The Dragon Keeper trwc-1

by Robin Hobb

  Clambering out on the twisting roots was both like and unlike her travels through the canopy. Up there, a fall could mean death, but the layers of branches also offered a hundred chances to grip a limb or liana and regain her life. Down here, there were gaps in the matted tangle of roots under her feet. Below, the river flowed, grey and stinging, at best threatening to give her a rash, at worst eating through skin and flesh down to the bone. There was also the chance of crashing through completely into water over her head, and worse, coming back up under the tangled roots. The trees were still under her feet, as they had always been, but the dangers were different. Somehow that made it hard to remember that she was sure-footed and made for the Rain Wilds.

  The third time her booted foot slipped on the roots, she stopped and thought. Then she sat down and carefully unlaced both boots. She knotted the laces together and slung them around her neck and went on, digging the claws of her toes into the bark. She found a likely place. The foliage overhead cast a dappling shade over her. A thick twist of root gave sheltering debris a place to cling even as it provided her an opening over the river. The grass and fallen branches filtered the silt-laden river water here, so it was almost translucent. She sat down where her shadow would not fall on the water, poised her fish spear and waited.

  It took time for her eyes to learn to read the water. She could not see fish, but after a time she could see shadows, and then swirls in the sediment that showed a fish had passed. Her shoulder began to ache from holding her spear at the ready; the spear itself seemed to weigh as much as a tree trunk. She pushed the ache out of her mind and focused her whole being on reading the swirls in the sediment. That would be the tail, so the head would be there, no, too late, it's back under the root. Here it comes, here it comes, here it — no, back under the root. There he is, he's a big one, wait, wait, and—

  She jabbed down with the spear rather than throwing it. She felt it hit the fish and pushed hard and strong to pin it to the river bed. But the water was deeper than she had thought and suddenly she had to catch herself on the root to keep from tumbling in while the fish, a very large one, wriggled and jerked on the end of her spear, trying to free itself. She fought to keep her balance while keeping the fish on the spear.

  Someone grabbed her from behind.

  'Let go!' she roared and pushed the butt of the spear back hard, thudding it solidly into whoever had seized her. She heard a whoosh of exhaled breath and then a faint curse. She didn't turn, for the thud had nearly dislodged her fish. She flipped up the spear end, bracing the butt against her hip and was astounded at the size of the fish she levered out of the river. Thrashing wildly, the fish actually drove the spear deeper and then through its own body. Her prey was nearly half the length of her body and it came sliding down the spear shaft toward her.

  'Don't lose him. Keep hold of your spear!' Tats shouted from behind her.

  'I've got him,' she snarled, irritated that he would think she needed his help. Despite her words, he reached past her shoulder and seized the other end of the spear. Between them, they held it horizontally while the fish struggled wildly. Then Tats produced a knife in his free hand and whacked the fish soundly on the head with the back of the blade. Abruptly it was still. She breathed a sigh of relief. It felt as if her shoulder had nearly been jolted from its socket.

  Still gripping her end of the spear, she turned to thank him, and was astonished to find they were not alone. The Bingtown woman's friend was sitting on a hummock of root, his hands clasped over his mid-section. His face was red save for where his mouth was pinched tight and white. He gazed at her with narrowed eyes and then spoke in a tight voice. 'I was trying to help you. I thought you were going to fall in.'

  'What are you doing here?' she demanded.

  'I saw him going into the forest where you had gone and thought he was following you. So I came to see what he was up to.' Tats was the one who answered her question.

  'I'm able to take care of myself,' she pointed out to him.

  Tats refused to take offence. 'I know that. I didn't interfere when you thumped him. I only helped you with the fish because I didn't want to see it get away.'

  She made an impatient noise and focused on the stranger. 'Why did you follow me?' Tats gripped the spear to either side of the fish, grinning. She let him take the weight of it but watched closely as he set her catch down on the matted roots.

  'You knocked the wind out of me,' the stranger complained, and then managed to take a fuller, deeper breath. He uncurled slightly and some of the redness went out of his face. 'I only followed you because I wanted to talk to you. I'd seen you with the dragon, the one that Alise is interested in. I wanted to ask you a few things.'

  'Such as?' A blush betrayed her. He probably thought she was some half-savage Rain Wilds primitive. She was starting to think she had misjudged him but she wasn't going to apologize just yet. Actually, she was beginning to hope she had misjudged him. Earlier she had noticed how polished he was. She had never seen a man dressed so well as this one was. Now that his colour was settling, she realized he was extremely handsome. Earlier, when he had been talking with the Bingtown woman, she had thought him stuffy and horribly ignorant of dragons, not to mention arrogant and rude when he spoke to her. His beauty had just seemed a part of the insult, the power that gave him the authority to look down on her. But he'd followed her and actually tried to help her. For which she'd thudded a spear butt into his belly.

  But now he made up for many of his sins when he gave her a rueful smile and said, 'Look, we got off to a bad start. And I don't suppose I made things better when I startled you. I was insulting when I first spoke to you, but you must admit, you weren't exactly courteous to me. And you are now one up on me for nearly impaling me on the dull end of a fishing spear.' He paused, took a deep breath and his colour almost became normal. 'Can we begin again, please?'

  Before she could reply, he stood, bowed at the waist to her and said, 'How do you do? My name is Sedric Meldar. I'm from Bingtown and ordinarily my daily work is to be a secretary to Trader Finbok of Bingtown. But for this month, I am accompanying Trader Finbok's wife Alise as her chronicler and protector as she seeks to amass new and exciting knowledge about dragons and Elderlings.'

  Thymara found herself smiling before his speech was halfway out. He spoke so formally yet in a way that let her know he was mocking the formality and the grandness of his work. He was dressed like a prince, with not a hair out of place, and yet his smile and easy ways invited her to feel comfortable with him. As if they were equals, she realized.

  'What's a chronicler?' Tats demanded abruptly.

  'I write down what she does. Where she goes, the gist of her conversations, and sometimes, when she is doing research, I write down in detail what she learns. Later, she'll be able to look back over what I've written to be sure she is remembering every detail correctly. I'm also a passable artist, and intended to do sketches of the dragons, detailed sketches of their eyes, claws, teeth, and well, every part of them. Only today I discovered that I'm not going to be much use to her for the interviewing part of her work. I seem to have offended the dragon, which means that I can't be with Alise while she is studying her. And even if I could be, I couldn't understand any of the animal's answers to Alise's questions.'

  'Skymaw,' Thymara supplied helpfully. 'The dragon's name is Skymaw.'

  'She told you her name?' Tats was astounded.

  Thymara was irritated at the interruption. 'Skymaw is what I call her,' she amended, giving him a glare. 'Everyone knows that dragons don't tell their real names immediately.'

  'Yes, that's what my dragon told me, too. Only she didn't ask me to give her a name to use.' He smiled foolishly. 'She's such a beauty, Thymara. Green as emeralds, green as sunlight through leaves. Her eyes are like, well, I don't have words. She's a bad-tempered little thing, though. I accidentally stepped on her toe and she threatened to kill and eat me!'

  'Wait, please.' It was the stranger's turn to interrupt them. 'P
lease. Both of you. You are saying that you talk to the dragons? Just as we are talking right now.'

  Only Sedric didn't feel like a stranger to her any more. She smiled at him. 'Of course we do.'

  'They move their mouths and the words come out and you hear them? Just as we are talking together now? Then why do I hear rumbles and moos and hisses, and you hear words?'

  'Well—' She hesitated, realizing she hadn't thought about how she 'heard' the dragons.

  'No, of course not.' Tats barged in again. 'Their mouths are all wrong for shaping words like we do. They make sounds, and somehow I understand what they are saying. Even though they aren't speaking a human language.'

  'Did it take you long to learn their language? Did you study it before you came here?' Sedric asked.

  'No.' Tats shook his head decisively. 'When I first got here, I picked out my dragon and walked up to her, and I could understand her. Mine is the green female. She's not as big as some of the others, but I think she's prettier. Also, she's fast and other than her wings, I think she's pretty much perfectly formed. She's a bit feisty; she says the others say she's mean and avoid her. She says it's because she's fast enough to get to the food first almost every time. They're jealous.'

  'Or perhaps they just think she's greedy,' Thymara suggested.

  Time to take control of this conversation. After all, Sedric hadn't followed Tats into the woods to speak to him, even if he now seemed to be hanging on every word the boy spoke. 'I've been able to understand the dragons since they hatched,' she told the Bingtown man. 'I was here that day. And even when they weren't looking at me directly, I could feel what they were thinking, even as they were coming out of their logs. And communicate with them.' She smiled. 'One of the hatchlings went after my dad. I had to insist that he wasn't food.'

  'A dragon wanted to eat your father?' Sedric seemed horrified.

  'They had just come out of their cases. He was confused.' She cast her mind back, remembering. 'They were so hungry when they came out. And they weren't as strong as they should have been or as well formed. I think the sea serpents were too old and not as fat as they should have been, and they didn't stay encased long enough. And that's why these dragons aren't healthy and can't fly.'

  'Can't fly yet,' Tats amended. He grinned. 'You saw Rapskal. He's determined that his dragon is going to fly. He's crazy, of course. But after I watched them, well, I was looking at my green's wings. They're well shaped, but just small and not very strong. She told me that dragons keep growing for as long as they live. All parts of them grow, necks, legs, tails and yes, wings. I'm thinking that if I feed her right and she keeps trying to use them, maybe her wings will grow and she will be able to fly.'

  Thymara regarded him in astonishment. She had just accepted the dragons as they were; it had not occurred to her that perhaps they might become full dragons as they grew. Now she reconsidered Skymaw's wings. They had seemed floppy when she had cleaned them and Skymaw had not been very helpful about unfolding them for grooming. She didn't think Skymaw could move them much. A surge of envy raced through her; was it possible that Tats' green dragon might eventually gain flight while Skymaw remained earthbound?

  'But you can understand what they say, word for word?' Sedric seemed intent on dragging them back to his own concern about the dragons. When Thymara nodded, he asked, 'So when you said those things to me, you weren't making them up? You were actually translating what the dragon was trying to say to me?'

  She suddenly felt a bit abashed by how she had spoken to him. 'I was repeating exactly what Skymaw was saying,' she excused herself, and felt only slightly guilty for blaming her rudeness on the dragon.

  'So, then. You could translate for me? If I wanted to talk to her, apologize—'

  'No need for that. I mean, you can speak directly to her. She understands exactly what you say.'

  'Yes, she did, and that is exactly how I was getting into trouble with her. But if Alise asks your dragon a question and your dragon answers, you could translate the answer for me? Quietly, off to one side, so we don't disturb their conversation.'

  'Of course. But so could Alise — I mean, the lady. So could any of the keepers.'

  'But that would slow down Alise's work. I was thinking that if someone would interpret for me, as the dragon talks, I could get it all down. I'm a very fast writer. And I suppose any keeper could do it,' and here he glanced at Tats. 'But seeing as how she is your dragon, I think you would be the logical choice.'

  She liked how he kept referring to Skymaw as her dragon. 'I suppose I could.'

  'Well then — would you?'

  'Would I what? Just stand there while they're talking, only tell you what the dragon is saying?'

  'Exactly.' He hesitated, and then offered, 'I could pay you, if you wish. For your time.'

  It was tempting, but her father had raised her to be honest. 'I've already been paid for my time, and it belongs to the dragon now. I can't sell my time twice any more than I could sell a plum twice. So I couldn't take your money. And I'd have to ask Skymaw if she would allow you to be near her, and if she would mind if I told you what she was saying.'

  'Well.' He seemed taken aback at the thought that she couldn't accept his money. 'Would you ask her, then? I'd be indebted to you.'

  She cocked her head at him. 'Actually, I think it would be Alise Finbok who would be indebted to me. After all, she's bought your time, for you to do this work for her. And if I make it so you can do it, well—' Thymara smiled to herself. 'Yes, I think actually she'd be the one indebted to me.' She rather liked the idea of that.

  'So, then, you'll ask the dragon if I can be around her? And if you can interpret for me what she says?'

  Thymara bent down and grasped her fishing spear to either side of her prey. She grunted slightly as she lifted the heavy fish. She nodded toward it as she answered him. 'Let's ask her right now. I think I have something here that might put her in the mood to say yes.'

  Day the 6th of the Grain Moon

  Year the 6th of the Independent Alliance of Traders

  Kim to Detozi

  I fear you have taken a simple reminder of the rules as if it were a personal rebuke. Detozi, surely we know one another well enough for you to realize that I was only carrying out the tasks of my position when I reminded you of the rules regarding personal messages. I am not the sort of person who would run to the Council with such a trivial complaint. I merely thought that if I reminded you of the rules, I might save you from embarrassment and nuisance if it came to the attention of someone who was petty enough to enforce them. That was all. Sa's Mercy, I am shocked at how seriously you have taken all this! I will, for the sake of our friendship, ignore the unfounded accusations and cruel allegations of your last missive.

  Kim

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Suspicions

  He awoke before dawn, cradled in a warm cocoon of contentment. Life was good. Leftrin lay still in the dark, enjoying it for a few long moments before letting his mind start enumerating the tasks of the day. Tarman was as still as he ever got, nosed up onto the mudbank. Sometimes it seemed to him that his ship grew more thoughtful when it was pulled up on the riverbank, as if he were dreaming of other days and times. He could hear and feel the gentle tug of the river's backwater current on the aft end of the ship, but mostly all was still. It was quieter than when he anchored or tied up in the river, almost as if Tarman himself were dozing on the sunny bank. The bedding smelled sweet, of the cologne that Alise Finbok wore, but also of Alise herself. He rolled his face into the pillow and breathed deeply of her scent. Then he grinned at his own foolishness. He was as infatuated as a beardless boy who had just discovered that women were wonderfully different from men. The giddiness that had passed him by as a youth now spun him delightfully, infecting every moment of his day. Thinking of her freckled, speckled face made him smile. Her hair, the colour of a hummer's breast, turned into tiny curls all around her brow when it escaped from her pins. The times she had reached out and
taken his arm when something frightened or alarmed her always made him feel as if he were taller and stronger than he had ever been in his life.

  There was no future to it. He knew that in every corner of his yearning, aching heart. When he thought of how it must end, he felt despair. But for now, this morning, on the dawn of carrying her off up the river on a journey that might be weeks or even months long, he was happy and excited. It was a mood that hummed through the ship, infecting the crew as well. Tarman would be very pleased to be underway. Leftrin still considered it a ridiculous mission, a journey to nowhere herding reluctant dragons. Yet the pay the Council had offered was excellent, and the opportunity to take his ship and crew beyond the boundaries of what had been explored was something he'd always dreamed about. To have a woman like Alise not only appear in his life, but suddenly be given him as a companion for the voyage was good fortune beyond his ability to imagine.

  He took another deep breath of her fragrance, hugged his pillow and sat up. Time to face the day. He wanted to make an early start, yet he would wait for the delivery of the supplies he had specially ordered in the hopes of making her more comfortable. He scratched his chest, chose a shirt from the hooks near his bunk and pulled it on. He still wore his trousers from yesterday. Barefoot, he padded out of his stateroom and into the galley. He stirred the embers in the small stove and put yesterday's coffee to reheat. He wiped out a coffee mug and set it on the table. Outside the small windows of the deck-house, the world was hesitantly venturing toward day. The deep shadows of the surrounding forest still cloaked the boat and shore in dimness.