by Robin Hobb
“It would settle things. Put an end to speculation. There is, um, some bad feelings. From the others. Nortel has made a few comments—”
“Such as?” she asked him roughly.
He became blunt. “That I’m not one of you, and that you belong with someone of your own kind, someone who can really understand you.”
“That sounds like Greft stirring the pot again.”
“Probably. He says lots of things like that. Late at night, around the fire. Usually after the girls have gone to sleep. He talks about how things are going to be, when we reach Kelsingra. According to Greft, we’ll build our own city there. Well, it won’t be a city at first, of course. But we’ll settle there and make homes. Eventually others will come to join us there, but we keepers will be the founders. We’ll make the rules.
“And when he talks like that, he unfolds things so logically that it does start to seem like it must be the way he says it’s going to be. And usually, it comes out like he says it will. When we found out that Jerd was, well, going to have a baby, he said someone would have to be responsible, even if she didn’t know whose it was. And he said he’d set the example, and he did. And then, later, he said that Sylve was too young to have to make decisions for herself. He picked out Harrikin for her, because he was older and would have more self-control. He told him to start out by being her protector. And he did, and it worked out that Sylve chose him.”
“Sylve said that?” She was shocked.
“Well, not directly. But it’s obvious to all of us. And Greft said that even though no one could figure out why you’d chosen Rapskal, that was how it was and no one was to interfere. It made me angry at first. I didn’t think you’d ‘chosen’ him. But I was, well, I was with Jerd when he said it. So I couldn’t very well say…” He let his words trickle away, took a breath, and tried again. “And everyone respected what he said. No one tried to come between you two. But Rapskal is gone now. I hope he’ll turn up, but if he doesn’t, I wanted you to know that I was, well, waiting and hoping.”
She decided to put an end to all of it, immediately. “Tats. I like you. A lot. We’ve been friends for a long time. And I’m sure that if anyone can understand me, it’s you. But I’m not ‘choosing’ you or anyone else. Not now, and maybe not ever.”
“But…not ever? Why?”
Her annoyance blossomed. “Because. That’s why. Because it’s up to me, not Greft, not you, not anyone else. I won’t be told I have to ‘choose’ as if there is some time limit and after that, it will not be my choice anymore. I want you and Greft and everyone else to know that perhaps not choosing one of you is a possible choice for me.”
“Thymara!” he protested.
“No,” she said flatly, forbidding whatever it was he was going to say. “No. And that’s the end of it. You can tell Greft that, or he can come and talk to me and I’ll tell him.”
“Thymara, that’s not—”
Whatever he was going to say was interrupted by a distant sound. At first, Thymara thought it was a horn. She’d heard that Carson was going to look for other survivors, but wasn’t sure if he’d left already or was going to go in the morning. Then she heard the sound again and realized it was not a horn but a dragon calling.
From the mucky shallows, first Mercor and then Fente replied. Kalo chimed in with his bull’s roar, and Sestican echoed him.
“Who is it?” Tats demanded of the darkness.
Thymara’s heart leaped in sudden hope. She strained her ears, listening to the distant dragon’s response. Then she shook her head in disappointment. “Not Heeby. Heeby is shriller than that.”
Arbuc suddenly trumpeted, a clear and long call. Silver-green, he moved out of the shallows and into the current. The moonlight touched him, and he seemed to gleam with joy. He swam steadily down the current, toward the unseen dragon. When he lifted his voice again, his thoughts rode loud on it. “Alum! Alum, I come for you!”
Tats and Thymara leaned on the railing, craning and trying to force their eyes to see farther into the blackness. The other keepers were joining them, and she heard Captain Leftrin’s bellow, “Who is it? Has anyone sighted it yet?”
“It’s the silver!” someone on the stern yelled suddenly. “It’s the little silver dragon! And Alum is with him! They’re both alive.”
“Silver! You’re alive!” There was no mistaking the joy in Sylve’s shout of greeting to the dragon. He turned his head toward her and, for a moment, looked almost intelligent.
“I’m so glad!” Tats exclaimed, and Thymara nodded silently. She watched the homecoming, sick with envy. Alum tried to embrace his dragon, but Arbuc had grown too large. He transferred from the little silver’s back to Arbuc’s broad one and then leaned forward against his dragon as if by pressing his heart against him, he might become one with him.
What was wrong with her? Why didn’t she have that sort of a bond with Sintara? Or with anyone? She glanced at Tats surreptitiously. He leaned far out on the railing, grinning. Why didn’t she announce she’d chosen him? Why couldn’t she be like Jerd and charge into things? Jerd had obviously sampled a number of males. Now Greft had proclaimed she was his, and she didn’t seem displeased with that. Would it be so hard? To just take what was offered, without making a commitment?
The silver, obviously pleased with himself, lashed river water to a froth with his tail and then, spreading his wings, “flew” in a series of splashes to join the other dragons in the shallows. The other keepers crowded the aft railings, laughing and shouting and pointing. She began to drift in that direction.
Without warning, Tats took her hand again. He tugged at her until she turned back to face him. “Don’t be so sad. Rapskal and Heeby might still be alive. We won’t give up hope just yet.”
She looked up at him. He wasn’t that much taller than she was, but the expedition had changed him. He’d muscled out, his shoulders and chest built up by the paddling in a way that was very different from the muscles of a tree-climbing gatherer. She rather liked it. Her eyes moved over his face. The small tattoo of a horse, legacy of the slavery of his infancy, was only an unevenness against his windburned skin in the fading light. The spiderweb was nearly gone. This close to him, she could smell him, and that, too, was not unpleasant. Her eyes met his and she realized how dark they were. His smell suddenly changed, and she realized she was sucking on her own lower lip as she studied his face. She saw him take a breath and dare himself.
She acted before he could take the decision from her. She leaned in, turning her head slightly and putting her mouth on his. Was this how it was done? She had never kissed anyone on the mouth. Awkwardness and worry assaulted her. Tats’s arms suddenly moved up and around her, pulling her body against his. His lips moved on hers. He knows how to do this, she thought, and knew an instant of fury at where he’d learned it. Well, she wasn’t Jerd and whether she kissed the right way or not, he’d soon discover that she did things her own way. She shook her head slowly, moving her lips back and forth against his. Scale on softness, she thought, and briefly lost herself in that sensation. His hands wandered up her back and their touch on the tender area between her shoulder blades made her twitch with pain.
“What is that?” he demanded.
Embarrassment flooded her. “It’s nothing. I got cut in the river. It’s sore.”
“Oh. Sorry. It feels really swollen.”
“It’s sensitive.”
“I’ll be careful.”
He bent his head to kiss her again. She let him. Then, from somewhere else on the boat, she heard someone’s voice raised in a question. Someone replied. They weren’t alone here. Not really.
She pulled her mouth from his and bowed her head. He folded her in close to him and kissed the top of her head greedily. She felt his warm breath, and it sent a shiver down through her. He laughed softly at that. “Is this my answer?” he asked her, his voice deeper than she’d ever heard it.
“To what question?” she asked, sincerely puzzled.
“Are you choosing me?”
Almost, she wanted to lie to him. She didn’t. “I’m choosing to be free, Tats. To not have to choose, not now, not ever if I don’t want to.”
“Then, then what does this mean?” He hadn’t released her, but there was a stiffness to his embrace that hadn’t been there before.
“It means that I wanted to kiss you.”
“And that’s all?” He leaned back from her, and she looked up at his face.
“For now,” she admitted. “That’s all.”
She was meeting his gaze now. A trick of the light moved stars in his dark eyes. He nodded at her slowly.
“That’s enough. For now.”
Day the 22nd of the Prayer Moon
Year the 6th of the Independent Alliance of Traders
From Detozi, Keeper of the Birds, Trehaug
To Erek, Keeper of the Birds, Bingtown
In a sealed message cylinder, specific to his family and sealed with wax imprinted with his seal, a confidential message from Trader Sworkin to Trader Kellerby.
Erek,
I am both saddened by the news that your father has been ill and relieved to know that you were not on our river when the world went mad. I wish to assure you of our family’s hospitality should you have the opportunity to come for a visit with us. If the other bird keepers could take charge of your flock and responsibilities for a time, perhaps you could accompany Reyall when he returns home to visit, if indeed that visit is possible. I would greatly enjoy finally meeting you after all these years of exchanged notes.
Detozi
CHAPTER NINE
DISCOVERIES
Sedric.
“No. Go away. Let me sleep.”
Sedric.
“I just want to sleep.”
Sedric.
“What?” He projected all his annoyance into the word. It hurt. He lifted his hand to his jaw, then gingerly explored the whole side of his face. It hurt. Of all the bruises that Jess had given him, this one hurt the worst. One of his eyes still wouldn’t open all the way.
“I’m hungry.” Her actual voice was a rumbling, gargling sort of sound. The meaning of it rode into his mind as a thought. No time to worry about his own pain. She pushed his own physical state aside with concerns about her own. She was hungry.
“Well, I don’t have any more hunters to feed you.”
????
“Never mind. I’m getting up. I’ll see what I can do for you.”
He was still trying to forget yesterday’s events and their bloody culmination.
The second time Relpda had surfaced, Jess’s lower half had been in her jaws. She’d treated Sedric to one more shocking glimpse of the sheared torso, then merrily tossed the remains into the air, caught them so that they aligned with her throat, and with a couple of jerking motions, swallowed the hunter’s hips and legs.
He’d turned his head away, retching hopelessly. When he heard a splash and felt the raft rock, he’d guessed it was safe to look back. She’d vanished under the water again. He’d taken a shuddering breath and curled forward over his belly. That left him looking at the pool of mingled blood and river water in the bottom of the boat. He’d scrabbled out of it and perched on the log beside it, trying to think what he must do next.
The hunter was dead. He and the dragon had killed Jess. If they hadn’t, Jess would certainly have done his best to kill both of them. Yet it all seemed so monstrous, so hugely outside his experience that he could scarcely grasp it. He’d never expected to kill a man; he’d never expected even to fight or hurt another man. Why would he? If he had remained in his correct place, in Bingtown, working as Hest’s assistant, nothing like this would have ever befallen him.
If he’d remained with Hest, nothing like this would have ever happened to him.
Suddenly that had been a thought that could cut both ways.
The dragon had surfaced noisily. Better, she’d told him. Not so hungry.
“I’m happy for you.”
The words had been an empty courtesy, but in return she’d given him a flood of warmth. The surge of affection he felt from her had temporarily pushed all pain from his body. She’d followed it with a request. Need help. To get on the wood again.
“I’m coming.” And he’d actually managed to help her to a safer perch, one where she could rest.
Sometime before nightfall, he’d recovered enough that he’d eaten the fruit that Jess had harvested. His lips were broken and his face hurt where Jess had struck him, but he ignored the pain to eat. The fruit was both food and drink for him, and he was shocked at how much better he felt for it. That done, he’d inventoried the supplies in the boat. The best discovery had been a wool blanket, even if it was wet and smelly. He’d spread it out to let it dry as much as it would before dark.
He’d forced himself to proceed logically, even to gathering up the piece of line and the fishing spear that Jess had dropped when he’d decided that killing Sedric was more important than killing the dragon. Relpda had watched him from her precarious perch on the logs. When he’d picked up the spear, she’d shuddered and he’d felt her dislike for the weapon.
“I might be able to get food for us with this,” he suggested doubtfully.
Yes. Maybe. But hurt. See?
And so he’d had to examine her injury. It was still leaking blood, but her dip beneath the water seemed to have partially cauterized it. “You need to keep that as dry as you can,” he’d counseled her. “No more diving.”
Sedric angry?
Her query had actually sounded anxious. Her tone made him stop to consider her question. “No,” he answered honestly. “Not angry. We do what we have to do. We had to kill him or he would have killed us. You ate him because, well, it’s what dragons do. You were hungry. I’m not angry.”
Sedric kill. Sedric protect. Sedric feed Relpda.
“I suppose I did,” he said after a time of horrified reflection. “I suppose I did.”
Sedric my keeper. You will change.
“I’m changing already,” he admitted.
Yes. Change.
He wasn’t sure he enjoyed contemplating that.
That night the damp blanket had provided him with some shelter from the incessantly humming insects, but it could not keep at bay his stinging thoughts. What was he going to do? He had a boat that he didn’t know how to manage, a slightly injured dragon, and a small array of tools that he didn’t know how to use. He didn’t know if any of the others had survived, nor if he should look for them upriver or downriver. No matter which direction he went in, he was fairly certain the dragon would follow him.
Follow, she’d assured him. Follow Sedric. Relpda and Sedric together.
Just as he’d accepted that thought, she’d rattled him in a new direction. Easier to think, easier to talk with you here. And in case he hadn’t taken her meaning, she’d sent him a flush of warmth through the connection they shared.
It had been a long time before he’d been able to sleep, and now that he was awake again, none of his problems seemed simpler. The dragon obviously expected him to feed her. He rubbed his swollen eyes cautiously and tossed his smelly blanket aside. Slowly he sat up and then clambered awkwardly out of the boat. He was too stiff to move comfortably, and he was quite literally sick of every object moving in reaction to every move he made. He was hungry and thirsty, the whole side of his face was swollen, his clothes stuck to his itching, stinging skin, his hair was plastered to his scalp. Abruptly, he stopped enumerating his misery to himself. No point to that except to make himself more miserable.
Fix.
Again that warm flush suffused him. This time, as it faded, everything hurt less.
“Are you healing me?” he asked in wonder.
No. Making you not think about pain so much.
Like a drug, he thought. Not as reassuring as thinking he was healing, but less pain was good, too. So what should he do?
Find food for me.
Her thoughts were clear
er and more cogent. Less separate from his own, he feared. He pushed that thought away as something he couldn’t worry about right now. Right now he had to find a way to feed the dragon, if only to lessen the hunger pangs she was sharing with him. But how?
There was no quick and satisfying answer to that. The day was mild, the river calmer and the water less white. He had the tools of a hunter, if not the skills. He had a boat. And he had a dragon.
All he needed to do was decide what to do with those things.
The closest he came to a decision was walking away from the boat and taking a piss into the river. When he was finished, he spoke. “So, Relpda, what shall we do now?”
Get food.
“Excellent idea. Except I don’t know how.”
Go hunt. He felt the mental nudge she gave him. It wasn’t comfortable.
He thought of arguing with her and then decided there was no point to it. She was right. They were both hungry, and the only solution was that one of them find food. And she certainly wasn’t going to do it. He recalled that he had seen Jess coming from the trees with fruit. If the hunter had found fruit up there, then chances were that some remained. Up there. Somewhere.
Meat. Fish, she insisted. She shifted uncomfortably on the log that supported her. One end of it abruptly broke free of the tangled debris and dipped lower into the water. Slipping! She trumpeted her fear as her thought slammed his mind. Frantically, she reached out and seized a second log with her front claws. Her grip held and she pulled the log closer, managing to hitch herself up partially onto both of them.
“Good girl! Clever dragon!” he praised her.
And in return, he received that wave of warmth that eased his hurts. But with it came a message. And tired. So tired. Cold, too.
“I know, Relpda. I know.” They weren’t just comforting words. He did know exactly how tired she was, and how her weariness dragged at her. Her front legs ached from hanging on. All her claws felt odd, soft and sore. Her back legs and tail were weary from thrashing. Abruptly she opened her wings and beat them, trying to lift herself higher on the logs. They were stronger than he had thought they were. He felt the wind they stirred and saw her chest rise almost out of the water. For all that, it didn’t help her at all. It just disrupted the tangle of wood and debris in the eddy. As Sedric watched, a clump of tangled weeds broke free and floated off down the river. Not good.