by Robin Hobb
“But the dragons?” Sedric interrupted to demand. “Are they really so deformed and mentally deficient? Is it possible that we have come all this way on a useless quest?”
Alise felt doubly annoyed that he had interrupted Althea’s revelations about the only living Elderlings and that he sounded so hopeful her expedition would come to nothing. Althea folded her hands on the edge of the table and considered her rough brown knuckles before she spoke.
“They are not like Tintaglia,” she said quietly. “None of them can fly. We started up the river escorting one hundred and twentynine serpents. Fewer than half successfully cocooned and hatched. And now there are left, what? Fewer than seventeen when last I heard.” She glanced up and met Alise’s desperate gaze. For a moment, sympathy shone in her eyes. “I wish it had been otherwise, if only for Paragon’s sake. It was tremendously important to him that the serpents reach their cocooning grounds. Despite what he said to you, I believe the heart of a dragon still resides in this ship. He longed to restore his kind to the skies; it would have given great meaning to his own fate.
“But the creatures I saw when I visited Cassarick were pathetic, malformed things. It is telling that Tintaglia seems to have completely abandoned them. Dragons do not pity the weak, but let them meet their fates. The Rain Wild folk who live closest to them are rapidly losing all sympathy for them. They are unruly and dangerous, intelligent but unreasonable. But perhaps being unreasonable is the only rational response to leading such miserable lives. They have neither respect nor gratitude for humans. They have yet to attack a human, though I’ve heard rumors that they’ve chased a few. And devoured at least one corpse in the midst of the family funeral. I don’t know what’s to become of them, other than gradual decline and death.” She paused, sighed, and said, “I think Paragon has decided they are not dragons because that is less painful for him. He can do nothing to help them. So, by separating himself from them, perhaps his shame for them is a bit less. I really think there is nothing any of us can do for them.”
Alise sat very still and silent for three breaths. Then she said quietly, “Little of this has been heard in Bingtown.”
Althea smiled, a secret shared between fellow Traders. She poured fragrant tea into the cups. Captain Trell came to the table to accept his cup but immediately returned with it to his post by the window and his watch on the river. “Our Rain Wild brethren have always kept their own affairs quiet. And for generations, those of Bingtown stock have been trained not to gossip about them. It still seems strange to me that the outside world now knows that they exist and wish to visit their cities. For so long we kept them secret, to protect them.”
Alise looked directly at Althea and suddenly felt grateful for the woman’s bluntness. “Do you think I will be able to speak with the dragons at all? Learn anything from them?”
Althea shifted in her chair. From the corner of her eye, Alise glimpsed Captain Trell regretfully shaking his head. “I don’t think so,” she said. “From what I saw of them, they are fixated on the basics of life. The only talk I heard from them were demands for food. And complaints about their condition. From what little I know of Tintaglia, I would say that dragons do not deem humans worthy of thoughtful conversation. And the hatchlings at Cassarick disdain us as completely as if they were full-grown and powerful dragons. Combine that with the bitterness they feel . . .” She gave a shrug of her shoulders. “I do not think they will confide their ancestral memories to you. If they have any.”
Alise nodded dumbly. She felt empty and sick. She took a sip of her tea to give herself time to think, but no ideas came to her. “I feel so foolish,” she said softly. She looked at Sedric and apologized, “I’ve dragged you all this way, for nothing it seems. I should have listened to Hest.” She laced her fingers together on the table in front of her and spoke to Althea past a lump in her throat. “I only booked passage on your ship as far as Trehaug. From there, I planned to travel by one of the cargo barges, the small ones. I didn’t buy tickets for our return, because I hoped to stay weeks if not months learning from the dragons.” She reached up to massage her own temples. A storm of a headache was brewing in her skull. She tried to keep tears out of her voice as she asked, “Is it possible to arrange to return to Bingtown immediately?”
“You can travel back with us.” The captain spoke without moving away from his window. There was sympathy in his voice.
“But you should understand that it takes time for us to unload cargo and take on supplies and more cargo.” Althea cautioned her. “And I had planned to visit Malta while we were here. So we will not be immediately returning to Bingtown. You will have to spend a few days in Trehaug while we do so.”
“I understand,” Alise said faintly. “I am sure we will find things to see in Trehaug until you are ready to begin the journey back to Bingtown.”
“Then you don’t plan to even visit Cassarick? I can’t believe that! Alise, you must go. We’ve come so far, it would be foolish not to at least visit it.”
The apparent disappointment in Sedric’s voice startled her. A few minutes ago, he had seemed positively hopeful that their journey had been for naught.
“What would be the point of it?” she asked him dully.
“Well”—he seemed to flounder briefly for a reason—“well, to say that you’d seen what you’d gone to see. Done what you meant to do. You said you wanted to see the young dragons for yourself. Do so.” Suddenly he seemed more confident of his words. He leaned across the table and took her hands. He gazed earnestly into her eyes. “Isn’t that what you’ve been telling Hest you wanted, for years now? Simply to see for yourself ?” He gave her a twisted smile. “Surely you don’t want to go back to Bingtown and admit to him that you came all this way and didn’t even look at a dragon?”
She stared at him. Suddenly she could imagine Hest’s delighted grin at such an admission from her. Bile rose in the back of her throat. No. No. Her disappointment was big enough without letting it be his triumph. She blinked back tears, and suddenly felt a wave of gratitude toward Sedric that he had thought of her and spoken out to save her from such shame. “You’re right,” she said in a shaky voice. She thought of her years of carefully compiled notes, scroll after scroll, page after precisely lettered page. Resolve settled and firmed in her. “You’re right, Sedric. I have to go. The least I must do is see them for myself.” She drew a deeper breath. “I’ve committed a grave error, one that too many scholars fall prey to. I’ve let my expectations and hopes color my opinion. If what I see are deformed and near mindless creatures, then that is what I must observe and document. Just because my studies do not reflect what I hoped to find is no reason to turn aside from them. Thank you, Sedric.” She sat up, squaring her shoulders and met Althea’s measuring gaze. “I will be journeying on to Cassarick.”
Althea slowly nodded. A grim smile of understanding touched her face.
“But we won’t be staying long,” Sedric hastily added. “I suspect that we will still be traveling downriver with you. In fact, I’d like to secure our passage home right now.”
Both Althea and Brashen were looking at Sedric oddly. Alise understood. If she hadn’t known the man, she too would have wondered at his weather-vane spinning. He’d gone so quickly from persuading her that she must go to Cassarick to declaring that they would stay only a very brief time. But she knew why. She sat silent as he discussed with the captain the likely dates of their departure for Bingtown. Without a word, she signed the note for funds for their return tickets. All the while, she looked at Sedric, not with new eyes, but with fond remembrance of their old friendship. He hadn’t wanted to come to the Rain Wilds. She was certain he didn’t want to make the uncomfortable journey by flat-bottom barge to Cassarick. But he would do it, for her sake. He’d help her save face with Hest, no matter the discomfort and inconvenience to himself.
When their business was concluded and she rose from the table, he offered her his arm, just as he always did. As she took it, she looked u
p at him and smiled. He smiled back and patted her hand reassuringly. “Thank you, my friend,” she said quietly.
“Not at all,” he replied.
Day the 23rd of the Growing Moon
Year the 6th of the Independent Alliance of Traders
From Detozi, Keeper of the Birds, Trehaug
To Erek, Keeper of the Birds, Bingtown
From the Traders’ Councils at Cassarick and Trehaug to the Bingtown Traders’ Council, in a sealed scroll case, an accounting of the expected expenses for moving the dragons to a spot more conducive to their good health, with the Bingtown Traders’ Council’s share of the expenses itemized in detail.
Erek,
You should not listen to silly gossip. The dragons are to be moved, not slaughtered or sold! How rumors do twist as they fly. I have received the peas, and the difference in my birds’ plumage is already noticeable. Is this feed expensive? Is it possible you could acquire a hundredweight sack for me, if it is not too dear?
Detozi
Chapter Nine
Journey
Leftrin straightened up from slouching against the railing and peered down the dock at the procession headed toward the Tarman. Was this what Trell was sending his way? He scratched a whiskery cheek and shook his head to himself. Two dock workers were pushing barrows laden with heavy trunks. Another two followed carrying something the size of a wardrobe. And following behind them came a man dressed more for a tea party in Bingtown than for a trip up the Rain Wild River on a barge. He wore a long dark blue jacket over dove-gray trousers and low black boots and was bareheaded. He looked fit, in the manner of a man who is generally so but has never developed the muscles of a particular trade. He carried nothing save a walking stick. “Never worked a day in his life,” Leftrin decided quietly.
The woman on his arm looked as if she had at least tried to be practical. A brimmed hat shaded her face; Leftrin supposed that the loose netting attached to it was intended to protect her from insects. Her dress was dark green. The fitted bodice and wrist-length sleeves showed off a tidy upper figure, but he estimated there was enough fabric in the skirts that belled out around her to dress half a dozen women her size. Little white gloves protected her hands. He caught a glimpse of a neat black-booted foot as she walked toward his barge.
The runner had reached him just before he ordered his crew to cast off for their trip upriver to Cassarick. “Trell from the Paragon says he’s got a couple of passengers who want to get to Cassarick fast. They’ll pay you well if you’ll wait for them to transfer.”
“Tell Trell I’ll wait half an hour for them. After that, I’m gone,” he’d told the boy who had run the message. The lad had bobbed an acknowledgment and scampered off.
Well, he had waited substantially more than half an hour for them. And now that he saw them, he doubted the wisdom of accepting them aboard. He’d expected Rain Wild folk in a hurry to get home, not Bingtowners with a full complement of luggage. He spat over the side. Well, he hoped they’d meant what they’d said about paying him well to wait for them.
“Our cargo is here. Get it loaded,” he ordered Hennesey.
“Skelly. Get it done,” the mate passed the command onto the young deckhand.
“Sir,” the girl acknowledged him and jumped lightly across to the dock. Big Eider moved to help her. Leftrin remained where he was, watching his passengers approach. They reached the end of the dock, and the man visibly recoiled at the sight of the long, low barge that awaited them. Leftrin chuckled quietly as the fellow looked about, obviously hoping there was some other vessel waiting to convey them upriver. Lace. The dandy had lace at the neck of his shirt and showing at the cuffs of his jacket. Then the man looked directly up at Leftrin and he composed his face.
“Is this the Tarman?” he asked, almost desperately.
“It is indeed. And I’m Captain Leftrin. I assume you’re my passengers, in need of swift transport to Cassarick. Welcome aboard.”
The man once more cast a wild glance about. “But—I thought—” He watched in horror as one of their heavy cases teetered on the Tarman’s railing before sliding with a thump to land safely on the deck. He turned to his female companion, “Alise, this isn’t wise. This ship isn’t a proper place for a lady. We’ll just have to wait. It can’t hurt for us to take a day or two in Trehaug. I’ve always been curious about this city, and we’ve scarcely glimpsed it.”
“We’ve no choice, Sedric. Paragon will stay here at Trehaug for ten days at most. The journey from here to Cassarick will take two days, and we have to allot two more days to travel back and meet Paragon before he sails. That gives us only six days in Cassarick, at most.” The woman’s voice was calm and throaty, with a hint of sadness in it. The veiling on her hat concealed most of her face, but Leftrin glimpsed a small determined chin and a wide mouth.
“But, well, but Alise, six days should be more than ample, if what Captain Trell told us about the dragons is true. So we can wait here a day, or even two if need be, and find more appropriate transport up the river.”
Skelly was not paying any attention to the quibbling passengers. She had her orders from the mate and that was who she obeyed. She was waving to Hennesey who had swung a small cargo derrick over the side. Hennesey released the line and the girl deftly caught the swinging hook and began making it fast to the wardrobe trunk. Eider and Bellin were standing by to bring it aboard. Leftrin’s crew was good; they’d have the passengers’ luggage loaded while the man was still chewing on his lip. Best find out their intentions now rather than to have to offload it all.
“You can wait,” Leftrin told the man. “But I don’t think you’ll find anything else going upriver in the next few days. Not much traffic between Trehaug and Cassarick right now. And what there is will be a lot smaller than I am. Still, it’s your choice. But you’ll need to make it quickly. I’ve already waited longer than I should have. I’ve appointments of my own to keep.”
And that was true. The urgently worded missive from the Traders’ Council at Cassarick sounded as if it could mean a nice little profit for him, if he undertook their rather dubious mission. Leftrin grinned. He already knew he’d take on the task. He’d taken on most of the supplies he’d need for the journey here in Trehaug. But leaving the Traders’ Council in doubt until the last possible minute was one way to push the price up. By the time he reached Cassarick, they’d be ready to promise him the moon. So delaying for these passengers was not really that much of an annoyance. He leaned on the railing to ask, “You aboard or not?”
He was waiting for the man to respond to his words, so he was surprised when the woman replied to him. She tipped her head back to speak to him, and the sun reached through her gauzy veil to reveal her features. Her stance reminded him of a flower turning its face to the sun. She had large gray eyes set wide apart in a heart-shaped face. She had bundled her hair out of the way, but what he could see of it was dark red and curling. Freckles sprinkled her nose and cheeks generously. Another man might have seen her mouth as too generous for her face, but not Leftrin. The single darting glance she gave him seemed to look not into his eyes but into his heart. And then she looked aside, too proper to meet a strange man’s eyes.
“. . . no choice, really,” she was saying, and he wondered what words he had missed. “We’ll be happy to go with you, sir. I’m sure your boat will suit us admirably.” A rueful smile twitched at her lips, and as she turned her attention to her companion, Leftrin felt a pang of loss as she tilted her head and apologized to him sweetly. “Sedric, I’m sorry. I’m sorry that you were dragged into this whole mess with me, and I’m ashamed that I must drag you from one boat to the next without even a cup of tea or a few hours on dry land to settle you. But you see how it is. We must go.”
“Well, if it’s a cup of tea you’d like, that’s something I can brew up for you here in the galley. And if it was dry land you were after, well, there’s little of that in Trehaug, or anywhere else in the Rain Wilds. So you haven’t missed it, it was
never there. Come on aboard, and welcome.”
That brought her eyes back to his. “Why, Captain Leftrin, how kind of you,” she exclaimed, and the sincere relief in her voice warmed him. She lifted the veiling on her hat to look at him directly, and he nearly lost his breath.
He seized the railing and swung over it, dropping lightly to the dock. He sketched a bow to her. Surprised, she took two small steps backward. Young Skelly made a small sound that might have been a giggle. Her captain shot her a glare and she quickly went back to work. Leftrin turned his attention back to the woman.
“Tarman may not look as fancy as some of the other ships you’ve seen, but he’ll carry you safely upriver where few vessels as large as he is can manage to go. Shallow draft, you know. And a crew that knows how to find the best channel when the current takes to wandering. You wouldn’t want to wait for one of those little toy boats to carry you. They might look a bit fancier than my Tarman, but they rock like a birdcage in the wind and their crews battle to push them against the current. You’ll be far more comfortable with us. May I assist you in boarding, ma’am?” He grinned at her and dared to stick out his arm for her to take. She glanced at it uncertainly, then at her disapproving companion. The man crossed his arms. He was no husband of hers, or Leftrin was certain he would have objected. Better and better.
“Please,” Leftrin urged her, and it was only when she set her smooth white glove on the rough, stained fabric of his shirtsleeve that he was recalled to the obvious difference in their stations. She glanced down as he looked at her, and he admired her lashes against her freckled cheeks. “This way,” he told her and led her to the rough planks that served as a gangway for the Tarman. The ramp creaked and shifted as they trod it, and she gave a small involuntary gasp and gripped his arm tighter. There was a bit of a jump down from the end of the plank to the barge deck. He wished he dared set his hands to her waist and lift her down. Instead, he offered his arm again for her to steady herself on. She leaned heavily on his arm and then gamely hopped. He saw a flash of white petticoat before she landed safely beside him.