by Robin Hobb
“On to Kelsingra,” he affirmed quietly. “We’ll be ready to travel.”
Carson grinned. The smile and the firelight transformed the man’s face. He was not, Sedric suddenly realized, that much older than he was. “Kelsingra,” Carson agreed. “The end of the rainbow.”
“You don’t believe we’ll get there?”
The hunter shrugged his shoulders. “Who cares? It will make a better tale if we do. But I’ve gone on longer expeditions than this with far humbler goals. This one called to me for a lot of reasons. Get Davvie out and about and away from danger. But I think I’m along for the same reason Leftrin is. A man wants to do something that leaves a mark. If we find that city, or even if we just find the place that it used to be, we’ll have set the Rain Wilds and Bingtown on their ear. How often does a fellow get a chance to do something like that? At the very least, we’ve expanded the map. Every night, Swarge sits down and does his sketches and entries, and Captain Leftrin adds his notes. Jess was keeping a log of his own. I’ve put in a bit or two about the game we caught and what sorts of trees and riverside we found. All that information will go into the records and be stored at the Rain Wild Traders’ Concourse. Years from now, when someone wants to anchor up for the night, they’ll be doing it on the basis of what we’ve told them. Our names will be remembered. The Tarman Expedition to Kelsingra. Something like that. That’s something, you know. That’s something to be part of.”
Sedric had been staring at the firepot as Carson spoke. Now he glanced at him surreptitiously. For the first time he saw the animation in his face. His deep-set brown eyes shone, and his lips, nestled in his beard, curved in a smile of purest satisfaction. Sedric had never heard anyone so pleased over such an intangible thing. He’d seen Hest in a paroxysm of joy over closing a rich deal, and he’d witnessed his father drunkenly celebrating a partnership in a trading trip. Always it had been about the wealth, the money, and the power and status that went with it. That had been the measure of the man, the status of the Trader in Bingtown. And it was how a man was measured in every town in Chalced and in Jamaillia and every other civilized place he’d ever visited. So he watched Carson and waited for the quirk of the lips or the bitter laugh that would expose his mockery of himself.
It didn’t come. And although he’d said he’d come along for the same reason as Leftrin, he hadn’t mentioned the taking of dragon parts and the riches to be made from them.
“It sounds like the stuff of dreams,” he said, mostly to fill in the gap in the conversation, but wondering if it might provoke the man to confide the larger plan to him. Before he went back to the Tarman, he needed to know how ruthless Captain Leftrin was. Was Alise in physical danger from the man?
“I suppose. Every man has a dream. But I’m not telling you anything. You and Alise, documenting the dragons and ferreting out what they can recall of the Elderlings. It’s the same thing, exploring territory where no one has gone, at least not in a long time.”
“There will be money to be made from this,” Sedric ventured.
Carson did laugh then. “Maybe. I rather doubt it. If it comes about, it will likely be after I’m in my grave. Oh, some of the keepers see it that way.” Carson smiled as he shook his head. “Greft’s full of himself; he’s going to be the founder of a new Rain Wild settlement, the keepers will claim the wealth of Kelsingra as their own, and the dragons will help them defend their claim. The ships and workers will come up the river, there will be trade, and he’ll be a rich man.”
“Greft says that?” Sedric was shocked. He respected Greft’s intelligence, but the young man had always seemed to be too full of hostility to have grandiose plans for himself.
“Not to me, of course. But he whispers it to the other keepers, as if such talk would stay in one place. I suspect a lot of his notions came from Jess. Jess is fond of claiming to be both worldly wise and well educated. By which I think he means that he once read a book. He has filled that boy’s head with all sorts of nonsense.” Carson leaned over and snapped a snag off a piece of the floating pack. The way he broke it spoke of extreme annoyance.
When he spoke again, he sounded calmer. “Oh, it may happen that Kelsingra is found and we establish a settlement there, but not the way he visualizes it. For one thing, he hasn’t got enough people, and too few of them are female. He’s barely got the population to start a village, let alone a city. And Rain Wilders, as I’m sure you know, don’t breed easily. The babies who manage to be born sometimes live less than a year. And a Rain Wilder is an old man at forty.” Carson scratched his scaly cheek above his beard. “So, even if a big discovery does persuade a boatload of new settlers to come, the new will likely outnumber the old, and they’ll have their say about how things are done. And while Greft and the other keepers may discover riches, well, you can’t eat Elderling artifacts. Don’t we all know that! As long as the Elderling treasures remained in the Rain Wilds, it did no one any good. We had to ship them out to where people could come to bargain for them. That’s why Bingtown is the big trading town and Trehaug isn’t; if we didn’t trade, we’d starve. And if we do find Kelsingra, and there is treasure there, the Traders driving the deals for those things will know that better than anyone. Men experienced at squeezing every bit of fat out of a deal will come. King Greft would have to sit at their bargaining table and play by their rules. Still. By the time Davvie’s a full man, there might be a future for him in Kelsingra.”
He cleared his throat and poked another dry stick into his firepot. Sedric was silent, picturing Greft or any of the keepers at a trading table with Hest. He’d eat them alive and pick his teeth with their bones.
A fat silver fish leaped suddenly out of the water after a low buzzing insect. It fell back into its world with a splash, and Carson laughed aloud. “Listen to me, spinning dreams and tales as if I were a minstrel. If anything of Kelsingra remains, and if we find it…”
“What if we find nothing?”
“Well. I’ve wondered that, too. At what point will Captain Leftrin give up and say that we’re going back to Trehaug? To be honest, I don’t see him doing that. For one thing, the keepers and the dragons can’t go back. There’s nothing there for them. He has to keep going until he finds somewhere that those creatures can live. And that would be nearly as big a discovery as Kelsingra.” Carson scratched his beard thoughtfully. “For another, as long as Leftrin pushes on, he has Alise at his side. The minute he turns that barge around, he’s just counting down the days until he loses her.” He lifted an eyebrow at Sedric and added, “Pardon me if I’m talking out of turn, but that’s how I see it.
“I overheard him and Swarge talking about it one night. Leftrin listens to his crew, more than most captains, and that’s why so many of them have been with him so long. He wanted to know if Swarge and Bellin were discontented and wanted to turn back. Swarge said, ‘It’s all one to us, Cap. No homes in the trees waiting for any of us. And this river has to come from somewhere. We follow it far enough, we’re bound to come to something.’ And Leftrin laughed and said, ‘What if what we come to is a bad end?’ and Swarge said, ‘A bad end is just a new beginning. We’ve been there before.’ So. I think they’ll keep going, until they find Kelsingra or the Tarman can’t crawl any farther.”
He poked the firepot again and seemed to take genuine pleasure in the drakes-tail of sparks he freed. “And I’ll go with them. After all, I’ve got nothing and nobody calling me back to Trehaug. Or anywhere.”
His statement seemed to be a question in disguise. Sedric considered it. He shrugged and answered it. “I’ve got no choice, do I? There’s a life waiting for me back in Bingtown. One I’m rather good at, even if I can’t survive on my own out here. But I’ve no way to get back to it. So I’m doomed to return to the Tarman with you and endure whatever comes next. I’m trapped.”
And he was and he knew it. Even so, he regretted how mean and small his words seemed following Carson’s more generous view of the world.
Carson’s face shif
ted. The corners of his mouth dropped, and his eyes became solemn. He dropped the stick he’d been stirring the fire with into the pot and leaned back a bit. With both his big hands, he pushed his wild hair back from his face. When he spoke, his voice was tight. “You don’t have to go back, Sedric. Not if you hate it that much. I’ve got the boat and the basic tools of my trade. I could take you downriver. It wouldn’t be an easy trip, but I’d get you back to Trehaug. And from there, you could go home.”
“What about the others?” Sedric asked reluctantly, trying to keep his rising excitement out of his voice. And then, as the complication came to him, “And what about the dragon?”
Yes. What about me? Her voice was a sleepy gurgle.
“Oh. That’s right. The dragon.” Carson smiled ruefully. “Strange, how a small detail like a very large dragon can slip my mind for a time. I suppose I’m still thinking of you as Alise’s assistant rather than as a keeper.” He was quiet for a time, and the bubble of excitement that Sedric had felt at the prospect of an early return to Bingtown began to subside.
Carson shrugged. “We could make sure she got back to the other dragons. After that, she’d have to manage on her own. We’d have to go upriver first anyway. I couldn’t just vanish; Leftrin would think I was dead, and Davvie would be crazy with fear and sorrow. I wouldn’t do something like that to a friend, let alone a boy who depends on me. And I’d want to ask Leftrin to let me out of my contract to hunt. A bad time for me to be asking that, with Jess missing. And you’d want to say good-bye to Alise, I’m sure…” His voice dwindled away. “I guess neither of us is as free as I was thinking we were,” he said softly. “Too bad.”
“Too bad,” Sedric agreed sickly. He was silent for a time, and then he observed, “Just a few minutes ago, you were talking about how wonderful it was to be part of something big like this expedition. Mapping the river, looking for an ancient city. Why would you offer to walk away from that just to take me to Trehaug?”
Carson grinned. He met his eyes frankly. “I like you, Sedric. I really like you. Haven’t you figured that out yet?”
The man’s frankness astounded him. He stared at the hunter, at his scaled skin above his bearded cheeks, his wild hair, and his scruffy clothing. Could he have been more unlike Hest?
A moment too late, he realized he should have given some response to that honest offering. Carson had already looked away from him. He gave a tiny shrug. “I know you’ve got someone waiting for you to come back. I think he was an idiot to let you go in the first place. And of course, I don’t forget the differences between us. I know what I am, and I got my place in the world. And most of the time, I’m pretty satisfied with my life.”
Sedric found his voice. “I wish I could say the same,” he offered, then knew it had come out wrong. “I mean, I wish I could say I’d found satisfaction in my life. I haven’t.” There had been moments of it, he thought. Time spent with Hest in some of the more exotic cities they’d visited, times of excellent wine and rare foods and the prospect of a long, merry evening in a finely appointed inn. Had that been satisfaction with his life, he suddenly wondered, or simply hedonistic satiation? Uncomfortably he sensed that Carson was right. The differences between them were extreme. He suddenly felt shamed but also a bit angry. So he liked things to be nice; so he enjoyed the fine things life could offer. That didn’t make him shallow. There was more to him than just enjoying what Hest’s money could buy him. Carson’s voice called him back to reality. His voice sounded resigned.
“It’s getting late. We should get some sleep. You can have the blanket.”
“There’s another blanket in the other boat,” he said.
“Other boat?” Carson asked him.
He’d relaxed too much. The truth had slipped out. Then he wondered how long he would have lied? Would he have kept his silence tomorrow, let them abandon supplies and gear that were even more precious now than when they had left Trehaug?
“It’s tied up on the other side of that big snag over there.” He tossed his head toward it, and then sat, guilty and silent, as Carson gracefully rose and crossed the mat of rocking logs and debris to look down on it. He stared at the firepot. He heard the big man thud gently down into the bottom of the boat. In a moment, his voice came through the dimness. “This is Greft’s boat and his gear. One thing about him, he’s good at taking care of what’s his. If I were you, I’d be careful with his stuff. He’s going to want it all back, and in good condition.”
A few moments later, Carson returned. The blanket was slung over his shoulder. He tossed it to Sedric, not hard but not softly either. Sedric caught it. It was still damp in places. He’d intended to spread it out to dry in the sun and forgotten.
“So,” Carson said, sitting down on the log again. “That’s Greft’s boat. And you didn’t tie the knots that are securing it. What’s the whole story? And why didn’t you tell it?” There was a chill in his voice, a cold spark of anger.
Sedric was suddenly too tired to dissemble. Too tired to be anything but honest. “I did tell you what happened to me. I saw this pack of logs here, and Relpda brought me here. Then I found out that Jess was already here. He’d been swept away, too, but he’d found a boat. And he’d got here before I did.”
“Jess is here?”
A simple question. If he answered it truthfully, how would Carson react? He looked at him wordlessly. No lie came to him and he didn’t dare tell the truth. He fingered the massive bruise on the side of his face as he tried to decide where to begin. Carson’s deep eyes were fixed on his. A furrow had begun to show between his brows, and his mouth was suspicious. Talk. Say something.
“He wanted to kill Relpda. Cut her up into parts, take the parts to Chalced and sell them.”
For a long moment, Carson was silent. Then he nodded slowly. “That sounds like something Jess was capable of doing. Sounds like what he was trying to get Greft to persuade the keepers to do. So what happened?”
“We fought. I hit him with the hatchet.”
“And I ate him.” There was satisfaction in Relpda’s quiet rumble.
The copper distracted Carson completely from what Sedric had said. His head swiveled to face her. “You ate him? You ate Jess?” He was incredulous.
“It’s what dragons do,” she replied defensively. Sedric’s own words, coming out of her mouth.
Sedric found himself justifying it. “Jess wanted me to help him trick her into keeping still while he killed her. I wouldn’t. So he stabbed her with a spear and then came after me. Carson, he was going to kill her and cut her up and sell her. And he didn’t care if he had to kill me first to do it.”
The hunter’s head swiveled back to regard Sedric skeptically. His eyes wandered over Sedric, his bruised face and battered condition, assigning new meaning to what he saw. Sedric felt his muscles tighten as he faced that gaze, fearing that soon it would turn to judgment and condemnation. Instead, he saw disbelief slowly become admiring amazement.
“Jess was one of the nastiest fellows I’d ever had to work alongside. He had a reputation for being a dirty fighter, the kind who didn’t stop even after the other fellow was willing to give in. And you stood up to him for your dragon?” He glanced over at Relpda. Nothing remained of the elk carcass. She’d eaten it all.
“I had to,” Sedric said quietly.
“And you won?”
Sedric just looked at him. “I’m not sure I’d describe it as winning.”
The comment surprised a guffaw out of Carson. Then Relpda intruded.
“And I ate him. Sedric fed him to me.” She seemed to savor the memory.
“That isn’t exactly what happened,” Sedric hastily interposed. “I never intended for that to happen. Though I’ll admit that at the time, what I mostly felt was relief. Because I wasn’t sure if anything else would have stopped him.”
“And Jess is what happened to your face, then?”
Sedric lifted a hand to his jaw. His cheekbone was still tender, and the swollen inside
of his cheek kept snagging on his teeth. But he felt almost strangely proud of his injury now. “Yes, it was Jess. I’d never been hit in the face like that before.”
Carson gave a brief snort of laughter. “Wish I could say that! I’ve caught plenty of fists with my face. Though I’m truly sorry to see it happen to yours.”
Almost timidly, the hunter put out a large hand. The touch of his rough fingers on Sedric’s face was gentle. Sedric was shocked that such a slight brush against his cheek could send such a rush of feeling through him. The fingers pressed gently around his eyes socket and then the line of his cheekbones. He sat very still, wondering if there would be more, wondering how he would react if there was. But Carson dropped his hand and turned his face away, saying hoarsely, “Nothing’s broken, I don’t think. You should heal.” A moment later, he fed another stick to the firepot. “We should get some sleep soon if we’re going to get up early.”
“Jess said Leftrin was in on it.” Sedric blurted the statement out, letting it be its own question.
“In on what?”
“Killing dragons and selling off the parts. Teeth, blood, scales. He said that whoever had sent him had said that Leftrin would be willing to help him.”
Carson’s dark gaze grew troubled. “And did he?”
“No. That was part of Jess’s complaint. He seemed to feel Leftrin had cheated him.”
Carson’s expression lightened somewhat. “That seems likely to me. I’ve known Leftrin a long time. And over the years, once or twice, he’s been involved in a few things that I found, well, questionable. But slaughtering dragons and selling off their bodies? No. To Chalced? Never. There are a number of reasons why I couldn’t imagine him getting involved with something like that. Tarman being the big one.” His brow wrinkled as he stared into his fire. “Still, it would be interesting to know why Jess thought he would.”
He shook his head, then stood up slowly, rolling his shoulders as he did so. He was surprisingly graceful for his size, catching his balance easily as he stepped down into his small boat. His own blanket was neatly stowed, folded, and shoved high under the seat out of the damp. Sedric still clutched the damp and wrinkled blanket Carson had tossed at him. He looked at Carson’s boat, at every item in a precise location, and he suddenly felt childish and ashamed. Over in the other boat, a hatchet was probably rusting from its immersion in the bloody bilgewater. Carson had arrived and had seen to every need that he and the dragon had, without a single wasted movement. Sedric hadn’t even remembered to spread his blanket out to dry.