Rain Wild Chronicles 02 - Dragon Haven

by Robin Hobb

  “Relpda. Relpda. Listen to me. We have to get more logs under your chest and give you a place to rest. Once you are safe, then I can hunt for food for you.”

  Rest. A world of longing was in the single word.

  SHE’D SLEPT LATE, yet when she emerged onto the deck, she saw that some of the keepers were sleeping still. Alise wondered if weariness or sorrow weighted them. Two who were not sleeping were Thymara and Jerd. The two girls were on the bow of the Tarman, their legs dangling as they sat on the railing and talked. Alise was mildly surprised to see them together. She had not thought they were friendly with each other, and after what Thymara had told her about Jerd, she doubted they ever would be. She wondered what they were talking about, and if they would welcome her if she joined them. She’d had female friends in Bingtown, but she’d never cherished those friendships as much as some women did. There was a reserve in her that perhaps other women thought cold; she’d never been able to confide in her friends the most intimate details of her marriage, though many had insisted on sharing such with her.

  Yet she thought that now she would welcome another woman’s thoughts. Since her discovery of the locket yesterday, her mind and emotions had been in turmoil. Why would Hest have such a gift made, why entrust it to Sedric, and why hadn’t Sedric passed it on to her? These were questions she could not share with Leftrin; if there was guilt to bear in these matters, it belonged to her alone. It was a question only Sedric could answer, and Sedric was gone. She reined her mind away from that sorrow. Not yet. She would not mourn him yet. There was still hope.

  She wandered the boat, looking for Bellin. When she finally found her, she was in the deckhouse, sitting on Skelly’s bunk. Bellin’s face was serious, and she held both of Skelly’s hands. Tears had tracked down the girl’s face recently. Bellin’s eyes flickered to Alise’s face, and a very slight change in her facial expression told Alise to go away silently without alerting Skelly to her presence. Alise gave a small nod and ghosted away, back to pacing a circuit of the deck.

  Thymara had rolled her trousers up to her knees. As she swung her legs, her scales glittered silver in the sunlight. She sat hunched over, but Jerd sat straight and tall, almost pushing her stomach out. Alise envied them: they had so much freedom. No one fretted that they were showing too much leg, or even that they might fall in. Everyone on the vessel assumed they knew what they were about and left them to it. They reminded her of Althea Trell and how competently she had moved about the deck of the Paragon. Althea, she reminded herself, was of Bingtown Trader stock, just as she was. So she could not really blame where she came from for the limitations on her. No, she realized slowly. She was the one who had accepted those limitations and brought them with her. She was the one who lived by the restrictive rules.

  She thought of Leftrin with frustration and longing. She sensed in him tenderness and passion, two things she had never received from Hest. Leftrin woke like feelings in her. Why couldn’t she just go to him and give herself to him as she longed to? The man obviously wanted to bed her, and she wanted him.

  There was a wild part of her that insisted they were too far up this strange river, and that she did not need to worry about what might happen to her after she returned to Bingtown. That part believed that she might never return at all. And whether she died on this mad adventure or lived it out to the end, shouldn’t she live all of it, have all of it, instead of holding back from it? Coldly she realized that Sedric was not here to look at her with doleful accusing eyes. Her conscience was gone; she could do as she pleased.

  “It’s a lovelier day with you on the deck, my dear.”

  She felt a warm rush of pleasure at hearing his voice and turned to find Leftrin bearing down on her. He carried two cups of tea. As she took the heavy, stained mug from his calloused and scaled hand, she thought of how she might have flinched away from him only a month ago. She would have wondered if the mug were clean and tsked over the stale tea. Now she knew that the mug had been given only a tiny swirl of water to clean it, or perhaps been wiped out with a rag. Knew and didn’t care. As for the tea, well…She toasted him with her mug. “Best tea to be had for miles around!”

  “It is that,” he agreed. “And the best company to be had in the entire world, I’m thinking.”

  She laughed softly and looked down at her hands. Her freckles were dark against her water-scalded skin. She didn’t want to think about her face and hair. She had glanced at them in the small dim mirror in her cabin after she had brushed and pinned up her hair and given it up as hopeless. “How can you give me such outrageous compliments and not sound foolish doing it?”

  “Maybe you’re the right audience for such words. And maybe I don’t care if I sound foolish, for I know it’s the truth.”

  “Oh, Leftrin.” She turned to look out over the river, resting her teacup on the ship’s railing. “What are we going to do?” She hadn’t known she was going to ask him that. The question came out of her as naturally as the steam that rose off her tea.

  He purposely misunderstood her. “Well, Carson left before dawn. We’re going to hold in place here for a day. The dragons can rest a bit and gorge some more. A little bit upriver, they found an eddy full of acid-killed fish. So we’ll let them eat and rest while Carson continues the search. He’ll go another full day down the river. If he finds survivors, he’ll guide them back to us. If he finds nothing, he’ll give it up and come on back to us. He took the horn with him, and the sound carries quite a ways. I heard him blow three long blasts, not that long ago.”

  “I didn’t hear it.”

  “Well, it was faint, and I’m accustomed to listening for such things.” Something in his tone rang oddly to her. She sensed a secret but was willing, for now, to let it go.

  “Do you think he’ll find anyone else?”

  “It’s impossible to predict a thing like that. But we found almost all our survivors in one place. So, it seems to me that what that river picked up in one place, it kept mostly together and dumped in another place.”

  He stopped talking, but she pieced his logic together. “So you think that if anyone survived to be found, they would have been with us.”

  He nodded reluctantly. “Most likely. But we found that dragon off by herself.”

  “And Warken’s body.”

  “And the body,” he agreed. “That says to me that most everything that was in our area when the wave hit was carried by the wash to this area.”

  She was silent for a time. “Heeby and Rapskal? The copper dragon?”

  “Probably dead and on the bottom. Or buried under debris. Dead dragons that size wouldn’t be hard to spot.”

  “And Sedric?”

  His silence was longer than hers had been. Finally he said, “Speaking bluntly, Alise, the keepers survived because they’re tough. Their skin can stand up to these waters. They all know how to climb a tree if they can get to one. They’re made for this life. Sedric wasn’t. There was no muscle to that man to begin with, and his long days of lying abed, sick or not, would only have weakened him more. I try to imagine him swimming in that wave, and I can’t. I fear he’s gone. It’s not your fault. I don’t think it’s my fault, either. I think it’s just what happened.”

  Did he mention fault only because he secretly knew it was her fault? “I brought him into this, Leftrin. He wasn’t your idea of tough, I know. But in his own way, he was strong, capable, and very competent. He was Hest’s right hand. I’ll never know why he decided to send him with me.” Her words stuttered to a halt. Unless Hest had believed that she deserved the kind of watching over her that Sedric had tried to provide.

  “I wasn’t saying he wasn’t a good man, only that I doubted he was a good swimmer,” Leftrin said gently. “And we don’t have to give up hope. We’ve got a strong man looking for him. I think Carson wants to find him as badly as you do.”

  “I’m grateful to him. I don’t know how to thank him for being so determined.”

  Leftrin gave a small cough. “W
ell, I think he’s hoping that Sedric will do the thanking. Them being the same kind of men and all.”

  “The same kind of men? I can’t think of two men more unlike.”

  Leftrin shot her an odd look and then shrugged. “Like enough in the ways that matter to them, I’m thinking. But let’s let that go. It’s enough to say that Carson won’t give up easily.”

  “SO WHY DID you do it, then? If you didn’t think you were, well, in love with him?”

  Jerd lifted one shoulder. “I guess that I’d decided I was going to live my own life just as soon as I left Trehaug. It was like keeping a promise to myself. And”—she smiled wryly—“he was the first. It was flattering, I guess, that someone as soft-skinned as him would, well, want me. I don’t have to explain that to you. After a lifetime of being told that no one should touch you, that no one would or could touch you because you were born too much of a monster? Then a soft-skinned boy with a gentle manner doesn’t seem to think it matters…that just made me feel free. So I decided to be free.”

  “So.” Thymara swallowed and tried to think how to phrase her next question. She was the one who had sought Jerd out. And she’d been surprised that the other girl hadn’t rebuffed her attempts at conversation. Neither of them had brought up Thymara’s spying on her and Greft. With a bit of luck, neither of them would. Perhaps Jerd was as uncomfortable about that as she was. She considered her question one last time. Did she really want to know?

  “So, then, he came to you. Not you to him.”

  Jerd glanced across at her and made a disparaging face. “I followed him into the woods. Is that what you’re asking? Or are you asking who touched whom first? Because I’m not sure I remember…” She sat up straighter, put her hand on her slight belly, and asked, “Why do you care, anyway?”

  Thymara was suddenly sure that Jerd did remember, perfectly well. And she saw that she had just handed the other girl a little knife that she could use to dig at her anytime she wanted. “I don’t know,” she lied. “I just wondered.”

  “If you want him, you can have him,” Jerd offered magnanimously. “I mean, I’ve got Greft, you know. And it isn’t like I wanted Tats permanently. I wouldn’t take him away from you.”

  So she thought she could. Could she? “And you didn’t want Rapskal permanently?” Thymara countered. “Nor any of them?”

  If she’d thought to pierce the other girl, she’d missed. Jerd gave a laugh. “No, not Rapskal! Though he was sweet, so boyish, and so handsome. But once with him was enough for me! He laughed in such a silly way; very annoying. Oh! I’m sorry he’s gone, though. I know you were close, and I’m sure you didn’t find his silly ways annoying at all. It must be very hard for you to lose him.”

  The bitch. Thymara willed her throat not to close, her eyes not to tear, and failed. It wasn’t that she’d been in love with him. He was just too strange. But he’d been Rapskal and her friend; his absence left a hole in her life.

  “It is hard. Too hard.” Without apology or explanation, Thymara swung her legs to the other side of the railing and hopped down. As she did, she felt a brief vibration of sympathy from Tarman. As she walked away, she let her hand trail along the railing, assuring him of her mutual regard for him. She saw Hennesey, the mate, give her an odd look and immediately lifted her hand from the railing. He gave her a slow, unsmiling nod as she passed. She’d crossed a line just then and she knew it. She wasn’t part of Tarman’s crew and had no right to communicate with the ship that way. Even if he had started it.

  That thought brought an unwelcome comparison to what Jerd had said about Tats. She forced herself to think about it. Did it matter if Tats had initiated things with Jerd? Wasn’t it something that was over and done with?

  “NOW, JUST STAY like that. Rest and don’t move. I’ll try to find more food for you.”

  “Very well.”

  Sedric looked again at the dragon on her bed of logs and marveled at all of it, at the logs they had moved together, at how he had visualized it and created it, and how he had managed to get her up and out of the water. In the process of finding logs he could move and shifting them toward her, he had discovered several large dead fish floating in the water, and one carcass that might have been a monkey. Touching the soft dead things had been disgusting. Not fresh, she had complained, but she’d eaten them. Then, despite the sting of the water, he’d scrubbed most of the stink from them off his hands.

  “We work well together.” She spoke in his ears and in his mind.

  “We do,” he agreed, and he tried not to wonder too much if that were a good thing.

  It had taken the morning and half the afternoon to achieve this. He’d seen that if he could force several of the larger logs up against the trees, he might be able to secure them there and make a dragon-size raft. He’d begun with one log that was already butted firmly against several thick trees. The eddying current held it there. He’d moved the brush, small branches, and other debris that was packed between it and another log. It had been wet heavy work, and his soaked clothing still chafed against his river-scalded skin. Long before he had finished, his hands were stiff and sore, his back ached, and he felt almost dizzy from the effort. Relpda had been impatient as he worked, mooing her distress and fear. Slowly her anxiety had crept into irritation and anger.

  Help me! Slipping. Help. Not do wood. Help ME!

  “I’m trying to. I’m building something for you, something you can get onto.”

  Anger made her thrash both tail and wings, nearly knocking him into the water. “Help now! Build later!”

  “Relpda, I have to build first, then help.”

  NO! Her wild trumpeting split the sky, and the force of her thought staggered him.

  “Don’t do that,” he warned her. “If I fall in the river and drown, you’ll be alone. No one to help you.”

  Fall in, I eat you! Then no build trees. She sent him the thought silently but with no less force.

  “Relpda!” For a moment, he was both outraged and terrified that she would threaten him. Then the cold current of fear that underlay her words snaked through his heart. She didn’t understand. She thought he was ignoring her. “Relpda, look: if I can push enough of the big trees together here and make them stay, then—”

  Help Relpda NOW!

  She pushed him again with her thought, and he almost blacked out. He responded in anger. “Look at what I’m trying to do!” And he shoved back hard against her stubborn little lizard brain, sending her the image of a thick raft of logs and branches, with Relpda curled safely upon it.

  She snorted furiously and hit the water with her wings, splashing him. Then, Oh, she exclaimed. Now I see. It all makes sense. I’ll help you.

  Her sudden fluency astounded him. “What?”

  I’ll help you push the logs into place. And clear the brush that blocks them from fitting snugly together.

  She was in his mind, using his vision, his thoughts, his words. He shuddered at the sudden intimacy, and she shivered her hide in response. He tried to pull back from her and couldn’t. On his second effort, she reluctantly parted her thoughts from his.

  Relpda help?

  “Yes. Relpda help,” he’d replied when he felt he could form words of his own again.

  And she had. Despite her weariness and the soreness of her clawed feet, she swam about, pushing debris out of the way and shoving logs where he indicated. When their first effort came to pieces, she’d given one shrill trumpet of protest and despair. And then, when he called her back to their task, she’d come. She’d listened to him as he directed her to sink logs and push them under their row of timbers. When he told her she’d have to tread water while he roped their latest effort with their pitifully short piece of line, she’d done it. And then, cautiously, she’d clambered up onto her uneven bed of logs. And rested. Her body began to warm. He hadn’t realized how much her exhaustion had been affecting him until she suddenly relaxed. He nearly fainted with her relief.

  Sleep now.

&nbs
p; “Yes. You sleep. It’s what you need most right now.”

  He himself needed food. And water. How pathetic to long, not for wine or well-prepared food, but a simple drink of water. And now he was right back to where he had been hours ago, except that most of his daylight was gone. Soon darkness would fall, and he’d be back to huddling under a smelly blanket in a small boat. He glanced at the sky and decided that he had to at least try to find where Jess had found the fruit.

  Meat. She’d been following his thoughts sleepily, and the idea of fruit didn’t please her. Find meat. She let the sharpness of her hunger touch him. He was appalled. He’d just fed her!

  Not enough.

  “Maybe I’ll find some meat.” Then, trying to accept the desperation of their situation, he forced himself to say, “I’ll try.”

  He walked back to the boat and looked at the selection of animal-killing tools that remained to him. The hatchet still lay in the bloody bilgewater. His gorge rose as he picked it out and set it on the seat to dry. Jess’s blood, diluted with slimy water, was on his hands now. He knelt and thrust his hand down through the matted debris and into the river water to sluice it off. To his surprise, it did not sting as he had expected it to. Was he becoming accustomed to it? A glance around at the river showed him that not only was it far less acid than it had been, but that the level was much lower. The high water mark on the tree trunks was well over his head now.

  He worked his way over to the cage of tree trunks that edged the river, stepping from log to log. Sometimes they bobbed deeper than he expected, and one spun under his foot, nearly dumping him into the river. But at last he stood at the edge of the forest, looking up at the trees. He knew he’d seen Jess descend one of those trunks, but they all suddenly looked much smoother than they had before. When was the last time he’d climbed a tree? He couldn’t have been more than ten years old, and it had been a friendly apple tree, its branches laden with sweet fruit. The memory of those apples made him swallow hard against his hunger. Well, no help for it. Up he must go.