Читать книгу The Rain Wild Chronicles: The Complete 4-Book Collection - Робин Хобб - Страница 32

The muddy banks of the river were drying out. Cracks and fissures had opened up in the flat brown plain. As Sintara waded out of the grey, silt-laden water, the wet bank gave unevenly under her feet. She lurched as she walked. Dragons, she reflected, were not intended to be creatures of the ground.

Her blue-scaled hide was still dripping from her attempt at a bath; she left a wet trail behind her. She opened her stunted wings, flapped and shook them in a shower of water droplets and then refolded them against her sides. She wished in vain for a wide bank of hot sand where she could bask until she was dry, and then polish her claws and scales until she shone. In this lifetime, she’d never had the luxury of a good dust bath, let alone a nice rasp on a sandbank. Dust and sand, she was sure, would have cleansed her of a lot of the tiny sucking insects that infested her and the other dragons. Although she still groomed herself daily, few of the others did. As long as they were infested and she had to live in close quarters with them, there seemed little point to grooming. Yet she refused to give up that ritual. She was a dragon, not a mindless mud salamander.

The forest that backed onto the beach put most of the riverbank in perpetual shade. During the years they had been trapped there, the dragons had enlarged the clearing. Some of the surrounding trees had been killed accidentally by dragons sharpening claws or rubbing scaled shoulders against them in search of relief from the pests that infested them. Several trees had been killed deliberately as the dragons sought to enlarge the area in which they were forced to live. But killing a tree and pushing it down and out of the way were two different tasks. Killing it meant that its foliage dropped and an additional but small amount of light reached them. But despite sporadic efforts, not even several dragons together could push down one of the towering trees.

Sunlight reached the river bank at the height of the day and lingered there strongly only for a few hours. Sintara surveyed the fourteen dragons spread out before her. Most of them slept or at least drowsed, soaking up light and warmth while they could. There was little else for them to do this afternoon. The larger dragons had claimed the prime spots for sunbathing. The lesser dragons took whatever space they could find. Most of them napped in areas that were shadow-dappled; the smallest and least able slept in full shade. Even the best spots were barely adequate for comfort. The river mud dried to a fine sneeze-inducing dust that was annoying to eyes and nostrils. But at least it was warm and there was light. Sintara’s skin and bones constantly longed for light and heat almost as much as her belly hungered for meat.

The sunlight sparkled on a few of the better-groomed dragons. Kalo, the largest of their clan, gleamed blue-black as he sprawled in the strongest patch of sunlight. His head rested on his forelegs. His eyes were closed and his slow breath stirred a small plume of dust each time he exhaled. At rest and folded to his back, his wings looked almost normal. He seldom spread them, but when he did, the flimsy musculature betrayed him.

Beside him, Ranculos shone scarlet in sharp contrast to the dusty shore. His silver eyes were lidded in sleep. He was badly proportioned, as if someone had sculpted parts of three different dragons and then assembled them. His front shoulders and legs were powerful, but he dwindled at his hindquarters and his tail was ridiculous. His wings drooped and refused to stay properly closed. Pathetic.

Sintara narrowed her eyes to see that azure Sestican had sprawled out, wings open, and was occupying her space as well as his own. His long scrawny legs twitched in his sleep. Between her and him, several of the smaller and less able dragons were sleeping. Their dull hides were daubed with mud and they slept packed together like the toes on a foot.

She paid no attention to them as she thrust her way over and through the sleeping creatures. One squeaked and two gave snorting growls as she trod on them. One rolled under her, throwing her off balance. She lashed her tail to stay upright and flapped her still-drying wings, sprinkling all of them with a shower of cold droplets. A mutter of snarls greeted that, but none of them could be bothered to really challenge her. As she reached her place, she deliberately trod on Sestican’s spread blue wing, pinning it to the earth.

He gave a surprised roar and tried to roll free. She pressed down harder on the trapped wing, deliberately bending the delicate bones. ‘You’re in my place,’ she growled.

‘Get off me!’ he snarled in return. She lifted her foot just enough for him to drag his bruised wing free of her weight. As he snapped it back tight to his body, she sank down to the bared dust. She was still displeased. It was warm from his body heat, but not hot from baking sunlight as she had fantasized. Nonetheless, she settled into place, pushing ungraciously against Veras to make more room for herself. The dark green female stirred, bared her puny teeth, and then went on sleeping.

‘Don’t ever sleep in my place again,’ Sintara warned the big cobalt dragon. She arranged her body, resentfully tucking her tail around her instead of letting it sprawl out as she wished to. But she had no sooner settled her head on her front paws than Sestican abruptly lurched to his feet. She snarled as his shadow fell over her. At the edges of the sleeping swarm of dragons, one of the smaller ones lifted her head and asked stupidly, ‘Food?’

It was not time for them to be fed. There was a general lifting of heads followed by dragons wallowing and lurching to their feet, trying to see past one another for a view of what was arriving on the beach.

‘Is it food?’ Fente demanded angrily.

‘Depends on how hungry you are,’ Veras replied. ‘Small boats full of people. They’re pulling their boats up onto the bank now.’

‘I smell meat!’ Kalo announced, and before he had even voiced it, the swarm was moving. Sintara shouldered Fente aside. The nasty green female snapped at her. Sintara gave her a lash of her tail in passing but didn’t bother with any further retaliation. Being the first to the food was much more important than any vengeance right now. Sintara gathered her strength and made a springing leap over Veras. Her withered wings opened reflexively but uselessly. Sintara snapped them back close to her sides and continued her lumbering gallop down to the riverbank.

The cluster of young humans on the shore huddled together in fear. One yelled and ran back toward the beached boats. As the dragons advanced, three others joined him. Other people were emerging from the narrow beaten trail that led back into the forest and to the ladders that went up to their tree-nests. Sintara caught the familiar scent of one of their hunters. The man raised his voice and shouted at the boat-humans. ‘It’s all right. They smell the food, that’s all. Stand your ground and meet them. It’s why you’re here. We’ve got meat for all of them. Let us feed them first, and then you should move among them and let them greet you. Stand your ground!’

Sintara could smell the fear on them. She noted in passing that the humans from the boats were mostly youngsters. Their voices were raised to one another, piping questions and squeaking warnings. Then the other hunters emerged from the path, pushing their barrows. Each wooden barrow was heaped high with meat and fish, a generous pile surpassing what they usually held. Sintara chose the third barrow as hers and pushed Ranculos aside to claim it. He roared, but swiftly chose the fourth barrow instead. As they always did, the barrow pushers quickly left the area to stand well back in the trees. They’d reclaim their barrows and trundle them away when every dragon had finished eating.

Sintara sank her muzzle into the heaped carrion. The meat was still, the blood dried and the muscles stiffened. The deer in it had probably been killed yesterday or even the day before. The smell of the offal was rank, but she didn’t care. She seized and gulped, seized and gulped, eating as swiftly as she could. Even though there was a barrow for each dragon, it wasn’t uncommon to have to fight for the last pieces of her carrion if some other dragon had already finished his share.

She overset her barrow in her haste, spilling the final pieces of meat. The last piece of river carp was covered in dust: it stuck in her throat and she had to shake her head to get it down. It still stuck. Ignoring the others, she went to the drinking hole. The water that seeped in from the sides and filled it was less acid than that in the river itself. She sank her muzzle into it and drew up a long draught. She lifted her head skyward, pointed her nose up and swallowed. The fish was still caught in her throat. Another long drink and it finally slid down. She belched in relief. She was startled when someone asked her, ‘Are you all right now? You looked as if you were choking.’

Sintara slowly turned her gaze downward. Standing at her shoulder was a thin Rain Wilds girl. The faint trace of scales on her cheekbones glinted silvery in the sunlight. Sintara said nothing to the human, but rotated her head to look over the mud plain by the river. Some of the humans still clustered near their small boats, but several of them had ventured away from the group to mingle with the dragons. She gave her attention back to the girl who had spoken to her. The human barely came to her shoulder. She smelled of wood-smoke and fear. Sintara opened her mouth and breathed in deeply, taking in the girl’s full scent. Then she breathed out and saw the girl flinch as her breath streamed past her. ‘Why do you ask?’ she demanded.

The girl didn’t answer the question. Instead, she pointed toward the forest and said, ‘The day you hatched, I was there. Up in that tree. Watching.’

‘I didn’t “hatch” here. I emerged from my case. Are you too ignorant of dragon ways to know the difference?’

The skin of the girl’s face changed temperature and colour as her blood beat more strongly there. ‘I’m not ignorant. I know that dragons begin their lives as serpents, hatched on a beach far from here. To say that you hatched here was just a manner of speaking.’

‘A careless use of words,’ Sintara corrected her.

‘I’m sorry,’ the girl apologized.

‘I’m sorry,’ Thymara said hastily. This dragon seemed very testy. Perhaps she had made an error in choosing her. She glanced over at Tats. He was trying to approach a small green female. She didn’t seem to be paying any attention to him, other than to hiss threateningly when he stepped too close to her barrow of meat. Rapskal already had his arm around a runty little red dragon. He began scratching her head near her neck fringe and the dragon leaned into him, thrumming with pleasure. An instant later, Thymara realized he was dislodging an entire colony of parasites from her. Leggy little insects were falling in a shower from the dragon as he diligently scratched at her scales.

Most of the other dragon keepers still huddled by the boats, watching them. Greft had announced his claim as soon as the boat touched shore. ‘The big black one is mine. Everyone stay back and give me a chance to talk to him before you approach the others.’

Perhaps some of the others were swayed by Greft’s assumption of leadership. Thymara wasn’t. She’d already seen the dragon she wanted to care for. The female was a gleaming blue with glittering silver markings on her dwarfed wings. Consecutive scaled frills draped her neck like ruffles on a rich woman’s dress. She was one of the better-formed dragons, despite her diminutive wings. A survivor, Thymara had judged her, and been so bold as to approach her immediately. Now she wondered if she’d made a poor choice. The blue dragon didn’t seem especially friendly, and she was large. If the way she’d devoured the barrow of meat was any indication, keeping up with her appetite was going to be a challenge. No, an impossibility, she realized with dawning dismay. What she had seen as feasible back at Trehaug was now revealed to her as a hopeless task. If she was going to be any dragon’s sole feeder, that dragon was going to be hungry a good part of the time.

This dragon’s temperament didn’t seem very kindly even with a belly full of meat. What would she be like when she was hungry and tired after a day’s journey? Thymara reluctantly scanned the other dragons, seeking a better prospect for herself. This one obviously didn’t like her at all.

But the other dragon keepers had found their courage and were already fanning out through the herd of dragons. Kase and Boxter were approaching two orange dragons. She wondered briefly if the two cousins always made similar choices. Sylve, hands clasped shyly behind her and head bowed, was talking quietly to a gold male. As Thymara watched, he lifted his head, revealing a blue-white throat. Jerd stood close to a green female with gold stippling. As the other keepers spread out through the herd, Thymara did a quick count. There weren’t enough keepers. There would be two extra dragons. That could be trouble.

‘Why are you here? What is this invasion about?’

There was irritation in the dragon’s tone, as if Thymara had insulted her. The girl was startled. ‘What? Didn’t they tell you we’d be coming?’

‘Didn’t who tell us?’

‘The committee. There was a Rain Wilds committee to look into solving the dragon problem. They decided it would be best for all if the dragons were moved upriver to a better place. Somewhere with open meadows, dry ground and plentiful game for you.’

‘No.’ A flat denial by the dragon.

‘But—’

‘That was not what they decided. No humans decided anything about us. We told the humans that tend us that we are leaving this place, and that we required their services. We told them to supply us with hunters and tenders for our journey. We told them that we intend to return to Kelsingra. Have you heard of it, little creature? It was an Elderling city, a place of sunlight and open fields and sandy shores. The Elderlings who lived there were creatures of culture and learning who appreciated dragons. The buildings there were created to accommodate us. The plains teemed with cattle and wild game. That is where we intend to go.’

‘I have never heard of such a place.’ She spoke hesitantly, not wishing to offend.

‘What you have heard or not heard is of little interest to me.’ The dragon turned away from her. ‘That is where we shall be going.’

This wasn’t going to work. Thymara cast about hopelessly. Two dragons remained unclaimed. They were mud-streaked and dull-eyed creatures, nosing stupidly at the empty barrows. The silver one had a festering infection on his tail. The other one might have had a coppery hide but was so filthy he looked dun coloured. He was thin in a bony way; she suspected he suffered from worms. In her cold evaluation, neither would survive the trek up the river. But perhaps that didn’t matter. It was apparent to her that her girlish fancy of befriending the dragon that she escorted was little more than that. What a silly dream that had been, of friendship with a powerful and noble creature. She was already revising her estimate of what the expedition would be, and her heart was sinking with the burden of that reality. She’d be feeding and caring for creatures that found her irritating and were large enough to kill her with a casual blow. At least her mother had been slightly shorter than she was. The thought that she might prefer her mother’s company to that of an irritable dragon twisted her mouth in a sour smile.

The dragon exhaled a blast of air by her ear. ‘Well?’

‘I didn’t say anything.’ She spoke quietly. She wanted to edge away, but not while the dragon was eyeing her.

‘I’m aware of that. So you haven’t heard of Kelsingra. That doesn’t mean that it doesn’t exist. It seems to me that we are as likely to find it as we are to find your “open meadows, dry ground and plentiful game”. For it seems likely to me that if any Rain Wilder had ever heard of such a place, there would already be a Rain Wilds settlement there.’

‘That’s true,’ Thymara agreed reluctantly, and wondered why she hadn’t previously thought about it in such terms. Because the committee, of supposedly older and wiser Rain Wild Traders, had told her that was what she would find. But what did they know? Not a one of them had looked like a hunter or a harvester. Most looked as if they’d never even ventured up to the canopy, let alone explored along the riverbanks. What if there were no such place? What if it was all just a ploy to get the dragons and their tenders to leave Cassarick?

She pushed that thought aside. It frightened her, not just because it might be true but because she suddenly knew that the people she had signed a contract with were perfectly capable of banishing both the dragons and their keepers to an endless trek up the boggy riverbank. ‘Why are you dragons so certain that Kerlinger exists?’ she demanded of the big blue female.

‘If you are trying to talk about Kelsingra, then at least name it correctly. You are very careless with your language. I suspect that creatures with brains as small as yours must have a hard time recalling information. As to why we know it exists, we remember it.’

‘But you’ve never been away from this beach.’

‘We have our ancestral memories. Well, at least some of us have some of them. And it is one that several of us do recall. The city on the wide and sunny riverbank. The sweet silver water from the well there. The plazas and the buildings created to accommodate the alliance of Elderlings and dragons. The fine fields full of fat grazing cattle.’ The dragon’s voice had gone dreamy and for a moment, Thymara almost felt the creature’s hunger for fat cows full of warm blood and hot moist meat. And afterward, a wash and then a long nap on the white sandy riverbank. Thymara shook her head to clear it of her imaginings.

‘What?’ the dragon demanded.

‘The only Elderling cities we have ever discovered are buried in mud. The folk who lived there are long dead. The tapestries and paintings they left behind show us a place that is so different from what is here now that our scholars have long argued that they depict an Elderling homeland far to the south rather than being representations of their cities as they once were here.’

‘Then your scholars are wrong.’ The dragon spoke decisively. ‘Our memories may be incomplete, but I can tell you that the Cassarick I recall bordered on a deep, swift flowing river that had a gentler backwater and a wide beach of silver-streaked clay. The river was deep enough for serpents to migrate up it easily. The Elderling ships also could come right up the river to Cassarick and go beyond as well, to other cities that bordered the river. Cassarick itself was not a large city, though it had its share of wonders. It was famed mostly as a secondary place for serpents to come to spin our cocoons, if the beaches at what you call Trehaug were full. That did not happen every migrating year, but some years it did. And so Cassarick had chambers capable of welcoming the dragons that came to tend the cases. There was the Star Chamber, roofed with glass panels. From there the Elderlings were wont to study the night sky. The walls of the long entry hall to the Star Chamber were decorated with a mosaic of jewels that held a light of their own. No windows were built in that hall so that visitors might more easily view the vista that the jewel artists had painted with their tiny dots of light. I recall there was an amusement that the humans had built for themselves, a maze with crystal walls. Time’s Labyrinth, they called it. It was all trickery and foolishness, of course, but they seemed fond of it.’

‘If any room like one of those chambers has been found, I have not heard of it,’ Thymara said regretfully.

‘It little matters,’ the dragon replied, her voice suddenly harsh. ‘They are not the only wonders that have vanished. You humans go digging through the wreckage of that time like tunnelling dung beetles. You don’t understand what you find, and you have no appreciation for it.’

‘I think I should go,’ Thymara said quietly. Her disappointment as she turned away gnawed upward in her from her belly. She looked at the other two unclaimed dragons and tried to muster pity for them. But their eyes were vapid and almost unseeing. They were not even watching the other dragons as they began to interact with their keepers. The muddy brown one was absently chewing on the bloody edge of the barrow that had held his food. Still. She hadn’t signed a contract that promised her the companionship of an amazing and intelligent creature. She had signed a contract that said she would do her best to accompany a dragon on this doomed expedition and do her best to care for it. Perhaps she’d be wiser to start with one that had no expectations. Perhaps she would have been wisest of all not to have had expectations herself.

All of the other keepers seemed to have met with at least moderate success with their choices. Rapskal and his red seemed happiest with one another. He had led the stumpy little creature over to the forest edge and was cleaning her scales with handfuls of evergreen needles. The small red dragon wriggled happily at his touch. Jerd seemed to have won the trust of her speckled green dragon. The creature had lifted one front foot and was allowing Jerd to examine her claws. Greft kept a respectful distance from the black dragon, but seemed to be deep in conversation with it. Sylve and the golden male had found a sunny place and were sitting peacefully together on the cracked mud plates of the riverbank.

She looked around for Tats and the slender green dragon he’d approached. She didn’t see either of them at first, and then spotted them at the water’s edge. Tats had his fish spear out and was walking along the bank while the green dragon watched with avid interest. Thymara doubted that he’d find anything large enough to spear if he saw any fish at all, but he’d obviously won his dragon’s attention. Unlike her. The dragon hadn’t even responded to her last comment.

‘Thank you for speaking with me,’ Thymara replied hopelessly. She turned and walked quietly away. The silver, she decided. The injury on its tail needed to be cleaned and bandaged. Thymara suspected they’d be travelling in or near the river water, and untreated, the acid waters would enlarge and ulcerate the injury. As for the skinny copper dragon, if she could find some ruskin leaves and catch a fish, she’d try worming him. She wondered if ruskin leaves worked to cleanse a dragon’s system. Studying him as she walked toward him, she decided that they couldn’t hurt. There was no one she could ask for advice for physicking a dragon. If he got any thinner, he’d die soon anyway.

Abruptly she realized there was someone she could ask. She turned back to the blue dragon who was regarding Thymara with ill-concealed hostility. Thymara steeled her courage. ‘May I ask you a question about dragons and parasites?’

‘Where did you learn your manners?’ The question was followed with a hiss. None of her breath reached Thymara, but the mist of weak venom that rode her breath was faintly visible.

Thymara was jolted. Cautiously she asked, ‘Is it rude to ask such a question?’ She wanted to take a step back but dared not move.

‘How dare you turn your back on me?’

On the dragon’s long neck, the ‘frills’ of scaled plates were lifting. Thymara hadn’t understood their use before, but from all she knew of animals, such a display would indicate aggression. A brilliant yellow underlay was revealed as the scaled flaps rose like the opening petals of a reptilian flower. The dragon’s large copper eyes were fixed on her and as Thymara met that gaze, the eyes appeared to slowly spin. It was like watching twin whirlpools of molten copper. The sight was as breathtakingly beautiful as it was terrifying. ‘I’m sorry,’ she apologized hopelessly. ‘I didn’t know it was rude. I thought you wanted me to go away.’

Something was wrong, and Sintara didn’t know what. By now, the girl should have been completely infatuated with her, on her knees, begging for the dragon’s attention. Instead, she had turned her back on her and started to wander off. Humans were notoriously easy prey for a dragon’s glamour. She opened her ruff more widely and gave her head a shake to disperse a mist of charm. ‘Do not you wish to serve me?’ she prompted the girl. ‘Do not you find me beautiful?’

‘Of course you are beautiful!’ the human exclaimed, but her stance and the rank scent of fear she gave betrayed that she was frightened, not entranced. ‘When first I saw you today, I chose you as the dragon that I most wished to care for. But our conversation has been …’ The girl’s words trickled away.

Sintara reached for her thoughts but found only fog. Perhaps that was the problem. Perhaps the girl was too stupid to be charmed by her. She searched her dragon memories and found evidence of such humans. Some were so dense that they could not even understand a dragon’s speech. This girl seemed to grasp her words clearly enough. So what ailed her? Sintara decided on a small test of her powers, to see if the girl was susceptible to her at all. ‘What is your name, small human?’

‘Thymara,’ she replied instantly. But as Sintara began to gloat at her leverage, the girl asked her, ‘And what is your name?’

‘I don’t think you’ve earned the right to my name yet!’ Sintara rebuked her, and saw her cower. But Thymara stank of true fear with no traces of the despair that such a refusal should have wakened in her. When the human said nothing, did not beg again for the favour of her name, Sintara asked her directly, ‘Don’t you wish you knew my name?’

‘It would make it much easier for me to talk to you, yes,’ the girl said hesitantly.

Sintara chuckled. ‘But you don’t seek it in order to have power over me?’ she asked sarcastically.

‘What power would your name give me?’

Sintara stared down at her. Could she truly be ignorant of the power of a dragon’s name? One who knew a dragon’s true name could, if she employed it correctly, compel the dragon to speak truth, to keep a promise, even to grant a favour. If this Thymara was ignorant of such things, Sintara certainly wasn’t going to enlighten her. Instead she asked her, ‘What would you like to call me, if you were choosing a name to know me by?’

The girl looked more intrigued than frightened now. Sintara spun her eyes more slowly, and Thymara actually came a step closer to her. There. That was better. ‘Well?’ she prompted her again. ‘What name would you give me?’

The girl bit her upper lip for a moment, than said, ‘You are such a lovely blue. High in the canopy, there is a twining vine that roots in the clefts of trees. It has flowers that are deep blue with bright yellow centres. It has a wonderful fragrance that entrances insects and small birds and little lizards. Even it is not as beautiful as you are, but you remind me of it. We call the flowers skymaws.’

‘So you would name me after a flower? Skymaw?’ Sintara was not pleased. It seemed a silly, fragile name to her, but she had asked the girl. Perhaps in this one thing, she could humour the human. But still, she asked her, ‘Do you not think I deserve a name that has more teeth to it?’

The girl looked down at her feet as if the dragon had caught her in a lie. Quietly, she admitted, ‘Skymaws are dangerous to touch. They are beautiful and the fragrance is alluring, but the nectar inside will dissolve a butterfly instantly and devour a hummingbird in less than a hour.’

Sintara stretched her jaws wide in pleasure and concluded, ‘Then it is not just the colour of the flower that makes you think of me? It is the danger it poses?’

‘I suppose. Yes.’

‘Then you may call me Skymaw. Do you see what the boy over there is doing to the runty red dragon?’

The girl followed Sintara’s glance. Rapskal had pulled an armful of needled branches from a tree and was energetically scrubbing his dragon’s back. Cleansed of mud and dust, even that stumpy little dragon sparkled like a ruby in the sunlight. ‘I don’t think he means any harm. I think he’s trying to get some of the parasites off her.’

‘Exactly. And the wax from the needles is good for the skin.’ Graciously, Sintara told her, ‘You are allowed to perform that service for me.’

As the Tarman slowly nosed its way onto the muddy bank, Alise looked over the fantastic scene before her and felt rankest envy. Sun and heat baked the bare riverbank as the final hours of afternoon dwindled away. Scattered about on the bank were at least a dozen dragons in every imaginable colour tended by young Rain Wilders. Some of the dragons were stretched out in peaceful sleep. Two stood by the water, waiting impatiently as a couple of boys holding spears walked slowly up and down the riverbank, looking for fish. On the ebbing edge of a sun-washed mudbank, a long gold dragon sprawled, his blue-white underbelly turned toward the last kiss of the sun. Lying against him slept a little girl, her pink-scaled scalp glittering as brightly as the dragon she tended. At one end of the long bank of mud stood the largest dragon of all, tall and black. The sun struck glittering dark blue sparks from his outstretched wings. A bare-chested young man, almost as heavily scaled as a dragon himself, was grooming the creature’s wings. At the opposite end of the beach, as if in counterpoint, a girl with a broom made of cedar boughs was diligently sweeping a sprawled blue dragon. The girl’s black braids danced against the back of her neck as she worked. The dragon shifted as Alise watched, stretching out a hind leg so that the girl might groom it.

‘I didn’t realize the dragons had human tenders. I mean, I knew that they had hunters helping provide for them, but I didn’t realize that—’

‘They don’t. Or they didn’t.’ Leftrin had a knack for interrupting her in a way that was friendly rather than rude. ‘They’re all newcomers. Those are the keepers you heard about, the ones that are going to move the dragons upriver. They can’t have been here much longer than a day, at most two.’

‘But some of them are only children!’ Alise protested. It was not her concern for them that sharpened her voice. It was, she thought to herself, simple jealousy. There they were, mere youngsters, doing exactly what she had imagined herself doing. Somehow, she had visualized herself as being the first to befriend a dragon, to touch it with kindness and win its confidence. The way Althea and Brashen had described the dragons, she had thought they would be like reptilian half-wits, awaiting, perhaps, her understanding and patience to unlock their innate intelligence. What she saw on the beach was another broken pane in the dream window; she was not to be the dragons’ saviour, the only one who understood them.

Leftrin shrugged a heavy shoulder to her comment, mistaking it for concern. ‘Youngsters don’t get to be children long in the Rain Wilds, and especially not children like those. Look at them. It’s a wonder their parents kept them. You can’t tell me those youngsters are all late-changers. You don’t get claws unless you were born with them. And that young man there? I’ll wager he was born with scales on his head and has never had a bit of hair anywhere on his body. No, they’re all mistakes, the lot of them. And that’s why they were chosen.’

His blunt and cold appraisal of the dragons’ attendants shocked Alise into silence.

‘And are you and the Tarman a mistake? Is that why you were chosen for the expedition?’ Sedric’s voice was as acidic as the river.

But if Leftrin noticed the intended unpleasantness in his tone, he didn’t react to it. ‘No, me and Tarman are hired. And the contract’s a good one, tight as a contract can be written. And the terms are good, for Tarman and me.’ Here he tipped Alise a broad wink, and she almost blushed. He spoke on as if Sedric could not have noticed it. ‘Not just because no one else would take it, but because the Rain Wilds Council knows that no one else can do this job. Tarman and I have been farther up the river than any other large vessel. There may be a few who have gone farther, game scouts in canoes and such. But you can’t do what the Council wants done from a canoe.’

‘And what the Council wants done is the dragons driven away from Cassarick.’

‘Well, that’s putting it a bit harshly, Sedric. But look for yourself. They’re obviously not in a good place. They’re not healthy, there’s no game they can hunt for themselves, and they’re killing the trees all around the beach.’

‘And they’re impeding a profitable excavation of the old city.’

‘Yes, that’s true also,’ Leftrin replied implacably.

Alise gave Sedric a sideways look. His last little remark had been barbed. He was still upset, and she supposed he had every right to be. Her session at the Traders’ Hall in Cassarick had gone on much longer than she had expected. Thrashing out the details of Leftrin’s contract with the committee had taken most of those hours. Malta the Elderling had remained for the long discussion, but with every passing hour, she looked more like a weary and pregnant woman and less like an elegant and powerful Elderling. Alise had observed her unobtrusively but avariciously.

When Alise had first encountered the idea that humans became Elderlings, it had cracked her sense of reality. Elderlings had been the stuff of legend for her when she was a girl. Shadowy, powerful creatures at the edge of tales and myths; those were the Elderlings. Legends spoke of their elegance and beauty, of power sometimes wielded with wisdom and sometimes with casual cruelty. When the original Rain Wild settlers had discovered traces of ancient settlements and then connected those ruins to the near-mythical Elderlings, many had been sceptical. Over the years it had become accepted that they had been real and that perhaps the magical and arcane treasures unearthed in the Rain Wilds were the last remaining traces of their passage on this world. They had been a glorious magical race and now they were vanished forever.

No one had connected the unfortunate and sometimes grotesque disfigurements of the Rain Wild settlers with the ethereal beauty of the Elderings depicted in scrolls, tapestries and legends. Scaled skin and glowing eyes were not always lovely to look upon, and in the cases of the Rain Wilds offspring afflicted with them, their life-spans were greatly shortened, not the near immortals that legend decreed the Elderlings were. Vultures and peacocks might both have feathers and beaks, but one did not confuse the two creatures. Yet Malta and Selden Vestrit of Bingtown and Reyn Khuprus of the Rain Wilds had changed, just as those touched by the Rain Wilds changed, not toward the monstrous but toward the fantastic. Dragon-touched, some now called them to distinguish them from the others. Somehow, she suspected, their being present during the emergence of Tintaglia from her case and spending so much time with her afterward had caused their metamorphoses to proceed in a different pattern.

Watching Malta Khuprus had given her much to think about during the long and tedious hours of Leftrin’s haggling. He had not seemed to find the delay boring, but had settled into his deal-making with the enthusiasm of a pit-dog trying to pull down a bull. While he discussed who would pay for food and how much the Tarman could carry and if the small boats for the keepers would be his responsibility and who would pay if a dragon did any damage to his vessel and a hundred other variables, Alise covertly studied the Elderling woman and wondered. It was too obvious to ignore that the physical changes a human underwent were that their body acquired some of the characteristics of a dragon. Or a reptile, she judiciously added. The scales, the unusual growths, Malta’s crest on her brow all spoke of some connection to the dragons. But other parts of the puzzle did not fit. The strange elongation of her bones, for instance.

If the Elderlings had known exactly what precipitated the changes that took them from human to Elderling, they had not written it down, at least not in any scrolls that Alise had ever seen. Then she wondered if Elderlings had ever been a completely separate race from humans. Had humans always changed to become Elderlings, or had Elderlings existed separately but perhaps interbred with humanity? Alise had become so enmeshed in her pondering that when Leftrin abruptly announced, ‘Well, it’s all settled then. I’ll depart as soon as you’ve managed to ferry the supplies down to the dock,’ she felt jolted out of a dream. She looked around her to see the Council members rising from their chairs and coming to shake Leftrin’s hand. A document, evidently written as they settled each term, and signed by all, was being sanded to set and dry the ink. Malta, looking frailer than ever, had signed in her turn and was now gazing at Alise. The Bingtown woman gathered all her courage and went to present herself.

Yet before she reached Malta, the woman had gracefully but with weariness come to meet her. She took both of Alise’s hands in hers and said, ‘I truly don’t know how to thank you. I wish that I myself could be going. Not that I have any great fondness for dragons; they are difficult to deal with, being nearly as stubborn and self-justified as humans.’

Alise was astonished. She had expected the Elderling to declare her undying devotion to dragons and to beg Alise to do all she could to protect them. Instead, she continued, ‘Don’t trust them. Don’t think of them as especially noble or of a higher morality than humans. They aren’t. They’re just like us, except they are larger and stronger, with potent memories of always having their own way. So, be careful. And whatever you learn of them, whether you find Kelsingra or not, you must record and bring back to us. Because sooner or later, humanity is going to have to co-exist with a substantial population of dragons. We have forgotten all we ever knew about dealing with dragons. But they have forgotten nothing about humans.’

‘I’ll be careful,’ Alise promised faintly.

‘I’ll take you at your word.’ Malta smiled and her face seemed briefly more human. ‘You seem to be a Trader who remembers what a promise means. In these times, we could do with more like you. And now, I’m afraid I must go home to rest.’

‘Do you need any help to get home?’ Alise was bold enough to ask. But Malta shook her head. She released Alise’s hands and slowly but gracefully climbed the shallow steps to the entry doors. Alise was still looking after her when she felt Leftrin’s heavy hand clap her on the shoulder.

‘Well, didn’t you turn out to be just the ticket for both of us! I wonder if Brashen Trell knew what a bit of luck he was sending my way when he sent you to me! I doubt it, but there it is. Well, my lady luck, the deal is signed, save for your mark, and we’re all waiting on that.’

In astonishment, she turned to find that it was so. The Council members were still seated in their places. The pen in its stand awaited her. As she glanced from it to the Council leader, Trader Polsk gestured at it impatiently. Alise glanced back at Leftrin.

‘Well, get it done,’ he urged her. ‘The day gets no longer!’

In a sort of daze, she crossed the room. She shouldn’t do this. She couldn’t do this. Had she ever before set her signature to a document that bound her? Only when she had set her hand to her marriage agreement with Hest. She recalled as a waking nightmare all the particulars of that agreement, and how she had willingly marked her name on every one. It was the only time her signature had bound her as a Trader. Time after time, she had recalled that afternoon. Now when she thought of how quickly Hest had moved through the ceremony, she saw it not as a bridegroom’s eagerness, but as yet another mark of how he would trivialize their bond. She had lived to regret binding herself that way. How could she even think of setting her hand to another document? Her eyes wandered over the words above her name. Someone had negotiated a wage for her, a daily payment for each day she was on the vessel. How peculiar to think that she would earn money, money of her own, doing this. If she did it. And then she knew that she would.

Because she wanted to. Because despite being Hest’s wife, she was still of Trader stock, and still capable of making her own decisions. It was her hand, her familiar freckled hand that lifted the pen and dipped it. She watched, oddly distant, as she formed the characters of her name in her strong sloping penmanship. ‘There. It’s done,’ she said, and heard how small her voice sounded now in that large room.

‘Done,’ agreed Trader Polsk, and dumped a generous measure of sand on the paper. She watched as the sand was shaken off, leaving her signature strong and black on the page. What had she just done?

Captain Leftrin was at her shoulder. His hearty laugh boomed out and he took her arm and turned her, leading her away. ‘And that’s a fine morning’s bargaining for both of us. I’ll admit that having your company on this expedition suits me very well indeed. The Council insists that it can have the Tarman loaded and ready to sail by late afternoon. Between you and me, that won’t be much of a trick. I knew I’d get the contract, and I’ve already made arrangements for the supplies that I want. Now. We’ve not far to go for the first stop on our journey. The dragon grounds are an hour past the city docks. But for now, there’s a bit of time for us to spend as we wish. I’ve arranged for a runner to take the news to Hennesey. He’s a good mate and I’ve no worries about him seeing the cargo loaded. So. Shall we take a bit of a tour of Cassarick before we go? You didn’t have much of a chance to see Trehaug from what you’ve told me.’

She should have said ‘no’. She should have insisted on immediately returning to the boat. But somehow, after the morning’s adventure, she couldn’t bear to return to being not only rigorously correct but timorously so. Nor could she imagine meeting Sedric’s eyes and admitting what she had done. Sedric. Oh, Sa have mercy! No. She couldn’t confront that thought yet. She boldly set her hand on Leftrin’s arm and said, ‘I think I’d enjoy seeing Cassarick.’

And so he had shown her the ‘city’, though Cassarick scarcely merited the word. It was a lively town, still young and raw and growing. She was sure now that Captain Leftrin had deliberately chosen to give her the most adventurous tour possible. It began with a dizzying ride up in a basket lift. They entered it and shut the flimsy door securely. Then Leftrin tugged on a line and far overhead, she heard the tinkle of a small bell. ‘Now wait for them to ballast it,’ he told her, and she stood, heart thumping with excitement. After a wait, the compartment gave a lurch and then rose slowly and steadily into the air. The device they rode up in was built of light yet sturdy materials and was so small that they had to stand with their bodies nearly touching. Alise stood looking out over the rim of the basket but could not help but be aware of Leftrin’s stout body just behind hers. Midway in their journey, they met the lift tender coming down in the opposing basket. He stood amid a stack of ballast stone, and by a means she couldn’t see, he halted both baskets in mid journey for Leftrin to pay the lift fee. Once the man was satisfied, he continued down while their basket continued to rise. The view was astonishing. They travelled past thick branches with footpaths on top of them, past rows of houses dangling like ornaments from tree limbs, past rickety bridges and little basket trolleys whizzing past them on lines that reminded her of the washing line at home. When they finally arrived at their destination and the lift tender’s assistant halted their flight, they were so high in the trees that stray beams of bright yellow sunlight filtered down through the thick foliage. The attendant opened the lift door and Alise stepped out onto a narrow balcony affixed to a heavy tree limb. She looked over the edge, gasped, and then nearly shrieked when Leftrin took a sudden and firm grip on her arm. ‘That’s a good way to get dizzy, your first time up a trunk,’ he warned her. He guided her along a narrow footpath that ran along the thick branch, back toward the trunk of the tree.

She tried to be casual as she set both her hands to the coarse bark of the trunk. She wanted to hug the tree, but it would have been like trying to hug a wall. The flora and the foliage here in the Rain Wilds were on so immense a scale that they seemed more like geographical features than botanical ones. To Leftrin’s credit, he hadn’t said a word while she caught her breath and found her dignity. When she turned back to face him, he smiled in a way that was friendly, not teasing, and said, ‘I believe there’s a very nice little tea and cake shop this way.’

He led her around the trunk on the sturdy boardwalk. More of the town was awake now, and though the walkways were not nearly as crowded as the streets of Bingtown on a market day, there was still a substantial population in evidence. Watching them go so matter-of-factly about their lives slowly changed her perception of them. Their scaled faces and outlandish clothing had almost begun to seem mundane by the time they reached the tea shop and ordered a small meal. They had talked and laughed and eaten and for a time, Alise forgot who and where she was.

Captain Leftrin was a rough man, almost coarse. Handsome he was not, nor particularly groomed, nor even educated. He didn’t care that he spilled his tea in his saucer, and when he laughed, he threw back his head and roared, and every customer in the shop turned to stare at him. It embarrassed Alise. Yet in his company, she felt more like a woman than she had in years, perhaps in her whole life. And that was the thought that made her realize that she had been behaving as if she were not only single, but not accountable to anyone else but herself. The shock of that thought made her catch her breath, and in the next instant she recalled that this sort of misadventure was exactly why Hest had sent Sedric to chaperone her and protect her good name. His good name, she belatedly thought. This was what Sedric had been trying to warn her about. She hastily finished her tea and then sat almost fidgeting as Leftrin slowly enjoyed his.

‘Shall we look about a bit more?’ he offered her as they left the shop, his grin confident of her agreement.

‘I’m afraid I should get back to Sedric and explain to him the change in plans. I don’t think he’s going to be happy with it,’ she said, and suddenly the understatement of that rattled inside her. Sedric had been miserable spending only a few days on the Tarman. How would he react to the news that she’d volunteered herself to be part of the expedition, a trip that would certainly take days and possibly weeks? Would he forbid it?

That thought made her cold with dread, and then a worse one came. Could he forbid it to her? Did she have to accept his judgment if he said she must give up her wild plan? What would happen if he did? She’d signed her name to an agreement. No Trader would even consider backing out on such a thing. But what if he disputed her right to do so? Just how much authority did she have to yield to him? After all, he was her chaperone, accompanying her to preserve appearances. He was not her guardian or her father. And Hest had said, quite clearly, that he was hers to command. So, if need be, she could force the issue. Wasn’t that why Hest paid him? To do what he was told to do? He was Hest’s servant.

And her friend.

Her conscience squirmed uncomfortably. She’d begun to think of him more and more that way lately. Her friend. And she’d enjoyed the attentions and deference he’d been showing her. Today, when she’d left so early without even telling him she was going, she’d dismissed the need to do so. Because as her friend, he’d understand. But as her husband’s employee, as her appointed chaperone, would he? Had she put him in a difficult position without thinking about it? She spoke quickly, before she could give in to the temptation to wander through Cassarick with the river captain as her guide. ‘I’m afraid I must go back right away. I have to tell Sedric what I’ve—’ She faltered suddenly, at a loss for words. What she had decided to do? Could she use such a word and not be humiliated in a few hours when Sedric overturned it? For she was suddenly certain that he would.

‘I suppose you’re right,’ Leftrin agreed reluctantly. ‘You’ll be needing to make a list of the supplies you want. I’ve got good sources here. I’ll pick them up for you, and we’ll settle up when we return to Trehaug.’

‘Of course,’ Alise agreed more faintly. Of course there would be more expenses to extending her trip. Why hadn’t she thought of that? And who would have to pay for those expenses? Hest. Oh, he’d be so pleased about that! She was suddenly feeling a lot less competent and independent than she had a few hours ago. It would, she thought, be almost a relief when Sedric forbade it. And now she looked at the sky, or attempted to, only to be thwarted by the solid umbrella of vegetation. Just how much time had passed? How many hours had she lost of the time that she could spend with the dragons? The Council had seemed eager to move them as swiftly as they could. Would she even have a full day of research to show for this impulsive journey to the Rain Wilds? She thought of how Hest would rebuke and mock her for her waste of time and money, and her cheeks burned. No more must be wasted.

So she had gritted her teeth and scuttled back across the swaying bridges with Leftrin. She’d never felt anything like the sensation of her belly floating up behind her teeth as they dropped far too swiftly for her comfort in the flimsy basket. Leftrin had a tendency to stroll, and to chat with every passing acquaintance. She stood impatiently at his side through what seemed like dozens of encounters on their way back to the docks.

To every acquaintance, he introduced her as ‘the Bingtown dragon expert that will be heading upriver with the dragons to get them settled’. The title that at one time would have filled her with elation now agitated her. Her discomfiture was complete when she finally arrived back at the Tarman to discover that Sedric was not there.

Hennesey was already occupied with loading a stream of crates and barrels of supplies. He seemed surprised to see her. ‘Well, we all thought you was just taking some extra sleep. That Sedric fellow said to tell you that he’d gone off to find “suitable lodgings” for the two of you.’ The way he parodied Sedric’s diction made her fully aware of just how the crew viewed Sedric’s aristocratic manners and fastidiousness.

For a time, she stayed on the deck, watching with awe just how much the crew could fit into the Tarman’s holds. She went back down to the captain’s stateroom and tried to imagine living in it for over a week or possibly as long as a month. It had seemed quaint and nautical, but when she considered it for a longer period, she began to feel claustrophobic. She made an excuse to put her head into the crew’s living quarters, and then hastily withdrew. No. She could not imagine Sedric existing there any longer than he already had. She was certain now that he would veto her participation in the expedition. She went back on deck and looked anxiously upriver. Several times Leftrin tried to engage her in conversation about what her own needs might be, and once when she asked in some agitation when she would get to see the dragons, he explained that the dragon beach was less than an hour away by river, but quite a bit more than that if she wished to travel there by re-entering the city and using the footbridges and lifts to reach it. She gratefully declined to do that and attempted to find both her patience and her aplomb.

She had caught sight of Sedric before he saw her. He strode down the dock, his normally pleasant face set in grim disapproval. When he looked up from the dock and saw her seated on top of the deckhouse, she saw him take a deep breath and hold it. Then he clambered aboard and came immediately to her. He didn’t greet her at all but demanded, ‘What are these ridiculous rumours I’m hearing? I tried to rent some rooms for us, but the landlady asked whatever I would need them for, when she had heard that the Bingtown lady who came to study dragons would be heading upriver on the Tarman before the day was out.’

She was shocked to find she was trembling. For all his sly mockery of her, Hest had never raised his voice to her. And in all her years of knowing Sedric, she had never heard him speak so severely, with anger so plainly bubbling under his words. She clenched her hands together in her lap and tried to force steadiness into her voice. ‘I’m afraid that, yes, I did volunteer to go. You see, when I accompanied Captain Leftrin to a meeting with the Cassarick Traders’ Council, I discovered that they intended to remove all the dragons from here, transferring them upriver. No one quite knows exactly where they are to be resettled, but the Council is quite determined that they must be moved immediately. Malta the Elderling was there, and was very dejected that she herself could not accompany the dragons, but when I said that I could, she was—’

‘Impossible.’ He cut off her flow of words. His face had gone quite red. ‘I can’t believe what I’m hearing! I can’t believe what you’ve done! You left the boat without my knowledge and went off with that man, and now you’ve involved yourself in Rain Wilds politics, making offers that we can’t possibly fulfil! You can’t go off on some hare-brained expedition to an unnamed destination, with no fixed date to return. Alise, what are you thinking? This isn’t some sort of pretend game. They are talking of going upriver beyond any settlements, perhaps beyond explored areas. They may encounter all sorts of dangers, not to mention the discomfort and primitive conditions of such travel. You are scarcely fit to endure such things. You cannot even imagine what you are suggesting. Or perhaps you can, but that “imagining” is all that you are doing. You have no concept of the reality. And there is the time factor to consider. Summer does not last forever, and we did not pack the clothing or make any arrangements for an extended stay in the Rain Wilds. You may not have real commitments to return to, but I do! This is ridiculous! And backing out of it will be endlessly embarrassing! Hest has trading partners here in the Rain Wilds. How is it going to look, that his wife agreed to do a thing that she could not possibly do and then backed out of it? What were you thinking?’

Between the time when he began his speech to the moment he finished it, a strange thing happened. The trembling inside Alise stilled, and then hardened. In Sedric’s outraged gaze she suddenly saw herself reflected as he saw her. Foolish and sheltered. Living out an imaginary adventure before fleeing home to her lifetime of no ‘real commitments’. Ignorant of the real world in which he and Hest moved so competently.

And perhaps she was, but through no fault of her own. She had never been allowed to gather the experiences she needed to be competent and independent. Never been allowed. That was the thought that burned in her like molten iron and suddenly hardened into cold resolve. She was not going to be ‘allowed’ to do anything. Never again would she submit to being ‘allowed’ or ‘not allowed’. She would follow her resolve if it killed her. For being killed by it would certainly be better than going home and dying of not being allowed to follow her dream.

So when he had asked her, so rhetorically, what she had been thinking, she replied literally. ‘I was thinking that I would finally study the dragons, as Hest promised me I could. It was one of the conditions for me marrying him, you know. That I would be allowed to come here and study them. If he had kept his word, I would have been here years ago, and all of this would have been much simpler. But as he chose, over and over again, to ignore the terms of our bargain, here we are. And the only way that his promise to me will be fulfilled is if I follow the dragons upriver and study them as we go.’ She ran out of breath and had to pause.

He was staring at her, his mouth open. She saw him take breath to speak and beat him to it. ‘So. I have signed an agreement with the Traders’ Council. We will be going upriver with the Tarman to see the dragons resettled. And we’ll be leaving by this afternoon, so Captain Leftrin will need a list from you of what supplies must be picked up for us. I’ll see to balancing accounts with him when we return to Trehaug. I’ll be earning a wage aboard the vessel, of course, so I’ll have money to settle with the captain. And of course I’ll be speaking to him about changing the sleeping arrangements so that we can both be more comfortable during the journey.’

She tossed the last comment toward him as a peace offering, hoping he would focus on it and simply accept the rest. It didn’t work.

‘Alise, this is crazy! We aren’t prepared—’

‘Nor will we be, if you don’t go to work promptly and make that list! That is, isn’t it, the sort of duty that you perform for Hest? And isn’t that what he instructed you to do for me, on this journey? So do it.’

And then she had stood up abruptly and walked away from him. Just like that. She had been shocked when he had actually done what she told him to do, and uneasy ever since. She’d avoided him successfully, not an easy feat on a ship. Leftrin had been surprisingly reasonable about changing quarters for them.

‘I’ve already put my mind to that, and the materials are on their way. I don’t mind giving up my bunk for a night or two, but much longer than that simply won’t work. But you’ll see. We can set up some temporary shelters on the deck. I’ve done it before for cattle, and it won’t be much different for passengers. The Tarman was built to be versatile. Oh, don’t look at me like that! You’ll see, I’ll make it comfortable enough for even Dapperlad there.’ And with an outrageous grin, he’d tossed his head toward the sulking Sedric.

Leftrin had been as good as his word. She had not noticed the fittings set into the deck that allowed for walls to be raised. The chambers created were neither large nor elegant, being not much roomier than a large box stall, but they were private, and when hammocks were slung in them and her own luggage set in place, she found she could arrange her boxes to make a cosy little den for herself. She had a place to sit and write, and a lantern for her own use, though Leftrin warned her sternly to be eternally cautious with it. ‘Spilled oil and flame aboard a ship is never a trivial thing,’ he warned her. Her quarters shared a wall with Sedric’s, and once the walls had been raised, he entered his room and shut the door immediately.

And there he had stayed until the ship had departed the wharf at Cassarick only to put in at the muddy banks of the dragon beach less than an hour later. Sedric looked much better now than he had earlier. Access to his wardrobe for fresh clothes, privacy, a nap and a solitary meal seemed to have restored his energy if not his charm. He had not said anything directly to Alise about her high-handed ways, but the edge to his tongue let her know that he had not forgiven her. She shook her head to herself and turned away from him. She’d deal with Sedric later. Right now, she wasn’t going to let anything ruin her first glimpse of the young dragons.

‘They’re huge!’ Sedric sounded daunted. ‘You don’t intend to go down there and walk among them!’

‘Of course I do. Eventually.’ She didn’t want to admit that she felt much safer looking at them from the Tarman’s deck.

Down the beach, the golden dragon suddenly lifted his head. The small figure beside him stirred. The dragon looked toward them, flaring his nostrils and audibly blowing. He rolled to his feet and began to lumber toward them.

‘Now what does he want?’ Leftrin muttered uneasily. He watched the dragon approach the barge. The animal turned his head on his long neck, regarding Tarman curiously with shining black eyes. He came several steps closer, and then stretched out his head to snuff at the barge. Sedric stepped back from the railing. ‘Alise,’ he warned her, but the captain had not moved. She chose to stay where she was. A moment later, the dragon gently butted his head against the vessel’s planked side. Tarman did not budge, but in an instant, both Swarge and Hennesey were at Leftrin’s side. Big Eider hulked up behind them, staring balefully at the dragon. Grigsby, the ship’s orange cat, joined them. He leaped to the railing and glared at the dragon, lashing his striped tail and muttering cat curses in his throat. ‘There’s no harm done,’ Leftrin warned them softly. He set a restraining hand on the angry cat’s back.

‘Not yet,’ Hennesey replied sourly.

‘Is there danger?’ Alise asked.

‘I don’t know,’ Leftrin said. Then, as the dragon’s girl-keeper caught up with the creature, he added quietly, ‘I don’t think so.’

Moments later, the immense creature was following the girl placidly down the beach, back to their sunning spot. Alise let her pent breath out in a sigh. ‘Look how the sun reflects off him. His markings are so delicate. Such amazing creatures. Even flawed, they’re incredibly beautiful. Of course, the queen at the end of the beach is the most glorious, but this is to be expected. The females of this species were always the most flamboyantly coloured. My studies suggest that they could be assertive, even arrogant perhaps, but given the level of their intelligence, such “arrogance” was perhaps the natural attitude that such a superior mind might take. Look at her. The sun soaks right into her and shines back out of her.’

The blue dragon and her tender were a good distance away, at least a hundred feet. Alise was sure her voice had not carried that far, and yet the blue female suddenly lifted her head from where she had been stretched out on the hard mud and regarded Alise with whirling copper eyes for a long moment. Then she said, quite clearly, ‘Were you speaking of me, Bingtown woman?’