by Robin Hobb
‘They come for their own. For one they claimed as kin. Step back. For they will pass whether you clear a way or not.’
Brashen stood over his huddled son, for Boy-O could no longer stand for the pain of his burns. Some of the other sailors retreated to the end of the dock, but Spark, Per and I remained where we were.
The planks of the dock complained under their weight as the dragons came toward us, turning their gleaming heads on their serpentine necks and snuffing the air near Beloved. Their eyes spun like twirling silver buttons. The blue opened his mouth, the better to test the air near him.
‘Tell me what they say,’ Per breathed beside me.
‘They have said nothing yet,’ I replied. He took my hand in his, and I wondered if he sought to give me courage or borrow mine. It did not matter: I welcomed it. Small dragons were still very large creatures, and they were very close to us but even in my fear and sorrow, their beauty made me smile.
‘We have come for him,’ the blue one said, and I repeated that softly to Per.
Beloved turned back toward us. ‘The dragons that were once Paragon the ship have come to claim the body of Kennitsson.’
I saw the uneasiness that went through all the others. The tattooed woman who had rowed the boat for us asked, ‘To do what?’
Beloved looked down at the body and then around at the gathered crew. ‘They will eat his body. To keep his memories among their own.’ At the looks of horror that his words awoke, he said, ‘The dragons consider doing that an honour.’
‘Is this a fitting end for the Prince of the Pirate Isles?’ Two men stepped forward to stand beside her. Tears tracked wet on one man’s face but he held a knife in his hand and faced a dragon.
There would be trouble.
Beloved spoke. ‘Is it so different to how Paragon took Kennit’s memories, when he died on the ship’s deck? Kennitsson goes where his father’s and great-grandfather’s ship has gone. And that is a fitting end for any pirate.’
Only Beloved seemed resigned that these dragons would eat the body of one who had been a companion to so many of them. But when he motioned to all of us to step back, everyone moved aside to let the dragons pass. The dock creaked and swayed on its pilings as the dragons halted by the body and looked down at it. I had thought there would be some ceremony, some decorous sharing, but no.
Eager to be first, both green and blue dragon darted their heads down to the corpse. We’d had only a piece of scorched sail canvas to cover him with, so nothing shielded us from the sight of the blue dragon seizing Kennitsson by the head and tugging the corpse upright as the green’s head snaked in to shear off the bottom half of his body. Before anyone could gasp, the blue had lifted the head half with its now unravelling entrails and gulped it in.
Bits of Kennitsson’s guts littered the dock. One of his sailors turned and harshly vomited into the harbour. Ant had lifted her hands to cover her eyes. Boy-O clung to his father like a child and Brashen’s face was white. Spark gripped my other hand and swayed slightly.
‘It is done,’ Beloved said, as if that somehow made what we had seen better. As if the gory bits littering the planks would disappear.
‘His memories will be within me,’ the blue dragon announced.
‘And in me,’ the green said, almost argumentatively.
‘I will sleep now,’ the blue announced. He turned carefully but his tail still swept dangerously close. A step he took, and then he halted. He lowered his head and his eyes whirled as he snuffed Brashen’s chest. He turned his head sideways, and regarded Boy-O. ‘They burned us,’ he thrummed, as if he recalled something from long ago. He made a low sound, like an immense cauldron coming to a boil. ‘They have paid,’ he said. A longer time he stared. ‘Boy-O. I give you the honour of my name. Karrig.’ He lifted his head. ‘And I take part of yours. Karrigvestrit I shall be. I will remember you.’
Head up, the small dragon moved ponderously down the dock and toward the shore.
The green surveyed us silently. She drew breath and then reared up on her hind legs. She opened her mouth wide, and in the scarlet-and-orange striped maw she displayed, I saw death. Everyone crowded back and one man fell from the dock to the water as she hissed without venom. She closed her jaws and looked down on us. ‘I was ever a dragon,’ she said disdainfully. The dock swayed from her impetus and I feared it would collapse and spill all of us into the water as she sprang into the air. We cowered like rabbits as the wind of her wings swept us. A few moments later, the blue took flight and we were left as we had been. Ant was weeping with terror. She shot to Brashen’s side and he put a sheltering arm around the young deckhand.
Per scanned the skies. ‘I don’t see or hear any of the other dragons.’
‘They are likely gone to sleep off their … gorging,’ Beloved spoke reluctantly as if he did not wish to remind us of what they had gorged on. But no one was deceived, and an uneasy silence followed his words.
Beloved stood watching them fly against the darkening sky and I could not read his expression. His shoulders rose and then fell. ‘I am so tired,’ he said, and I felt he spoke the words to someone who wasn’t there. When he turned back to us, he spoke briskly. ‘The streets are quiet and the dragons gone. Now we must go to salvage food and find a better place to shelter tonight.’
Brashen and Ant and a sailor named Twan stayed with Boy-O while the rest of us ventured out as a tight party, for the tattooed woman insisted we be defended. Clef went with us, carrying a knife and looking as if he wished to be attacked. We soon saw that not every inhabitant had fled. Some peered at us from the doubtful shelter of half-tumbled walls. Others were out salvaging or looting. They were poorly armed and most fled as soon as they saw us. Once, a flung brick struck Spark a glancing blow on the shoulder, but there was no sign of the assailant. Nonetheless, we took that warning to heart.
We salvaged canvas from the tumble of a sailmaker’s sheds. Beloved sent sailors back with enough for a sling to carry Boy-O. We made a camp against the standing wall of the sailmaker’s house. The night was mild. Per cut a square of canvas for me to sit on. One of the men fetched water in Prilkop’s bucket.
Beloved did not wish to let me go with those who went to search for food, but I was too hungry to obey him. It was not a difficult search. This town had lived in plenty, and had not taken much of it when they fled. Some of the gardens had fruit trees. After days of being at sea, we little cared if it was ripe or not. We filled our shirtfronts. Per found loaves and buns and even little cakes scattered among the wreckage of a bakery, and I found a tub of butter. ‘I have heard that grease is good for a burn,’ I mentioned to Per.
He looked doubtful but we took it along with our other looted food. ‘Boy-O was very good to me, as was Brashen. And Kennitsson,’ he added in a tighter voice. ‘Althea. Cord.’ I had not stopped to think that he might have made fast friends among the crew. I thought of that as we walked, eating as we went. I had Per, but if he had friends here, did I have less of him? Who cared for me in this world? Nettle and Riddle seemed very far away, and now they had a baby to share. Even Wolf Father was gone from me now. As I followed Per and the others through the deepening dark, the world seemed to stretch wider and emptier around me.
When we returned we found Brashen setting cool wet rags on Boy-O’s burns. The younger man lay very still. His father had cut away much of his clothing and his burns were more extensive than I had thought. There were places where the fabric of his shirt had adhered to the burned flesh, and there it stayed, colourful flags on scorched territory.
Per knelt on one side of him. ‘Do you think we can wake him enough to eat some bread?’ he asked Brashen, who shook his head. His face was lined and there was some grey in his dark curly hair.
He looked at me and said, ‘So this is the child we came to rescue. All of this death and destruction, to bring her home,’ he said bitterly, and I suspected he thought me a bad bargain. Could I fault him for that? I had cost him a ship and his wife. Perhaps his son.
I knelt on the other side of his son with the butter tub. Clef had followed us and stood wordlessly behind me along with the tattooed woman that everyone called Navigator. ‘I brought this to dress his wounds,’ I told him. His dark eyes were empty of hope and he did not object. I dug my fingers into the soft yellow butter and very gently began to smooth it onto Boy-O’s face. The bubbled flesh felt terribly wrong under my fingertips. One of the big blisters broke and oozed fluid that mixed with the butter. Wrong, it was all wrong. What was right? I touched the flesh next to the burn. That was right. That was what his skin should be like. My fingertips dragged on the unburned skin. I wished I could pull it over the scorched flesh like a cool coverlet.
His father abruptly leaned closer. ‘Butter does that?’ he demanded in a stunned voice.
‘No. Farseers do that,’ Per choked, and then he lifted his voice to shout, ‘Amber! Come here!’
I could not be bothered with any of them. This was fascinating. It was like using a small brush or cut plume to put the colour exactly where I wanted it on a painting. With inks, I could make the bee or the flower precisely as it was supposed to be. With my fingers, I could draw the healthy flesh back over the burned parts. No. That wasn’t exactly it. Starting at the healthy flesh was a good idea, but the clean skin was a spreading thing, like green plants growing over scorched earth. I pushed the debris of dead skin out of the way.
‘Bee, stop that! Boy-O needs to rest and to eat. Later, perhaps, you can do more. Bee, can you hear me? Per, I dare not touch her! You must do it. Lift her under her arms and draw her away from Boy-O.’
The next thing I knew I sat by the fire, blinking. Per was standing over me, a peculiar look on his face. ‘I’m so hungry and tired,’ I told him.
A smile quirked one corner of his mouth. ‘I imagine you are. Well, we have bread, and butter. And some fish.’ My nose told me of chicken spitted over our fire. The others had been as successful in their scavenging. They had a cask of something and were breaking a hole in the top of it. I suddenly smelled beer.
I stood up unsteadily and looked over toward Boy-O. His father was smiling at me, but his cheeks were wet with tears. All doubt of me was cleared from his face. Beloved knelt by the lad. I had not healed his entire face, but he could close both his eyes now and his mouth was intact.
‘He’s wakeful enough that you should get him to eat. It draws strength from the injured person when a Farseer heals someone.’ Beloved gave me a worried look. ‘It wearies the Farseer as well.’
A louder voice cut through his words. ‘Ah, I see that you have recovered the lost child! And if my ears do not deceive me, she is indeed her father’s daughter.’
I startled, for the stranger had come up on us quietly. He was like no one I had ever seen, like a creature from a tale. He was tall and thin, gleaming scarlet, and dressed in bright garb. I stared at him. ‘Rapskal,’ Beloved said under his breath.
Then Per had handed me a torn slab of bread, the cut end of it dabbled in the butter. I bit off such a large bite that I got butter on both my cheeks. I didn’t care. I chewed as I stared at the red lizard-man. His clothing had lots of leather straps and buckles. Things were clipped to him, a water-skin and other gear I didn’t recognize. He reminded me of a festival puppeteer, but Beloved and Per seemed daunted by him. He looked around at us, and then asked, ‘And where is FitzChivalry? And Kennitsson. I promised he would fly with us, to take our vengeance. Tomorrow, we scour the hills for any who escaped us! He will enjoy that hunt.’
‘Neither survived,’ Beloved said in a tight voice.
‘Oh, dear, I do hope it was not the dragons! My apologies if it was. They are very focused when angered.’
Beloved looked stunned at the man’s casual apology. ‘No, both died before the dragons came,’ he said in a subdued voice.
‘Oh, well, that’s good then. I would have hated it to have been the dragons. Very sorry to hear it, of course, and that the prince of the Pirate Isles is dead. He seemed quite taken with Heeby and she enjoyed his compliments. I ran into some of your fellows a short time ago. They told me of your other losses, including young Lant. A shame. He seemed such an engaging fellow.’
‘He was,’ Per said quietly, and suddenly the red man seemed to realize that perhaps his words had been thoughtless.
‘Well, I should find some sustenance for myself. Heeby is sleeping and I have some time to myself. Vivacia will soon be arriving. We overflew her on our way here. Doubtless she and her crew will be disappointed to discover they have missed the battle.’ He turned and began to walk away, leaving as abruptly as he had arrived.
‘Red man!’ Navigator called after him. ‘Stay and eat with us. And drink to Kennitsson, Prince of the Pirate Isles.’
He turned back, his gleaming eyes very wide. ‘I would be welcome here? And my dragon?’ He seemed surprised.
‘We will remember our dead tonight,’ Clef told him.
Rapskal nodded slowly and then suddenly grinned wide. ‘We would be honoured to join you. She is sleeping, her belly full of meat. When she wakes, I will bring her here.’ He turned and hurried off.
The rest gaped after him, but I filled my mouth again. Spark came to find us, carrying a basket full of onions and carrots. ‘I harvested one of the gardens,’ she said quietly, as if a bit ashamed. ‘There was little left of the house. I do not think the owners will be returning. How is Boy-O?’
‘Much better. Bee can heal, like her father. And Vivacia is on her way here. Perhaps we have a way home,’ Per told her.
She smiled. ‘Good news all round, then,’ she said, but her voice held the note of sorrow suppressed. ‘I shall be glad to leave this place,’ she added.
‘As shall we all,’ Beloved affirmed.
It was a peculiar night. Someone brought Brashen beer in a bowl. He drank it slowly but did not leave Boy-O’s side. Rapskal did come back, and with him a scarlet dragon named Heeby. I was surprised to find that Heeby was shy and held herself apart and did not speak at all. Some of the crew got very drunk and sang songs about loot and sailing. Navigator was as drunk as any, and showing all that her tattoos were actually charts of harbours and waterways. After a time, she and Rapskal went apart from us, for she wished to show him a large tattoo on her belly. Per put my piece of canvas down on the far side of the fire from the singing and laughing crew. When he came to sit beside me, he smelled of beer. Later, Spark came to lie down beside me. She wept quietly in the dark.
Beloved sat apart from us. I watched him until I fell asleep. My last thought that night was that he was as alone as I was.
I awoke to birds calling. I looked up at tree branches with bits of blue sky beyond them. Dwalia! My entire body jerked with fear.
Then Per said, ‘Bee? You’ve slept a long time. Are you waking up now?’
I sat up slowly. Per was bare-chested. Oh. His shirt had been my blanket. I offered it to him wordlessly and he spoke as he put it back on. ‘Vivacia came into the harbour early this morning. Well, to the harbour. Too shallow for her to come closer. Their boat came ashore looking for us. That red fellow, Rapskal, he’d overflown them and shouted we were here. They’ve already taken Boy-O. We’ll go next.’
I looked around me, blinking. ‘Is there food?’ I asked stupidly.
‘There is.’
The bread was stale, but he had saved me a peach. He warmed the bread on a stick over the embers and dunked it in the butter. It was good. I washed my hands and face and said, ‘The birds woke me. Did you have a blue crow? With some red feathers?’ It seemed a dream.
‘She went with the dragons, I think. They gave her such colours! She loves them.’ He seemed sad.
I changed the subject. ‘Who is Vivacia and why has she come?’
‘She’s a liveship, like Paragon was. She came following the dragons and Rapskal. She’d gone to Others’ Island. There was a battle there, too, to kill all the Others who had been taking the dragon eggs or capturing the little serpents as they hatched. Then Vivacia sai
d they must now come here to help Tintaglia take revenge …’
‘I see,’ I said, but only to stop his flow of words. My head felt too foggy to take on so much information. I stood up slowly and looked around. Spark was drifting listlessly about our camp, as if looking for anything that needed to be done. Her eyes were red, her mouth drooping. The others were gone. ‘Did Beloved go to the ship with the others?’
‘No. He went up into the hills, to try to find his way back to the tunnel. He went before, in the night, but could not find it. So he got up very early, as soon as it was light, to try again.’
‘And he didn’t wake me to go with him?’ Anger coursed through me.
‘Nor me, nor Spark. He told Ant to tell us where he’d gone.’ He put more bread on the toasting stick. ‘I think he needed to go alone, Bee.’
‘And what about what I might need?’ I raged. The anger that shot through me was as heady as when the Skill rushed from me. Like the night the serpent spit had got in my cuts.
‘Bee?’ Per said and stepped a little back from me.
I saw Beloved at the edge of the camp. He walked slowly, looking at the ground. I did not run to him. I shouted, ‘Did you see him? You went without me.’ I could not keep the anger from my voice.
‘No.’ His voice was a hoarse admission of defeat. ‘I found the tunnel mouth again. But it was as I feared. At a high tide, it floods full.’
I winced. I did not want to think of my father’s body floating in cold seawater while fish nibbled at him. ‘He’s dead. I told you that. I felt it.’
He didn’t look at me. With an effort, he said, ‘Spark, Per, if there’s anything you want to take, gather it. I promised Wintrow I would not delay the sailing. There’s probably a boat waiting for us now.’