The Dragon Keeper trwc-1

by Robin Hobb

  But that was good for a first try. We just got to keep at it, girl.'

  He was not the only one who had stopped to stare at the spectacle. Dragons and keepers alike were frozen. Some of the keepers were grinning and others were horrified. He could not read any expression on the dragon's visages. After all, how would one tell if a cow were amused or offended? Alise, after one moment of staring in shock, turned back to her target and once more hurried off.

  His longer legs soon caught him up with Alise despite her dogged trot. She seemed to be talking to the dragon. 'You are glorious beyond words. I am so thrilled to finally be here, and to speak with you like this is beyond my wildest dreams!'

  The dragon lowed back at her.

  For the first time, he really noticed the young girl beside the dragon. She had rested her makeshift pine-bough broom on her shoulder. She didn't look pleased to see them. The scowl on her face and her narrowed eyes made her look even more reptilian. For that was his first impression of her. Lizard-like, he would have said of her scaled face. He had thought her hands were caked with mud, but now he saw that her fingers ended in thick black claws. Her braided black hair looked like woven snakes, and her eyes glittered unnaturally.

  'Alise,' he said warningly, and when she didn't respond, he raised his voice more commandingly. 'Alise, stop a moment! Wait for me.'

  'Well, hurry then!'

  She paused, but he sensed that she would not wait long. In two strides he caught up with her completely. In the guise of taking her arm, he caught hold of her. 'Be careful!' he cautioned her in a low voice, pitching his words to carry through the dragon's vocalizing. 'You know nothing of the dragon. And the girl looks distinctly unfriendly. Either one or both of them may be dangerous.'

  'Sedric, let go! Can't you hear her? She says she wishes to speak to me. I think the best way to insult her and anger her is to ignore such a request. And speaking to the dragons is exactly why I came here. And it's why you are here, too! So follow me and please, have your pen ready to record our conversation.'

  She tried to pull free of him. He kept his grip and leaned down to peer into her face. 'Alise, are you serious?'

  'Of course I am! Why do you think I came all this way?'

  'But… the dragon is not speaking. Unless mooing like a cow or barking like a dog conveys some meaning to you. What am I to record?'

  She looked at him in confusion that became dismay and then, inexplicably, sympathy. 'Oh, Sedric, you cannot understand her at all? Not one word?'

  'If she has spoken a word, I haven't understood it. All I've heard is, well, dragon noises.'

  Almost as if in response to his comment, the dragon released a rumble of sound. She swivelled her head to face the dragon. 'Please, I beg you, let me have a moment with my friend! He cannot seem to hear you.'

  When Alise met Sedric's gaze again she shook her head in woe. 'I'd heard that there were some who could not understand clearly what Tintaglia said, and a few who could not even perceive she was speaking at all. But I never thought you would be so afflicted. What are we to do now, Sedric? How will you record our conversations?'

  'Conversations?' At first he'd been annoyed at her childish pretence of talking to the dragon. It was the same annoyance he always felt when people greeted dogs as 'old man' and asked 'how my fine old fellow has been'. Women who talked to their cats made him shudder. Alise, as a rule, did neither, and he'd thought her calls to the dragon had been some new and unwelcome Rain Wilds affectation. But now, to insist that the dragon was speaking to her and then to offer him her pity — it was too much. 'I'll record them just as I would log your conversations with a cow. Or a tree. Alise, this is ridiculous. I'll accept, because I must, that the dragon Tintaglia had the ability to make herself understood. But this creature? Look at it!'

  The dragon writhed its lips and made a flat, hissing noise. Alise went scarlet. The young Rain Wilder beside the dragon spoke to him. 'She says to tell you that although you may not understand her, she understands every word you say. And that the problem is not in her speaking, nor even in your ears, but in your mind. There have always been humans who cannot hear dragons. And usually they are the most arrogant and ignorant ones.'

  It was too much. 'Keep a civil tongue in your head when you address your elders, girl. Or is that no longer taught here in the Rain Wilds?'

  The dragon gave a sudden huff. The force of her exhaled breath blasted him with warmth and the stink of the semi-rotted meat she had just eaten. He turned aside from her with an exclamation of disgust.

  Alise gave a gasp of horror and pleaded, 'He does not understand! He meant no insult! Please, he meant no insult!' An instant later, Alise had seized him by the arm. 'Sedric, are you all right?' she demanded of him.

  'That creature belched right in my face!'

  Alise gave a strangled laugh. She seemed to be trembling with relief. 'A belch? Was that what you thought it? If so, we are fortunate that was all. If her poison glands were mature, you'd be melting right now. Don't you know anything of dragons? Don't you recall what became of the Chalcedean raiders who attacked Bingtown? All Tintaglia had to do was breathe on them. Whatever it was she spat, it ate right through armour. And right through skin and bone as well.' She paused, and then added, 'You have insulted her without meaning to. I think you should go back to the ship. Right now. Give me time to explain your misunderstanding of her.'

  The Rain Wilds girl spoke again. She had a husky voice, a surprisingly rich contralto. Her silver gaze was both unsettling and compelling. 'Skymaw agrees with the Bingtown woman. Whether you're my elder or not, she says you should leave the dragon grounds. Now.'

  Sedric felt even more affronted. 'I don't think that you have the right to tell me what to do at all,' he told the girl.

  But Alise spoke over his words. 'Skymaw? That's her name?'

  'It's what I call her,' the girl amended. She seemed embarrassed to have to admit it. 'She told me that a dragon's true name is a thing to be earned, not given.'

  'I understand completely,' Alise replied. 'The true name of a dragon is a very special thing to know. No dragon tells her true name lightly.' She treated the dragon's keeper as if she were a charming child who had interrupted an important adult conversation. The 'child' did not enjoy that, Sedric noted.

  Alise turned back to the hulking reptile. The creature had ventured so close that it now towered over them. Her eyes were like burnished copper, glittering in the sunlight. Her gaze was fixed steadily on him. Alise spoke to the creature. 'Great and gracious one, your true name is an honour that I hope one day to win. But in the meantime, I am pleased to give you mine. I am Alise Kincarron Finbok.' And she actually curtsied to the creature, bobbing down almost into the mud.

  'I have come all the way from Bingtown to see you, and to hear you speak. I hope that we shall have long conversations, and that I shall be able to learn a great deal about you and the wisdom of your kind. Long has it been since humanity was favoured with the company of dragons. What little we knew of your kind has, I fear, been forgotten. I would like to remedy that lack.' She gestured toward Sedric. 'I brought him with me, to be our scribe and record any wisdom you wished to share with me. I am sorry that he cannot hear you, for I am certain that if he could, he would quickly perceive both your intelligence and your wisdom.'

  The dragon rumbled again. The young keeper looked at Sedric and said, 'Skymaw says that even if you could understand her words, she thinks it likely you would be unable to comprehend either her intelligence or wisdom, for plainly you lack both.'

  Her 'translation' was obviously intended to insult. The girl's eyes, silvery-grey, darted toward Alise when she spoke. If Alise was aware of her animosity, she ignored it. Instead Alise turned to him and said quietly but firmly, 'I'll see you when I return to the ship, Sedric. If you don't mind, would you leave your lap-desk with me? I may try to write down some of what we discuss.'

  'Of course,' he said, and managed to keep the bitterness and the resentment from his voice. Long ago
, he thought to himself, he'd had to learn to speak civilly even after Hest had publicly flayed him with words. It was not so hard. All he had to do was discard every bit of his pride. He'd never thought that he would have to employ that talent with Alise. He thrust the lap-desk at her, and as she took it was almost pleased to see her surprise at how heavy it was. Let her deal with carrying it about, he thought vengefully to himself. Let her see the sort of work he'd been willing to do for her. Perhaps she might appreciate him a bit more. He turned away from her.

  Then, with a sudden lurch of heart, he realized there were things inside that lap-desk that he emphatically did not wish to share with Alise. He turned hastily back to her. 'The entire secretarial desk will be too heavy for you to use easily. Perhaps I could just leave you some blank paper, and a pen and ink?'

  She looked startled at this sudden kindness and he suddenly knew that she knew he'd intended to be rude when he'd burdened her with the whole desk. She looked pathetically grateful as he took it from her and opened it. The raised lid kept her from peering inside, but she didn't seem to have any curiosity about it. As he rummaged inside it for the required items, she said quietly, 'Thank you for your understanding, Sedric. I know this must be hard for you, to come so far on such a great adventure, and then to find that fortune has excluded you from the best part of it. I want you to know that I think no less of you; such a lack could afflict anyone.'

  'It's fine, Alise,' he said, and tried not to sound brusque. She thought his feelings were hurt because he couldn't communicate with the animal. And she felt sorry for him. The thought almost made him smile and his heart softened toward her. How many years had he felt sorry for her? It was odd to be on the receiving end of her pity. Odd, and strangely touching that she'd care if his feelings were hurt.

  'I've plenty of work to do back on the boat. I trust you'll be back for the evening meal?'

  'Oh, likely much before then. I shan't stand here in the dark and quiz her, I assure you. Today I'll be happy if we just get to know each other well enough to be comfortable. Thank you. I'll try not to waste your ink.'

  'You're welcome. Really you are. I'll see you later.'

  Thymara watched the exchange between the well-dressed man and the Bingtown woman and wondered. They seemed very familiar with each other; she wondered if they were married. She was reminded of her parents, and how they had always seemed connected and yet distant to each other. These two seemed to get along about as well as her parents did.

  She already disliked both of them. The man because he had no respect for Skymaw and was too stupid to understand her, and the woman, because she had seen the dragon and now she coveted her. And she would probably win the dragon, for she seemed to know how to charm her. Couldn't Skymaw see that the Bingtown woman was just trying to flatter her with her flowery phrases and overdone courtesy? She would have thought that the dragon would be angered by such a blatant attempt to win favour with her. Instead, Skymaw seemed delighted with the extravagant compliments the woman showered on her. She fawned on her, openly begging for more.

  And in turn, the woman seemed completely infatuated with the dragon. From the first moment they had seen one another, Thymara had almost felt the mutual draw between them. It irritated her.

  No. It was more than irritation. It made her seethe with jealousy, she admitted, because it excluded her. She was supposed to be Skymaw's keeper, not this ridiculous city woman. This Alise would not be able to feed the dragon or tend her. Would this woman with her soft body and pale skin walk beside the dragon as they wended their way upriver through the shallows and the encroaching forest? Would she kill to feed the dragon, would she perform the tedious grooming that Skymaw so obviously needed? She thought not! Thymara had spent most of the day scrubbing at Skymaw's hide until every scale gleamed. She'd dug caked mud out of her claws and claw-sheaths, picked a legion of nasty little blood-sucking beetles from the edges of the dragon's eyes and nostrils, and even cleared an area of reeking fresh dragon dung so that Skymaw could stretch out for her grooming without becoming soiled again.

  But the moment this Bingtown woman threw her a compliment or two, the dragon focused entirely on her as if Thymara had never existed. Would the woman have thought her so 'gleamingly beautiful' if she'd seen the dragon five hours ago? Not likely. The dragon was using all Thymara's hard work to attract a better keeper for herself. She'd soon find she'd make a poor choice.

  Just like Tats.

  The thought ambushed her and she felt the sudden sting of tears behind her eyes. She pushed all thoughts of Tats and Jerd aside. That night when Tats had left the fireside and Jerd had followed, she'd thought nothing of it. Tats, she thought, had needed time to be alone. But then, when they came back to the fire together, it was obvious to Thymara that he had been anything but alone. He seemed completely recovered from his exchange of comments with Greft. Jerd had been laughing at something he said. At the fire's edge, they'd sat down side by side. She'd overheard Jerd quizzing him about his life, asking the sort of personal questions that Thymara had always avoided for fear of Tats thinking she was too nosy. Jerd had asked them, smiling and tipping her head to look up into his face, and Tats had replied in his deep soft voice. She'd sat by the fire and Rapskal supplied an unwelcome distraction as he pelted her with his speculations about the journey and what they would have for breakfast tomorrow and if it was possible to kill a gallator with a sling. Greft had glared at her, Tats and Rapskal and then had gone stalking off into the forest on his own. Nortel and Boxter had both seemed out of sorts as well, exchanging small barbed comments. Harrikin had suddenly seemed sullen and sulky. None of it made sense to her; she only knew that her earlier sensation of goodwill and friendliness had been more fleeting than the smoke from their campfire.

  And that night, Tats had spread out his bedding and gone to sleep near Jerd, without even speaking to Thymara to say good night. She'd thought they were friends, good friends. She'd even been stupid enough to think that he'd only signed up as a dragon keeper because he knew that she'd be going, too. Worse, Rapskal had tossed his blankets right down beside hers after she had made her bed for the evening. She couldn't very well get up and move away from him, much as she wished to. He'd slept next to her every night since they left Trehaug. He talked and laughed even in his sleep, and her dreams, when she did find them that night, were uneasy ones of her father looking for her in a mist.

  In vain, she tried to recall her mind to the present and focus on the conversation next to her. The Bingtown woman was speaking to Skymaw. 'Do you recall, lovely one, your immediate ancestor's experience, your glorious mother's life? Do you know what happened to the world to cause dragons to become nearly extinct and leave humans to mourn in loneliness for so long?' She stood awaiting an answer, her pen poised over her paper. It was sickening.

  Worse, Skymaw was wallowing in the praise and answering the woman in dragon riddles while telling her nothing at all. 'My «mother»? Were she here, you would not insult her so lightly! A dragon is never a mother as you know it, little milk-making creature. We never fuss about squealing babies or waste our days in tending to the wants of helpless young. We are never as helpless and stupid as humans are when they are first born, knowing nothing of what or who they are. It is irony, is it not, that you live so short a time, and waste so much of it being stupid? While we live for dozens of your lives, aware every instant of what we are and who our ancestors were. You can see that it is hopeless for a human to try to understand dragonkind at all.'

  Thymara turned away abruptly from the dragon and the Bingtown woman. 'I'd best go see if I can kill some food for you,' she announced, not caring that she broke into the midst of their conversation. It was disgusting anyway. The woman kept asking Skymaw stupid questions, phrased in grovelling, honeyed compliments. And the dragon kept evading the questions, refusing her any real answers. Was that just what any dragon would do? Or was Skymaw trying to conceal her own ignorance?

  Now there was an idea that was almost more distu
rbing than the thought that Tats suddenly found Jerd more interesting than she was. And nearly as upsetting that neither the dragon nor the Bingtown woman seemed to take any notice of her leaving.

  She strode across the mud-baked shore toward their small boats. She'd left her belongings bundled up with her pack in one of the boats. She cast a casual glance at the big black scow at the edge of the shore. The Tarman. It was a strange craft, far more blunt and square than any other boat she'd ever seen. It had eyes painted on its prow; she'd heard that was an old custom, older than the Rain Wilds settlements. It was supposed to encourage the boat to look out for itself and avoid dangers in the river. She liked the boat's eyes. They looked old and wise, like the eyes of a kindly old man over his sympathetic smile. She hoped they would actually help guide the ship as they tried to find a way up the Rain Wild River. They were going to need all the help they could get to carry out their mission.

  She found her fishing spear and decided to try her luck, even though it looked as if the other keepers were already patrolling the shallow bank for any unwary fish. Rapskal had had a small success. He'd speared a fish the size of his hand. He did a victory dance with the flopping creature still stuck on the end of his spear, and then turned to his little red dragon. She had been toddling along behind Rapskal like a child's pull toy. 'Open up, Heeby!' Rapskal demanded, and the dragon obediently gaped at him. Rapskal tugged the fish off the spear and tossed it into the dragon's maw. The creature just stood there. 'Well, eat it! There's food in your mouth, shut your mouth and eat it!' Rapskal advised her. After a moment the dragon complied. Thymara wondered if the creature were too stupid even to eat food put in its mouth, or if the fish had been so small the dragon hadn't noticed it.

  She shook her head at them. She doubted that any large river fish would linger there in the sluggish warm water under the open sky. She turned her back on the dragons and her friends and headed toward the far edge of the clearing, where the trees tangled their worn roots right out into the river. Coarse sword-grass grew there, and grey reeds and spearman-grass. The rising and falling of the water level had left fallen branches and dead leaves tangled and dangling from the clawing tree roots that reached out into the river. If she were a fish, that would be where she would take shelter from the sunlight and predators. She'd try her luck there.