Rain Wilds Chronicles (60 page)

Leftrin forced himself to loosen his hold on the mug's handle before he broke it. “I'll speak plain to you, Sedric. Nothing happened. She came up on deck, and I was making my night rounds. So we talked a bit. She walked my rounds of the ship with me. We checked the tie-up lines and the anchor. I showed her some constellations and explained how a sailor can use the stars to know where he's headed. I told her the names of some of the night birds she heard. If any of that offends your morality, it's your problem. Not mine and not Alise's. I've done nothing I'm ashamed of.”

He spoke righteously, but guilt coiled inside him like a snake. He thought of the moments when her hands had been under his as he showed her how to tie the bowline. He'd put his hands on her warm shoulders and turned her to face Sa's Plough in the southern sky. And very late or rather early, depending on how one reckoned it, when she had bid him good night and sought her compartment, he'd leaned on the railing outside her door and looked out over the river and pondered all the things that might have been. From there, he'd allowed himself to think of things that still could be, if he had the courage to propose them and she felt the passion to accept them. Under his hands, the railing had thrummed with the sweep of the river's current and the response of his ship to it. It had
seemed to him then that he was a sort of river and Alise might be a ship that had ventured into his current. Was he strong enough to carry her off with him?

Sedric spoke, and the gentler tone of his voice took Leftrin off guard. “Look, man. I'm not blind. If there's a man on board this ship who is unaware of your infatuation with her, well, then he's a man with no senses and no heart. Your crew knows, your hunter friends know. Knowing Alise as well as I do, I can also see that she is venturing onto dangerous ground. You're a man of the world, out and about, meeting all sorts of women. But perhaps you've never met someone as sheltered as Alise has been. She went from her father's house to her husband's. He was her first and only beau. In some ways, she and Hest are well matched. He's wealthy, he provides for all her needs, and that includes giving her the materials and the time for her precious studies. She had never met a man like you. To a Bingtown lady, you probably seem a bit larger than life. If your admiration for her tempts her to step outside the bounds of society, she will be the one to pay the cost, not you. To her, the shame and the shunning. Possibly the divorce that will send her, irrevocably shamed, back to her father's household. He's not a wealthy man. If you continue to pursue her, even if she doesn't fall as your conquest, people will hear of it. You could ruin her life, send her back to live in reduced circumstances without the scholarly pursuits she has come to love. I don't mean to sound harsh, man, but are you worth it? Will you continue this dalliance, to her ruin? You'll walk away; forgive me if I say that all know the way of sailors in these matters. But she will be crushed.”

Sedric spoke his piece and turned away from Leftrin, as if giving him a chance to think. Two of the dragons were awake now and lumbering down to the water. Sedric stared at them as if fascinated, as if he'd forgotten the man beside him.

Anger vied with horror inside Leftrin's chest. His face had first flushed and then drained of blood. He was not a man who was faint of heart or body, but Sedric's words sickened him. Was he right? Was there any way this would not end in disaster for her? He mastered his emotions and spoke.

“I doubt there's any man aboard this ship who is bound for
Bingtown, let alone prone to gossip about a lady. The only exception is you, and if you're her friend, as you claim to be, you won't say ugly, untrue things about her. I have no intention of disgracing the lady. And I think you wrong her when you suspect she would betray her husband.” That last he felt was true, but oh, how he longed that she would at least consider it.

“I am Alise's friend. If I weren't, I'd have kept to my words and left her on this ship while I went back to Bingtown. But I knew that if I did, she'd be ruined. The only reason I'm here is to safeguard her reputation. You can't imagine that I'm enjoying this little misadventure! No. The only reason I'm here is for Alise. I want to protect her. Her husband is a close friend as well as my employer. So you might, for a moment, consider what an untenable position you are forcing me into. Do I respect Alise's dignity and refrain from reprimanding her? Or do I respect my employer's dignity and challenge you?”

“Challenge me?” Leftrin was shocked.

Sedric spoke quickly. “That's not what I'm doing, of course. I don't think I need to. Now that I've come to you and explained the situation in civil terms, I'm sure you'll see that there is only one solution.”

He paused, as if he expected Leftrin to fill in his silence. He tried. Despite his efforts at control, his voice went deep with fury and despair. “You want me to stop speaking to her, don't you?”

Sedric tucked his chin and widened his eyes, surprised that Leftrin didn't see the obvious. “I'm afraid that, at this stage and in these close quarters, that would be inadequate. You need to order one of your hunters to take one of the keeper's small boats and transport Alise and me back down the river to Trehaug.”

“We are nearly thirty days upriver of Cassarick,” Leftrin pointed out. “And one of those small boats wouldn't hold half your luggage, let alone you and Alise and all your trappings.”

“I'm aware of both those things,” Sedric replied briskly. Leftrin was watching his face. He thought the corner of his mouth almost twitched into a smile. “Traveling downriver, with the current, the little boats go much faster. I heard the hunters talking about it yesterday. I suspect that Alise and I would have to spend a dozen
nights camping out before we reached Cassarick. From there, we could make proper travel arrangements to reach Trehaug and then home. As for our belongings, well, they'll have to remain on board for now. We'd travel light, and rely on you to ship our things to us in Bingtown when you finally return to Trehaug. I'm sure we could trust you to do that.”

Leftrin just stared at him.

“You know it's the right thing to do,” Sedric urged him quietly, and then added, like a twist of the knife, “For Alise's sake.”

A long wailing cry of anguish from the shore rose to crack the sky.

“H
E WAS BETTER
last night!” Sylve insisted. Red-tinged tears were streaming down her cheeks. Thymara winced at the sight of them, knowing well how much such tears hurt. Perhaps the fear of that pain was the only thing keeping her own eyes dry. She knelt by the little copper dragon. He had eaten last night, the first really large meal he'd taken since they'd fed him the elk meat a couple of nights ago. But unlike the other dragons, who had put on flesh and gained muscle since their trek began, the copper one had remained thin. His belly still bulged from what he had eaten last night, but Thymara could have counted his ribs. At the top of his shoulders and along his spine, some of his scales looked as if they were slipping loose from his hide.

Tats stood up from examining the dragon's muzzle. He put a comforting arm across Sylve's shoulders. “He's not dead,” he told her, laying her fear to rest. But in the next breath, he took that comfort from her. “But I think he will be dead before the day is out. It's not your fault!” he added hastily as a Sylve drew in a sobbing breath. “I think you just came into his life too late. Sylve, he didn't have much of a chance from the start. Look how disproportionate his legs are to the rest of him! And I caught him eating rocks and mud the other night. I think he has worms in his gut; look how swollen his belly is while the rest of him is skinny. Parasites will do that to an animal.”

Sylve made a choking noise. She shrugged off Tats's touch and
walked away from the group. Other keepers were coming to join them, forming a circle around the downed dragon. Thymara bit her lips tight to keep from speaking. Some callous part of her wanted to ask Tats where Jerd was. After all, she was the one who had volunteered to help him with this dragon. Sylve had promised to help with the silver, but the soft-hearted girl had ended up involved with both failing dragons. And if this copper died, it would devastate her.

“What's wrong with him?” Lecter asked as he hurried up.

“Parasites,” Rapskal responded wisely. “Eating him up from the inside, so he gets no good from his food.”

Thymara was a bit surprised by the coherency of his remark. Rapskal saw her looking at him and came to stand beside her. “What are we going to do?” he asked her, as if it were up to her.

“I don't know,” she said quietly. “What can we do?”

“I think we should make the best of it, and go on,” Greft said. His voice was not loud, but his words carried to everyone. Thymara glared at him. She still had not forgiven him for the elk. She hadn't raised a public fuss about it, but she had avoided speaking to him or Kase or Boxter. She watched them, watched how Greft assumed leadership and tended to push the other keepers around, but hadn't said anything openly. Now she lifted her head and squared her shoulders, preparing to take him on.

Sylve abruptly turned back to face them all. Her tears had stopped, but they'd left red tracks down her face. “The best of it?” she said thickly. “What is that supposed to mean? What can be ‘best' about this?”

Silence thick as a blanket had fallen over the gathering. Sylve stood, her shoulders lifted and her small fists knotted. All waited to hear what Greft would say. For the first time since Thymara had met him, she saw him hesitant. He surveyed his listeners. It was strange to see his human tongue dart out to lick his narrow scaled lips. What was he looking for? Thymara wondered. Acceptance of his leadership? Willingness to follow him as he made “new rules” for them?

“He's going to die,” he said quietly. Thymara saw a scream gather on Sylve's face; she held it in.

“And when he dies, his body shouldn't go to waste.”

“‘Course not,” Rapskal, breaking the silence that the others held by tacit consent. His matter-of-fact boyish voice in contrast to Greft's controlled and mature speech made him sound foolish as he voiced what everyone else was thinking. “The dragons will eat him to get his memories. And for food. Everyone knows that.” Rapskal looked around at the other keepers, nodding and smiling. Slowly the smile faded from his face; he seemed puzzled at their stillness. Thymara concentrated her attention on Greft again; he had an exasperated look on his face, as if what Rapskal proposed should seem obviously foolish to all of them. But when he spoke, there was a note of caution to his words, as if he hoped someone else would speak for him.

“There may be a better use for his body,” he said, and waited. Thymara held her breath. What was he talking about? He looked around at all of them, daring himself to speak. “There has been talk of offers for—”

“Dragon flesh belongs to dragons.” It was not a human who spoke. Despite his great size, the golden dragon could move quietly. He towered above them, his head lifted high to look down on Greft. The keepers were parting to let him advance as if they were reeds giving way to the river's flow. Mercor strode majestically past them. He looked, Thymara thought, magnificent. Since their journey had begun, he had put on weight and muscle. He was beginning to look the way a dragon was supposed to look. With the muscling, his legs looked more proportionate. His tail seemed to have grown. Only his broken-kite wings betrayed him. They were still too small and frail-looking to lift even a part of him.

He bent his long neck to sniff at the copper dragon's body. Then he swiveled his head to stare at Greft. “She's not dead,” he told him coldly. “It's a bit early to plan to sell her flesh.”

“She?” Tats asked in consternation.

“Sell her flesh?” Rapskal sounded horrified.

But Mercor didn't reply to either comment or the murmur of words among the keepers that followed them. He had lowered his head to sniff again at the copper. He nudged her hard. She did not respond. As the dragon slowly swung his head to study all
the keepers, his scales flashed in the sun. His eyes, gleaming black, were unreadable to Thymara. “Sylve. Stay beside me. The rest of you, go away. This does not concern you. It does not concern humans at all.”

Thymara could almost see the girl drawn to the dragon. His voice was compelling, deep as darkness and rich as cream. Sylve walked to him and leaned against him as if taking comfort and strength from him. She spoke shyly. “May Tats and Thymara stay? They have helped me care for Copper.”

“And me,” Rapskal announced, reckless as ever. “I should stay, too. I'm their friend.”

“Not now,” the dragon announced with finality. “There is nothing for them to do here. You stay to be with me. I'll watch over this dragon.”

There was a subtle force to his words; Thymara felt not just dismissed but pushed, as if she were a child being ushered out of a sickroom. Without deciding to do so, she turned and found herself walking away. “I have to check on Skymaw,” she explained to Tats, as if to excuse her departure.

“I felt it, too,” he whispered.

“Sintara.” Behind her, Mercor spoke the name. A shiver ran down Thymara's spine, a sudden knowing she couldn't deny. His rich voice vibrated through her. “The dragon you serve is named Sintara. I know her true name, and I know she owes it to you. So have it.”

Thymara had halted in her tracks. Beside her, Tats paused, looking at her with a puzzled face. She felt as if her ears were blocked, her eyes dimmed. A storm raged somewhere, just beyond her senses. Sintara was not pleased with what Mercor had done, and she was letting him know it.

Mercor laughed humorlessly. “You can't have it both ways, Sintara. The rest of us realized that right away. None of us has held back our names, save those poor souls who cannot remember that they have proper dragon names.”