by Robin Hobb
It was just like that bastard Jess to demand he meet him out here in the rain and dark. They’d been exchanging silence and glares for several days now. Leftrin had been successfully avoiding conversation with the man by refusing to be alone with him. But tonight, just as he’d been getting ready to settle in by the warm galley stove, he’d found a note in the bottom of his coffee mug.
He’d done his best to slip away unobtrusively from his gathered crew. No one seemed to mark his departure. He moved quietly through the dark, veering away from the keepers and their bonfire. A burst of wind carried their laughter and the smell of cooking fish toward him as it whipped the flames higher. He’d no wish for anyone to see him ashore tonight.
Wind and the spattering rain and the dark all cloaked him as he approached the silver dragon. That, he took it, was the cryptic location for his meeting with Jess. “Meet me by silver or the secret is out.” That was all the note had said, but it was a threat he could not ignore. The dragon had his front feet braced on something and was tearing chunks of meat loose from it. He knew a wild moment of hope that it was eating Jess. Another two steps and he could see that it had been something with four legs. The hunter had brought the dragon a bribe to keep him occupied while they talked. And it had worked. He watched the silver tear a leg loose from the carcass. The silver’s condition had improved since he had first seen the creature, but he was still smaller and less healthy than the other dragons. His tail had healed, but he seemed to acquire parasites much more often than the other dragons. The dragon became aware of Leftrin and shifted to watch him as he chewed on the hoofed leg.
“Evening, Captain,” Jess greeted him as he walked around the dragon’s shoulder. “Fine night for a stroll.”
“I’m here. What do you want?”
“Not so much. Just a little cooperation, that’s all. I saw an opportunity this afternoon and thought we should take it.”
“An opportunity?”
“That’s right.” Jess patted the dragon on its shoulder. The silver rumbled a growl at the hunter, but his focus was still on the meat. “He growls, but he’s used to me. I’ve been slipping him an extra ration of meat every chance I got. He doesn’t mind me at all now.” As he spoke, he opened his coat, displaying a hatchet, two long knives, and one short-bladed one, all neatly sheathed in pockets concealed inside his vest. He tipped his head slightly toward the silver. “Shall we begin?”
“You’re insane,” Leftrin said quietly.
“Not at all.” The man smiled. “Once he finishes eating that deer, he’s going to want a very long nap. From the start, I planned for this possibility and came prepared. I cut that deer’s belly open and put a large quantity of valerian and poppy in before I offered it to the silver. Enough to drop a dragon, I think. We’ll find out soon enough.” He pulled his coat closed against the wind and rain and stood grinning at Leftrin.
“I’m not doing this. We won’t get away with it, and I’m just not doing it.”
“Of course we’ll get away with it. I’ve thought it all through. Dragon falls asleep, and we make sure it’s forever. We spend a quiet hour or two claiming the most marketable parts. We take them back on board the Tarman and head downriver. Tonight.”
“And the keepers and the other dragons?”
“In this wind and rain? They’ll notice nothing until we’re gone, and then they’ll discover that we’ve disabled their boats. I doubt that anyone will ever hear of them again.”
“And what do we tell the folks in Trehaug?”
“We don’t even stop there. Downriver, fleet as an arrow, and then up the coast to Chalced. You’ll live like a king there, with your lady. I’ve seen how you look at her. This way, at least, you end up with her.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that the other way, the path I take if you refuse, you lose everything. I tell the dragons and the keepers that you used a dragon cocoon to give your precious Tarman a bigger supply of wizardwood. Your crew is in on it, obviously. They know how little they actually work to push that barge along. I don’t think the dragons will think well of you, knowing that you’ve already butchered one of their kind for your own ends. I believe they’re annoyed by such things. And your pretty red-haired lady may see you as not quite so honorable as she thought. False, even. Treacherous, if I do my work well.
“So, you see, you can help me harvest one mindless, unclaimed, stunted dragon and take your lady, crew, and yourself off to an indolent and indulgent life in Chalced. Or you can be stubborn and I’ll unravel you and destroy everything you have or ever hope to have.” He smiled, squinting into the rain as he added, “After they turn on you, I wouldn’t be surprised if I ended up with both your ship and your lady. I’ve put in quite a few evenings cultivating trust and friendship among the keepers, while you wasted time courting your giddy little woman. And I suspect I’ll have an ally in that Bingtown dandy. Or are you going to continue to pretend that all of you are innocent of any schemes?”
The dragon bent his head and picked up the animal’s rib cage in his mouth. His jaws closed on it, crushing it. He began a slow mastication, crushing and folding the rest of the animal in on itself. Leftrin stepped toward the silver, intending to intervene. The dragon blasted a snarl at him past the meat in his mouth. The stench of his breath made Leftrin blanch and step back as much as the threat.
“Oh, he doesn’t trust you,” Jess snidely commiserated. “I don’t think he’ll let you rescue him. Stupid damn lizard. Looks like we’re committed, Cap. Once he goes down, it’s time to butcher. I’ll just go take care of those boats right now.”
The man’s cockiness would have been enough to provoke Leftrin at any time without the threat to his dreams. As he passed Leftrin in the driving rain, Leftrin turned and launched himself at him. He’d beat him senseless and feed him to the dragon. Poor Jess. Must have somehow provoked the dumb beast. Can scarcely blame a dragon for being a dragon, Alise.
But Jess spun to meet him, teeth white in a merry snarl and a shining blade in his hand.
SINTARA WATCHED THE two human females in consternation. Now, what did this mean, this clutching and sharing of tears? It wasn’t hunting, nor fighting, nor mating, nor any sensible activity that she could name. She wanted them to stop. “Did either of you bring me food?” she demanded.
Thymara stepped away from Alise and wiped her sleeve across her wet face. “I didn’t have a chance to hunt today. I think the hunters got some fish.”
“I already ate what Carson said was ‘my share.’ It was pitiful.”
“I suppose I could go and—”
“Quiet!” Sintara barked at her. There was something, a distant noise like the roaring of a huge wind. She sensed distress and anger from the silver dragon. As always, his thoughts were poorly formed, but something was alarming him.
“What is it?” she roared at him and to the other dragons in general. The sound was growing louder now; even the humans could hear it. She saw Thymara turn her head and shout. Alise clutched at her and her head swiveled back and forth, seeking the source of the noise. The roar was coming closer, but she felt no increase in the wind or driving rain. The sound grew louder, with a grinding base to it mixed with sudden cracks and snaps.
“It’s the river! It’s a flood!” Mercor’s bellow slammed into her mind, and with his warning, ancient memories leaped into Sintara’s awareness.
“Fly! Get above the water!” she trumpeted, for in that moment she forgot what she was, half a dragon, bound to the earth. The darkness could not completely mask the danger. She stared upriver and saw white lace on a gray cliff face and tumbling tree trunks in the cliff’s liquid face.
“Run for the trees!” Thymara shouted, but by then only the dragon could hear her small voice through the thundering water. She saw the two women, hands clutched together, turn and begin to run.
“Too late!” she bellowed at them. She stretched out her head, seized Alise by the shoulder and snatched her off her feet. The woman screamed.
The dragon paid no attention as she craned her neck and set her down between her wings. “Hold tight!” she warned her.
Thymara was fleeing. Sintara thundered after her.
Then the wave hit them.
It was not just water. The force of it rolled boulders and carried sand. Old driftwood was tangled with trees newly torn from the earth. Sintara was bowled off her feet and pushed along. A log thudded against her ribs, knocking her sideways. The churning mass of water carried her inexorably downriver. For a moment, she was plunged completely underwater. She struck out, swimming vigorously for what she hoped was the surface and the bank. All was chaos, water, and darkness. Dragons, humans, boats, logs, and boulders mixed and mingled in the floodwater. Her head broke free of the water, but the world no longer made sense. Sintara spun in the current, paddling desperately. She could not find the shore. All around her, the water streamed white under the night sky. She caught a glimpse of Tarman’s lights and saw an empty boat seized by the leafy branches of a floating tree. The immense driftwood log that had been the heart of the keeper’s bonfire floated past her, streaming smoke and crowned still with a branch of glowing embers.
“Thymara!” she heard Alise shout, and only then became aware that the woman still clung to her wings. “Save her! Look, Sintara, see her! There! There!”
She didn’t see the keeper girl, and then she did. The girl was trying to struggle free of a mass of floating brush. It had entangled her clothing. Soon it would engulf her and she would be pulled under as it sank. “Stupid humans!” Sintara bellowed. She struck out for her, only to be hit broadside by Ranculos as the water shoved him past her. When she recovered and looked at the floating mass of brush, the girl was gone. Too late.
“Thymara! Thymara!” Alise was shrieking, but her voice was full of hopelessness.
“Which way is the shore?” the dragon bellowed at her.
“I don’t know!” the woman shrieked back. Then, “Over there! That way. Swim that way.” Alise’s shaking hand pointed in the direction they were already going. Encouraged, the dragon struck out more strongly. She could not climb the trees for safety, but she could wedge herself between them and wait out the worst of this flooding.
“There! Right there!” Alise shrieked again. But she was not pointing to the shore, but to a small, white, upturned face in the water. Thymara’s hands reached out and up to her.
“Please!” she screamed.
Sintara bent her head and dragged her keeper from the river’s grasp. “Mine!” she trumpeted defiantly around Thymara’s dangling body. “Mine!”
Day the 17th of the Prayer Moon
Year the 6th of the Independent Alliance of Traders
From Erek, Keeper of the Birds, Bingtown
To Detozi, Keeper of the Birds, Trehaug
A message from Trader Korum Finbok of the Bingtown Traders, sent at the behest of and in support of a query by Traders Meldar and Kincarron, seeking more information about the departure of Alise Kincarron Finbok and Sedric Meldar on the liveship Tarman.
Detozi,
A small note. The families of Sedric Meldar and Alise Finbok are absolutely frantic, with both declaring that neither of them would voluntarily depart on an expedition that might take months before they return. Alise Finbok’s husband is on an extended trading voyage, but her father-in-law has been persuaded to put his considerable fortune to work in an effort to gain more information. If you know of anyone capable of traveling swiftly up the river and taking a message bird or two with them, they might earn a substantial reward from this.
Erek
CHAPTER FIVE
WHITE FLOOD
Leftrin’s hands locked around Jess’s throat. The hunter was raining body blows on the captain’s midsection. Leftrin thought he had cracked ribs from the beating and he tasted blood from his smashed lips, but he kept his grip. It was a matter of time. If he could throttle him long enough, the punishing punches would stop. Already they were losing strength and when both Jess’s hands rose to clutch at Leftrin’s wrist, he knew it was over except for that final stretch of endurance. The hunter clawed at his wrists, but Leftrin’s hands were toughened, not just by scales but by too-frequent immersions in river water. His scar tissue resisted Jess’s nails. He could not see Jess’s face, but he knew his eyes would be bulging by now. He squeezed harder, imagining the man’s tongue starting to protrude from his mouth.
Around the combatants, the wind swirled and the black rain battered down. The silver dragon had either abandoned the carcass or been unaffected by the drugs. He galloped in a clumsy circle around them, trumpeting in distress. Leftrin could not worry that the dragon’s noise might bring the keepers down on them. If they came, he could show them Jess’s knives, say he’d only been protecting the dragon. Grip, he told his weary hands and shaking arms. Grip! The pain was sickening. There was a roaring in his ears, and he feared he would pass out before he could finish the job. He squeezed, and still the hunter struggled, flinging his head forward in a futile effort to butt Leftrin in the face.
A wall of water, stone, and timber suddenly appeared behind Jess. Leftrin’s mind froze that agonizing moment into a decade. He saw, clearly, the debris that showed in the white water. He knew that the wave would be acid and heavy with silt. This was a flood that had come a long, long way, collecting driftwood and tearing trees free from the banks as it came. He caught one glimpse of a huge elk carcass coming toward them, tumbling like a toy tossed in the air.
“Tarman!” he shouted, and let Jess’s throat go. He spun to run for his ship, to save his beloved boat if he could.
But in that instant, time resumed. The water smashed him down as it devoured the sandbar. He saw nothing, knew nothing except the struggle of an animal that is suddenly thrust into a foreign element. There was no air, no light, no up, no down. Cold and force drove his breath from his body. Good-bye, he thought stupidly. Good-bye, Alise. At least I didn’t have to see you go back to another man. A drowning death might be better than that other, slower torment.
Something bumped him. His hands and arms locked on to it and he rose with it, bursting into blackness. He gasped in both air and the water that streamed from his hair and skin, choked, went under again with the tumbling log, and then popped up again. The crest of the wave had passed them, but the river still flowed strong and possibly twice as deep as it had been. The speed of the current swept him down the river in a dangerous stew of trees, struggling animals and carcasses, and driftwood. He did not try to get on top of the log he clutched. Instead he resigned himself to regular duckings and held tight to it, hoping the current would hold him near the center of the river. He could hear the crashes and snapping as debris struck trees on the river’s banks and tore them loose or smashed them down. He had one glimpse of a dragon, swimming frantically. Then his log turned, ducking him again, and when he came up, the dragon was gone.
As the river settled, he moved down the trunk toward the root end. There the wood was thicker, and the roots offered him more grips. He ventured to climb a bit higher out of the water and scanned the surface of the water. As the water calmed, the debris was spreading out, borne along on the still swollen river. The starlight and moonlight shone on the white water. He saw floating carcasses as black shapes. In the distance, he saw a large silhouette of a paddling dragon. He shouted, but he doubted that his voice reached it. The sounds of the rushing water, of trees groaning and giving way, of flotsam crashing together drowned his human voice.
Then he saw something that lifted his heart. Light sparkled, dimmed, and then grew steady to become a perfect circle of yellow lamplight. It could only be Tarman; someone had just re-kindled a lamp on board him. The light gave sudden shape and meaning to what had been blackness against blackness. Tarman was distant, down current of Leftrin, but he knew his ship’s low black profile. He drew his breath deep into his abused lungs, wincing at his aching ribs. He didn’t waste his breath cursing Jess; with any sort of luck, the man was a corpse by now. Instead, he pur
sed his lips and pushed out a long, steady whistle. Another breath. Again, he whistled, the pitch a notch higher than before. Another breath.
Even before he pushed the sound out, he knew Tarman had heard him. The circle of light shifted as the ship wheeled toward him. The light vanished. For a time, he just clung to his log, breathing steadily and waiting. Then the lantern on Tarman’s bow was kindled. He drew breath, whistled again, and watched the light almost immediately grow larger. Paddling with all his might, Tarman was coming for him. The barge’s thick sturdy legs and webbed feet would propel him against the current. Swarge would man the tiller and the crew would break out the sweeps, but Tarman would not wait for that pantomime of help. The liveship was coming for his captain. He whistled again, and low to the water, he saw the pale blue gleam of two large eyes. Rescue was coming. All he had to do now was wait for his ship to save him.
PERHAPS SINTARA ATTEMPTED to set her down beside Alise. But the effort failed, and Thymara fell on top of the Bingtown woman. Alise’s arms closed around her in an engulfing embrace that both kept her from sliding back into the water and sent a spike of agony down her back as her clutching hands pressed against Thymara’s injury.
Thymara tried not to struggle against the grip that was saving her. An instant later, they were both starting to slide down the dragon’s sleekly scaled front shoulder. “Hold on!” Alise screamed by her ear, and Thymara reached out for anything that might offer purchase. Her scrabbling claws caught at the edges of Sintara’s scales; she was sure the dragon would have protested angrily if she hadn’t been struggling for her own life.