Dragon Haven, Page 49

  Day the 27th of the Gold Moon

  Year the 6th of the Independent Alliance of Traders

  From Erek, Keeper of the Birds, Bingtown

  To Detozi, Keeper of the Birds, Trehaug

  From the Bingtown Traders’ Council to the Rain Wild Traders’ Councils at Trehaug and Cassarick, being a formal request, at the behest of the Meldar and Kincarron families, to inquire into the fate of the Tarman expedition, especially as to the well-being of Sedric Meldar and Alise Kincarron.

  Detozi,

  I am delighted with your family’s invitation and will speedily make arrangements for my duties to be taken on temporarily by one of the other keepers for the length of my visit. I am sure that you know your family assured me I was welcome to call “on any date, for so long as I wished to stay,” but I thought to ask your advice in this matter. The weather here has been unseasonably warm and fair, but we all know that cannot last forever! I know that the rainy season will soon be upon all of us. Am I too forward in suggesting that I would like to visit while our fine weather holds? What would your preference be for the timing of my visit?

  Erek

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  MUD AND WINGS

  Toward midmorning, Tarman wedged and could go no farther. Leftrin was not surprised. He’d been expecting it to happen for some time. All of yesterday, Tarman’s feet had been firmly planted on the bed of the slough. A few of the keepers had become seasick from the rocking motion that Tarman’s walk contributed to his movement. As the day had progressed and the water grew ever shallower, Leftrin’s concern had increased. He’d sounded the horn to call all of the small boats back to the barge, and then sent them out again in varying directions, in search of deeper water.

  When they’d returned that evening, no one had good tidings to report. No detectible current, and the water seemed uniformly shallow in all directions. A straw dropped into the open water beside the boat did float away, but almost immediately got lost in the beds of standing reeds that had encroached ever closer, even as the bluish foothills remained ever distant against a gray backdrop of thick clouds.

  The barge stopped of his own accord. For a time, Leftrin sensed the ship standing and thinking. Tarman groped toward him, perhaps seeking an idea that Leftrin didn’t have. Then, with a very small lurch, Tarman folded his legs and settled in the mud. The barge he had carried on his back floated slightly now. A wave of sadness and resignation flowed up Leftrin’s chest and settled around his heart. They’d come to their stopping place. It wasn’t Kelsingra.

  “Cap?” This from Swarge at the tiller. It had been weeks since anyone had kept up the illusion that Tarman needed to be poled through the water. Tarman usually appreciated the humans’ efforts to speed him along, but in water this shallow, the poling only threw him off stride.

  “Take a break, Swarge,” Leftrin confirmed. He made a sound like a low growl in the back of his throat and gripped the bow rail tighter. He more felt than saw Alise coming down the deck to join him. When she reached his side, she halted and put her hands alongside his on the railing. Her eyes swept the scene before them.

  There was no channel. Reeds, rushes, and those plants that loved swamps surrounded them. The dragons were bright-scaled giants who moved through the wrong landscape. Even yesterday, the dragons had still ostensibly led the way. For most of this morning, they had moved more slowly and uncertainly. No one was comfortable about venturing deeper into this borderless wet land. Yet there was no where else to go. Except…

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  “Do we go back?” Alise asked softly.

  Leftrin didn’t reply. Two scarlet darning needles flew past them, their wings making a tiny whickering sound. They danced around a nearby bed of reeds before settling, one upon the other, on a seedhead. In the distance, he heard very faintly the cry of a hawk. He glanced up, but the overcast blocked even a glimpse of the sky. The dragons wandered disconsolately around the barge. He wondered what they were hunting. Frogs? Small fish? As the water had grown shallower, the food sources had become smaller and swifter to elude predators. Everyone was hungry, and the keepers felt the hunger of the dragons as well as their own.

  “To what?” he asked.

  “Perhaps to the other tributary?” Alise ventured the suggestion cautiously.

  “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I wish Tarman could speak to me more clearly. I don’t think the other tributary is the answer. But I just don’t know anymore. ”

  “Then…what will we do?”

  He shook his head unhappily. All he had were questions and no answers. Yet every life in his care depended on him having answers, or at least making good guesses. Right now he had no confidence in his ability to do either. Had he guessed wrong when he’d brought them this way? But he hadn’t guessed at all. He’d listened to his ship, and Tarman had seemed so confident. But now, here they were. They’d run out of river. They still had plenty of water, but it sheeted over the saturated land, and he could no longer guess where it came from. Perhaps a million tiny streams fed it. Perhaps it just welled to the surface in this immense basin. It didn’t matter.

  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 ins
trumental 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. ”

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  “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. ”

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  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 b
een 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. ”