Mad Ship (66 page)

“There is no dragon,” Bendir spoke slowly, with great finality. “Whatever was in there died long ago. It was probably mad before it died. All that is left of it is its memories. It is no more alive than liveships are truly alive. The planks absorb memories, and retain them. That is all. If it weren’t true, we wouldn’t be able to cut up a log and allow Bingtowners to store fresh memories in them. Anyone who talks to a liveship is really talking to himself, mingled with the family memories stored in the wood. That is all. When you talk to that log, you hear your own thoughts, as interpreted by the mad memories of some poor creature that died long before we even discovered this city.” He was almost pleading as he added, “Reyn. Don’t let stillborn madness speak with your voice. Put it away from you.”

Uncertainty wavered across Reyn’s face. Then it hardened into stubbornness. “It’s easy enough to prove to me. Help me bring the log out into light and air. If nothing happens, I’ll acknowledge how foolish I was.”

“That would truly be a madman’s bargain!” Bendir exclaimed in disgust. “That log is immense. We’d have to take the whole top of the hill off. Or excavate the slide area over the original entrance, and risk collapsing the chamber in the process. The wall above the door is cracked. Even if we knew how to open it, we risk compromising the whole wall. Reyn, you can’t be serious.”

“She’s alive.” Defiantly he added, “And she says she would be willing to aid Malta and her family. Think on that. Think of the potential of such an ally.”

“Think of the potential of such an enemy!” Jani retorted angrily. “Reyn, we have been through this and through this. Even if there is some creature alive inside that log, we can’t get it out, and we’d be stupid to release it if we could. Now that is over. It’s finished. Do you understand me? We will not speak of this again. I forbid it.”

He opened his mouth. His jaw and lower lip quivered, just as they had when he was a small child and was about to bellow forth his discontent. Then he shut his mouth with a snap. Without a word he rose from the table and turned away from it.

“We are not finished here!” Jani Khuprus warned him.

“I am.”

“No. You are not. Come back to this table and tell us what you have learned from the parchments so far. I demand it.”

He turned back to them. His eyes had gone cold and dark. “You demand it? This is what I demand, then. Make it worth my while. If you will not give me the dragon, then give me some of your precious money, Mother. Because one way or another, I will help my beloved. I will not go to the Bingtown Ball, take her hand, dance with her and then leave her as beggared of hope and coin as when I arrived there. I won’t.”

It was Bendir’s turn to be outraged. “When did you stop being a member of this family? Must we bribe you to do your family duty? Should we pay you for giving back a measure of what you have taken? I will be damned first!”

“Then be damned!” Reyn replied coldly.

“Reyn.” Jani tried to keep her voice reasonable. “Speak plainly. Exactly what do you ask of us? What would we have to offer you to have you surrender this dragon dream of yours?”

“Mother, I refuse—”

“Hush, Bendir. Hear what he asks before you say no.” She prayed she had not given too broad a hint of her plan. Reyn had to believe he walked into this of his own will. “What are you asking for, son?”

Reyn licked his dry lips. He looked furtive and cornered, now that he finally had to speak the words aloud. He cleared his throat. “First. Forgive the Vestrits’ debt for the liveship. It’s but a formality anyway. It was openly acknowledged that that would be my bridal gift to Malta. Give it now, while it is needed most. Don’t let her believe that we would continue to wring coins from her family when they are sorely beset. Don’t make her fear,” and his voice went hoarse, “don’t make her fear that for the sake of coin, she must come to wed me, whether she would or not. I don’t want her that way. I don’t want her to fear that we will invoke the blood agreement.”

“She would come to love you in time, Reyn. Don’t doubt that. Many a bride who has come to the Rain Wilds reluctantly has soon learned to love—”

“I don’t want her that way,” Reyn repeated stubbornly.

“Then we won’t invoke that part of the contract,” his mother assured him.

“Fine, it’s done. We’ll just throw the contract away. Now. What did you learn from the parchments?” Bendir spoke brusquely, his voice thick with fury.

“There’s more,” Reyn said implacably.

“Oh, what else can there be? Do you wish to be Satrap of the Rain Wilds?” Bendir demanded sarcastically.

“No. Only ruler of my own life. I want to be able to go and see her whenever I wish, until we are wed and she comes here. I want an allowance issued to me, money I can spend without accountability to anyone. In short, I want you to treat me as if I were a man. You had a purse of your own when you were younger than I am now.”

“Only because I also had a wife! When you are wed, you will have your income. Right now, you don’t need it. I have never been stingy with you. Mother has always indulged you far above the rest of us. The more we give, the more you ask!”

“You may have that, also,” Jani broke in relentlessly.

Bendir’s face went from incredulous to furious. He threw up his hands. “Why am I here at all?” he asked rhetorically. “It seems I have no say in anything!”

“You are here to witness your brother giving his word to me. Reyn. This is what we have asked of you: that you will give up the dragon dream, and not visit the log anymore. You will no longer claim a say in what becomes of the log. You will do your duty to your family, employing your skills as we ask. You will not enter the city, save with the approval of your brother and me, and then only for work we sanction. In return, we will void the contract for the liveship
Vivacia,
issue you a man’s independent allowance and allow you to visit your beloved as you wish. Do you agree to this?”

She had phrased it formally. She watched her son consider it as she had taught him, going over each phrase, committing to memory the terms of the agreement. He looked from her to his brother. His breath began to come faster. He rubbed his temples, as if he waged some internal battle with himself. The terms of the contract were steep, for both sides. She was offering much to gain much. He was taking too long to reply. He would refuse. Then, “Yes. I agree.” He spoke hastily, as if his words hurt him.

She let out her pent breath soundlessly. She had done it. The trap closed behind him, unsuspected. She took a deep breath to quell her queasiness at doing this to her own son. It was necessary, she told herself. Necessary, and therefore honorable. Reyn would abide by his word. He always had and always would. What was a Trader, if he was not as good as his word?

“As Trader for this family, I accept your agreement. Bendir, do you witness it?”

“I do,” he agreed sourly. He would not meet her eyes. She wondered if he suspected what she had done and was disgusted by it, or if he were dismayed at the terms.

“Then let us say enough of this for tonight. Reyn, please devote another day to the parchments, and then give us the best written translation that you can. Please document any new symbols in them, and note what you think they mean. But not tonight. Tonight, we all need to sleep.”

“Oh, not I,” Reyn retorted with bitter amusement. “No sleep for me, I fear. Or rather, I fear that I will sleep. I’ll begin tonight, Mother. Perhaps I’ll have something for you by morning.”

“Do not overtax yourself,” she suggested, but he was already gathering up his parchments and leaving. She waited until he was out the door and then hastily stepped in front of Bendir as he approached the door. “Wait,” she commanded him.

“For what?” he demanded in a surly tone.

“For Reyn to be well out of earshot,” she told him bluntly. That got his attention. He looked down at her in shock.

She let a few slow minutes pass. Then she took a deep breath. “The dragon-log, Bendir. We need to be rid of it, and soon. Cut it up. Perhaps you are right; perhaps it is time the Khuprus family had a ship of our own. Or have it sawn into planks and store them. Get rid of the thing inside it. Otherwise, I fear we will lose your brother. The log, not Malta, is the root of our problems with your brother. It preys upon his mind.” She took a deep breath. “I fear he will drown in the memories. He already walks a narrow path beside a precipice. I think we should keep him from the city as much as possible.”

A look of concern came into his face. It eased her heart. It was unfeigned. He truly cared for his younger brother. The depth of his feelings showed in his next question. “Now? You mean, cut up the log before he goes off to the Summer Ball in Bingtown? I don’t think that is wise, Mother. No matter that he has agreed to give up any say about it. That should be a happy time in his life, not one tormented by second thoughts.”

“You are right. No. Wait until he is safely away. I expect he will spend a week or more in Bingtown. Do it then. Let him come home to it as something that is done and irrevocable. That will be best.”

“He will blame me, you know.” A shadow passed over Bendir’s face. “This will not make anything easier between us.”

“No. He will blame me,” his mother assured him. “I will see that it is so.”

NIGHT HAD FALLEN OVER THE HARBOR
. Paragon could sense it. The wind had shifted. Now it carried the smells of the town to his nostrils. He reached up to touch his nose. Cautiously his fingers ventured higher, exploring the splintered wreckage of his eyes.

“Are you in pain?” Amber asked him quietly.

He immediately dropped his hands from his face. “We do not know pain as humans do,” he assured her. A moment later, he asked her, “Tell me about the town. What do you see?”

“Oh. Well.” He felt her shift on the foredeck. She had been lying on her back, either dozing or looking up at the stars. Now she rolled onto her belly. Her body was warm against his planking. “All around us is a forest of masts. Black sticks against the stars. A few of the ships have small lights showing, but not much. But in town, the lights are many. They reflect in the water and—”

“I wish I could see them,” he said plaintively. More loudly, he complained, “I wish I could see anything. Anything! It’s all darkness, Amber. To be blind on the beach was bad, Amber, but after a time, I became accustomed to it. But here, in the water once more … I don’t know who is passing me on the docks, or what vessels may come alongside me. Fire could break out on the docks, and I would not know it until it was too late. All that is bad enough, but soon we will sail. How can you expect me to venture into that vastness blindly? I want to do well. I do. But I fear I cannot.”

He sensed her helplessness when she spoke. “You will have to trust us. We will be eyes for you, Paragon. If we must go into danger, I swear I will be here, right beside you, telling you all we face.”

“Thin comfort,” Paragon replied after a time. “That is thin comfort, I fear.”

“I know. It is all I can offer.”

He listened. The waves patted gently against his hull. Ropes creaked. Footsteps sounded as someone passed them on the dock. The evening sounds of Bingtown came to his ears. He wondered how much it had changed since he had last seen it. He stared ahead into a future of eternal darkness. “Amber,” he asked quietly. “Was it difficult to fix Ophelia’s hands? Were they badly damaged?”

“The scorching did not go deep, except in a few places. The problem was more one of keeping the proportions of finger to hand. Rather than simply carve away what was damaged, I had to rework both her hands. A good portion of the wood that I removed was not burnt at all. I think the hardest part of the task was for her to keep still, and for me to concentrate on my skill when I worried about causing her pain.”

“Then it was painful?”

“Who knows? She said it was not. As you say, she also told me: liveships do not experience pain as humans do. Nevertheless, I think it was uncomfortable for her. She told me she felt a sense of loss at the wood I pared away; that was one reason I restored it to her as jewelry. She also told me that her hands felt ‘wrong’ when I was finished.” Amber paused. “That was devastating to me. I had done the best work I could. But when I last visited her, before she sailed, she told me she had become accustomed to her new hands and that now they felt fine. She greatly desired that I would re-carve her hair for her, but Captain Tenira refused. He said they could not stay in port that long. To tell you the truth, I was grateful. Wizardwood is … uneasy wood. Even with my gloves on, I always felt it was trying to draw me into it.”

He scarcely heard her final words. “You could cut my beard off,” he suddenly exclaimed.

“What?” She came to her feet in alarm in a single fluid motion, like a bird lifting in flight. “Paragon, what are you saying?”

“You could cut my beard off, and shape it, and peg it back onto me as a new face. I’d be able to see again.”

“That’s a crazy idea,” Amber said flatly.

“A crazy idea from a mad ship. It would work, Amber. Look how much wood is here.” He reached up to seize two great handfuls of his full beard. “There is plenty enough to make me new eyes. You could do it.”

“I would not dare,” she said flatly.

“Why not?”

“What would Althea and Brashen say? To repair Ophelia’s hands was one thing. To completely refashion a new face for you would be something else entirely.”

He folded his arms on his chest. “Why should it matter what Althea or Brashen say? Do I belong to them? Am I a slave?”

“No, it’s just that—”

He ignored her attempt to speak. “When you ‘bought’ me, did not you insist that it was but a formality for others? You said I belonged to myself. That I always had and always would. It would seem to me, then, that this should be my decision.”

“Perhaps it should. That does not mean that I have to agree to it.”

“Why would you refuse? Do you want me to be blind?” He felt anger shivering inside him, trying to find a way out. He swallowed it back like bile. Anger did not work on Amber. She would just walk away.