Rain Wilds Chronicles

by Robin Hobb

  Greft seemed to feel her regard. “Funny?” he asked her in a voice gone harsh.

  “No,” she replied shortly. “Tragic. I’m sorry this happened to you, Greft. For what it’s worth, you have my pity.”

  When he turned to face her, the blue in his eyes shone with anger. “Keep your pity for yourself. Useless, stupid whore.”

  The insult stunned her, not just for the seething vehemence in his voice but because it baffled her. Useless? Stupid? Whore? Greft had turned and was walking away before she realized that it wasn’t intended to make sense, only to insult. He’d actually expected her to be enjoying his downfall. “You don’t know me at all,” she said into his absence. She glanced toward the other keepers. “I don’t think anyone does anymore.”

  The other keepers had resumed their activities. Alum was trying to give Boxter a haircut, with helpful advice from Kase and Lecter. Davvie was watching and laughing. Tats was sitting with Harrikin; Sylve was leaning against Harrikin. All three were talking softly about something. “I miss you, Rapskal,” she said to the night. “I miss having a friend.”

  An unexpected echo bounced back to her. Stop being stupid. You have a dragon. You no longer need human companions. Go to sleep.

  “Good night, Sintara,” she muttered and went to take the dragon’s advice.

  THE RIVER WAS GONE. It was time to admit that. Leftrin wasn’t sure what to properly call this body of water that he was on, if it could be termed a body of water at all. For three days, Tarman had been making agonizingly slow progress. They followed the dragons, but he doubted that they had any sense of where they were going. Were they following the main channel? Was there a main channel? The current was barely a current anymore. He watched the dawning light reflected in the still surface of the water, broken only by the faint stirring of the reeds and rushes as the morning wind passed through them.

  The walls of the world had retreated. For as far as he could see from Tarman’s deck, they were in an immense slough filled with water plants. Even from the roof of the deckhouse, he gained no vantage or sense of it ever ending. Perhaps this had once been a river system or a lake. Now he wondered if it were not a wide drainage for distant hills, a place of water that was scarcely deeper than a man was tall. Like a flat plate, he thought. He tried not to wonder what might happen when the rains began in earnest. If a deluge started and the water began to rise, there was nowhere for the dragons to retreat. He shook the useless worry from his head, certain that Mercor was aware of it. Daily he led them on, to Kelsingra or death. They’d find out which when they reached there.

  He scanned the wide circle of horizon and saw nothing promising. He had never felt he was such a tiny spark of life floating on a twig as he did now. The sky overhead was wide and gray with high clouds. He missed the shady riverbanks he’d known all his life. The light seemed relentless during the day, and on a clear night, the blanket of stars overhead reduced him to insignificance.

  Somewhere in the distance a hunting bird, hawk or eagle, screamed a long, lonesome cry. Tats’s dragon roused and lifted her head from where she dozed. She made a questioning sound, but when no response came, she once more tucked her head under her wing. The dragons stood in a huddle, like a flock of exhausted waterfowl, heads tucked to their breasts or resting on the back of an adjacent dragon. It could not have been relaxing sleep for them. They slept on their feet like sailors kept on watch too long. He pitied them but could do nothing for them.

  Insects had become more plentiful, but at least on this river, bats abounded by night; and during the day, tiny darting swallows feasted on the mosquitoes and gnats. There was still no lack of stinging, buzzing insects, but watching them be devoured in turn gave him satisfaction.

  Habit made him take his pipe out of his coat pocket. He looked at it, turning it in his hands, and then put it away. Not even a shred of tobacco remained anywhere on the boat. It wasn’t the only supply that was exhausted. The sugar was gone, as was the coffee. The tea that remained was more powder than leaf. There were two more casks of ship’s bread. When that was gone, their dependence on what they could hunt and gather as they traveled would be absolute. He scowled and then resolutely shook off his gathering worries.

  Where there’s clean water, there’s food, he reminded himself. Fish there were in plenty, and some of the rushes had thick, starchy roots. For the last couple of nights, Carson had been deliberately setting out nets for waterfowl. He hadn’t had much luck yet, but when he did, not if, there’d be roast duck on the menu. Or more likely boiled, he reminded himself, to use less firewood. Large pieces of wood had become scarce of late. They watched avidly for driftwood now, any snag deposited in days of higher water. Until then, all the keepers had the task every evening of gathering as much dried reed-grass as they could. It burned quickly; they gathered bushels every night and twisted it into bundles to try to make it burn longer. Thank Sa the nights had remained mild so far.

  Everyone’s clothing was showing the effects of hard use and too much exposure to the acid water of the Rain Wild River. Fabric was fraying away to nothing. Trousers had become shorter as cuffs became patches for knees. Alise had shared out her previously ample wardrobe among the female keepers, offering it even before she was asked. Sedric had followed her example; it was strange to see the keeper lads going about their duties in linen and silk shirts in bright colors. Even so, Leftrin knew it was only postponing the inevitable. For now, they were coping, but eventually a solution would have to be found.

  Alise joined him, carrying two steaming mugs with her. She balanced hers on top of the railing and handed one to him. “Tea?” he asked her.

  “Yes. Pretty much the last of it. And weak at that.”

  “But hot,” he said, and they smiled at each other over the steaming mugs.

  They surveyed the horizons of their domain. After a time, she spoke both their minds. “The water gets shallower every day. I have no faith that the dragons know where they are going. In the memories that Tarman showed us, Kelsingra was on the banks of a large river, not a lake like this.”

  She said no more. They both sipped their tea and wondered. Wondered if they had followed the wrong branch of the river, wondered what would happen if the water became too shallow for Tarman, wondered if the dragons would demand to turn back. Then Alise put her free hand on the top of Leftrin’s shoulder and he bent his head to trap it between his shoulder and cheek. “I love you,” he said quietly. He hadn’t told her that. Hadn’t thought to say it aloud.

  “I love you, too.” The words seemed to come easily to her, as if she had said them a thousand times before. That pleased him. It wasn’t the saying of the words that mattered to her, then. It was just acknowledging what was.

  He smiled, put his arm around her, and pulled her close. It was a good thing to know, on a day when he felt he knew nothing else for certain. “Looks like the clouds are breaking up over there. Perhaps we’ll have another sunny day,” Alise said, looking at the sky.

  “More freckles for you!” Leftrin declared, and she shook her head with a mock frown.

  “I don’t understand why you like them! I spent years of my life trying to avoid getting them and fading the ones I had with lemon juice and buttermilk.”

  “Kissing you must have been delicious.”

  “Foolish man. No one kissed me then.” A crooked smile.

  “Seems to me the Bingtown men were the foolish ones.”

  She smiled still, but a small shadow crossed her eyes, and he knew he had reminded her of Hest, and humiliation and deceptions. It saddened him that no matter how he tried he could not erase that from her heart. He knew that it still colored her relationship with Sedric. The two circled each other at a distance, polite, almost kind to each other, but with the caution of people who had bruised each other badly. He felt sorry for both of them. She had spoken enough of Sedric that he knew her friendship with him was years older than her disastrous marriage to Hest. He wished she still had the security of Sedric’s regar
d. Losing it had cracked her image of herself. He wished his own respect for her was enough to make her see her own worth, and he recognized the selfishness of that wish. He could not be her entire world. She needed to mend her bridges with her old friend before she would be whole. For all of their sakes, he hoped it would happen soon. Tarman was too small a world for strife and conflict.

  Yet they had enough of that and to spare in the person of Greft. He moved about the ship, neither a keeper nor a member of the crew, rejected by the dragons; a failed leader with failing health. Leftrin would have pitied him if Greft had allowed it. He didn’t. He had become as bitter and nasty a man as Leftrin had ever known. Many a time he had wished that Kalo had simply eaten his keeper that night.

  “You’ve grown quiet. What are you thinking?”

  “Greft,” Leftrin said briefly, and she nodded.

  “It’s coming to a head, isn’t it?”

  “There was a bit of a tussle last night after you’d gone to bed. Greft stayed on board all day yesterday; I don’t know if the physical changes are hurting him that bad or if he’s just too discouraged to make the effort. Tats went to him and told him that if he didn’t hunt today, he and Harrikin intended to take the boat and gear and ‘do some good’ with it.” He sipped his tea and shook his head. “He made it sound like it was about the boat and the gear, but I think there was more to it than that.”

  “What happened?”

  “Not a great deal. Nasty exchange of words. Greft seemed willing to fight, but Tats said he wouldn’t hit a sick man and walked away. Ended there. I hope.” He took another long sip of the cooling tea. “Tats and Harrikin told him they were going to take the boat and gear and go hunting this morning. I hope Greft is smart enough to not be there when they take the boat. If he is, and it comes to blows, I’ll have to intervene.”

  “Perhaps they’ve already gone,” Alise suggested hopefully.

  “Perhaps, but it bears checking into. Care to talk a walk, my dear?”

  “THANK YOU FOR the invitation, kind sir.” She mocked a curtsy to him, and then set a rough hand on the ragged sleeve that he so grandly extended to her. As they started their promenade down the deck, she found herself smiling at the picture they must present. She no longer had a single garment that didn’t show some sign of wear from sun and acid water. The exception was the Elderling gown he had given her, but the long skirt was not the most convenient style for life on a barge. Her hair had gone wild and curly. A Bingtown street vendor would have had a better complexion. She was barefoot; she now saved what was left of her boots for times when it was possible to walk on the shore; she had not put them on for days now. Never had she felt less beautiful.

  Or more attractive. She glanced at Leftrin, and his eyes immediately met hers. And when she returned his gaze, his smile widened and his eyes lit with interest. Yes. Here on the deck of this ship, she was the most beautiful woman in his world. It was a wonderful sensation.

  “The boat’s gone,” she told him, recalling him to the business at hand.

  “So it is. Well, that’s trouble avoided,” he said, well pleased.

  Then Tats spoke from behind him. “Where’s the boat?”

  GREFT HAD TAKEN the boat, and all the gear both for hunting and fishing. No one was sure when he had left. Bellin remembered seeing him in the galley after most of the others had gone to sleep. It didn’t surprise Thymara. Greft’s changes had meant he was not sleeping well, and he’d told them it was hard for him to eat. A quick inventory revealed that a large portion of their small supply of ship’s bread was gone completely along with a small pot. This more than anything else convinced her that Greft had not gone out to fish or hunt. He’d left the barge to go his own way.

  The reactions of the other keepers surprised Thymara. Some were angered to find the boat missing, and all expressed surprise. None seemed concerned for Greft’s well-being. Boxter and Kase were stubbornly silent, and Jerd was bitterest about his selfishness in taking the boat, gear, and ship’s bread “when he knows it is one of the few foods I can keep down.”

  “As if everything must center on her,” Sylve, standing at Thymara’s elbow, whispered. Not quietly enough, for Jerd shot them both an evil glance and said tragically, “It is nothing to either of you that he has abandoned me while I carry his child.”

  Thymara thought but did not say that perhaps it would have mattered more to Greft if he had been certain the child was his. She edged away from the keepers, to stand where she could eavesdrop as Leftrin discussed the matter with Hennesey. “If it was only the boat and the gear, I’d say it was a keeper matter. Even though losing that fishing and hunting gear is going to impact everyone; ever since Jess got himself dead, Carson’s had a hard time keeping meat on the table. Dragons are mainly feeding themselves now or things would be even worse. But he stole the ship’s bread. And that makes it a ship’s matter and for the captain to decide.

  “That’s how I see it. So. Someone’s got to go after him and bring him back. It’s the last thing we need just now. But if we ignore it, it leaves the door wide open for the next keeper who decides to jump ship and take whatever with them.”

  “Can’t let it go,” Hennesey agreed. “But who do you send?”

  “Carson.” Leftrin was decided on that. “He’s mine. Not a keeper, even if that dragon has claimed him. I’m not going to send a regular crewman off on this. I want to move on today, not sit here and wait.”

  “Carson, then. Alone?”

  “I’ll let him choose if he wants a companion. This is such a damn nuisance.”

  “WHY ME?” SEDRIC asked the question quietly.

  Carson glanced back at him, a puzzled smile on his face. “I thought by now you’d realize that I like to spend time with you.”

  Despite his worries, Sedric found himself answering Carson’s smile. That response seemed to be enough for the hunter. He faced front again and dug his paddle into the water. Sedric copied him and tried to keep pace with him. The physical strength he had developed since he’d begun keeping company with the hunter surprised him. As for Carson, he’d complimented Sedric more than once on the developing muscles in his arms and chest.

  Sedric glanced back, a bit uneasily, to watch the barge shrinking behind them. The boat had become the one point of safety in his life. It ran counter to all his instincts to be moving away from it in this tiny vessel, even with Carson guiding their way. A flash of silver caught his eye. “Your dragon is following us, I think.”

  Carson lifted his head for a moment. Then, without turning to look, he gave a tight nod. “That he is.”

  “Why?”

  “Who knows why a dragon does anything?” he muttered, but there was amusement in his voice. Spit was a difficult dragon, cantankerous and sometimes obtuse to the point of stupidity. Even knowing why the hunter had stepped forward to be Spit’s keeper, Sedric still wondered at it. He and Carson had not made any promises to each other. Carson hadn’t seemed to think they were necessary. Yet he held nothing back. He’d spoken only once of a concern that Sedric might “outgrow or outlive him.” Sedric had dismissed it as pillow talk. Yet when the opportunity arose for the hunter to follow Sedric into a transformation that no human could control, he hadn’t hesitated. He’d stepped forward to become Spit’s keeper, a spontaneous offer to change his entire life for the sake of being with Sedric. Never had he imagined that any man would make such a concession to him. It reminded him shamefully of how quickly he had discarded his old life and even shredded his family ties to be with Hest. He suspected that Carson was far more aware of what he had done than Sedric had been when he gave up his world to be with his lover. Yet Carson had not once mentioned it as a sacrifice. When the man gave, he gave with an open heart. He watched the man in front of him, saw the shifting of his muscles as he used the paddle, and wondered what he would look like a year or a decade from now.

  Spit hadn’t yet offered blood to Carson, but Sedric did not doubt that he would. The hunter tended the unpredictabl
e little dragon with not only devotion but a deep understanding of animals and their bodies. The first day that he’d been keeper to Spit, he’d gone over the small silver dragon with an attention to every detail of his health that had sent every other keeper scampering to be sure he hadn’t neglected his own beast.

  Not many of them had been as bold as Carson. He’d spent over an hour inside the dragon’s mouth, removing a wad of sinew that had wrapped around one of his shearing teeth and was causing him a great deal of pain. “Not a waste of my time,” he’d gently rebuked Sedric later. “Sooner or later, it would have rotted away. But by removing it now, I gave him one more reason to appreciate me. And one less reason to be irritable all the time.”

  “What are we going to do when we find Greft?” Sedric asked Carson after a while. It was an obvious question, one of the many that he hadn’t had time to ask before they departed from the barge.

  “We bring him and the boat back to the barge. That’s our only task.”

  “What if he resists?”

  Carson’s shrug was minute. “We bring him back. One way or another. Leftrin can’t let him get away with that theft. So far, despite the shortages, there hasn’t been any pilferage or hoarding. Food that is gathered or hunted is shared. You and Alise set an example when you divvied out your extra clothing. You can’t imagine how relieved Leftrin was when you did that. He was surprised you’d do that. I told him I wasn’t.” He turned his head and gifted Sedric with a grin that parted his ruddy lips and showed his teeth. Who smiled like that? Not the sophisticated and urbane Traders who had once been Sedric’s companions. They muted their expressions, never laughing too loud, hiding smiles behind well-tended hands. Appearing to be disaffected or cynical was stylish. Why had he thought that was attractive and civilized? A ghost of Hest’s sneering smile came to his mind. He banished it, and it went much more easily than it had a month ago.