by Robin Hobb
She equipped herself with her bow and a quiver of arrows, a knife, and some rope and headed off into the gloom under the immense trees. She did not move randomly, nor did she stay long on the ground. She paralleled the river for a short way, looking for game trails. When she struck one, she studied it briefly. The paw marks of some of the smaller denizens of the forest had been trodden over by the deeper imprints of cloven hooves. Most of the tracks were small; she knew they belonged to what the Rain Wilders called dancer deer. Small and light-footed, they were creatures that moved quickly and silently through the forest, taking advantage of low browse and whatever dry land they could find under the trees. Some had been seen to scramble up low branches and actually run along them. One of them would not make much of a dent in a dragon’s appetite, and they were so wary that even if she found a group of them drowsing, she would not be able to kill more than one before the others had fled.
But a few of the tracks were larger and deeper, the cloven hooves splayed wider. Marsh elk would be traveling alone this time of year. If she had the great good fortune to kill one, she’d be able to carry maybe a quarter of it back to camp. But perhaps Tats would help her fetch the rest back in return for a share. Today, he had shared a boat with Warken instead of Jerd. Perhaps that meant that tonight he’d have time to do something besides sit and listen to Jerd talk. Thymara shook her head to banish thoughts of him. He’d made his choice for companionship. There was no reason it should bother her.
She set her hopes for an elk even as she was resigned to the fact that she’d be fortunate even to get a dancer. It was more likely that she’d encounter one of the pawed omnivores that lived along the riverbank. Their meat was edible, though not something she relished, but she doubted that Skymaw would turn her nose up at it.
As soon as she found an opportunity, Thymara left the ground and moved up into the lower branches of the trees. Here, her clawed feet helped her move efficiently and quietly. She did not travel directly above the game trail, but to the side of it where she could watch it while, she hoped, not alerting any creatures to her presence.
Light dimmed as she moved away from the open spaces along the river’s edge. The sounds of the forest changed too, as the rushing of the river was hushed by the intervening of the layers of foliage. Birds called to one another, and up above her, she heard the rustling passage of squirrels, monkeys, and other small creatures. Something very much like peace settled over her. Her father had always been right; this was what she was made for. She smiled at the familiar sounds of the tree creatures and moved deeper into the forest. She would travel only so far into the woods as she deemed she could carry a kill back; if at that point she’d still had no luck, she’d turn her deadly skills on the little animals she could see and hear and hope to take back a game sack full of them. Meat was meat whether it came in a large or small packet.
She had almost reached that turning point when she first smelled and then heard the elk. He was an old fellow, energetically and noisily enjoying scratching his hump against an overhanging branch. Like most of his kind, he was not accustomed to looking up for danger; he was a large animal, and most creatures that could threaten him would be landbound as he was. Thymara felt almost sorry for him as she silently maneuvered her way from tree to tree until she was directly above him. She shifted, moving silently, until she had a vantage with a clear shot at him. She drew the arrow back, took a breath and held it, and then let it fly. She shot her arrow directly down, aiming for a place just behind his humped shoulders, hoping it would penetrate his rib cage and hit his lungs if not his heart. Her missile struck solidly with a sound like someone hitting a thick drum skin.
Her prey gave a sudden jerk and shuddered, as if the blow were no more than a fly landing on his coat. Then as the pain blasted through him, he fled in a staggering run down the game trail toward the river. She grinned harshly; at least he was moving in the right direction! And she followed him, keeping to the trees. She wouldn’t drop down to his level until she was sure he was dead or nearly so.
He ran more and more clumsily and fell once, his front legs folding under him. She thought he was done then, but he staggered up and moved on, blowing blood from his nose and mouth as he huffed out his pain. The second time he went down, he stayed down. Knife drawn, she moved closer and then went down to him. His large brown eyes regarded her malevolently. “I’ll end it,” she told him. It took all her strength to drive her knife into the hollow behind the angle of his jaw. The blade punched through thick hide and muscle, but when she jerked it out, she was rewarded with leaping gouts of blood. The elk closed his eyes; each burst of blood was less than the one before, and when it slowed to a trickle, she knew he was gone. She had a moment of regret that she pushed aside. Death fed life. He was meat now, and all hers.
Skymaw would be pleased with her. But only if she got the meat back to the dragon; there was no bringing Skymaw to this kill. The thick forest and undergrowth were impenetrable for a creature the size of a dragon. The only way to get the meat back to her would be for Thymara to pack it out. She sized up the animal. She could probably drag a front leg and shoulder back on her own. Then she’d find Tats and they’d come back to cut up the rest and drag it back. Tats could take a share for Fente, and they’d have meat to share at the campfire with the other keepers. She felt a surge of pride at that thought. She doubted that anyone else would have fared as well at the hunt as she had.
The marsh elk’s hide was thicker than she had bargained on. Her knife seemed small in comparison to the task and it dulled fast. Twice she had to stop and sharpen it, and each time she thought of the daylight passing. It was already dim back here in the rain forest. If she didn’t get back and reclaim the rest of the meat before dark, it would be hopeless trying to find it at night. And by morning, scavengers would have reduced it to bones. Ants and buzzing insects were already trooping to the feast.
When she had finally sliced all around the tough hide and cut the meat down to the bone, she had to use every bit of strength she had to wrestle her blade into the animal’s shoulder socket to get the front leg free of the carcass. It finally came loose with a suddenness that made her sit down flat on the ground, the leg half on top of her. She wiped her knife on her trouser leg and sheathed it, and then wiped her hands. She pushed sweaty hair back from her scaled brow. The scales felt tighter and more complete; they were growing. In a few more months, she might not even sweat there anymore. For a moment, she wondered what she looked like, and then pushed that concern aside. There was nothing she could do to change how she looked; best not to think about it.
She pushed the leg to one side and stood up, groaning at how much her back ached. She didn’t look forward to the trudge back to the riverbank through the underbrush. She glanced again at her kill. “One leg down, three to go,” she said wryly.
“And the head. Don’t forget the head.” Greft’s words warned her only a fraction of a second before he dropped down beside her, landing as lightly as a lizard. He looked at her kill and hissed in astonishment. When he lifted his eyes to her, they gleamed with admiration. “You weren’t bragging when you said you were a hunter. I congratulate you, Thymara! If anyone had asked me, I would have said this was an impossible task for a girl like you.”
“Thank you,” she replied uncertainly. Was he complimenting her or suggesting this was a fluke? A bit testily, she added, “A bow doesn’t know who pulls the string. Anyone who is strong enough and can shoot straight can bring down an animal.”
“True. Undoubtedly true, as the evidence lies right here before us. All I’m saying is that I never thought of you that way before.” He licked his narrow lips, and his eyes gleamed blue as he smiled. His glance was approving, but it wandered over her in a way she found unsettling. His voice was both warm and wistful. “Thymara, you have every right to be proud of this kill.” He gestured at his hip. Tail feathers protruded from the game bag he carried. “I wish I could say I had fared as well as you had. But the day is winding
to a close and two birds are all I have to show for it.”
“We have a few hours of light left,” Thymara replied. “And I’d best use them or I’ll lose the meat. I’ll see you back at the camp, Greft.” She knelt and put a hasty wrap of line around the elk’s leg just above the hoof, and then knotted it in a loop big enough to fit over her shoulder. All the while she felt him standing there, watching her silently. She thrust her arm through the loop of rope as she stood. “See you back at camp,” she repeated.
But she hadn’t gone two strides before he asked, “You’re just leaving all the rest of the meat?”
She didn’t want to look back at him, but she didn’t want him to know that she felt slightly afraid of him. He was bigger than she was and heavily muscled. He had never threatened her, but the weight of his attention made her uneasy. She found that she wasn’t comfortable being alone with him. The worst of it was that beneath her fear there was a darker current of attraction to him. He was handsome in a Rain Wilds–touched way. The gleam of his eyes and how even dim light shifted over his scaled countenance made her want to look at him. But how he returned her look always spoke of forbidden things. His presence stirred her in a way that was dangerous for her. Best to get away from him.
She tried to let none of that show in her eyes or sound in her voice as she said casually, “Tats and I will be coming back for it.”
Greft straightened slightly and glanced quickly about the surrounding forest. “Tats is hunting with you? Where is he?”
“Tats is probably still back at the river.” She shouldn’t have answered his question, she thought, for it suddenly made her feel more alone. “When I tell him I’ve got meat, he’ll come and help me with it.”
Greft smiled, relaxing, but his expression only made her more tense. “Why bother? I can help you with it now. I don’t mind helping you.”
“I NEED TO talk to Thymara’s dragon.”
Alise snapped her head around, startled and annoyed at the interruption. It was so hard to get Skymaw talking. Things had been going so well, with Skymaw telling a story of someone in Kelsingra creating a fountain around a life-size sculpture of three dragons. To keep her talking, Alise had been standing beside her while the dragon rested her head on her front paws, carefully grooming the scales around her eyes. Fishing in the silty river splashed water into the dragon’s eyes and ears, and when it dried, fine dust remained near her eyes. It was careful, ticklish work to remove it, one better done by human fingers than the dragon’s own claws. “I beg your pardon?”
The dragon keeper stared at her for a moment. Rapskal, she thought. That was his name. She’d spoken to him twice before, and each time found the experience a bit unsettling. His eyes were a very light blue, and sometimes when he blinked, as he did now, the color and the faint light that came from them seemed to be one and the same. He was very handsome, in a Rain Wild way, and would be an extraordinary man. Right now, his face had that unfinished look of a youth venturing toward manhood. The jaw was shaping into firmness. His wild hair, she realized, made him look more boyish than he truly was.
Sedric spoke to the boy’s silence. “Why do you need to speak to Skymaw? She was in the midst of giving Alise some very important details about Kelsingra.”
“Got to find Thymara. She’s going to miss out on the food.”
“She’s not here,” Sedric said, almost patiently. He looked at the pen he was holding. He was sitting on the crate that he’d hauled down from the Tarman with his lap desk on his knees. The sheet of heavy paper in front of him was almost covered in his fine handwriting. Even with her having to stop to translate every word the dragon said, the session had been going well; in fact, it had been the best they had ever had. Sedric dipped his pen again and finished the sentence he’d been on. He looked up at her expectantly.
Impatience scratched at her nerves as she told the young man, “I don’t know where Thymara is. Have you looked all around the encampment?”
He cocked his head at her as if she were a bit stupid. “Did that before I came here. Skymaw, please tell me where Thymara is?”
The dragon replied with a single word. “Hunting. We are busy here.” She canted her head very slightly, to remind Alise that she had been tending her. Alise went back to work on her.
“Hunting where?” Rapskal persisted.
“In the forest. Go away.”
“It’s a big forest.” Rapskal didn’t seem to have the sense not to annoy the blue dragon. Alise felt the dragon flex and knew her claws were digging into the wet mud. She distracted her. “Loose scale right here by the corner of your eye. Don’t blink while I lift it away.” To her surprise, Skymaw obeyed. Alise held it up on the tip of her finger, marveling at it. It was like both a fish scale and a feather. There were lines on in, possibly indicating how it had grown, but at the edge of it, it feathered into fine tendrils. It was a deep, deep blue, deeper than the best sapphire she had ever seen. She leaned forward, looking at the place it had come from, suddenly seeing how the feathered edges interlocked into a smooth surface with the following scales. “This is incredible,” she breathed in awe. “Sedric, can you draw this for me?”
“I’d love to!” he replied with enthusiasm. She was startled to find that he’d set down his desk and come to stand at her shoulder. “But, to do it justice, I’d want a steady surface, a bright lamp, and my colored inks. I have all that back on the Tarman. Let me put it in a safe place.”
He had reached out his hand for it when Skymaw’s head suddenly lifted. Her tongue, long and forked just like a lizard’s, was of a size commensurate with her body, and when it flicked out, it was like having a large, fleshy whip crack in the air right between Alise and Sedric. It happened so swiftly that suddenly the scale was gone, lifted deftly away from Alise’s fingertip with an accuracy that astonished her.
“No!” cried Sedric, aghast.
“What is a part of me is mine.” The dragon spoke sternly.
“Oh, Skymaw,” Alise cried sorrowfully. “We only wanted to draw it. Part of the knowledge that I seek to collect is knowledge of your physical body. You let Sedric draw your claw yesterday.” She sighed. “I would have loved to have an accurate, to size drawing of a scale.”
“Scale?” Rapskal said. Alise was a bit surprised to find he was still standing there. “Maybe I have one . . . here.” He’d bent down to brush at the rough fabric of his trousers. When he straightened up, he was offering her a gleaming ruby. It was substantially larger than Skymaw’s blue eye-scale, the size of a large rose petal, but no rose had ever gleamed so scarlet. She caught her breath at the sight of it. When she took in her hand the treasure so casually offered, she was surprised at the heft of it. Despite the scale’s size, it was less than a small coin’s weight. The growth rings and the feathering were much more obvious than on Skymaw’s scale.
“It fell off Heeby when I was riding her today during her flying practice. I guess my knee rubbed it off, but she said it didn’t hurt.”
“Riding her? You were on a dragon’s back?” She was astounded.
“That’s disgusting!” Skymaw was outraged. She drew her head up high, and for an instant Alise feared she would strike one of them. She saw Sedric reflexively wince away.
Rapskal was unfazed. “Heeby doesn’t mind. She’s going to fly pretty soon, and she doesn’t want to leave me behind. We practice every night, and I sort of watch out for rocks and logs so she can concentrate on running and flapping.”
“You are both idiots. Dragons do not run as a prelude to flying, and we do not allow anyone to ride us. It’s humiliating even to think that she does. She’s a disgrace to all of us. You are a moron and she is a half-witted lizard!”
“What did she say?” Sedric demanded.
Rapskal knotted his fists and stepped up to the dragon. “You take that back! You can’t talk about Heeby that way! She’s beautiful and smart, and she’s going to fly. Because she’s brave enough to try and smart enough to know I’m helping her because I love her.”
“What is going on?” Sedric demanded in a shaky voice.
“Skymaw! Please! Restrain your wrath, beautiful queen! He is only a foolish boy, not even worthy of your anger!” Alise was surprised at how calm her own voice sounded as she deliberately stepped between the incensed dragon and her target. She had closed her fist around the precious scale, and as she spoke, she stuffed it into her bag without looking. She kept her eyes on the dragon. Skymaw’s eyes blazed scarlet and copper like a seething kettle of molten ore. Her immense head wove back and forth over them, reminding her of a snake deciding whether to strike. How could she have forgotten how huge an animal Skymaw was? One snap of her jaws would sever the boy in two. She spoke over her shoulder to him. “Rapskal. You should leave now. Thymara isn’t here. Thank you for loaning me the scale. I will be certain that it is returned to Heeby after Sedric has finished sketching it.”
“But . . .” Sedric began.
She pushed her words past him, speaking with all the authority of an older sister. “Rapskal. Go now! If I see Thymara, I’ll tell her you are looking for her. For now, do not bother the lovely, the gracious, the most powerful and awesome Skymaw.”
Perhaps the severity of her tone finally made him realize the danger he was in. “I’ll go,” he said sullenly. He turned on his heel and strode away. But at a safe distance he stopped and flung back at Skymaw, “Heeby is going to fly a long time before you ever get your big blue powerful and gracious arse off the ground, Skymaw! She’ll be a real dragon long before you are, queen stick-up-yourbum!” Then he turned and wisely ran as Skymaw hissed a furious but venomless mist at him.