Rain Wild Chronicles 02 - Dragon Haven

by Robin Hobb

  As if the simple question were a glamour he could not resist, he heard himself babbling his final secret. “The dragon’s in my head. We’re linked. I can’t be free of her. She…she loves me. And that only makes me feel worse, because I don’t really deserve it. She’s a kind little creature…”

  “Little?” Carson’s was incredulous.

  “Young, then. So young and in her own way, innocent. She’s always aware of me, and especially so when I think of her.” Tears had begun to spill from his eyes. He was ashamed of them. Hest had always mocked him when he wept. He turned his face away from Carson and looked up at the sky. He could already feel the dragon. Relpda offered her warmth. She tried to wrap it around him, to reassure him, but he cocooned himself in his own hard misery and held her off. He felt a hand on his jaw and flinched.

  “Easy,” Carson said. “No one’s going to hurt you.” Gently he turned Sedric’s face back to his. “I don’t think there’s anything so terrible about someone loving you, even if she’s a dragon. So what else pushed you to this? What is so terrible you can’t live past it?”

  Sedric swallowed. Carson hadn’t lifted his hand from his face. He moved his forefinger carefully to swipe away a tear. When was the last time anyone had touched him with simple kindness?

  “I’ve started to scale.” The words came out tighter, higher pitched. He couldn’t keep the panic out of his voice. “Along my jawline. And on the back of my neck.”

  “It doesn’t usually happen to grown men. Let me see.” Carson leaned up on an elbow and looked down at him intently. He walked his fingers along Sedric’s jawline. “Mmm. You may be right. There’s a little scaling there.” He smiled a small smile. “Your beard is as soft as a puppy’s fur. Let me check the back of your head.” He slid his hand around the back of Sedric’s skull, and let his fingers trace a line down the nape of his neck. “So you have,” he said softly. “Scales.”

  He took a deep breath. “Better and better,” he said gently. He sounded pleased and for some reason, Sedric felt very hurt by that. Why would Carson enjoy his misfortune? And then, with his hand cupped around the back of Sedric’s neck, the hunter slowly lowered his mouth onto his and kissed him. Sedric went still with astonishment. Carson’s lips were gentle but demanding. When he broke the kiss, Sedric discovered that Carson had gathered him into his arms, holding him with strength but not cruelty. Cradling him against him. Something in him broke. He lowered his face to the rough fabric of Carson’s shirt and wept. Sobs rose out of him and broke him. He cried for all the things he’d thought he’d had but had never possessed. Wept for what he’d let Hest make him, how he’d deceived Alise, for what he’d thought of doing to Relpda. He cried because it was suddenly safe to do so. The hunter said nothing. He didn’t move other than to pull him closer. As the last tears finally left him, Sedric felt the dragon’s affection surround him.

  I know you took my blood. Even then, you did not want to kill me. You drank my blood and gave me a link to your mind, to clear my thoughts. It will be all right, Sedric. I won’t betray you. No one need ever know.

  The simple acceptance and forgiveness washed through him like a flood. It tumbled him and drowned him as the wave of water had not. He could not and found that he did not wish to resist it. Mindless warmth flushed through him again, taking away all thought of his problems, washing away his despair and leaving comfort.

  He felt his whole body relax.

  And Carson put two fingers under his chin, lifted his face, and kissed him again.

  After a time, the hunter pulled his mouth away and said hoarsely, “If you’ve changed your mind about killing yourself, I’ve thought of something else you could do tonight.”

  Sedric tried to find his own thoughts, to summon again everything that had filled him with despair. Carson must have seen it in his face.

  “Don’t,” he suggested softly. “Just don’t. Not now. Don’t question it, don’t hesitate.” He pushed his body back from Sedric’s and rose to his feet. Then he leaned over, offering Sedric a hand. He took it, felt the hunter’s rough and calloused palm against his, and let Carson help him to his feet.

  “Let me take you to your room,” Carson offered quietly.

  “Yes.”

  THYMARA WALKED AWAY from the bonfire into the night. It should have been a good evening. The night weather was mild, her stomach was full of fish and creek greens, she had been able to bathe and wash her hair and drink all she wanted this afternoon. She had scrubbed Sintara until the arrogant queen shone bluer than any summer sky. She hadn’t praised her with words and had been annoyed when Sintara had turned to her and said, “You are right in your heart. No other dragon here can compare to me.”

  No thanks for her grooming had she offered. Thymara had seethed, but silently, and had soon left her. The rest of the afternoon, she helped Tats, Harrikin, and Sylve groom the keeperless dragons. That had been a challenge.

  Baliper had been morose and uncooperative, still mourning Warken. Spit had presented the opposite problem. Newly cheeky and dangerously aggressive, the little silver had not wanted anyone to leave off grooming him as he basked in the attention of several keepers at once. Thymara had been relieved when Alise, her hair still damp from washing, had joined them and kept him occupied. Poor Relpda had submitted to grooming, but all the while, she had kept her eyes on the Tarman, palpably missing Sedric. Thymara had felt outrage on her behalf. “What sort of a man allows a dragon to save him and then ignores the poor creature?” she’d demanded of Alise. And then been jolted with surprise when Alise had defended him, saying, “I’m not surprised. He has problems of his own to deal with just now. It’s best to leave him alone with them.”

  The copper had been more direct with her. “My keeper!” she’d hissed at Thymara, and though the exhalation had been venomless, Thymara had made no more disparaging remarks about Sedric.

  When evening was full and they gathered by the bonfire to bask in its heat and eat together, she had seen that the others were healing from their losses. She was glad for them. All missed Jess’s storytelling. When Davvie brought out his pipes and began to play, the music sounded thin and lonesome. Then, to the startlement of all, Bellin had come down from the Tarman, carrying her own pipes. Without fanfare, she had sat down beside Davvie and joined her music to his, wrapping his melody in an accompaniment that made it seem more than enough to fill the night. Stoic Swarge was more pink cheeked than his wife, visibly prideful over her talent. The music was beautiful.

  But that was when Thymara had slipped away from the company. For when she had turned to Rapskal, looking forward to sharing her astonishment and pleasure, he simply wasn’t there.

  It seemed obscene and cruel that she had forgotten, even for a few moments, that he was dead and gone. It seemed a betrayal of their friendship, and suddenly the beauty of the music cut her too deeply and she had to go away from those who sat by the fire enjoying it. She’d stumbled off into the darkness until she came to the stream. There, she’d sat on a fallen tree and listened to the mutter of the water. Behind her, the light and warmth of the bonfire and the music seemed to come from a different world. She wondered if she belonged in it anymore.

  The silence of the forest was no silence at all to her ears. The water moved, and insects ticked in bark and moss. Up above her, something small and clawed stalked through the branches; probably a little tree cat looking for lizards gone motionless with the evening chill. She listened intently and heard the final pounce and a thin squeak before the little predator gave a short purr of satisfaction and then made its purposeful exit. Probably taking its kill off to a safe place to enjoy it.

  “What if I just stayed here?” she asked the night quietly. “Clean water. The firmest land I’ve ever seen; there is sand in the creek bottom, not muck. The hunting should be good. What do I need that I couldn’t find here?”

  “Company?” Tats suggested from the darkness. She turned and saw him as a silhouette against the orange firelight. “Or have you had
enough of people? Mind if I join you?”

  She moved over on the log instead of answering him. She wasn’t sure what her answer would have been.

  “By now, he would have had everyone up and jigging with him,” Tats said to the night.

  She nodded silently. Tats reached over and picked up her hand. She let him. He handled it in the darkness, sweeping his thumb across her palm, counting her fingers with his. He ran his nails lightly over her claws. “Remember when you thought these were a bad thing to have?” he asked conversationally.

  She drew her hand back into her lap, suddenly self-conscious. “I’m not sure I ever really thought that. They’ve always been useful to me. I just knew I’d have to live with everyone else thinking they’d limit me.”

  “Yes, well, more than once on this expedition, I’ve wished I had claws like you.” Matter-of-factly, he recaptured her hand and warmed it between both of his. It felt good; she hadn’t known it ached until he gently rubbed it and soothed the ache away. Tension began to seep out of her body. He slid a little closer to her. “Give me your other hand,” he told her, and she complied without thinking about it. He held her hands in both of his, rubbing them gently.

  For a time, they were silent. The noises from the bonfire came to them, and one of the dragons hooted in alarm about something, but it wasn’t Sintara, and she ignored it. When Tats put one of his arms across her shoulders and pulled her closer to lean on him, she allowed herself to do so. He rested his cheek on her hair. She wasn’t surprised when he ducked his head in to kiss her. It was easy to allow him to do that, easy to let the spreading warmth of sensation drive all thoughts from her mind.

  The second time his hand brushed her breast, she knew it wasn’t an accident. Did she want to do this? Yes. She refused to think that it might lead to things she wasn’t ready to allow him. She could always say no if it came to that. She didn’t need to say it yet.

  He kissed the side of her neck, her throat, and she leaned back, letting him. His mouth slid lower and suddenly a voice said, “Well, it appears a decision has been reached.”

  They leaped apart, Tats coming to his feet and whirling to face Greft. His hands were already cocked into fists. “You spying sneak!” he hissed.

  Greft laughed. “Turnabout is fair play. Ask Thymara.” He turned around, ignoring Tats’s physical challenge. “I’ll tell the others for you,” he offered. “I think they’ve a right to know.” He walked away.

  “Nothing has been decided. Nothing!” Thymara shouted after him.

  He laughed mockingly and continued on his way back to the fire. He favored one hip as he walked, and Thymara selfishly hoped that his Rain Wild changes were making him ache.

  “That bastard,” Tats said with feeling. Then he turned to her and cocked his head. “Nothing?” he asked her.

  “It’s…it’s not a decision,” she said. “We were just kissing.”

  In the darkness, with no touch joining them, he seemed very far away from her. “Just kissing?” he asked her. “Or just teasing?” He crossed his arms on his chest. She could barely see him in the dimness.

  “I wasn’t teasing,” she said defensively. More quietly she added, “I wasn’t thinking about what we were doing.”

  For a time, he was quiet. Her body still tingled from his touch. She thought of stepping closer to him, of letting him resume where he had left off. Perhaps he was thinking the same thing, for he suddenly said, “Thymara. Yes or no?”

  She didn’t have to think about it. She forced herself to speak quickly before she could change her mind. “No, Tats. It’s still no.”

  He turned and walked back to the bonfire, leaving her alone in the darkness.

  Day the 3rd of the Gold Moon

  Year the 6th of the Independent Alliance of Traders

  From Detozi, Keeper of the Birds, Trehaug

  To Erek, Keeper of the Birds, Bingtown

  Enclosed, the formal invitation for all Rain Wild Traders and Bingtown Traders to attend the upcoming Harvest Festival Ball in the Rain Wild Traders’ Concourse at Trehaug. To be widely posted and to be duplicated and personally delivered to the Traders listed within.

  Erek,

  As you have requested, I released four birds at dawn of this day, at precisely the same moment, all bearing identical messages that Reyall had indeed arrived safely home. Two of them were from the batch of swift pigeons that arrived with Reyall two days ago, and two were standard messenger birds. I delayed their flight by two days to allow the swift birds time to recover from their voyage and to limber their wings in the fly pen. The moment the birds were released, all four took immediate flight. I will admit to a moment of jealousy as I watched them go, wishing that I, too, could so effortlessly undertake the journey to Bingtown. Please keep me informed of this experiment. I should like to know how many days it takes them to make the journey, and if the swift pigeons are appreciably faster than our standard messenger birds. I have set the kings aside in breeding cages, allowing only one bird of each mated pair to take flight at a time. So far, they seem well able to provide for themselves, and all have selected nesting boxes. I will keep you apprised of this project as well. If it succeeds on a small scale, I could see that a family could found its fortune on such a meat production venture. I am glad to hear that your father’s health has improved. You are not the only one pestered by family to take a mate and settle down. One would think my mother had a nesting box awaiting me, to hear her nag that I need to find a husband soon!

  Detozi

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  DIVERGENCE

  After two days of steady rain, the weather had suddenly changed. Bright blue skies overhead gave a false promise that summer might return. The fog and the clouds drew back, revealing changes in the countryside. The river had changed gradually, with the far bank slowly advancing back toward them. Perhaps, Leftrin thought, they had finally passed through the remains of the wide lake that the dragons had spoken of. But it was just as likely, he told Swarge, “That nothing is as they remember it. And anything that they tell us of how things used to be can be worse than useless to us. If we rely on it instead of our own river sense, and they’re wrong, we could go nosing into all sorts of trouble.”

  Swarge had nodded gravely but said nothing, as was usual with him. Leftrin hadn’t really expected any conversation from him, but he would have welcomed more than a nod. He felt he’d been left too much alone with his own thoughts lately. Alise had been quiet for days, almost withdrawn. Oh, she smiled at him, and once or twice, she had taken his hand, so he did not think she was seriously regretting their interlude together. But she had shown no signs of attempting another rendezvous. The one night that he had tapped softly on the door of her darkened cabin, she had not answered him. After a time of anxious loitering, he had cursed himself for acting like a silly boy. She had shown him that when she wanted him, she’d make it plain. He’d not dangle outside her door when she did not.

  Once when he’d found her silent and morose, staring over the bow, he’d dared to ask if what was troubling her had to do with him. She’d shaken her head so hard that the tears flew from her cheeks. “Please,” she’d said. “Please don’t ask me about it. Not now. It’s something I have to cipher out for myself, Leftrin. If I feel I can tell you about it, I will. But for now, I have to bear it alone.”

  And so she had.

  He suspected it had something to do with Sedric. The man spent a lot of time in his cabin. When he was not there, he was likely to be up on the nose of the vessel, looking at his dragon as she plodded stolidly along. Recently he had taken to visiting her ashore every evening. Daily he made an effort at grooming the creature. He, too, seemed to be in the midst of puzzling something out. He reminded Leftrin of a man recovering his strength after a long convalescence. He no longer seemed to care so much if his boots got muddy or his hair was not combed. Leftrin had surprised Bellin and Sedric in the galley, drinking coffee at the table together. More startling had been finding Davvie showing him
how he fastened hooks to a long line for the bottom fishing lines that he sometimes set at night. Once he had seen Carson leaning on the railing next to him, and he wondered if that alliance might not be the source of Alise’s unhappiness. Carson, too, had been odd of late, and quiet in his watchful hunter way. Something was troubling him, but he hadn’t divulged it to Leftrin. If that “something” was his relationship with Sedric, then the captain was content to remain ignorant of it. He had plenty to worry about as it was; there was no room left in his brain for minding other folks’ business.

  The expedition had changed, and no one was comfortable with the changes yet. There were not enough boats and paddles for the keepers to follow the dragons as they had before. Some of the keepers had to ride on board the barge each day. After one day of leaving them in idleness, Leftrin had recognized the danger to that and found tasks for all of them. When he had time, he supervised them in the shaping of new paddles for the remaining boats, and other mundane tasks. Tarman was not a large vessel; it was sometimes difficult to find enough chores to keep them all busy. Nonetheless, he kept the on board keepers busy with any tasks he or Hennesey could think of. In his experience, idle hands on a boat made for trouble all around.

  He’d already seen signs of it. Bellin had come to him, uncomfortable and shy, to tell him that she’d had a talk with Skelly about Alum. “Neither one of them means any harm. But the attraction is there, they are young, and routine demands that they see each other almost every day. I’ve cautioned her. You’d be wise to speak to the young man before any hopes are raised or damage done.”

  He’d hated that task. But it had been his, both as captain and as her uncle. Skelly had avoided him for the last few days, and Alum, proud but respectful, had gone out every day since then in Greft’s boat. Greft was grateful for Alum’s help, but the older keeper would not have been Leftrin’s choice of a companion for Alum. It was more and more clear to him that Greft did not respect his authority and was not above stirring rebellion. But there it was. Greft had reclaimed the boat that Carson and Sedric had brought back. Leftrin thought it was shortsighted of the keepers to let him assert ownership to it; surely all the boats had been owned in common when they set out. But he would not interfere in keeper matters. He had more than enough on his own plate to keep him busy. Greft had assumed Jess’s mantle as a hunter, and everyone seemed content to let him do so.