Rain Wilds Chronicles

by Robin Hobb

  In addition, in the last few days the mood of the expedition had soured. Perhaps all of them had just spent too much time in one another’s company. Perhaps the battering wave and the losses they’d endured had demoralized them to the point at which they could not recover. Perhaps it was the lowering weather. He didn’t know what had affected their spirits so, but it showed, in both keepers and crew. He thought it had begun the evening when Carson and Sedric had returned with the boat to report Greft’s death. Carson had delivered the news to all of them as they sat on the deck with their meager rations of food. Carson had reported it flatly, and not apologized or explained that he’d fed the body to his dragon. No one challenged that; perhaps, for keepers, that was what they now expected. Sedric had looked drained and beaten; perhaps he had finally seen too much. Maybe his Bingtown shell had cracked, and some humanity was seeping in. Carson had made his report, formally returned the stolen ship’s bread to him, and then announced he was going to get some sleep. But the weariness on his old friend’s face did not look like the kind of tiredness that would yield to sleep.

  Leftrin had looked from Carson’s weary face to Sedric’s hang-dog expression and formed his own impression. Well, that was too damn bad. The Bingtown dandy had finished with him, and the hunter was taking it hard. Carson deserved better fortune.

  But then, didn’t they all?

  The news of Greft’s death had dampened the spirits of all. None of the keepers, not even Tats or Harrikin, seemed to take any satisfaction in it. Tats had looked almost guilty. And Jerd had spent the rest of the evening sitting near the port railing, weeping quietly. After a time, Nortel had gone and sat beside her and spoken to her in a low voice until she leaned her head on his shoulder and allowed him to comfort her.

  And that was another thing he had his own thoughts on. Bellin had told Swarge she was going to speak to the girls, and Swarge had passed it on to him. He hoped she had. He’d been relieved that the girl had been all right after her miscarriage and saddened at the loss of the little one. He refused even to guess how hard that had been for Bellin and Swarge. He’d lost track of how often Bellin had been pregnant. Not a one had come to term.

  Greft’s boat had sat idle on the deck for two days after that until he’d brusquely ordered Boxter and Kase to divvy out the hunting supplies and then take it out and make themselves useful. It wasn’t his place to do so, but they’d obeyed him. And having at least some of the keepers out hunting was much better than the whole crew of them idle and brooding on his decks.

  “We’ve lost heart,” Alise said, as if replying to his thoughts. “All of us.”

  “Even the dragons?”

  “The dragons have changed. Or maybe how I see them has changed. They’ve become far more independent since they survived the wave. Maybe it was because they were instrumental in saving most of us. Once the roles were reversed, it was like the severing of a tie that had worn thin. Some are more arrogant, and others almost ignore their keepers. Of course the most shocking changes are in Relpda and Spit.”

  “I’ll say. They’ve gone from being lumpish creatures who the keepers could barely push along each day to being, most definitely, dragons. That little bastard Spit is a danger to himself and everyone else since he discovered he could spit toxins. His accuracy leaves a lot to be desired, and he doesn’t take kindly to correction from anyone. I preferred him the way he was. I appreciate Carson stepping up to try to manage him; he’s the man for a job like that, if there is one. But even he can’t keep a lid on that steam-pot forever. Sooner or later he’s going to hurt someone.”

  A hawk cried in the distance. Several of the dragons turned their heads toward it. He wondered if they envied the bird’s flight and wondered if he turned the barge back, seeking for deeper water, would they follow him? Or would they stalk off into the bog, seeking a way to drier land? He glanced at the sky again and wondered if he should hope for rain. Enough rain would lift the barge so they could push on. It would also raise the water that surrounded the dragons. How long could they last with no dry land to rest on? He pushed away his doubts and fears. “I’ll make a decision tomorrow morning,” he told her.

  “Until then?” She looked up into his face, and he saw how he had changed her. It wasn’t the roughened hair that mattered to him, nor how her freckles had spread and darkened. For him, it was all in her eyes. There was a question there, but there was no fear. None at all.

  “Until then, my dear, we live.”

  THYMARA SAT IN the dimness of Alise’s room. She had asked earlier if she might borrow it for an hour or so, and the Bingtown woman had readily agreed, assuming that Thymara wished to bathe in warm water in privacy. But that was not her mission. Instead she had begged Sylve to come with her.

  “I don’t see how I’m going to be a help, Thymara. It’s almost as dark as night in here.”

  “We’re out of candles completely. Bellin said that if the hunters bring in any sort of an animal with fat, she’ll make some rushlights. But until then…” Thymara heard her voice, how quickly she spoke and how it was pitched higher than normal. Perhaps Sylve heard the fear, too.

  “Let me look at your back, Thymara, and see how bad it is. I know you don’t like people to fuss over you, but if it’s infected, and has been for this long, well, you need to have someone open up the injury and clean it out. You can’t just let it keep festering.”

  Sylve kept talking as Thymara pulled off her shirt and then unknotted the strips of rags she’d tied at her chest. Experience had taught her that this part was best done quickly. She took a deep breath and then snatched the rag free, gasping as she did so. The ooze from the injury on her back never seemed to cease and always glued the bandaging to her skin. Sylve made an exclamation of sympathy and then asked pragmatically, “What have you been doing for this?”

  “I try to wash it every couple of days. Sometimes it’s hard to find a place that’s private.”

  “Are you heating the water or just standing in the river?”

  “Usually just standing in the river. I wash out the rags and then use them to sponge a trickle of water over it. Then I bandage it up again.”

  “I can’t see a thing in here. Turn this way, so the light from that little window…Oh.” Sylve’s hands were cool on her bare shoulders as she turned Thymara in the small space of Alise’s chamber.

  The sudden silence that followed her exclamation chilled Thymara even more. “How bad is it?” she asked roughly. “Just tell me.”

  “Well.” Sylve took a ragged breath. “This isn’t an injury, Thymara. Maybe it started out as one, but it isn’t now. It’s a change. Mercor told me that sometimes, when a human’s skin and blood are open, a dragon’s influence can be stronger. Stronger than intended, even. He told me about it because I cut my hand and when I came to tend him that day, he said I should stay away from him for a day or two.”

  Thymara tried to settle her breath and couldn’t. “What kind of a change?”

  “I don’t know, exactly. I’m going to poke at you a bit. I hope I don’t hurt you, but I have to do it.”

  “Just do it and get it over with, Sylve.” An edge of anger crept into her voice despite her effort to sound resigned.

  It didn’t rattle Sylve. “I know you’re not angry at me. Stand still, now.”

  She felt one of Sylve’s cool, scaled hands track down her spine from the nape of her neck to the middle of her back.

  “That didn’t hurt? Good. It looks like it’s all sound flesh, but it’s scaled heavily and it’s…I don’t know…it’s different from how a human’s back should be. It stands up like it’s more muscled or something. Now, to either side of that space…” Thymara hissed and flinched wildly and Sylve took her hands away. “Um, there are these two, uh, slashes. They match. Each is about the span of my hand long, and the edges are all ridged. And—please, stand still again.”

  She felt Sylve’s cold hands again, and then, as Sylve picked at something, Thymara gave a sudden yelp and curled forward
, clenching her teeth and eyes. A burning pain spread out from whatever Sylve had done. When Sylve spoke, it sounded as if her own teeth were clenched. “Sorry, Thymara. So sorry. I shouldn’t have done that; it looks like you’re bleeding a bit now. But there’s—there’s something inside each of the slashes.”

  “Something what? Dirt? Infection?”

  Sylve took a deep shaking breath. “No. Something growing. Something bony like, well, like fingers or something. Thymara, you should go to Bellin or Alise. Or even Mercor. Someone who knows more than me has to look at this and tell you what to do. It’s bad. It’s really bad.”

  Thymara didn’t bother with her rag bandage. She snatched up her shirt and pulled it on, heedless of how much pain the sudden movement cost her. “Don’t tell!” she insisted hoarsely. “Please, Sylve, don’t tell. Don’t tell anyone until I have a chance to think about this.” And talk to that damn dragon. “Promise me you won’t tell anyone.”

  “Thymara, you have to tell. Something has to be done.”

  “Don’t tell, Sylve. Please. Don’t tell.”

  Sylve ground her teeth. “All right. I won’t tell.”

  But just as Thymara began to relax, Sylve added, “I won’t tell yet. I’ll wait one day. One day only. Then I go to Bellin. You can’t ignore this, Thymara. It won’t go away on its own.”

  “I won’t ignore it. I promise. Just give me a day, Sylve. Just give me a day.”

  “ALISE, I HAVE to talk to you. Do you have time for me?”

  Sedric’s request was oddly formal. Alise looked up from her work on the galley table. It was twofold. Boxter had snared half a dozen small waterfowl in the dawn and brought them back to the barge. She had prepared most of them for the pot, and they were already simmering. The final two, a male and a female, were carefully spread out on the table. She was sketching them into her journal and making notes on size, coloring, and what had been in their diminutive stomachs. She’d never seen ducks like these. The males sported a crest of bright blue feathers. She lacked any colored ink so she’d noted the colors adjacent to her sketch. As she looked up questioningly at Sedric, he added abruptly, “I’d have sketched those for you. All you had to do was ask.”

  “Well. Sometimes asking someone to do something is harder than doing it myself,” she observed stiffly. She looked at him and desperately tried to see her old friend. A dozen times, she’d forgiven him. And a dozen times, she’d awakened in the night or looked up from some task to realize that she was gritting her teeth as she relived some incident from the past, now colored with the knowledge that Sedric had given her.

  She now believed she knew which of her friends and acquaintances had been aware of Hest’s true preferences. And which ones had not only known about Hest but about his relationship with Sedric. It all seemed so obvious now. The chance remarks that had once been mystifying were now barbed. The social slights now made sense. She remembered Trader Feldon choking on his wine when his young wife had sympathetically asked Alise about her efforts to get pregnant. She had thought he was embarrassed. Now she was certain he’d been trying to drown a chuckle at the prospect of her bedding Hest. The memory and her new interpretation of it blasted into her mind as she looked at Sedric. He’d been at that dinner party, seated on Hest’s left.

  As she looked at him, he seemed to feel the same chill she did. He pinched his lips together for a moment, and then shook his head, denying something. “Alise, I need to talk to you,” he repeated.

  She sighed. “I’m here.” She set down her pencil.

  Sedric’s nose twitched as he looked at the stiff little bodies. She heard a shushing noise; rain was falling, peppering the face of the surrounding waters. Sedric stepped to the galley door and shut it firmly. Then he sat down at the table across from her and set a worn canvas bag on the table. He folded his hands together and then announced, “When I’m finished, you’re going to think even less of me than you do now. But you’ll also have every explanation that is owed to you for the ways I’ve behaved. And it will be done. I’ll have nothing else left to apologize for, no more dirty secrets that I’ll have to dread you discovering some day.”

  She clasped her own hands. “That’s not a reassuring way to begin a conversation.” Dread was already rising inside her.

  “No. It’s not. Here it is, Alise. When Hest told me I had to accompany you here, I was furious. And hurt, because he was doing it to punish me for taking your part. I’d insisted it was only fair that you be allowed to travel up the Rain Wild River. I reminded him, once too often, that he had agreed to it as part of your marriage agreement.” He paused very slightly, but she gave him no sign that this swayed her in any way. “When I knew it was inevitable that I must go with you to see your ‘damned dragons,’ I recalled a Chalcedean merchant who had approached Hest and me months before. He very cautiously approached the idea that Hest might have connections to Rain Wild Traders who might be able to procure dragon parts.” He glanced up at her and met her eyes. “You know that since the Duke of Chalced began to age and fail, he has sought for remedies to prolong his life and restore his health.”

  She replied quietly. “I know all about his offers to buy such things.”

  He looked down again. “I contacted the merchant. I told him where I was going. He supplied me with what he thought I would need. Specimen bottles and preservatives. A list of the most desirable parts.” He lifted his chin suddenly and said stubbornly, “I accompanied you on this expedition determined to harvest those parts. With them, I intended to make my fortune, and then to persuade Hest to leave you and come away with me.”

  She sat very still, waiting for the rest of it.

  “What I accused Leftrin of planning, I actually did. I used you to get close to the dragons. I took scales and blood, even small pieces of flesh from when Thymara cleaned the wound on the copper dragon. I hid them in my room.” As he spoke, he reached into the canvas bag. One at a time, he took out several small glass bottles and set them on the table. One had a tinge of red stain down it. “I intended to take them back to Bingtown, to meet up with the Chalcedean merchant, and make a fortune.”

  He stopped there.

  After a moment, she realized he was waiting for her. She took up one of the empty bottles and turned it in her hands. “What did you do with them?”

  “Greft stole them from me. When he fled with the boat. They’re gone forever, now.” He gestured at the glass vials. She suppressed a shudder and set the one in her hand back on the table with a small clink.

  “Why are you telling me this now?”

  He paused, then said unwillingly, “Carson. He said I needed to finish old things before I could start something new. This is part of that.”

  “You’re finishing with me.”

  “No. No, that’s not it at all. I don’t want to lose you, Alise. I know that it’s probably not possible, but somehow I’d like to go back to being the sort of friend I once was to you. Being that person from my side, if you see what I mean, even if you can’t feel about me as you once did. Somehow I went from being your friend to someone who could participate in deceiving you, could even exploit you just to get close to the dragons. I don’t want to be that person anymore. Telling you is a way of destroying him. Telling you about someone like him is something the old Sedric would have done, back when he was really your friend.”

  “You mean before Hest got to him. Before Hest got to either of us.” She lifted a hand and rubbed her brow. It gave her a moment to cover her eyes, a brief time of being alone with her own thoughts. It wasn’t really fair to blame it all on Hest. Was it? She and Sedric had gone their own ways before he came along and joined their lives again in such a bizarre fashion. She tried to remember how she had once thought of Sedric. In those years when their lives had taken separate paths, she’d recalled him fondly and smiled over her girlhood infatuation with him. Whenever she chanced to see him, in the market or visiting mutual friends, she’d always felt a leap of pleasure at the sight of him and always greet
ed him warmly.

  His presence, she slowly realized, had been the only pleasant part of her marriage to Hest. She tried to imagine the past few years without him. What if she had been marooned in her marriage to Hest without Sedric’s presence in the house, without his thoughtfulness and conversation at meals? He had, she recalled, been Hest’s adviser in the gifts chosen for her, in her access to the scrolls and books that had made her life tolerable. In some ways, they had been two animals in the same trap. If he had some responsibility for her falling into Hest’s power, he at least had done what he could to ameliorate her misery.

  And he had helped to win this journey for her. At what must have seemed a terrible price to him.

  It had been a chain of events that led to her finding Leftrin. That led to her finding both love and a life.

  With a fingertip, she touched the red-stained bottle. Then she frowned, leaned forward, and picked up the one next to it. It was slightly larger than the others. Something winked at her from inside it. She held it up to the light from the galley window and peered at it. She shook it. It didn’t move, but there was no mistaking what it was.

  Then, with a strength that surprised him, she smashed it on the edge of the galley table. Shards of glass went flying, and Sedric instinctively put up his hands to shield his face. “Sorry,” she muttered, shocked at her own impulsiveness. With cautious fingers, she separated the shattered glass until the bottle bottom was revealed. Carefully she plucked out the single small copper-edged scale that had remained stuck inside the bottle. She held it to the light. It was almost transparent.

  “A scale,” he said.

  “Yes.”

  With a table rag, she wiped the shards of glass off the planks and into the waste bucket that held the guts and feathers of the birds she’d cleaned. Then, from her trouser pocket, she took the locket.