket. Jerd stood suddenly. ‘I’m going for green branches. If the fire puts out enough smoke, it will keep some of the mosquitoes away.’

‘I’ll go with you,’ Boxter offered, and Harrikin was already coming to his feet.

‘No. Thank you,’ she replied. She strode off into the darkening forest in the same direction Tats had gone.

Abruptly, Greft leaned close to Thymara. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset your beau like that. But someone had to tell him how it really is.’

‘He’s not my beau,’ Thymara blurted out, shocked that Greft would think such a thing. Then she abruptly felt as if she had somehow betrayed Tats with that denial.

But Greft was smiling at her. ‘He isn’t your beau, hey? Well, well. What a surprise.’ Then, he raised one eyebrow at her and leaned closer to ask with a smirk, ‘Does he know that?’

‘Of course he does! He knows the laws. Girls like me can’t be courted or married. We aren’t allowed to have children. So there’s no sense having beaus.’

Greft looked at her steadily. His eyes, blue on glowing blue, suddenly softened with sympathy. ‘You’ve been so well schooled in their rules, haven’t you? That’s a shame.’ He pressed his narrow lips together, shook his head and gave a small sigh. For a time he watched the fire. Then when he looked back at her, his thin mouth stretched in a smile. He leaned closer to her, setting his hand on her thigh to speak right by her ear. His breath was warm on her ear and neck. It sent a shiver down her back. ‘Where we are going, we can make our own rules. Think about that.’

Then, smooth as a snake uncoiling, he rose and left her looking into the flames.