Читать книгу Dragon Haven - Робин Хобб - Страница 10

Hest stood over Sedric, looking down on him, a sneer distorting his handsome face. He shook his head in disappointment. ‘You fail because you don’t try hard enough. When it comes right down to it, you always back down from the challenge.’ In the gloom of the small cabin, Hest seemed larger than life. He was bare-chested, and his broad shoulders and the musculature of his well-kept body framed the black triangle of thick curly hair on his chest. His belly was flat and hard over the waistband of his trim trousers. Sedric looked at him with longing. Hest knew it. He laughed, short, low and ugly, and shook his head. ‘You’re lazy and soft. You’ve never been able to keep up with me. I really don’t know why I took up with you in the first place. Probably out of pity. There you stood, all mawkish and shy, bottom lip trembling at the thought of what you’d never have. What you didn’t even dare ask for! So, I was tempted to give you a taste of it.’ He laughed harshly. ‘What a waste of my time you were. There’s no challenge left in you, Sedric. Nothing left to teach you and there’s never been anything for me to learn from you. You always knew this day would come, didn’t you? And here it is. I’m tired of you. Bored with you and your whimpering. Tired of paying you wages you scarcely earn, tired of you living off me like a leech. You despise Redding, don’t you? But tell me, how are you better than he is? At least he has his own fortune. At least he can pay his own way.’

Sedric moved his mouth, trying to make words come. Trying to tell him that he’d done something significant, that the dragon blood and scales would make a fortune for him, one he’d be happy to share with Hest. Don’t give up on me, he tried to say. Don’t end it now and take up with someone else when I’m not even there to try to change your mind. His lips moved, his throat strained, but not a sound emerged. Only drops of dragon blood dripped from his lips.

And it was too late. Redding was there, Redding with his plump little whore’s mouth and his stubby-fingered hands and greasy gold ringlets. Redding was there, standing beside Hest, running the back of one finger lightly up and down Hest’s bared arm. Hest turned to him, smiling. His eyelids drooped suddenly in a way that Sedric knew well, and then like a stooping hawk he swooped in to kiss Redding. He could no longer see Hest’s face but he saw Redding’s hands starfish on Hest’s muscular back, pulling him closer.

Sedric tried to shout, strained until his throat hurt, but no sound came out.

They hurt you? Shall I kill them?

‘No!’ The sound suddenly burst from him in a shout. He jerked awake to find himself sprawled on his sweaty bedding in his small, smelly cabin. Around him, all was murkiness. No Hest, no Redding. Only himself. And a small copper dragon who pushed insistently at the walls of his thoughts. Dimly he felt her inquiry, her dull-witted concern for him. He pushed the contact away, shut his eyes tightly and buried his face in the bundle that served him as a pillow. Just a bad dream, he told himself. Only a nightmare.

But it was one that was all too possibly real.

When he was morose, he thought that perhaps Hest had wanted to be rid of him for some time. Perhaps his defending of Alise had given Hest the excuse he was looking for to send Sedric away.

He could, by an effort of will, recall how it had been when they first began. Hest’s calmness and strength had drawn him. In moments alone, in Hest’s strong embrace, he felt like he had finally found safe harbour. Knowing that shelter existed for him had made him stronger and bolder. Even his father had seen the change in him, and told him that he took pride in the man his son was becoming.

If he’d only known!

When had Hest’s strength stopped being a shelter and become a prison wall? When had it become, not the comfort of protection, but the threat of that strength turned against him? How could he have continued unaware of how things had changed, of how Hest was changing him? He hadn’t, he admitted now. He’d known. But he’d stumbled on blindly, excusing Hest’s cruelty and slights, blaming the discord on himself, pretending that somehow, things would go back to the way they had once been.

Had it ever really been that good? Or was it all a dream he had manufactured for himself?

He rolled over, pushing his face into the pillow and closing his eyes. He would not think about Hest or how things had once been between them. He would not dwell on what their relationship had become. Right now, he did not even have the heart to try to imagine something better for them. There had to be a better dream somewhere. He wished he could imagine what it was.

‘Are you awake?’

He hadn’t been but now he was. A slice of light was falling into Sedric’s room from the open door. The silhouette standing in it had to be Alise. Of course. He sighed.

As if that were an invitation, she ventured into the room. She didn’t close the door behind her. The rectangle of light fell mostly on the floor, illuminating dropped clothing. ‘It’s so dark in here,’ she said apologetically. ‘And close.’

She meant smelly. He’d scarcely stirred out of the room for three days, and when he did, he spoke to no one and returned to his bed as soon as he could. Davvie, the hunter’s boy, had been bringing him meals and then taking them away again. At first, he’d been in too much pain to be hungry. And now he was too despondent to eat.

‘Davvie said he thought you were feeling better.’

‘I’m not.’ Couldn’t she just go away? He didn’t want to talk to her, didn’t want to confide his problems to anyone. Davvie was bad enough, with his pestering, prying questions and his voluntary biography of his own unremarkable life. At thirteen years old, how could the boy imagine he had done anything that could possibly interest anyone other than himself? All of the boy’s meandering stories seemed to be leading up to some point that Sedric couldn’t grasp and the boy couldn’t seem to make. He suspected that Carson was using the boy to spy on him. He’d woken twice to find the hunter sitting quietly beside his bed. And once, he’d struggled out of a nightmare and opened his eyes to that other hunter, Jess, crouched on the floor nearby. Why all three of them were so fascinated with him, he didn’t know. Not unless they had guessed his secret.

At least he could order the boy out of his room and he obeyed. He doubted that tactic would work on Alise, but abruptly decided to try it. ‘Just go away, Alise. When I feel well enough to deal with people, I’ll come out.’

Instead, Alise came into the room and sat down on his shoe trunk. ‘I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be alone so much, especially when we still don’t know what made you so ill.’ Her fingers tangled in her lap like writhing serpents. He looked away from them.

‘Carson said it was something I ate. Or drank.’

‘That makes sense, except that we’ve all had the same food and drink that you’ve had, and no one else was affected.’

There was one drink she hadn’t shared. He pushed the thought aside. Don’t think about anything that could incriminate you, or bring those alien thoughts back into your mind.

He hadn’t answered her. She was looking down at her hands. She spoke as if the words were teeth she were spitting out. ‘I’m sorry I dragged you along on this, Sedric. I’m sorry I ran off to help the dragons that day and wouldn’t listen to what you had to say. You’re a friend; you’ve been my friend for a very long time. Now you’re ill and we’re so far from any real healers.’ She halted for a moment and he could tell she was trying to hold back tears. Strange, how little he cared about that. Perhaps if she knew the real danger he faced and was moved by it, he would feel more sympathy for how she struggled with her guilt.

‘I’ve talked to Leftrin and he says it’s not too late. He said that even though we’ve travelled farther up river, he thinks Carson could still take one of the smaller boats and get us safely back to Cassarick before autumn closes in. It wouldn’t be easy, and we’d be camping out along the way. But I’ve persuaded him.’ She paused, choking on emotion, and then went on in a voice so tight that her words almost squeaked. ‘If you want me to take you back, I’ll do it. We’ll leave today if you say so.’

If he said so.

It was too late now. Too late even on that morning when he’d demanded she go back with him, though he hadn’t known it then. ‘Too late.’ He hadn’t realized he’d whispered the words until he saw her reaction.

‘Sa’s mercy, Sedric. Are you that ill?’

‘No.’ He spoke quickly to stop her words. He truly had no idea how ill he was, or if ‘ill’ was a way to describe it. ‘No, nothing like that, Alise. I only mean it’s too late for us to attempt to make our way back to Cassarick in one of the small boats. Davvie has warned me, numerous times, that the autumn rains will soon be falling, and that when they start to come down, our journey upstream is going to be more difficult. Perhaps then Captain Leftrin will recognize how foolish our mission is and turn back with the barge. In any case, I don’t wish to be in a small boat on a torrential river with rain pouring down all around us. Not my idea of camping weather.’

He’d almost managed to find his normal tone and voice. Maybe if he seemed normal, she’d go away. ‘I’m very tired, if you don’t mind,’ he said abruptly.

Alise stood up, looking remarkably unattractive in trousers that only emphasized the female swell of her hips. The shirt she wore was beginning to show signs of hard use. He could tell she had washed it, but the water she had used had left it grey rather than snowy white. The sun was taking a toll on her, bleaching her red hair to a carroty orange that frayed out around her pins, and making her freckles darker. She’d never been a beauty by Bingtown standards. Much more of the sun and water, and he wondered if Hest would take her back at all. It was one thing to have a mousy wife, and another to have one who was simply a fright. He wondered if she ever thought of the possibility that when she returned, Hest might not take her back. Probably not. She had been raised to believe that life was meant to be a certain way, and even when all evidence was to the contrary, she couldn’t see it differently. She’d never suspected that he and Hest were more than excellent friends. To Alise, he was still her childhood friend, erstwhile secretary to her husband and temporarily serving as her assistant. She so firmly believed that the world was determined by her rules that she could not see what was right in front of her.

And so she smiled gently at him. ‘Get some rest, dear friend,’ she said, closing the door quietly behind her, shutting him into his oversized packing crate and leaving him in the dark with his thoughts.

He rolled to face the wall. The back of his neck itched. He scratched it furiously, feeling dry skin under his nails. She wasn’t the only one whose appearance was being ruined. His skin was dry, his hair as coarse as a horse’s tail now.

He wished he could blame everything on Alise. He couldn’t. Once Hest had banned him, dooming him to be her companion, Sedric had done all he could to seize any opportunity the trip might present. He was the one who had schemed to take advantage of every opportunity to take a scrap of dragon flesh, a scale, a drop of blood. He’d planned so carefully how he would preserve his collection; Begasti Cored would be waiting to hear from him, anticipating that his own fortune would be founded on being the man to facilitate supplying such forbidden merchandise to the Duke of Chalced.

In some of his daydreams, he returned to Bingtown to show Hest his loot, and Hest helped him to get the best prices for his wares. In those dreams, they sold the goods and never returned to Bingtown, establishing themselves as wealthy men in Chalced, or Jamaillia, or the Pirate Islands, perhaps even beyond, in the near-mythical Spice Islands. In others, he kept his newly-gained wealth a secret until he had established a luxurious hideaway in a distant place. In those dreams, he and Hest took ship by night in secret and sailed off to a new life together, free of lies and deceptions.

And, of late, he’d had other daydreams. They had been bitter but sharp-edged with sweetness, too. He’d imagined returning to Bingtown to discover that Hest had replaced him with that damn Redding. In those dreams he took his wealth and established himself in Chalced, only to reveal to Hest later all that he might have had, if only he’d valued Sedric more, if only he’d been true of heart.

Now all of those dreams seemed silly and shallow, the stuff of adolescent fancy. He pulled the itchy wool blanket up over his shoulders and closed his eyes more tightly. ‘I may never go back to Bingtown,’ he said aloud. He tried to force himself to confront that. ‘Even if I do, I may never be completely sane again.’

For a moment, he let go his grip on himself as Sedric. Instantly, she was hip-deep in chill river water, wading against the cold current. On her belly, he felt the tar plugs that Leftrin had smeared over her injuries. He felt her dim groping towards him, a plea for companionship and comfort. He didn’t want to give it. But he had never been a hard-hearted man. When she invaded his mind, pleading, he had to reach back. ‘You are stronger than you know,’ he told her. ‘Keep moving. Follow the other ones, my copper beauty. Soon there will be better days for you, but for now you must be strong.’

A flow of warm gratitude engulfed him. It would have been so easy to drown in it. Instead, he let it ebb past him and encouraged her to focus what little mind she had on keeping up the gruelling pace. In the small corner of his mind that still belonged solely to himself, he wondered, was there any way to be free of this unwanted sharing? If the copper dragon died, would he feel her pain? Or only the sweet release of freedom?

Alise went back to the galley table. She sat down opposite Leftrin and his perpetual mug of black coffee. All around them, the work of moving the barge went on, like the busy comings and goings of an insect hive. The tillerman was at his tiller, the pole crew moved up and down the decks in their steady rhythm. From the deckhouse window, she watched the endless circuit of Hennesey and Bellin on the starboard side of the barge. Grigsby, the ship’s yellow cat, perched on the railing and watched the water. Carson had risen before dawn and set off up the river to do his day’s hunting for the dragons. Davvie had stayed aboard. The boy had developed a peculiar fixation on Sedric and his wellbeing. He could not tolerate anyone else preparing the sick man’s meals or waiting on him. She found it both endearing and annoying that a lad from such a rough background would be so fascinated by an elegant young Trader. Leftrin had twice muttered against it, but she could not grasp the nature of his complaint, and so had ignored it.

Usually by this hour, she and Leftrin would be left in relative peace and isolation. Today, the hunter Jess had lingered, a near-silent yet very annoying presence on the barge. No matter where she went, he was nearby. Yesterday, twice she had looked up to find him staring at her. He’d met her gaze and nodded meaningfully, as if there were something they agreed upon. For the life of her, she couldn’t work out what he was about. She’d have discussed it with Leftrin, except that Jess always seemed to be lurking just within earshot.

The hunter made her uncomfortable. She’d become accustomed to how the Rain Wilds had marked Leftrin. She accepted it as a part of him now and scarcely noticed it except for the moments when a flash of sunlight would strike a gleam from the scaling in his brows. Then it seemed exotic, not repulsive. But Jess was marked in less flattering ways. He reminded her, not of a dragon nor even a lizard, but of a snake. His nose was flattening into his face, his nostrils becoming slit-like in the process. His eyes seemed set too far apart, as if they were seeking to be on the sides of his head instead of the front. She’d always taken pride that she didn’t judge folk by their appearances. But she could not look at Jess and feel comfortable, let alone have a real conversation with him.

So in the man’s presence, she kept her discussion to generalities and expected topics. She said brightly, ‘Well, Sedric seems a bit better today. I did ask him if he’d like to return to Cassarick in one of the small boats, but he said he didn’t. I think he feels the trip would be too dangerous, with the autumn rains coming on.’

Leftrin lifted his eyes to hers. ‘So you’ll both be continuing with the expedition, no matter how long it takes?’ She heard a hundred questions in his voice and tried to answer them all.

‘I think we will. I know I want to see this through to the end.’

Jess laughed. He was leaning against the frame of the galley door, apparently looking out over the river. He didn’t turn to either of them and made no other comment. Her glance sought Leftrin’s again. He met her gaze, but gave no sign of a reaction to the man’s odd behaviour. Perhaps she was overreacting. She changed the subject.

‘You know, until I came for this visit, I never truly understood what the Rain Wilders faced in trying to build settlements here. I suppose I always imagined that in all this vast valley, somewhere they would have found some truly dry ground. But there isn’t, is there?’

‘Bog and slough and marsh,’ Leftrin confirmed for her. ‘No other place in the world like it, as far as I know. There are a few charts from the old days when settlers first came here. They tried to explore. Some show a big lake upriver of us, one that is said to spread as far as the eye can see. Others charted over a hundred tributaries that feed the Rain Wild River, some big, some small. They all wander back and forth in their beds. Some years two become one, and a year later, there are three streams where one river used to dump into the river. Two years after that, it’s just all marsh, no defined streams or river at all.

‘The forest ground sometimes looks solid, and sometimes folk have found a patch they think is dry and tried to settle on it. But the more traffic there is, the sooner the “dry ground” starts to give way. Pretty soon the ground water breaks through to the surface and from there, well, it goes marshy pretty fast.’

‘But you do think that somewhere upriver, there will be an area of truly dry land for the dragons to settle on?’

‘Your guess is as good as mine. But I think there must be. Water flows downhill, and all this water comes from somewhere. Trouble is, can we navigate that far, or does it all turn into marsh before we get there? I think we’re about as far upriver as anyone has ever come by ship. Tarman can go where others can’t. But if we hit a place that’s too shallow for Tarman, well, that’s where our journey will end.’

‘Well, I hope we at least find a better beach to camp on tonight. Thymara has said that she is worried about the dragons’ feet and claws. The constant immersion is bad for them. She said that one of Sintara’s claws cracked and she had to trim and bind it for her. She said she treated it with tar. Perhaps we should do all the dragons’ claws, to prevent damage.’

Leftrin scowled at the idea. ‘I don’t have that much tar to spare. I think we’ll just have to hope for a drier camping spot tonight.’

‘We should trim their claws,’ Jess abruptly announced, pushing his way into both the room and the conversation. He shoved the end bench out from the table and sat down heavily on it. ‘Think about it, Cap. We dull the dragons’ claws down for them. Cut them a bit, tar them up. Do everybody a world of good, you take my drift.’ He looked from Leftrin to Alise and back again, grinning at both of them. He had small teeth, set wide in a generous mouth. It looked like a baby’s innocent smile set in a man’s face; it was disconcerting, even unsettling to her. So was Leftrin’s reaction to it.

‘No.’ He spoke the word flatly. ‘No, Jess. And that’s my last word. Don’t push it. Not here, not now. Not with the keepers, either.’ He narrowed his eyes meaningfully.

Jess leaned back, bracing his back against the wall and swinging his boots up onto the bench in front of him. ‘Superstitious?’ he asked Leftrin with a knowing grin. ‘I’d have pegged you for a man of the world, Cap. Not someone trapped in all those old Rain Wild notions. It’s awfully provincial of you. Those keepers, some of them recognize that sometimes we need to make new rules to make the best of a situation.’

Leftrin slowly stood, leaned both his fists on the table, knuckles down and shoulders tensed as he put his face close to the hunter’s. He spoke in a low voice. ‘You’re an ass, Jess. An ass and a fool. You don’t even know what you’re suggesting. Why don’t you go do what you were paid to do?’

The way Leftrin’s body blocked Jess’ access to her suggested he was protecting her. She wasn’t sure from what but felt profoundly grateful he was there. Alise had never seen the captain so clearly enraged and yet so controlled. It frightened her, and at the same time it spurred a powerful surge of attraction towards him. This, she suddenly knew, was the sort of man she wanted in her life.

Yet despite Leftrin’s intensity, Jess seemed unfazed. ‘Go do what I was “paid” to do? Isn’t that exactly what we’re talking about here, Captain? Getting paid. And sooner rather than later. Perhaps we should all sit down and have a chat about the best way to make that happen.’ He leaned around Leftrin to shoot Alise a knowing grin. She was appalled. What was he talking about?

‘There is nothing to discuss!’ Leftrin’s voice rattled the windows.

Jess’ gaze went back to Leftrin. His voice lowered suddenly, taking the note of a warning snarl. ‘I’m not going to be cheated out of this, Leftrin. If she wants a share, she’ll have to go through me. I’m not going to stand by and watch you take a new partner and cut me out for the sake of making a sweet little deal for yourself.’

‘Get out.’ From a roar, Leftrin’s voice had dropped to a near whisper. ‘Get out now, Jess. Go hunting.’

Perhaps he knew he’d pushed Leftrin to his limit. The captain hadn’t verbalized a threat but killing hung in the air. Every beat of her thundering heart seemed to shake Alise. She couldn’t draw a breath. She was terrified of what might happen next.

Jess swung his feet to the floor so that his boots landed on the deck with a thump. He stood, taking his time, like a cat that stretches before it turns its back on the slavering dog. ‘I’ll go,’ he offered lightly. ‘Until another time,’ he added, as he walked out the door. Around the corner but still within hearing, he added, ‘We all know there will be another time.’

Leftrin leaned across the table to reach the door’s edge. He slammed it so hard that every cup on the table jumped. ‘That bastard,’ he snarled. ‘That traitorous bastard.’

Alise found she was hugging herself and trembling. Her voice shook as she said, ‘I don’t understand. What was he talking about? What does he want to discuss with me?’

Leftrin was as angry as he’d ever been in his life, and by his fury, he knew that the damn hunter had woken fear in him as well. It wasn’t just that the man was misjudging Alise in such a base way. It was that his assumptions threatened to ruin Leftrin’s good image in her eyes.

The questions he didn’t dare answer hung in the air between them, razor-edged knives that would cut them both to pieces. He took the only safe course. He lied to her. ‘It’s all right, Alise. Everything will be fine.’

Then, before she could ask what was all right and what would be fine, he silenced her in the only way he could, drawing her to her feet and folding her into his arms. He held her firm against him, his head bent over hers. Everything about it was wrong; he could see her small fine hands against the rough, grimy weave of his shirt. Her hair smelled like perfume, and it was so fine and soft it tangled against his unshaven chin. He could feel how small she was, how delicate. Her blouse was soft under his hands, and the warmth of her skin seeped right through it. She was the opposite of him in every way, and he had no right to touch her, none at all. Even if she hadn’t been a married lady, even if she hadn’t been educated and refined, it still would have been wrong for two such different people to come together.

And yet she did not struggle or shriek for help. Her hands didn’t pound against his chest; instead they gripped the rough fabric of his shirt and pulled him tighter, fitting herself against him, and again, they were the opposite of one another in every way, and each way was wonderful. For a long moment he just held her in silence, and in that brief instant he forgot Jess’ treachery, and his vulnerability and the danger awaiting all of them. No matter how complicated the rest of it was, this was simple and perfect. He wished he could stay in this moment, not moving on, not even thinking of all the complications that threatened him.

‘Leftrin.’ She spoke his name against his chest.

In another time and another place, it would have been permission. In this time and place, it broke the spell. That simple moment, their brief embrace, was over. It was as much as he would ever taste of that other life. He tipped his head just slightly and let his mouth brush her hair. Then, with a heavy sigh, he set her back from him. ‘Sorry,’ he muttered, even though he was not. ‘Sorry, Alise. I don’t know what come over me. Guess I should not let Jess rile me up like that.’

She gripped his shirt still, two small tight handfuls of fabric. Her brow pressed against his chest. He knew she didn’t want him to step away from her. She didn’t want him to stop what had begun. It was like peeling a clingy kitten from himself to ease free of her grip, and all the harder because he didn’t want to do so. He had never imagined that he would be the one to gently push a woman away ‘for her own good’. But he’d never imagined that he would find himself in such a precarious position. Until he could deal with Jess in a way that solved his problem permanently, he couldn’t allow Alise to do anything that might make her more of a weapon to be used against him.

‘Feels like the current is getting tricky. I need a word with Swarge,’ he lied. It would take him out of the galley and away from her so she couldn’t ask the questions that Jess had stirred up. And it would give him a chance to make sure that Jess had actually left the barge and gone hunting.

As he set her gently away from him, she looked up at him with utter bewilderment. ‘Leftrin, I—’

‘I won’t be gone long,’ he promised, and turned away from her.

‘But—’ he heard her say, and then he closed the door gently on her words and hurried aft. Out of sight of the galley windows, he halted and walked to the railing. He didn’t need to talk to Swarge or anyone else. He didn’t want any of his crew to know what a situation he’d put them all in. Damn Jess and his sly threats, and damn that Chalcedean merchant and damn the wood carvers who couldn’t keep their mouths shut. And damn himself for getting them all into this mess. When he had first found the wizardwood, he had known it could bring him trouble. Why hadn’t he left it alone? Or spoken of it to the dragons and the Council and let them worry about it? He knew it was now forbidden for anyone to take it and make use of it. But he had. Because he loved his ship.

He felt a thrum of anxiety through Tarman’s railing. He gripped the wood soothingly and spoke aloud but softly to the liveship. ‘No. I regret nothing. It was no less than you deserved. I took what you needed and I don’t really care if anyone else can understand or excuse that. I just wish it hadn’t brought trouble down on us. That’s all. But I’ll find a way to solve it. You can count on that.’

As if to confirm both gratitude and loyalty, he felt the ship pick up speed. Back on the tiller, he heard Swarge chortle and mutter, ‘Well, what’s the hurry now?’ as the polemen picked up their pace to match the ship’s. Leftrin took his hands from the railing and leaned back against the deckhouse, hands in pockets, to give his crew room to work. He said nothing to any of them, and they knew better than to speak to the captain when he stood thus, deep in thought. He had a problem. He’d settle it without help from any of them. That was what captains did.

He dug his pipe out of one pocket and his tobacco out of the other, and then stuffed them both back as he realized he couldn’t go back into the galley to light it. He sighed. He was a trader in the tradition of the Rain Wild Traders. Profit was all-important. But so was loyalty. And humanity. The Chalcedeans had approached him with a scheme that could make him a wealthy man. As long as he was willing to betray the Rain Wilds and butcher a sentient creature as if it were an animal, he could have a fortune. They’d made their offer in the guise of a threat; such a typically Chalcedean way to invite a man to do business. First there had been the ‘grain merchant’, bullying his way aboard the Tarman at the mouth of the Rain Wild River. Sinad Arich had spoken as plainly as a Chalcedean could. The Duke of Chalced was holding his family hostage; the merchant would do whatever he had to do to obtain dragon parts for the ailing old man.

Leftrin had thought he’d seen the last of the man when he set him ashore in Trehaug, thought that the threat to himself and his ship was over. But it wasn’t. Once a Chalcedean had a hold on you, he never let go. Back in Cassarick, right before they left, someone had come on board and left a tiny scroll outside his door. The clandestine note told him to expect a collaborator on board his ship. If he complied with their agent, they’d pay him well. If he didn’t, they’d betray what he had done with the wizardwood. That would ruin him, as a man, as a ship owner, as a Trader. He was not sure if it would lower him in Alise’s esteem.

That final doubt was more powerful than the first two certainties. He’d never been tempted to take the bait, though he had wondered if he might surrender to the duress. Now he knew he would not. The moment he’d heard the scandalized whispers of the dragon keepers over what Greft had proposed, he’d known who his traitor was. Not Greft; the youngster might claim to be educated and radical in his thinking, but Leftrin had seen his ilk before. The boy’s political ideas and ‘new’ thoughts were skin-shallow. The keeper had only fallen in with an older man’s persuasive cant. And not Carson, he thought with relief. And there was that to be grateful for. It wasn’t an old friend he’d have to confront over this.

It was Jess. The hunter had come aboard at Cassarick, ostensibly hired by the Cassarick Rain Wild Council to help provide for the dragons on their journey. Either the Council had no knowledge of Jess’ other employer or the corruption ran deeper than he wanted to think about. He couldn’t worry about that now. The hunter was his focus. Jess was the one who had seemed to be befriending Greft, talking with him at the campfire each night, offering to teach him to be better with his hunter’s tools. Leftrin had seen him building up the young man’s opinion of himself, involving him in sophisticated philosophical conversations and persuading him that Greft understood what his fellow keepers were too rural and naïve to grasp. He was the one who had convinced the boy that leadership meant stepping forward to do the unthinkable for the ‘greater good’ of those too tender-hearted to see the necessity. Jess had been reinforcing Greft’s belief that he was the leader of the dragon keepers. Not so likely, my friend, he thought. He’d seen the faces of the other keepers when they had spoken of what Greft had proposed. One and all, they’d been shocked. Not even his no-necked sidekicks, Kase and Boxter, had followed him into that quicksand. They’d looked at one another, as bewildered as puppies. So he hadn’t talked it over with them previously.

Therefore, Leftrin knew the source of that toxic idea. Jess. Jess would have made it sound logical and pragmatic. Jess would have introduced the idea that a real leader would sometimes have to make hard decisions. True leaders sometimes had to do dangerous and distasteful, even immoral things for the sake of those who followed them.

Such as carving up a dragon and selling the bits to a foreign power to line your own pockets.

And the young man had been gullible enough to listen to the wise old hunter, and had put the idea out as his own. When it had fallen flat, only Greft had been touched with the ignominy of it. Jess was unscathed in his friendship with some of the other keepers, and much more aware now of how they felt about the idea of butchering dragons for profit. And that was a shame, for privately Leftrin thought that Greft had the potential to captain the group, once he’d had his share of hard knocks on the way up. He supposed that his misstep with the other keepers would be one of them. If the young man had grit, he’d learn from it and keep on going. If not, well, some sailors grew up to be captains and others never even rose to be mate.

Be that as it would be, Greft’s mishap had lifted the lantern high for Leftrin. He had suspected Jess before, but on that day, he’d known. When Leftrin had first confronted Jess privately and accused him of being the Chalcedean merchant’s man, Jess had not even flinched. He’d admitted it and promptly suggested that now that things were out in the open between them, their task would be much easier. Even now, Leftrin gritted his teeth to think of how the slimy bastard had smiled at him, suggesting that if he slowed the barge down and let the keepers and dragons and the other hunters range far ahead of him, it would be easy for them to pick off the last lagging dragon. ‘And once we’ve put the poor suffering creature down and butchered it up proper, we can turn right around and head back for the open water. No need to stop by Trehaug or Cassarick, or even to pass by them during daylight hours. We could just head for the coast with our cargo. Once we’re there, I’ve a special signal powder, puts up a bright red smoke from even a tiny fire. Your galley stove would do it. A ship comes right to meet us, and off we go to Chalced and money such as you and your crew can’t even imagine how to spend.’

‘Me and my crew aren’t the only ones aboard Tarman,’ Leftrin had pointed out coldly to him.

‘That hasn’t escaped my notice. But between the two of us, I think the woman fancies you. Take a forceful hand with her. Tell her you’re swooping her off to Chalced and the life of a princess. She’ll go. And the fancy lad that’s with her, all he wants to do is get back to civilization. I don’t think he’ll much care where you take him, as long as it isn’t the Rain Wilds. Or cut him in on the deal, if you want.’ He’d grinned wider and added, ‘Or just be rid of him. It makes small difference to me.’

‘I’d never abandon Tarman. My barge isn’t suited to a trip to Chalced.’

‘Isn’t it?’ The traitor had cocked his head and said, ‘It seems to me that your barge is better suited to many things than it would appear. If your share of the money from the dragon parts didn’t sate you, I’d wager you’d get near the same amount for the barge, “specially modified” as it is. In one piece. Or as parts.’

And there it was. The man met his outraged gaze squarely, never losing his nasty little smile. He knew. He knew what Tarman was, and he knew what Leftrin had found, and what he’d done with it. Leftrin, that smile said, was no better than he was. There was no difference between them. Leftrin had already trafficked in dragon parts for his own benefit.

And if Leftrin did anything to betray Jess for what he was, Jess would return the favour. He felt Tarman quest towards him. He stepped quickly to the railing and put his hands on the silvery wood. ‘It will be all right,’ he assured his ship. ‘Trust me. I’ll think of something. I always do.’

Then he took his hands off the railing and walked back to talk to Swarge, just in case Alise happened to come out on deck.

Swarge, taciturn as ever, was leaning on his tiller, his eyes fixed on the river, distant and dreaming. He wasn’t a young man any more, Leftrin suddenly realized. Well, he supposed he wasn’t a young fellow himself any more. He totted up the years they’d been together, and thought of all they’d been through, good days and bad. Swarge had never questioned Leftrin’s decision when his captain had revealed the trove of wizardwood and outlined his use for it. Swarge could have talked, but he hadn’t. Swarge could have held him up, demanded a chunk of the wood to keep his silence, gone off and sold it and been a wealthy man. But he hadn’t. He’d made only one request, a simple one he should have made long ago. ‘There’s a woman,’ he’d said slowly. ‘A good river woman, can do a good day’s work on a ship. If I stay aboard for this, I know I’m staying aboard forever. She’s the kind of woman that’s easy to live with. Could be part of the crew on this boat forever. You’d like her, Cap. I know you would.’

So Bellin had been part of Swarge’s deal, and no one had ever regretted it. She’d come aboard and hung up her duffle bag and sewed a curtain to give them a bit of privacy. Tarman had liked her, right from the start. Tarman was her home and his life. She and Swarge had lost their shoreside ties long ago, and Swarge was a man content with his life. Now he stood, his broad hands gripping the handle of the tiller, doing what he did all day long. Gripping the wood like that, Leftrin reckoned that Swarge knew Tarman almost as well as he did. Knew the boat and loved him.

‘How’s he going today?’ he asked the man, as if he didn’t know himself.

Swarge looked at him, a bit surprised by such a useless question. ‘He goes well, Captain,’ he said. As always, the man’s voice was so deep it took a trained ear to make out his words. ‘He goes with a will. Bottom’s good here. Not all sink-silt like yesterday. We’re on our way. No doubt about it. Making good time, too.’

‘Good to hear you say it, Swarge,’ Leftrin said, and let him go back to his dreaming and staring.

Tarman had made a hard transition that year. Leftrin had let most of his crew go, confiding his discovery of the wizardwood and his plans for it only to the people he felt could keep a secret and would stay. No poleman would ever work aboard Tarman and not know the difference in the barge. Every member of this crew was hand-picked now and likely to remain aboard for life. Hennesey was devoted to the ship, Bellin loved her life aboard, and Eider was as conversational as the anchor. As for Skelly, the ship was her fortune. The secret should have been safe.

But it wasn’t. And now they were all at risk, his ship included. What would the Council do if they knew what he had done? How would the dragons react? He clenched his teeth and fists. Too late to turn back.

He took a slow turn around the deck, checking things that didn’t need checking and finding all exactly as it should be. Jess and his canoe were gone. Good. He considered for a moment, then took out his rum flask and upended it over the side of the barge and into the water below. ‘That he may not come back,’ he offered El savagely. It was well known that that particular god wasn’t moved by prayer but sometimes succumbed to bribery. Ordinarily, he worshipped Sa, when he worshipped anything. But sometimes the harshness of a pagan god was a man’s last resort.

Well, not quite his last resort. He could always murder Jess himself …

He didn’t like to think about it, and not just because he was pretty certain the man would be hard to kill. He didn’t like to think of himself as a man who killed inconvenient people. But Jess had indicated that he was going to be much worse than inconvenient.

There were, he reflected, lots of ways to kill a man on the water, and many of them could be made to look accidental. He considered it coldly. Jess was tough and sagacious. Leftrin had been foolish to growl at him today. He should have pretended interest in his offer, should have chummed him in close. He should have invited him to make a midnight raid on the sleeping dragons. That would have been the prime opportunity to do him in. But the man had irritated him beyond any sort of strategic thinking. He hated how Jess snickered around Alise. The rat knew how Leftrin felt about her. Leftrin had a feeling that Jess would be happy to ruin all that simply because he could. And he’d seen Jess’ face when Alice had come back on board with the dragon scale and so delightedly exhibited it to all of them. He’d seen the fires of greed kindle in the man’s eyes and worried for her then. Leftrin walked a few more steps down the deck and then stooped to tidy a coil of line that was already tidy enough.

Two nights ago, Jess had come to Leftrin with his new scheme. He’d maddened Leftrin with his insistence that Sedric would be amenable to ‘their’ plans. He refused to say what he based that opinion on, but twice Leftrin had caught him lurking around the sick man’s room. He only smiled that sneery smile; it was plain that he thought Leftrin and Alise and Sedric were conspiring together about the dragons. He thought it was an alliance he could break into and use for himself. Sooner or later, he’d talk to Sedric. Sedric would easily believe that Leftrin was complicit with Jess’ plotting. He could just imagine the Bingtown man’s reaction to Jess’ suggestion that Leftrin could kidnap Alise and carry her off to Chalced, with the understanding that given enough money, Sedric would also be happy to go to Chalced. Or Alise’s reaction to the idea that Leftrin was just waiting for an opportunity to butcher up a dragon.

The man was a loose cannon. Leftrin had to do away with him. A cold certainty welled up in him; he could feel Tarman accede to the decision. Almost, it was a relief to reach it.

There would be consequences to killing Jess, he supposed, even if he made it look like an accident. The Chalcedean merchant Sinad Arich would wonder what had become of his hireling when Jess failed to contact him. Well, let him wonder! The Rain Wild River was a dangerous place. Men just as competent as Jess and a lot nicer had died there. He felt the decision settle in him and sink down to his bones. Jess was going to die.

But he’d have to set him up for it. And that would mean trying to convince him that he’d had a change of heart. He wondered if he could make him believe that he’d lost interest in Alise as well. If Jess didn’t see her as a weapon he could use against Leftrin, he might stop haunting her. After that, it would be a matter of waiting for the right opportunity.

Tarman nudged him. ‘What?’ he demanded of his ship, and stood. A quick scan around betrayed no perceptible danger. Despite his excuse to Alise, this part of the river was a fairly easy stretch. It was edged with reed beds that ventured out into the channel, so that the barge moved through them. The fishing would be good, and he suspected that the dragons would feed fairly well along today’s path.

Then he saw a shivering in the trees behind the reed banks. Every tree shook, and a few dropped yellowed leaves and small twigs. An instant later, the reed bank rippled like a wave, a wave that moved out into the river, trembling water and grasses. The motion slapped the barge’s hull and then moved past it, almost vanishing in the deeper water.

‘Quake!’ Swarge raised the cry from the stern.

‘Quake!’ Big Eider bellowed the warning to the keepers in their small boats.

‘So it is!’ Leftrin shouted back. ‘Move Tarman away from the banks as much as you can, but don’t lose our grip on the bottom. ’Ware, now!’

‘’Ware!’ his polemen cried him back.

As Tarman edged away from the bank, Leftrin watched another rippling move the trees. On the shore, small debris of leaves, twigs and old birds’ nests showered down. An instant later, rank after rank of reeds bowed to the river, followed by a wavelet that rocked the boat. Leftrin scowled but kept his eyes on the trees. Quakes were frequent in the Rain Wilds and for the most part, little tremors were ignored by everyone. Larger ones endangered not only the underground workers in the buried Elderling cities, but could also bring down old or rotten trees. Even if a tree didn’t hit the barge directly, he’d heard of falling trees that swamped boats. In his grandfather’s time, supposedly a tree had fallen that was so large it had actually stopped all traffic on the river and had taken workers nearly six months to clear away. Leftrin was a bit sceptical about the full truth of that tale, but every legend had a grain of truth. Doubtless a very big tree had come down somewhere to spark that one.

‘What’s going on?’ Alise sounded apprehensive. She’d heard the shouts and come out on the deck.

He answered without looking at her. ‘We’ve had a quake, and a pretty good one. No problem for us right now, and it looks like it didn’t do much more than give the trees a good shake. None fell. Unless we get a second bigger shake, we’ll be just fine.’

To her credit, Alise simply nodded. Quakes were common all along the Cursed Shores. No Bingtown resident would be surprised by one, but he doubted she’d ever experienced one on the water, nor had to worry about a big tree coming down. And it came to him that the next warning would probably be new to her as well. ‘Sometimes a quake will wake up the acid in the river. But it doesn’t happen right away. The theory is that it does something way upriver, releases the white somehow. In a couple or three days, we may suddenly find the river is running white again. Or it may not. A really bad quake may warn of a dirty rain to follow.’

She realized the danger instantly. ‘If the river runs acid, what will the dragons do? And can the small boats the keepers use withstand it?’

He took a deep breath and exhaled it through his nose. ‘Well, an acid run is always a danger on the river. The small boats could probably stand up to it for a time, but for safety’s sake, if the acid was strong, we’d bring the small boats on deck, stack them, and have the keepers ride with us.’

‘And the dragons?’

He shook his head. ‘From what I’ve seen, they’ve got tough hides. Some of the animals, fish and birds in the Wilds can deal with the acid. Some creatures avoid the river when it runs white; others don’t seem to notice the difference. If the river runs white, a lot will depend on how white it is, and how long the run lasts. If it’s only a day or so, my guess is that the dragons will be able to take it. Much longer than that, and I’d be concerned. But maybe we’ll be lucky and find ourselves near a fairly solid bank where the dragons could haul out and wait for the worst to pass.’

‘What if there isn’t a bank?’ Alise asked in a low voice.

‘You know the answer to that,’ Leftrin replied. So far in their journey, that had only happened once. One night, evening had come with no resting place in sight. There had been only marshlands as far as the eye could see, nowhere for the dragons to get out of the water. Despite their grumbling, the dragons had had to stand overnight in the water, while the keepers had taken refuge on Tarman’s deck. The dragons hadn’t enjoyed the experience, but they had survived. But the water had been mild then, and the weather kind. ‘They’d have to endure it,’ Leftrin said, and neither one spoke of how the acid might eat at injuries and tender tissue.

After a few moments of silence, Leftrin added, ‘That’s always been a danger on this journey, Alise. The most obvious danger, actually, and one we’ve always had to live with. The first “settlers” in the Rain Wild were actually abandoned here; no one in their right mind would come here of their own accord.’

‘I know my history,’ Alise interrupted a bit brusquely, but then added with a small smile, ‘And I definitely came here of my own accord.’

‘Well, it’s so that Bingtown’s history is the Rain Wilds’ history. But I think we live it here a bit more than you folks do.’ He leaned on the railing, feeling Tarman sturdy beneath him. He glanced up and down the current of his world. ‘Strangeness flows with the water in this river, and if affects us all, one way or another. Trehaug might not be the easiest place in the world to live, and Cassarick is no better. But without those cities, Bingtown wouldn’t have Elderling magic to sell. So, no Rain Wild, no Bingtown is how I see it. But what I’m trying to say is that generation after generation, decade after decade, young explorers have set out vowing they’re going to find a better place to settle. Some don’t come back. And those that do report the same thing. Nothing but an immense wide valley, with lots of trees and lots of wet ground. And the deeper you go into the forest, the stranger it gets. All the expeditions that have gone up this river have come back saying that they either ran out of navigable waterway, or that the river just flattened out, wider and wider, until it seemed there were no real banks to it anywhere.’

‘But they just didn’t go far enough, did they? I’ve seen enough references to Kelsingra to know that the city existed. And somewhere, it still does.’

‘The sad truth is that it could be under our hull right now, and we’d never know. Or it could be half a day’s journey away from us, back there in the trees, cloaked in moss and mud. Or it could have been up one of the tributaries we’ve passed. Two other Elderling cities either sank or were buried. No one is sure just exactly what befell them, but we know they’re underground now. The same thing could have happened to Kelsingra. Probably did happen. We know that something big and bad happened here a long time ago. It ended the Elderlings and nearly ended the dragons. It changed everything. All we’re really doing right now is following the dragons up the most navigable waterway, and hoping we come to something.’

He glanced at her, saw her face pale under her freckles and her set mouth. He tried to speak more gently. ‘It only makes sense, Alise. If Kelsingra had survived, wouldn’t the Elderlings have lived? And if the Elderlings had survived, wouldn’t they have kept dragons alive somehow? In all the tapestries, they’re always together.’

‘But … if you don’t believe we can find Kelsingra, if you never believed we could find Kelsingra, why did you undertake this expedition?’

He looked at her then, full in her green, green eyes. ‘You wanted to go. You wanted me to go. It was a way to be with you, even if only for a time.’ Her heart was in her eyes as he spoke those words. He looked aside from her. ‘That was what decided me. Before, when I first heard of it, I thought to myself, ‘Well, there’s a mission for a mad man. Small chance of success, and so I’ll bet they pay accordingly. A chunk of money up front, and a big promise of lots more “when all is done”. And a good adventure along the way. There isn’t a man on the river who doesn’t wonder where it comes from. Here was a chance to find out. And I’ve always been a bit of a gambler. Every one who works the river plays the odds one way or another. So. I took the bet.’

He dared himself and took his own wager. Her hands were resting on the railing next to his. He lifted his hand and set it down gently upon hers. The effect on him was almost convulsive. A shiver ran over his body. Her hand was trapped under his and beneath her touch, there was Tarman. A thought floated through his mind. ‘The whole of everything I want in this world is right here, under my hand.’

The thought echoed through him, to his very bones and out to Tarman’s timbers and back again until he couldn’t define where it had originated.