by Robin Hobb
Malta smiled wearily. Then she looked to the committee table. 'I will speak for Tintaglia in this.' She swung her gaze to Alise, and that look was compelling. Alise was nodding even before Malta said, 'If Alise Finbok is willing to go I am willing to accept her as an impartial judge to act in the best interest of the dragons.'
Day the 4th of the Grain Moon
Year the 6th of the Independent Alliance of Traders
From Detozi to Erek
That sneaking little bastard! He is too low for his own pigeons to shit on! As if the weight of our ink on the tiny corner end of a scroll was an added weight for the pigeons to carry! He is so seif-righteous, and always seeking a way to discredit me, because he knows that if I am discharged, then his Brother will probably be hired on in my place! I pray you, be cautious of which birds you use if you have added a note for me. Recall that all the birds that home to my coop are banded with red bands. Kim does not even paint his bands, but uses plain leather, the lazy piece of dung.
Detozi
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Encounters
The muddy banks of the river were drying out. Cracks and fissures had opened up in the flat brown plain. As Sintara waded out of the grey, silt-laden water, the wet bank gave unevenly under her feet. She lurched as she walked. Dragons, she reflected, were not intended to be creatures of the ground. Her blue-scaled hide was still dripping from her attempt at a bath; she left a wet trail behind her. She opened her stunted wings, flapped and shook them in a shower of water droplets and then refolded them against her sides. She wished in vain for a wide bank of hot sand where she could bask until she was dry, and then polish her claws and scales until she shone. In this lifetime, she'd never had the luxury of a good dust bath, let alone a nice rasp on a sandbank. Dust and sand, she was sure, would have cleansed her of a lot of the tiny sucking insects that infested her and the other dragons. Although she still groomed herself daily, few of the others did. As long as they were infested and she had to live in close quarters with them, there seemed little point to grooming. Yet she refused to give up that ritual. She was a dragon, not a mindless mud salamander.
The forest that backed onto the beach put most of the river-bank in perpetual shade. During the years they had been trapped there, the dragons had enlarged the clearing. Some of the surrounding trees had been killed accidentally by dragons sharpening claws or rubbing scaled shoulders against them in search of relief from the pests that infested them. Several trees had been killed deliberately as the dragons sought to enlarge the area in which they were forced to live. But killing a tree and pushing it down and out of the way were two different tasks. Killing it meant that its foliage dropped and an additional but small amount of light reached them. But despite sporadic efforts, not even several dragons together could push down one of the towering trees.
Sunlight reached the river bank at the height of the day and lingered there strongly only for a few hours. Sintara surveyed the fourteen dragons spread out before her. Most of them slept or at least drowsed, soaking up light and warmth while they could. There was little else for them to do this afternoon. The larger dragons had claimed the prime spots for sunbathing. The lesser dragons took whatever space they could find. Most of then napped in areas that were shadow-dappled; the smallest and least able slept in full shade. Even the best spots were barely adequate for comfort. The river mud dried to a fine sneeze-inducing dust that was annoying to eyes and nostrils. But at least it was warm and there was light. Sintara's skin and bones constantly longed for light and heat almost as much as her belly hungered for meat.
The sunlight sparkled on a few of the better-groomed dragons. Kalo, the largest of their clan, gleamed blue-black as he sprawled in the strongest patch of sunlight. His head rested on his forelegs. His eyes were closed and his slow breath stirred a small plume of dust each time he exhaled. At rest and folded to his back, his wings looked almost normal.
He seldom spread them, but when he did, the flimsy musculature betrayed him.
Beside him, Ranculos shone scarlet in sharp contrast to the dusty shore. His silver eyes were lidded in sleep. He was badly proportioned, as if someone had sculpted parts of three different dragons and then assembled them. His front shoulders and legs were powerful, but he dwindled at his hindquarters and his tail was ridiculous. His wings drooped and refused to stay properly closed. Pathetic.
Sintara narrowed her eyes to see that azure Sestican had sprawled out, wings open, and was occupying her space as well as his own. His long scrawny legs twitched in his sleep. Between her and him, several of the smaller and less able dragons were sleeping. Their dull hides were daubed with mud and they slept packed together like the toes on a foot.
She paid no attention to them as she thrust her way over and through the sleeping creatures. One squeaked and two gave snorting growls as she trod on them. One rolled under her, throwing her off balance. She lashed her tail to stay upright and flapped her still-drying wings, sprinkling all of them with a shower of cold droplets. A mutter of snarls greeted that, but none of them could be bothered to really challenge her. As she reached her place, she deliberately trod on Sestican's spread blue wing, pinning it to the earth.
He gave a surprised roar and tried to roll free. She pressed down harder on the trapped wing, deliberately bending the delicate bones. 'You're in my place,' she growled.
'Get off me!' he snarled in return. She lifted her foot just enough for him to drag his bruised wing free of her weight. As he snapped it back tight to his body, she sank down to the bared dust. She was still displeased. It was warm from his body heat, but not hot from baking sunlight as she had fantasized. Nonetheless, she settled into place, pushing ungraciously against Veras to make more room for herself. The dark green female stirred, bared her puny teeth, and then went on sleeping.
'Don't ever sleep in my place again,' Sintara warned the big cobalt dragon. She arranged her body, resentfully tucking her tail around her instead of letting it sprawl out as she wished to. But she had no sooner settled her head on her front paws than Sestican abruptly lurched to his feet. She snarled as his shadow fell over her. At the edges of the sleeping swarm of dragons, one of the smaller ones lifted her head and asked stupidly, 'Food?'
It was not time for them to be fed. There was a general lifting of heads followed by dragons wallowing and lurching to their feet, trying to see past one another for a view of what was arriving on the beach.
'Is it food?' Fente demanded angrily.
'Depends on how hungry you are,' Veras replied. 'Small boats full of people. They're pulling their boats up onto the bank now.'
'I smell meat!' Kalo announced, and before he had even voiced it, the swarm was moving. Sintara shouldered Fente aside. The nasty green female snapped at her. Sintara gave her a lash of her tail in passing but didn't bother with any further retaliation. Being the first to the food was much more important than any vengeance right now. Sintara gathered her strength and made a springing leap over Veras. Her withered wings opened reflexively but uselessly. Sintara snapped them back close to her sides and continued her lumbering gallop down to the riverbank.
The cluster of young humans on the shore huddled together in fear. One yelled and ran back toward the beached boats. As the dragons advanced, three others joined him. Other people were emerging from the narrow beaten trail that led back into the forest and to the ladders that went up to their tree-nests. Sintara caught the familiar scent of one of their hunters. The man raised his voice and shouted at the boat-humans. 'It's all right. They smell the food, that's all. Stand your ground and meet them. It's why you're here. We've got meat for all of them. Let us feed them first, and then you should move among them and let them greet you. Stand your ground!'
Sintara could smell the fear on them. She noted in passing that the humans from the boats were mostly youngsters. Their voices were raised to one another, piping questions and squeaking warnings. Then the other hunters emerged from the path, pushing their barrows. Each wooden barrow was hea
ped high with meat and fish, a generous pile surpassing what they usually held. Sintara chose the third barrow as hers and pushed Ranculos aside to claim it. He roared, but swiftly chose the fourth barrow instead. As they always did, the barrow pushers quickly left the area to stand well back in the trees. They'd reclaim their barrows and trundle them away when every dragon had finished eating.
Sintara sank her muzzle into the heaped carrion. The meat was still, the blood dried and the muscles stiffened. The deer in it had probably been killed yesterday or even the day before. The smell of the offal was rank, but she didn't care. She seized and gulped, seized and gulped, eating as swiftly as she could. Even though there was a barrow for each dragon, it wasn't uncommon to have to fight for the last pieces of her carrion if some other dragon had already finished his share.
She overset her barrow in her haste, spilling the final pieces of meat. The last piece of river carp was covered in dust: it stuck in her throat and she had to shake her head to get it down. It still stuck. Ignoring the others, she went to the drinking hole. The water that seeped in from the sides and filled it was less acid than that in the river itself. She sank her muzzle into it and drew up a long draught. She lifted her head skyward, pointed her nose up and swallowed. The fish was still caught in her throat. Another long drink and it finally slid down. She belched in relief. She was startled when someone asked her, 'Are you all right now? You looked as if you were choking.'
Sintara slowly turned her gaze downward. Standing at her shoulder was a thin Rain Wilds girl. The faint trace of scales on her cheekbones glinted silvery in the sunlight. Sintara said nothing to the human, but rotated her head to look over the mud plain by the river. Some of the humans still clustered near their small boats, but several of them had ventured away from the group to mingle with the dragons. She gave her attention back to the girl who had spoken to her. The human barely came to her shoulder. She smelled of wood-smoke and fear. Sintara opened her mouth and breathed in deeply, taking in the girl's full scent. Then she breathed out and saw the girl flinch as her breath streamed past her. 'Why do you ask?' she demanded.
The girl didn't answer the question. Instead, she pointed toward the forest and said, 'The day you hatched, I was there. Up in that tree. Watching.'
'I didn't «hatch» here. I emerged from my case. Are you too ignorant of dragon ways to know the difference?'
The skin of the girl's face changed temperature and colour as her blood beat more strongly there. 'I'm not ignorant. I know that dragons begin their lives as serpents, hatched on a beach far from here. To say that you hatched here was just a manner of speaking.'
'A careless use of words,' Sintara corrected her.
'I'm sorry,' the girl apologized.
'I'm sorry,' Thymara said hastily. This dragon seemed very testy. Perhaps she had made an error in choosing her. She glanced over at Tats. He was trying to approach a small green female. She didn't seem to be paying any attention to him, other than to hiss threateningly when he stepped too close to her barrow of meat. Rapskal already had his arm around a runty little red dragon. He began scratching her head near her neck fringe and the dragon leaned into him, thrumming with pleasure. An instant later, Thymara realized he was dislodging an entire colony of parasites from her. Leggy little insects were falling in a shower from the dragon as he diligently scratched at her scales.
Most of the other dragon keepers still huddled by the boats, watching them. Greft had announced his claim as soon as the boat touched shore. 'The big black one is mine. Everyone stay back and give me a chance to talk to him before you approach the others.'
Perhaps some of the others were swayed by Greft's assumption of leadership. Thymara wasn't. She'd already seen the dragon she wanted to care for. The female was a gleaming blue with glittering silver markings on her dwarfed wings. Consecutive scaled frills draped her neck like ruffles on a rich woman's dress. She was one of the better-formed dragons, despite her diminutive wings. A survivor, Thymara had judged her, and been so bold as to approach her immediately. Now she wondered if she'd made a poor choice. The blue dragon didn't seem especially friendly, and she was large. If the way she'd devoured the barrow of meat was any indication, keeping up with her appetite was going to be a challenge. No, an impossibility, she realized with dawning dismay. What she had seen as feasible back at Trehaug was now revealed to her as a hopeless task. If she was going to be any dragon's sole feeder, that dragon was going to be hungry a good part of the time.
This dragon's temperament didn't seem very kindly even with a belly full of meat. What would she be like when she was hungry and tired after a day's journey? Thymara reluctantly scanned the other dragons, seeking a better prospect for herself. This one obviously didn't like her at all.
But the other dragon keepers had found their courage and were already fanning out through the herd of dragons. Kase and Boxter were approaching two orange dragons. She wondered briefly if the two cousins always made similar choices. Sylve, hands clasped shyly behind her and head bowed, was talking quietly to a gold male. As Thymara watched, he lifted his head, revealing a blue-white throat. Jerd stood close to a green female with gold stippling. As the other keepers spread out through the herd, Thymara did a quick count. There weren't enough keepers. There would be two extra dragons. That could be trouble.
'Why are you here? What is this invasion about?'
There was irritation in the dragon's tone, as if Thymara had insulted her. The girl was startled. 'What? Didn't they tell you we'd be coming?'
'Didn't who tell us?'
'The committee. There was a Rain Wilds committee to look into solving the dragon problem. They decided it would be best for all if the dragons were moved upriver to a better place. Somewhere with open meadows, dry ground and plentiful game for you.'
'No.' A flat denial by the dragon.
'But—'
'That was not what they decided. No humans decided anything about us. We told the humans that tend us that we are leaving this place, and that we required their services. We told them to supply us with hunters and tenders for our journey. We told them that we intend to return to Kelsingra.
Have you heard of it, little creature? It was an Elderling city, a place of sunlight and open fields and sandy shores. The Elderlings who lived there were creatures of culture and learning who appreciated dragons. The buildings there were created to accommodate us. The plains teemed with cattle and wild game. That is where we intend to go.'
'I have never heard of such a place.' She spoke hesitantly, not wishing to offend.
'What you have heard or not heard is of little interest to me.' The dragon turned away from her. 'That is where we shall be going.'
This wasn't going to work. Thymara cast about hopelessly. Two dragons remained unclaimed. They were mud-streaked and dull-eyed creatures, nosing stupidly at the empty barrows. The silver one had a festering infection on his tail. The other one might have had a coppery hide but was so filthy he looked dun coloured. He was thin in a bony way; she suspected he suffered from worms. In her cold evaluation, neither would survive the trek up the river. But perhaps that didn't matter. It was apparent to her that her girlish fancy of befriending the dragon that she escorted was little more than that. What a silly dream that had been, of friendship with a powerful and noble creature. She was already revising her estimate of what the expedition would be, and her heart was sinking with the burden of that reality. She'd be feeding and caring for creatures that found her irritating and were large enough to kill her with a casual blow. At least her mother had been slightly shorter than she was. The thought that she might prefer her mother's company to that of an irritable dragon twisted her mouth in a sour smile.
The dragon exhaled a blast of air by her ear. 'Well?'
'I didn't say anything.' She spoke quietly. She wanted to edge away, but not while the dragon was eyeing her.
'I'm aware of that. So you haven't heard of Kelsingra. That doesn't mean that it doesn't exist. It seems to me that we are as li
kely to find it as we are to find your "open meadows, dry ground and plentiful game". For it seems likely to me that if any Rain Wilder had ever heard of such a place, there would already be a Rain Wilds settlement there.'
'That's true,' Thymara agreed reluctantly, and wondered why she hadn't previously thought about it in such terms. Because the committee, of supposedly older and wiser Rain Wild Traders, had told her that was what she would find. But what did they know? Not a one of them had looked like a hunter or a harvester. Most looked as if they'd never even ventured up to the canopy, let alone explored along the river-banks. What if there were no such place? What if it was all just a ploy to get the dragons and their tenders to leave Cassarick?
She pushed that thought aside. It frightened her, not just because it might be true but because she suddenly knew that the people she had signed a contract with were perfectly capable of banishing both the dragons and their keepers to an endless trek up the boggy riverbank. 'Why are you dragons so certain that Kerlinger exists?' she demanded of the big blue female.
'If you are trying to talk about Kelsingra, then at least name it correctly. You are very careless with your language. I suspect that creatures with brains as small as yours must have a hard time recalling information. As to why we know it exists, we remember it.'
'But you've never been away from this beach.'
'We have our ancestral memories. Well, at least some of us have some of them. And it is one that several of us do recall. The city on the wide and sunny riverbank. The sweet silver water from the well there. The plazas and the buildings created to accommodate the alliance of Elderlings and dragons. The fine fields full of fat grazing cattle.' The dragon's voice had gone dreamy and for a moment, Thymara almost felt the creature's hunger for fat cows full of warm blood and hot moist meat. And afterward, a wash and then a long nap on the white sandy riverbank. Thymara shook her head to clear it of her imaginings.