by Robin Hobb
Alise had come out on the deck. She stood on the roof of the deckhouse with her sketchbook, capturing the moment. Thymara looked at her and scarcely recognized the fine Bingtown lady she had first seen at Cassarick. She had abandoned her wide-brimmed hats, and her smooth and gleaming hair was a thing of the past. The sun and wind had tanned her skin and multiplied her freckles. Her clothing showed plainly the hard use she had put it to. There were patches on the knees of her trousers, and the hems were frayed out. She wore the cuffs of her shirts rolled back now, and her hands and arms had browned in the sun. For all that, even during the days when she seemed quiet and sad, she seemed more alive and real than when Thymara had first met her. Her companion, Sedric, however, reminded Thymara of a bright bird in a molt. All his lovely colors and fine manners had dropped away from him. He said little to her anymore, but he cared for his new dragon with a clumsy sincerity that Thymara found touching. The little copper was blossoming under his care and had become something of a chatterbox when he was not around to occupy her. Her language and thoughts came clearer now, and cleansed of her parasites, she was growing as rapidly as her limited diet allowed.
She was not the only dragon who had changed since the big wave. The silver, Spit as he now called himself, was almost dangerous. Quick-tempered and fully venomed, he had already accidentally scalded Boxter. Boxter had not done anything to provoke him, except to be in the area when Spit became angry with one of the other dragons. Mercor had descended quickly, roaring at Spit. Luckily for Boxter, he had only received a drift rather than a direct spray of dragon venom. His arm was burned, but he’d torn his shirt off quickly enough that he’d avoided worse injury. Restraining his own dragon from going after Spit had demanded most of his effort. It was only later that the other keepers had treated and bound his arm for him. If he had not already been scaled, the damage would have been much greater.
Some of the dragons were discontented and weary of traveling, others as determined as when they had begun. Their attitudes to the journey varied as much as their attitudes toward their keepers. Some seemed to have grown very close to their keepers. Mercor and Sylve reminded Thymara of an old married couple. They knew each other well and were very content with each other’s company. She and Sintara had still not resolved their differences, and with every passing day, she wondered if they would. The dragon seemed angry with her, but she could not decide what the original basis for it was. Sintara still asserted the right to order her about, to command her to groom her or remove parasites from around her eyes. Thymara, true to her contract, cared for the dragon. Despite Sintara’s annoyance with her, she felt their bond had grown stronger; she was much more aware of the dragon’s needs, and when Sintara spoke to her, the meaning went far beyond words. Something stronger and deeper than affection bound them to each other. The linking was not always comfortable for either of them, but it was real. Why it existed was a conundrum. Alise still visited the dragon, but Sintara was even less attentive to her. Strange to say, Alise did not seem to take it to heart. Thymara sometimes wondered what had distracted her from the dragon, but most often took it to mean that Alise had realized, as she had, that she was simply not that important to the dragon.
Baliper was a lonely soul without Warken. The keepers took turns grooming him, but he spoke little to any of them and took small interest in any of the humans. Some of the other dragons seemed to understand his mourning; others seemed to find him weak because of it. Jerd’s Veras was not pleased with her keeper’s lack of attention to her and didn’t care who knew. Greft tended Kalo still, but in a perfunctory way, and Kalo had been in a period of black temper for almost a week. Something, Thymara felt, was brewing among the dragons, something they had not shared with their keepers. She dreaded what it might be. When she let her thoughts wander, she considered every possibility from the dragons simply abandoning them to the dragons turning on them and eating them. By day, such imaginings seemed silly. Not so in the dead of night.
“You! Thymara! Think you’re decorative? There’s a pole left. Get on the end of it.”
Hennesey’s order jarred her from her daydreaming. She felt a blush rise as she hurried forward to pick up the last available pole. Jerd still stood to one side, a hand on her belly. Sylve stood near her, arms folded, mouth set in disapproval. Obviously she had expected to be part of the pole crew despite her diminutive size.
Hennesey was still barking orders. “I don’t expect you to know what you’re doing, but I expect you to help. It’s pretty simple. Shove the pole down into the mud. When I yell, everyone pushes. It shouldn’t take much to get us off. Once we’re clear of the mud, bring your poles back on board without braining each other, and let the crew take over. Ready?”
Thymara had found a place alongside Skelly. The deckhand grinned at her. “Don’t worry, sis. This ought to be easy. Then you can get back to those pots in the galley.”
“Oh, yes, I’m longing to do that,” Thymara assured her, returning her grin. She looked at Skelly’s hands, copied her grip on the pole and her stance. The deckhand gave her an approving nod.
“Now push!” Hennesey shouted, and they all strained.
The boat rocked, shifted, rocked again as they grunted and strained.
And the Tarman settled in deeper.
THE LONG AFTERNOON passed very slowly.
The crew and the keepers manned their poles. They shoved, the barge moved slightly and dug in again. Long after it was apparent to Leftrin that Tarman was opposing their efforts to free him, he stubbornly kept his crew at work. First Hennesey called him aside, then Swarge and Bellin together approached him. Skelly read his humor and left him alone. His replies to each query were terse. Yes, he could see that the barge was deliberately digging in. Yes, he could tell it was not accidental. No, he didn’t want to stop trying. And no, he had no idea what was upsetting the ship.
In all the family history of Tarman, Leftrin had never heard of him directly defying his captain’s will. He couldn’t quite believe this was happening. “Ship, what ails you?” he muttered as he clutched the aft railing. But there was too much going on around him. The clustered and chattering keepers, the anxious crew, and Leftrin’s own frustration clouded his ability to read his ship. Tarman conveyed by turns agitation when they tried to move him and determination as he dug in deeper.
More than once that day, Leftrin had silently set his hands to the railing and tried to find out what was troubling his ship. Demanding to know what was wrong only brought an echo from his ship that this is wrong.
At one point, he bellowed aloud in frustration, “How is it wrong?”
All heads turned to him, Skelly gaping in shock. The only response he felt from Tarman made no sense. Water wrong, river wrong. It made no sense. So Leftrin dug his heels in as firmly as Tarman’s claws were set in the bottom and kept crew and keepers busy at trying to rip the barge free. Twice the barge swung wide and almost came free, only to suddenly dig in at the other end. It was oil on the flames of his frustration to sense his ship’s amusement at the humans’ puny efforts.
He had given the pole handlers a break when Swarge and Hennesey came at him together. “Cap, we think it might have something to do with the new, uh, hull design.”
That from Swarge, and then Hennesey added, “And if it does, we might be better off to find out what’s troubling Tarman before we insist on having our own way.”
He was still formulating an answer to that when someone shouted, “Keeper boats are coming back, hunters, too. And the dragons are headed back toward us.”
He glanced up at the sky, and then at the approaching boats and dragons. The dragons and hunters must have finally realized the barge wasn’t following them. They were returning. They’d lose most of a day’s travel at a time when supplies were running low. He wasn’t pleased. He looked over at his crew. This was probably the hardest day they’d put in since the barge had been modified. They were exhausted and worried. The keepers looked weary. He gave in.
“
Put the poles up. Even if we got free tonight, we’d just have to find a good place to overnight. So, we’ll stay here. Keepers, you can go ashore, see what you can find for firewood, make a blaze. Let’s all take a break, and I’ll have a fresh look at things in the morning.” He turned and walked away from their puzzled stares. It did not help that he sensed Tarman’s profound satisfaction at getting his own way.
ALISE SAW THYMARA clambering over the railing and called out to her hastily, “May I go with you?”
Thymara stopped, startled. She had a bag slung over her shoulder and her hair, freshly fastened into long black braids, had been tied in a bundle at the back of her head. “I’ve already been to check on Sintara. I’m going to use what’s left of the light to look at the other tributary.”
“I’d guessed that. May I go with you, please?” Alise put a bit of emphasis on the last word. She’d already seen the girl’s reluctance.
“If you wish.” Thymara sounded more resigned than welcoming. She was still missing her friend, Alise supposed.
She followed the Rain Wild girl to the railing and climbed down after her to the muddy shore. The dragons had taken refuge for the evening on the delta between the two rivers and were rapidly trampling the vegetation into oblivion. Even so, it was the most pleasant place they had stopped at for a while. Scattered white trees with papery bark grew on almost dry land. Behind them a forest grew that looked almost familiar to Alise—a woodland of smaller trees with open spaces between them.
But she was following Thymara and the girl did not go that way, but toward the other river. For a time, Alise followed her in silence, intent on keeping up with the younger woman. Thymara walked swiftly; Alise did not complain. But as they reached the bank of the gentler river and began to walk up its shore, Thymara slowed, knitting her brow and peering around at the trees and moss and grasses.
“It’s so different here,” she said at last.
“It’s a more familiar kind of forest,” Alise agreed and then added, “To me at least.”
“The water is so clear.”
It wasn’t, to Alise’s eyes. But she saw immediately what Thymara was referring to. “There’s no white to it. No acid at all, or at least very little.”
“I’ve never seen a river like this.” Thymara made her way to the mossy bank and stooped down. After a moment of hesitation, she dipped her fingers into the water and let drops of it fall on her tongue. “I’ve never tasted water like this. It’s alive.”
Alise didn’t laugh. “It looks like normal river water to me. But I haven’t seen this much of it since I entered the Rain Wilds. Oh, we’ve passed some streams of clear water on our way here, but as you said, nothing like this.”
“Shh.”
Alise froze and followed the direction of Thymara’s stare. Across the river, deer had come to drink. There was a buck with a substantial rack, two spike bucks, and several does. Only one had noticed the two women. The large buck stood, muzzle still dripping, and stared at them while the other deer came and drank.
“And me with no bow.” Thymara sighed.
The buck’s large ears flicked back and forth. He made a sound in his throat, a whuff, and his companions immediately lifted their heads. He made no sign that Alise saw, but the deer immediately retreated into the shelter of the trees and underbrush with the buck being the last to wheel and go. Privately, Alise was glad that Thymara was weaponless. She would not have enjoyed watching him die, nor helping with the butchering.
“If stupid Greft wasn’t so selfish with the hunting tools, we’d all be having fresh venison tonight,” Thymara grumbled.
“Perhaps the hunters will bring something back.”
“And perhaps they won’t,” Thymara replied sourly. She set out again, following the riverbank, and Alise followed her. “Why did you want to come with me?” Thymara asked abruptly. Her voice was more puzzled than unfriendly.
“To see what you do, and how. To spend time with you.”
Thymara glanced back at her, startled. “Me?”
“Sometimes it’s pleasant to be in the company of another woman. Bellin is kind to me, but she has everything she needs in Swarge. When I spend time with her, I know she is making that time for me. Skelly is busy and her concern is the ship. Sylve is sweet but young. Jerd is…”
“Jerd is a nasty bitch,” Thymara filled in when Alise paused to find tactful words.
“Exactly,” Alise agreed and laughed guiltily. “At least right now. Before she was pregnant, she was too interested in the boys to speak to me. And now her life is focused on her belly. Poor thing. What a situation to be in.”
“Perhaps she should have thought of that before she got into it,” Thymara suggested.
“I’m sure she should have. But now, well, she is where she is, and it’s up to all of us to be kind to her.”
“Why?” Thymara paused in her speech as she climbed over a fallen log and then waited for Alise to join her on the other side. “Do you think she’d be kind to you or me if the situation was reversed?”
Alise thought about it. “Probably not. But that doesn’t excuse us from doing what is right.” Even to herself, her words sounded a bit self-righteous. She peered at Thymara to see how she would react. But the Rain Wild girl had her head cocked back, looking up at the trees.
“Do you smell something?”
Alise hadn’t, but now she deliberately tested the air. “Maybe,” she said cautiously. “Sort of sweet, almost rotten?”
Thymara nodded. “Do you mind if I leave you here and go up the tree? I think there might be fruit vines up there.”
Alise looked at the tree trunk and realized for the first time that Thymara had probably been keeping to the ground for her sake. “No, of course not, go ahead. I’ll be fine down here.”
“I’ll be back soon,” Thymara promised. She chose a nearby tree trunk and went up it, digging her claws into the bark as she climbed. Alise stood on the ground and watched her go where she had no hope of following. She smiled, but her heart sank quietly inside her.
What was I thinking? she asked herself with a sigh as Thymara vanished up the tree. That a girl like that could offer me friendship or an insight into my problems? Even if we were of an age, we’re too different. She wandered a few steps away from the tree, trying to see Thymara’s world. It was hopeless. I see deer and she sees meat. I’m here on the ground and she’s up in the trees. I pity Jerd and she thinks we should hold her responsible. She looked around herself. The forest here was different, more inviting somehow. It took her a short time to realize that it was a difference in smell. The acridity that she had become used to as they traveled was less here. When she looked up at the treetops, it seemed to her there were more birds, and more wildlife in general. A gentler place, she thought.
Thymara had said she’d be right back. Did that mean she was supposed to wait for her? She’d followed the Rain Wild girl thinking that perhaps a few hours with Thymara would help her put her own life in perspective. And here she was, standing and waiting for her.
She shook her head as she realized that perhaps that was the perspective. That Thymara did things while Alise stood and waited for things to happen. Wasn’t that what she’d been doing over the last few days? Agonizing over Leftrin and what Sedric had told her. Agonizing over what Hest had done to her. Thinking and stewing and pondering, but doing nothing except wait for something to happen, wait for things to resolve themselves. Well, what was there she could do? What action could she take to spur events along? One option came immediately to mind, and she shook her head at herself. It still surprised her to be so interested in that! And running back to Leftrin’s bed would not be a true resolution to anything.
As if it were a meaningful decision, she resumed her walk along the riverbank. She wouldn’t wait for the girl. When Thymara came down, she’d either follow the river or go back to the boat. She knew where she was. If it started to get dark before she saw Thymara again, she’d simply follow the river back to the boat.
She couldn’t get lost.
At least, not any more lost than she was right now. She had no home now.
Ever since Sedric had revealed his secret, she’d felt cut off from her Bingtown past. She couldn’t go back. Simply could not. Regardless of what happened with this expedition, she would not go home to Bingtown and Hest. She would never face him and their friends, never smile stupidly and look around a table of guests and wonder how many knew the secret of her empty marriage. She’d never confront Hest and watch his sneering smile widen as he enjoyed how he’d deceived her and trapped her. Well, she was trapped no longer. A marriage in Bingtown was, after all, like any other Trader contract. She could easily prove that Hest hadn’t lived up to his end of the bargain. He had never been sexually faithful to her, never intended that she and she alone be his life partner. He’d broken his word and with it broken the marriage contract and freed her from her word. She did not have to remain faithful to him. She was free to turn to Leftrin.
But then Sedric had shared that other rumor with her—the one that had left her wondering if she should ever trust her own judgment again. He had been so certain, but all his information seemed to have come from the vanished hunter, Jess. She had felt paralyzed since then, unable to move in any direction. She wanted Leftrin as she had never wanted anything or anyone else in her life. But the thought that he might not be what she had believed him to be, the idea that perhaps the real man differed from her imaginary lover, had frozen her. She had seen the puzzlement and the patience in his eyes. He had not rebuked her and had not pressured her. It was clear to her that he did not think that their one night together gave him a claim upon her. That should mean something, shouldn’t it?
Or did it merely indicate that she was not as important to him as he was to her? Was she merely a pleasure he would enjoy when it was offered to him, something that he could easily forgo when it was not? A cruel part of her mind replayed that night. She had been forward, aggressive even. Had all that had transpired happened only because she had made it happen? Silly to think that was so. Foolish to think it was not.