Rain Wilds Chronicles (56 page)

“You are both idiots. Dragons do not run as a prelude to flying, and we do not allow anyone to ride us. It's humiliating even to think that she does. She's a disgrace to all of us. You are a moron and she is a half-witted lizard!”

“What did she say?” Sedric demanded.

Rapskal knotted his fists and stepped up to the dragon. “You take that back! You can't talk about Heeby that way! She's beautiful and smart, and she's going to fly. Because she's brave enough to try and smart enough to know I'm helping her because I love her.”

“What is going on?” Sedric demanded in a shaky voice.

“Skymaw! Please! Restrain your wrath, beautiful queen! He is only a foolish boy, not even worthy of your anger!” Alise was surprised at how calm her own voice sounded as she deliberately stepped between the incensed dragon and her target. She had closed her fist around the precious scale, and as she spoke, she stuffed it into her bag without looking. She kept her eyes on the dragon. Skymaw's eyes blazed scarlet and copper like a seething kettle of molten ore. Her immense head wove back and forth over them, reminding her of a snake deciding whether to strike. How could she have forgotten how huge an animal Skymaw was? One snap of her jaws would sever the boy in two. She spoke over her shoulder to him. “Rapskal. You should leave
now.
Thymara isn't here. Thank you for loaning me the scale. I will be certain that it is returned to Heeby after Sedric has finished sketching it.”

“But …” Sedric began.

She pushed her words past him, speaking with all the authority of an older sister. “Rapskal. Go now! If I see Thymara, I'll tell her you are looking for her. For now, do not bother the lovely, the gracious, the most powerful and awesome Skymaw.”

Perhaps the severity of her tone finally made him realize the danger he was in. “I'll go,” he said sullenly. He turned on his heel and strode away. But at a safe distance he stopped and flung back at Skymaw, “Heeby is going to fly a long time before you ever get your big blue powerful and gracious arse off the ground, Skymaw! She'll be a real dragon long before you are, queen stick-up-your-bum!” Then he turned and wisely ran as Skymaw hissed a furious but venomless mist at him.

S
OMEHOW, GREFT HAD
moved closer to her. He stared at her and she found herself meeting his gaze. There were blue Rain Wild
lights behind his eyes, just like her own. Something changed in his smile and in his eyes as he said in a quieter voice, “I'd like to help you, Thymara.”

“Oh, I'll just ask Tats. But thank you for offering.” She turned hastily away from him, uncomfortable with her refusal but certain that accepting his offer would make her even more uncomfortable. She didn't want to be out here alone with him.

He refused her dismissal of him. “It will make no difference to you or your dragon who helps you,” he pointed out, his voice hardening as he spoke to her back. “I'm here, right now. I'm stronger than Tats. Together, we can get this meat back to the dragons much more swiftly than if you go there, get him, come back here, and then start hauling it. It only makes sense that two hunters such as ourselves should help each other. Why do you prefer him to me?”

She didn't have to answer him. She didn't
want
to answer him, but the words came out anyway. “Tats and I have been friends for a long time. He used to work for my father sometimes.”

“I see. You feel loyalty to him based on a shared past.” A lecturing note had come into his voice. She didn't like his smile. It seemed cruel somehow. She didn't like how he assumed he had the right to talk to her in such a tone, to keep her standing here when she wanted to leave. “You and he had a bond in the past. And you think that bond still binds you. But from what I've seen going on, he doesn't feel the same. This life you are entering into now is not your past, and is nothing like your past. You are moving toward your future, Thymara. Sometimes I think you don't comprehend your own freedom now.”

He moved a few steps closer to her. “You can break free of everything you've always taken for granted. You can put aside rules that bound you and kept you from thinking for yourself, rules that kept you from doing what you wanted, rules that actually kept you from doing what was best for yourself. Tats was someone your father chose, Thymara. I'm sure he's a very nice fellow in his own way, but he's not one of us and never will be. It was kind of your father to take him on and give him work after his criminal mother abandoned him. It probably kept him from becoming a thief himself.
But all of that is in the past, Thymara. I am sure your father is a good man. But you are under no obligation to continue his kindness to Tats. Surely your family has already done enough for him? If he cannot take care of himself by now, then your putting more effort into him is a waste of your time. You've left your old life behind, Thymara, with your father's blessing.”

He edged closer to her as he spoke. She stepped back. He halted where he was, considering her. He looked into her face, at the set, flat line of her mouth and her narrowed eyes and turned his head slightly, as if he would cajole her. Then he smiled and shook his head slowly. “Not yet, perhaps, Thymara, but eventually. You'll see that you and I are more alike than any of the others. I'll let you take your time to discover that. We have a lot of time ahead of us.”

Then he dropped down on one knee beside her fallen elk and drew his knife. Without asking her permission, he began to work on cutting free a meaty hindquarter. He kept speaking to her as he worked, his voice deep and sometimes deeper with the effort of cutting. Her anger began to build, but he didn't look at her and his words continued, his voice so reasonable. “You've struck out on your own, to build something new for yourself. As we all have! You are not established with a home and possessions like your family was. You are making your own way in the world. You are making your own future. You will need, eventually, a partner who can pull his own share. You won't always be able to waste your time with half-wits and outsiders. You cannot afford to drag deadweight with you into that new future. I know you're angry now about what I'm telling you. But I don't have to prove it to you. The Rain Wilds will do that. All I have to do is wait.”

She pushed out her words and they came more forcefully than she intended. “That is my kill and my meat. Get away from it.”

His knife didn't stop moving. “Thymara, haven't you heard a word I said? We need to move into the future, not cling to a past that doesn't apply to us anymore. Ask yourself honestly. Why are you so intent on running back to Tats and having him help you with this?”

“I like him. He's helped me in the past. He's my friend. If he made a kill like this, he would share it with me.”

He was still sawing away with his knife. She could tell it was dulling on the thick elk hide. He glanced up at her for a moment; there was no anger in his face, only interest. “Would he? Or would he share it with Jerd? Open your eyes. You have a choice here. You could like
me.
I could help you, a lot more than Tats could, because ultimately you and I are far more alike than you and he could ever be. I could be your friend. I could be more than your friend.” He lifted his eyes to meet hers. His voice went deeper and softer on the last words.

Thymara hated how she reacted, how her belly clenched and a shiver went up her back. A handsome, older man had just as much as said that he wanted her. A man, not a boy. A powerful man, one who was assuming a leadership role among the keepers. “Tats is my friend,” she managed to assert. She turned, refusing to see if he would listen to her. “And that is my meat. Stay away from it.” She refused to think about his words, about any of his words. Jerd?
Was there something Greft knew about Tats and Jerd that she did not? Push that thought away.
Gripping her hunting weapons in one hand, she settled the loop of rope over her shoulder and trudged away from him. He let her go with no further words. She could not move swiftly; she had to push her way through low-growing bushes and dangling branches. She tried to move from hummock to hummock, avoiding the swampiest ground. It wasn't easy.

After a short time, the rope began to chafe on her shoulder. The meat she dragged seemed to snag on every stump or root tangle she passed, and she had to give a strong jerk to break it free. By the time she saw the lighter foliage that indicated she was nearly at the river, she was sweaty, scratched, and bitten by insects. She emerged into the swale of tall, coarse river grass and pushed on toward where she had left Skymaw sleeping. She'd give her dragon the meat first, and then go find Tats to help her bring the rest back. She smiled to herself, imagining Skymaw's surprise at a second hearty meal in one day.

But when she spotted her dragon, she wasn't alone. Skymaw was awake, though she still sprawled comfortably on the deep grass.
Seated near her head on a wooden box was the Bingtown woman, dressed in loose trousers and a sensible cotton blouse. Next to her Sedric perched uncomfortably on a wooden crate labeled
SALT FISH.
His lap desk was on his knees. Paper and ink bottle were before him; his pen was moving swiftly over the paper. His trimly fitting jacket was the color of a bluefly. The white shirt he wore was open at his neck. He'd folded the cuffs of it back over his jacket cuffs, leaving his lean wrists and capable hands free to work. A single line marred his smooth brow. His mouth was pursed slightly, his brows knit in concentration. Alise was apparently dictating the next phrase. Thymara heard “… crushing or severing the spine to kill it quickly.”

As she scented the meat, Skymaw's head turned and she lunged to her feet. That motion caused both Sedric and Alise to turn toward Thymara. Skymaw gave her no greeting but simply took three strides and then fell onto the meat and began feeding. Alise's mouth went into an “O” of surprise and then she laughed merrily, as if watching a favorite child indulge in a sweet. “She's hungry again!” she called to Thymara, as if expecting the girl to share her pleasure.

“She's always hungry,” Thymara replied, trying not to sound sour. She felt an echo of assent from the feeding dragon. Sedric, at least, looked happy to see her. His eyes lit, and his pursed lips became a welcoming smile.

“I'm so glad you're finally here. I looked everywhere for you earlier. This process will go a lot faster if you translate.”

She hated to disappoint him. “I can't. I mean, I only brought part of the meat back with me. I have to find Tats and have him help me with the rest before scavengers take it.” She tried not to imagine that a two-legged scavenger was already hacking off parts of her kill.
He wouldn't dare,
she told herself. They were too small a company for anyone to steal openly from another. No one would tolerate it.

Would they?

Sedric had said something else. He was looking at her expectantly, waiting for a reply. The twist of anxiety in her belly made her suddenly dismiss him and his concerns. “I have to find Tats and go back for the rest of the meat,” she said hastily, and she refused
even to wonder if that answered his question at all. She left them and headed toward the shore and the other dragons.

Behind her, Alise called out to her, “Rapskal is looking for you!”

Thymara nodded and kept on going.

Tats was not with Fente. The small green dragon was still dozing, and when Thymara tried to rouse her to ask if she knew where Tats was, the creature made a sincere snap in her direction. Thymara jumped back uninjured and left her quickly. She wondered uneasily if the dragon would have eaten her if she'd drawn blood. She knew from Skymaw that the green queen had a reputation for being vicious when provoked. It was something she should talk to Tats about. If she could find him.

She found him and Sylve with the little silver dragon. Guilt tinged with annoyance suffused Thymara. She'd said she would care for the silver and Sylve had said she'd help. She'd only spoken out because Tats and Jerd had said they'd team up on the copper one. But she'd done little more than to check him for parasites around his eyes and nostrils each night. She hadn't even thought to offer him some of the meat she'd brought back. Sylve was fussing over his tail. Nearby, a little fire smoldered reluctantly on a tussock of grass. A pot of foul-smelling soup had been set on it.

“How is he?” she asked uncomfortably as she approached.

“It's as we feared,” Sylve said. “It looks like he let his tail dip below the surface of the river water, and more than once by the look of it. The cut is inflamed.” She opened the cloth she'd been trying to wrap around the injury, and Thymara winced. She wondered if her earlier ministrations hadn't done him more harm than good. It must have been painful when the raw flesh met the acid river. She frowned: she couldn't recall hearing him cry out. On a positive note, the dragon was sleeping heavily; from the scraps of gut under his front claws, he had evidently got at least a share of the fish run.

“I wish there were a way to seal the bandaging around his tail to keep the water out,” she said hopelessly.

Tats grinned at her. “Maybe there is. I asked Captain Leftrin for some tar or pitch, and he gave me a little pot of it. It's heating now. He gave us canvas, too.” His grin grew wider. “I think Captain Leftrin
likes that Bingtown woman. When I was asking for the stuff, I thought he was going to tell me to shove off. But that woman, that Alise, got all fluttery about the ‘poor little dragon' and the captain came up with a solution pretty fast.”

“Oh,” she said. Sylve was nodding approvingly at what Tats said.

“The captain said we should wrap it well, and then tar over the canvas and over his scales to either side. We're hoping that it will stick to his scales well enough to make a watertight bond.”

The sheer strangeness of such a patch drove, for a moment, all other concerns out of her head. She stared at Tats. “Do you think it will work?”