The Liveship Traders Series

by Robin Hobb

Jani turned to confront her. A terrible hope gleamed in the Rain Wild woman’s face. She spoke clearly and slowly, laying out the terms of a bargain. ‘To come to the Rain Wild, you must become of the Rain Wild. You cannot hold yourselves back from us.’ She stared deep into Dujia’s eyes, but the Tattooed woman did not glance away from Jani’s Rain Wild scales and gently glowing eyes. Jani smiled at her. Then her eyes suddenly roved over the assembled people. She seemed to see the Tattooed in a new way. ‘Your children would have to take husbands and wives among us. Your grandchildren would be Rain Wilders. There is no leaving, once you have come to the Rain Wilds. You cannot remain a separate people, with separate ways. It is not an easy life. Many will die. Do you understand what you are offering?’

  Dujia cleared her throat. When Jani glanced back at her, she met her look squarely. ‘You say we must become of the Rain Wild. Rain Wild Traders are what you call yourselves. That is what we would become? Traders? With the rights of Traders?’

  ‘Those who marry Rain Wild Traders always become Rain Wild Traders. Mingle your families with ours, and yours become ours.’

  ‘Our homes would be our own? Whatever we acquired, it would be ours?’

  ‘Of course.’

  Dujia looked out over the assembled folk. Her eyes sought out the Tattooed groups. ‘This is what you told me you wanted. Homes and possessions that you could pass on to your children. To be on an equal footing with your neighbours. The Rain Wilders offer us this. They warn us fairly of hardships to come. I have spoken for you, but each of you must decide.’

  From somewhere amongst the Tattooed, a voice called a question. ‘And if we don’t want to go to the Rain Wilds? What then?’

  Serilla stepped forwards.

  ‘I speak with the authority of the Satrapy. Henceforth, there shall be no slaves in Bingtown. Tattooed are Tattooed; no more nor less than that. It would violate the original charter of the Bingtown Traders for me to elevate the Tattooed to an equal standing with the Traders. I cannot do that. But I can decree that henceforth, in conformity with the original laws of Bingtown, the Satrapy of Jamaillia will not recognize slavery or the claims of slave-owners in Bingtown.’ She let her voice drop dramatically. ‘Tattooed ones, you are free.’

  ‘We always were!’ someone called out from the crowd, spoiling the moment for the Companion.

  Mingsley made a final bid to save his people’s labour force. ‘But indentured servants, surely, are another matter?’

  He was shouted down, not just by the crowd but by a roar from the dragon. ‘Enough. Solve these petty issues on your own time. I care not how you colour your skins or name yourselves, so long as the work is done.’ She looked at Jani Khuprus. ‘You can draw on Bingtown for engineers and planners. You have a labour force. I myself will soar forth tomorrow, to free the Kendry and find the other liveships and send them to you. I pledge I will keep the waters between Trehaug and Bingtown cleared of enemy ships while you do this work. Surely, all is now in agreement.’

  The sky was black. The dragon was a gleaming entity of silver and blue. Her head swayed gently over them as she awaited their assent. The flickering torchlight caressed her wondrous form. Ronica felt as if she were in a tale of enchantment, witness to a great miracle. The petty problems that remained suddenly seemed unworthy of discussion. Had not Tintaglia pointed out that they were creatures of brief life? Surely, it could matter little what happened in such a tiny flicker of time as they occupied. Serving Tintaglia in restoring dragons to the world would be a way to ensure their lives had some impact on the greater world.

  A sigh of agreement ran through the crowd. Ronica moved her own head in a slow nod.

  ‘Malta,’ Keffria said quietly beside her. The word disturbed Ronica. It had grown so quiet within the Concourse that the sound was like a pebble dropped in a still pool. A few heads turned towards them. Her daughter took a deep breath and spoke the name louder. ‘Malta.’

  The dragon turned to regard them, and her eyes were not pleased. ‘What is it?’ she demanded.

  Keffria stepped towards the dragon, aggression in her stride. ‘Malta!’ she shouted the name. ‘Malta was my daughter. I am told you lured her to her death. And now, by some wicked magery, my son, my last child, stands before you and praises you. All my people murmur and smile at sight of you, like babies entranced with a shiny dangle.’

  As Keffria spoke, Ronica felt a strange agitation. How dare she speak so to this glorious and benevolent creature, the creature who had rescued all of Bingtown – the creature responsible for Malta’s death. Ronica felt an instant of disorientation as if she woke from a deep sleep.

  ‘But Mother –’ Selden began pleadingly, taking her arm. Keffria set her son firmly aside, out of harm’s way, and spoke on. Her rising anger at how the dragon manipulated the crowd had cracked her frozen heart. Fury poured out with her pain.

  ‘I do not succumb to your glamour. I do contemplate how I could take revenge on you. If it is so unthinkable that I will not worship the one who let my daughter die, then you had best slay me now. Breathe on me and melt the flesh from my bones. It will be worth it if it opens my son’s eyes to you, and the eyes of those others willing to grovel before you.’ She spat her final words. Her eyes swept the gathered folk. ‘You refused to heed the words of Reyn Khuprus. Watch now, and see what this creature truly is.’

  The dragon drew back her head. The faint luminescence of the creature’s silver eyes made them pale stars. Her great jaws opened wide, but Keffria had finally found her courage. Selden stood, stricken by horror, eyes darting from his mother to the dragon. It cut her that he seemed unable to choose, but she stood her ground. All the other folk crowded back and away from Keffria as the dragon drew breath. Then, pushing her way forwards, her mother stepped to her side. Ronica took her arm. Together they stared defiantly up at the creature that had taken Malta’s life and Selden’s heart. Keffria found her voice again. ‘Give me back my children! Or give me my death!’ From somewhere, Reyn Khuprus hurtled into them, jostling them all aside. Keffria staggered to her knees and Ronica went down beside her. She heard Jani Khuprus’ cry of horror from the dais. The young Rain Wilder stood alone where they had been. ‘Run!’ he ordered them, then spun to face the dragon, his scaled face contorted with fury. ‘Tintaglia!’ he roared. ‘Stop!’ A sword was bared in his hand.

  For a wonder, the dragon froze. Her jaws still gaped. A single drop of liquid formed on one of her myriad teeth. When it dripped to the stone floor of the Concourse, the stone sizzled and gave way to it.

  But Reyn had not stopped her. Selden had. He had stepped quietly forwards, to crane his neck up at Tintaglia. His words and manner healed Keffria’s heart. ‘Please, don’t hurt them!’ the boy begged shrilly, his courtier’s manners fled. ‘Please, dragon, they are my family, as dear to me as yours are to you. All we want is to have my sister back. Mighty as you are, can’t you give that to us? Can’t you bring her back?’

  Reyn seized Selden by his shoulders, thrust him towards his mother. Keffria caught hold of him in numbed silence. Her son, truly hers still, no matter how scales lined his face. She held him tight to her, and felt her mother’s grip on her arm tighten. The Vestrits stood together, no matter what else might come.

  ‘No one can bring back the dead, Selden,’ Reyn said flatly. ‘It is useless to ask that of her. Malta is dead.’ As he flung back his head to confront the dragon, a trick of the torches sent light dancing along his scaled face, making Reyn appear as dragon-like as Tintaglia. ‘Keffria is right. I will not be seduced. No matter what you can do for Bingtown, you should be revealed for what you are, to keep others from falling to your wiles.’ He turned to the gathered folk and opened wide his arms. ‘Hear me, people of Bingtown! She has entranced you with her glamour. You cannot believe or trust this creature. She will not keep her word. When the time suits her, she will throw aside all bargains, and claim one so great as herself cannot be bound in agreement by beings as insignificant as we are. Aid her, and you restore to life a r
ace of tyrants! Oppose her now, while there is only one to fight.’

  Tintaglia flung her head back and gave a roar of frustration that surely must have shaken the stars in their sockets. Keffria shrank back, but they did not run. The dragon lifted her front feet from the wall’s edge and slammed them down again. A great jagged crack raced through the stone wall at the impact. ‘You tire me!’ she hissed at Reyn. ‘I lie, you say. You poison minds against me with your venomous words. I lie? I break my word? You lie! Look into my eyes, human, and know the truth.’

  She thrust her great head at him, but Reyn held his ground. Ronica, gripping Keffria’s shoulders, tried to drag her back, but she would not budge. She grasped Selden as he strained towards the dragon. Their tableau held, a frozen statue of fear and longing. Then Keffria heard Reyn gasp out his breath, and not take another. He was transfixed by the swift silver spinning of the dragon’s eyes. The creature did not touch Reyn, but the Rain Wilder leaned towards her, his muscles standing out as if he resisted a great force. Keffria reached to restrain him, but beneath her hand, his flesh was set like stone. Reyn’s lips moved, but he uttered no sound.

  Abruptly, the dragon’s eyes stopped their silver swirling. Reyn dropped at their feet like a puppet with severed strings. He sprawled motionless on the cold stone floor.

  Reyn had not known she could reach out and touch his mind so effortlessly. As he stared into her eyes, he felt and heard her within his thoughts. ‘Faithless little man,’ she said scathingly. ‘You measure me by your own actions. I have not betrayed you. You blame me because you could not find your female, but I had already kept my word to you. I could not rescue your Malta. I did all I could and then I left you to solve your problem. You failed. That was not my fault, and I do not deserve to be reviled for it. The failure is yours, little male. Nor did I lie. Open yourself. Touch me and know that I spoke true. Malta lives.’

  Twice before, he had touched souls with Malta. In the mystic intimacy of the dream-box, in the joining made possible by finely powdered wizardwood, their thoughts had mingled. They had dreamed well together. The memory of it still stirred his blood to heat. In the dream-box unity, he had known her in a way he could never mistake for another. Beyond scent or touch or even the taste of her lips was another sensation that was the essence of Malta in his mind.

  The dragon seized his mind: He was held, whether he would or not. He struggled, until he sensed in the dragon another reaching. Faint as perfume on the wind, a rare yet familiar sensation touched his mind. Malta. Through the dragon he sensed her but could not touch her. It was as taunting as seeing her silhouette on a blowing curtain, or smelling her scent and feeling the warmth of her cheek on a recently vacated pillow. He leaned towards it, yearning, but could find no substance. He felt Tintaglia’s efforts, as if she sorted Malta’s thread from a tangled skein of sensations. Here it was strong and clean, and then it vanished into memories of wind and rain and saltwater. Where is she? his mind frantically demanded of Tintaglia’s. How is she?

  I cannot know such things by this sense! the dragon replied disdainfully. As well sniff for a sound, or taste sunlight! This is the bonding sense, not meant to flow between human and dragon. You have not the ability to reciprocate, and so she is unaware of your yearning. I can only tell you that she lives, somewhere, somehow. Now do you believe me?

  ‘I believe. Malta is alive. I believe she lives. She lives.’ Reyn hoarsely whispered the words. Agony or rapture could have been his emotion; it was hard to tell.

  Jani had clambered from the dais and forced her way through the crowd to kneel beside her son. Now she looked across Reyn’s body at Selden. ‘What did she do to him?’ she cried.

  Keffria watched them both. Did Jani know how much she resembled the dragon? The fine scaling on her lips and brow and the faint glow of her eyes in the torchlight all contributed to the effect. Jani knelt by Reyn’s body and stared down at him just as Tintaglia looked down on them. How could one who looked so like the dragon ask her son such a question? Selden knelt beside them, but he gazed raptly up at the dragon that loomed over them. His lips moved as if he prayed, but his eyes were on Tintaglia.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Keffria replied for her son. She looked down at Malta’s stirring betrothed. He looked half a dragon himself, but he had been willing to risk his life to save hers. His heart was as human as hers. She glanced at her own son, regarding the dragon so intently. Light ran across Selden’s light scaling. He, too, had stood before the dragon and begged for his family. He was still hers. In an odd way, so was Reyn. Keffria set her hand gently on Reyn’s chest. ‘Lie still,’ she bade him. ‘You’ll be all right. Just lie still.’

  Above them, the dragon threw back her head and trumpeted triumphantly. ‘He believes me! You see, folk of Bingtown. I do not lie! Come. Let us seal this bargain we have made, and tomorrow begin a new life for all of us.’

  Jani swept suddenly to her feet. ‘I will not agree. There will be no bargain here until I know what you have done to my son!’

  Tintaglia gave Reyn a careless glance. ‘I have enlightened him, Trader Khuprus. That is all. He will not doubt me again.’

  Reyn abruptly clutched Keffria’s wrist in his scaly hand. His eyes bored into hers. ‘She lives,’ he promised her wildly. ‘Malta truly lives. I have touched minds with her, through the dragon.’

  Beside her, Ronica gave a broken sob. Keffria still could not find hope. Was this true, or a dragon’s deception?

  The whites of Reyn’s copper eyes glowed as he struggled to a sitting position. He drew an uneven breath. ‘Strike what bargain you will with Bingtown, Tintaglia,’ he said in a low voice. ‘But before you do, we will make our own agreement.’ Now his voice dropped. ‘For you have handed me the final piece of a puzzle.’ He lifted his eyes to stare at her boldly as he offered, ‘Others, dragons like yourself, may still survive.’

  At this last sentence, Tintaglia froze, looking down on Reyn. She twisted her head speculatively. ‘Where?’ she demanded.

  Before Reyn could reply, Mingsley had clambered down from the dais to push between the dragon and Reyn. ‘This is not fair!’ he proclaimed. ‘People of Bingtown, listen to me! Do the Rain Wilds speak for all of us? No! Should this one man be able to halt our bargaining over a matter of the heart? Of course not!’

  Selden stepped up to him. ‘A matter of the heart? A matter of my sister’s life!’ He switched his gaze to the dragon. ‘She is as dear to me as any serpent is to you, Tintaglia. Keep faith with me on this. Show them all that you see my family’s need for her is as pressing as your drive to save your own kind.’

  ‘Silence!’ The dragon’s head shot down. A tiny nudge sent Mingsley sprawling to one side. Her eyes fixed on Reyn. ‘Other dragons? You have seen them?’

  ‘Not yet. But I could find them,’ Reyn replied. A faint smile played about his mouth but his eyes were grave and hard. ‘Provided you do as Selden suggests. Prove that you understand our kin matter as much to us as yours do to you.’

  The dragon flung her head up suddenly. Her nostrils flared and her eyes spun wildly. She spoke as if to herself. ‘Find them? Where?’

  Reyn smiled. ‘I do not fear to tell you. It will take man’s work to unearth them for you. If the Elderkind took cocooned dragons into shelter in one city, perhaps they did in another as well. It is a fair trade, is it not? Restore my love to me, and I shall endeavour to rescue any of your kin who may have survived.’

  The dragon’s nostrils flared wide. The glow of her eyes brightened. Her tail lashed with excitement and from outside the walls, Keffria heard the fearful cries of watching folk. But within the walls, Reyn stood still, teetering on the edge of triumph. All around him, folk were frozen into a listening silence.

  ‘Done!’ roared the dragon. Her wings twitched, shivering and rustling as if she longed to spring into flight immediately. They stirred the cold night air and sent it whispering past the huddled folk in the roofless building. ‘These others will make plans for the dredging of the river. Y
ou and I will leave at first light, to begin the search for the ancient ruins –’

  ‘No.’ Reyn’s reply was quiet but the dragon’s outraged roar rang against the night sky. People cried out in terror and cowered where they stood, but not Reyn. He stood tall and still as the dragon vented her fury.

  ‘Malta first,’ Reyn dictated calmly as she drew breath.

  ‘Seek for your female, while my kind lies trapped in the cold and dark? No!’ This time the blast of anger from the dragon vibrated the floor beneath Keffria’s feet. Her ears rang with it.

  ‘Listen to me, dragon,’ Reyn resumed calmly. ‘High summer is the time to explore and dig, when the river runs low. Now is the time for us to seek Malta.’ As the dragon threw back her head, jaws wide, he shouted up at her, ‘For this to work, we must negotiate as equals, without threats. Will you be calm, or must we both live with loss?’

  Tintaglia lowered her head. Her eyes spun angrily, but her voice was almost civil. ‘Speak on,’ she bade him.

  Reyn took a breath. ‘You will aid me to save Malta. And I will then devote myself to unearthing the Elderling city, not for treasure, but for dragons. That is our agreement. Your bargain with Bingtown is more complicated. The dredging of a river for the protection of their coast, with other stipulations. Would you have it set down in writing, and the agreement acknowledged as binding?’ Reyn looked away from the dragon to Devouchet. ‘I am willing to be bound by my spoken word in this. Will the Council of Bingtown deal likewise?’

  Up on the dais, Devouchet glanced about indecisively. Keffria supposed he was rattled to have control put back into his hands. Slowly the Trader drew himself up. To her surprise, he shook his head slowly. ‘No. What has been proposed tonight will change the life of every person who lives in Bingtown.’ The Trader’s eyes travelled gravely over the hushed crowd. ‘An agreement of this magnitude must be written and signed.’ He took a breath. ‘Moreover, I propose that it must be signed, not just by our leaders, but as we did of old in Bingtown, when every Trader and every member of the Trader’s family set hand to the document. But this time, marks must be made by every person, young and old, who wishes to remain in Bingtown. All who sign will bind themselves, not just to an agreement with the dragon, but to each other.’