by Robin Hobb
‘Yes, I am that,’ he agreed happily as he held out his glass to be refilled. ‘But scarcely an envoy. General I might be, and master of Kelsingra’s forces when I am there, but on this errand I serve my dragon, and indeed all dragonkind! I shall be sure that all dragons of Kelsingra hear of your hospitality!’
‘How kind of you! Should I be glad of that? Or terrified?’ She sent her gaze around the table, and then laughed aloud, apparently finding Rapskal more amusing than offensive. Wintrow entered and took a place at the queen’s right hand. ‘And my son?’ she asked of him.
‘He is passing the time with the red dragon and has sent for three more cows.’ Wintrow looked at me and added, ‘Your crow has joined them.’
‘She enjoys the company of the red dragon,’ I offered. Questions and concerns boiled inside me, but this was the queen’s table.
‘So. My son sails with you, to rescue your daughter. And somehow this exposes him to the company of dragons?’ Queen Etta stared at me but it was Rapskal who responded. He had cleared his plate of food and was watching alertly the servant approach with a platter of sliced meat.
‘Let me make all clear for everyone. We have come to tell FitzChivalry and Lady Amber that the dragons approve and allow their mission of vengeance. Indeed, once our errand is done, we shall follow them to Clerres to finish whatever destruction they have begun. We intend to level the city and raze the surrounding countryside.’ He took a long draught of his wine, apparently unaware of Queen Etta’s wide-eyed expression.
He set his glass down with a heavy sigh. ‘FitzChivalry is not the only one who has been wronged by these Servants. Far more grievous is our injury from them! In league with the Abominations, they have ransacked the nesting beach, stealing dragon eggs, and killing or imprisoning the hatchling serpents! Tomorrow we fly swiftly on to Others’ Island to protect the eggs buried there until the summer hatching season. Tintaglia shall stand guard over the nests and shepherd the hatchling serpents as they make their way to the sea while Heeby and I hunt down and kill the Abominations who infest that place.’
‘Abominations?’ Amber asked softly. She had kept silent and watchful until that moment.
‘So we name them. They occur when a dragon who has been too long among humans lays her eggs, and they do not hatch into serpents, but something neither serpent nor human nor Elderling. Grotesque and evil creatures. We will slaughter them. IceFyre alone knew how they had wronged us! How they dug the eggs from the nest mounds or preyed upon the young serpents as they tried to make their way to the sea! Some they killed, to devour or to sell their bodies to the Servants of the Whites! Or worse, imprisoned them for decades, harvesting the secretions of their bodies for potions and medicines!’ His scaled lips curled in disgust. ‘The Abominations consume those secretions; they claim it aids them to foretell the future and remember distant pasts!’
Wintrow set down his glass with a sharp sound on the table. ‘Etta,’ he said in a low voice. ‘We’ve been there. On the Treasure Beach. Those creatures. The serpent I freed …’
‘I recall that,’ she said faintly.
Wintrow spoke to Rapskal. ‘Kennit took me there to see what the Others might predict for me. He had been there before, I believe. With Igrot. There was a tradition, that if you found something washed up on the Treasure Beach and surrendered it to the creatures that lived there, they would foretell your future. But I found no treasure. Only an immense serpent, held captive in a caged pool. The higher tides would replenish the water around it, but the creature was stunted and twisted from living in such a small space. It spoke to me … I managed to free it. Though its passing touch took the skin from my flesh, and I nearly drowned for my efforts.’
‘I recall that,’ Etta said. ‘Sorcor, too, spoke of a previous visit Kennit made there.’ A faint smile touched her lips. ‘He destroyed what he found rather than surrender it to the creature there.’
‘That was Kennit,’ Wintrow agreed, and I could not tell if there was fondness or dismay in his voice.
For a moment, a strange silence held.
‘Heroic!’ Rapskal exclaimed. His fist thudded the table, making us all jump and his eyes shone with tears. ‘I will share this tale with Heeby, and with all dragons!’ For a moment, he was silent and staring.
Wintrow and Etta exchanged a look. Was I the only one who sensed a flow of communication between him and his dragon? Then, from the direction of the docks, I heard Tintaglia’s trumpeting.
Rapskal stood abruptly and suddenly stripped the rings from his fingers. He clacked the cluster of jewellery on the table and pushed them toward Wintrow. There were tears in his eyes. ‘A small gift of Elderling jewellery, insufficient for the man who freed a serpent from the slavery of the Abominations! The gratitude of dragons is a rare commodity! You have the gratitude of all Elderlings as well.’ He turned his gaze to Etta. ‘And Heeby tells me you send your son to accompany FitzChivalry, to aid in taking this vengeance? Heeby is pleased. She wraps him in her highest regard. She promises that when she reaches Clerres, we shall find him!’ He lifted his voice to a shout. ‘He will ride upon her back to smite them!’
Silence filled the room.
Amber broke it. ‘Then the dragons go to Clerres with us, to take their vengeance?’ Was there hope or dread in her voice?
Rapskal set down his glass and shook his head. ‘Not immediately. Our mission to protect the hatching eggs is the more pressing one. When the hatching season is complete and we are satisfied that every Abomination has been slain, we will come there.’
‘When last we spoke, we believed my daughter was dead. Now we believe she may have survived. That Bee may be a prisoner in Clerres.’
Amber broke in. ‘If she is in the city and the dragons attack, she may be injured. Or killed.’
Rapskal nodded to that. ‘Killed is likelier,’ he conceded. ‘The destruction we wrought on Chalced was very thorough. Buildings collapsed. The acid breath of the dragons sprayed over people and beasts.’ He nodded his satisfaction. ‘I doubt that anyone within the duke’s palace survived.’ Then, as he looked around at the horror on our faces he said suddenly, ‘I see your concern. Indeed.’
‘And you can speak to Tintaglia and Heeby? Ask them to aid us? Or at least allow us to make our rescue attempt before they bring the city down?’ Amber was breathless with hope.
He steepled his long-fingered hands and looked down at their scarlet nails. We waited in silence. At last he said quietly, ‘I will tell them. But.’ He lifted his eyes and met my gaze squarely. ‘I can promise nothing. I think you already know that. Dragons are not … they do not regard humans …’ His voice trailed away.
‘They will not consider it important.’ My words fell like dead birds.
‘Exactly. I am sorry.’ He toyed with his fork and added, ‘Your best hope is to be there before they are. To try to rescue her before they lay siege to the city. Truly, I am sorry.’
I wondered if he was. I wondered if he were not very like a dragon himself. Unable to grasp the importance of one child.
Rapskal lifted his head as if he were listening to something. ‘Heeby is sated. You have provided well for her. I thank you.’ Again, his face took on that pensive look. Then he smiled. ‘I believe that Tintaglia is as well. Now they will sleep. Such a flight has wearied both of them, and Heeby is close to exhaustion.’ He looked at me and quirked one scaled brow, as if to remind me that we shared a secret. ‘Luckily I carry in her saddle a supply of a … restorative. Tomorrow, she shall have it. But for the rest of the day and all tonight, she must sleep. And so must I.’ He turned his smile on Wintrow and Etta. ‘Could you prepare a bedchamber for me, and a bath? I confess I am wearied and aching in every limb. Travelling so high above the earth it is always cold! I could sleep a bit in my saddle, but it was not true rest.’
Queen Etta’s eyes narrowed to be addressed as if she were a chamber servant. I anticipated Etta coming to her feet with her hand on a sword’s hilt, but instead Wintrow pushed hastily back
from the table. He knew when his queen had reached her limit for tolerance. ‘If you will follow me, General Rapskal, I will be pleased to surrender my own chamber to your use. I’m sure that is the swiftest way to find you a place to rest. Gentlemen, ladies, if you will excuse us.’
And they went, leaving Queen Etta and my party at the table. Abruptly, the queen stood up. ‘You need to leave as soon as possible. To have a chance to reach Clerres before the dragons, to save your child.’
‘That is so.’ I fought to control my voice. I was still trying to accept the fatalism I had heard in Rapskal’s words. The allies I had hoped for had now become a different sort of threat.
‘And you take my son into a greater danger than I perceived.’
‘I consider that likely.’
She nodded slowly. ‘He is his father’s son. This business with the dragons and their vengeance … it will only fire his determination steel-hard.’ She fixed me with a considering stare. ‘Well, Prince FitzChivalry, you have brought more excitement, disaster and puzzlement to Divvytown than we have enjoyed in many a year.’
I heard the clack of boots and Kennitsson strode into the room. There was a fire in his eyes I had not seen there before. ‘Mother. I have come to tell you that I am determined to sail tomorrow, on the first tide. The sooner we reach Clerres, the sooner we can take a vengeance long delayed.’ His gaze swept us, and then he turned and departed.
Etta stared after her son for a long moment. ‘So like his father.’ She turned to me. ‘I had hoped to delay your departure. Now, I will give commands that the ship be well provisioned by nightfall.’ As she rose from the table she added in a chilling voice, ‘Farseer. You have lost your child. Do not lose mine as well.’
TWENTY-ONE
* * *
Under Sail
The first time the mountain burned was in the summer. Some said the earth’s shaking broke the distant mountain. Others that the mountain woke and that caused the earth to shake.
It was not the first time that the earth had quaked under us. Always there had been tremors. Hence we had always built with stone rich in the silver threads that could be magicked to stand firm and remember their purpose in the world. But in that shaking, although most of our buildings stood firm, a crack opened in the earth itself from the river to the District of the Tinkers. Later, it would fill with water from the river and we would accept it as a part of our city.
A rain fell on the city that was not only water but contained black sand. It dusted the streets, and some of the folk and three of the dragons took a cough from it. Dark clouds gathered over Kelsingra, and day was like night for twelve days. Birds fell lifeless to the ground and fish washed up along the shores of the river.
All the while, far in the distance, what had been the snowy peak of Sisefalk glowed like a cauldron of melted iron.
Memory-cube 941, found in a corridor in Aslevjal
Transcribed by Chade Fallstar
At dawn the next day, the dragons departed.
Etta had been as good as her word. We had worked through the night, taking on supplies and making all ready to catch the first tide. I do not think the dragons gave warning or farewell to anyone. They rose from the ground and our crow circled below, cawing unhappily as they rose higher and higher into the sky in slow circles over Divvytown before departing to the south and east. As I dropped my eyes, I saw that Vivacia was in full sail below them. Brashen strode past me on the deck and I pointed her out to him.
‘Word came late last night. Vivacia was determined to go to Others’ Island with the dragons, to see what has transpired there. And afterward, perhaps she will follow them to Clerres.’
I stared after them, wondering what that meant for my mission until Brashen slapped me on the back. ‘The ale-casks will not stow themselves,’ he pointed out, and I moved to where Clef was putting hands onto a hoist.
Not long after, the Prince of the Pirate Isles came alongside in a small boat. Sorcor was at the oars, pulling hard and well for a man of his years. Two ornate trunks and a canvas seaman’s bag rode in the centre of the boat. Kennitsson perched in the bow, with the plumes of his hat nodding in the wind. A youngster, finely attired, sat on one of the trunks.
Clef spotted them and strode purposefully toward the captains’ stateroom. A moment later, both Althea and Brashen appeared. Althea’s mouth was taut and her eyes narrowed like an angry cat. Brashen looked relaxed and in command.
Kennitsson ascended the ladder first, followed by the youngster. Sorcor joined us on the deck. Two of Etta’s sailors clambered over the side to bring the trunks aboard. As Kennitsson looked around, Sorcor spoke. ‘Well,’ he said heavily. ‘Here we are.’
‘Paragon Ludluck! To me, young man, to me!’ cried the ship. Without a word or a glance at Althea or Brashen, Kennitsson walked towards the figurehead. Over his shoulder he called to the youngster, ‘Barla, see to my things! Arrange my stateroom as I like it. Be lively about it.’
Sorcor watched him go, and a blush reddened the old pirate’s cheeks. Without looking at Brashen or Althea, he said quietly, ‘I’d like to come with you.’
‘We’ve already enough captains on this vessel,’ Brashen replied, trying to soften his decision with humour. ‘If you’re aboard, not only Kennitsson but every sailor you’ve offered us will look to you before following an order from me or Althea.’
‘That’s true,’ Sorcor admitted. We watched as the first heavy trunk of Kennitsson’s essentials was lifted and swung over Paragon’s deck. Sorcor’s eyes tracked the trunk’s journey. He gave a small sigh. ‘You want a free hand with the lad, don’t you? Don’t want me stepping in if I think you’re too rough on our young prince.’
‘I do,’ Brashen admitted. ‘I can’t think of him as a lad, let alone as a prince. The ship wants him aboard. You’d like him to learn something of our trade.’ He gave a deprecating laugh. ‘And I’d like a bit of peace aboard this vessel. That’s only going to happen if I treat him like any other hand.’
‘So I told him last night, when his mother was chaining that charm snug to his throat. I don’t think he heard a word we said to him. But I give him over to you.’ A small silence followed Sorcor’s capitulation. The old pirate turned to Barla, who was guiding the heavy trunk down to the deck, and said quietly, ‘Lass, tell them to take that one back. The canvas sea-bag is all we need brought aboard.’ Then he squared his shoulders. ‘Kennitsson and Trellvestrit got along well whenever Vivacia was in port. Wintrow threw them together whenever he could. He wanted your boy to get a feel for our politics and to pick up a bit of polish. Begging your pardon, Wintrow’s words, not mine!’
Brashen gave a wry twist of his mouth. ‘Polish, eh? I’d have said Boy-O had the Trader’s polish already. But no offence taken.’
‘I’d appreciate it if your lad stood by him now. He could teach him your ways, the same way Trellvestrit learned our ways from Kennitsson. He’ll have to learn this deck, and everything above and below it. I know Kennitsson’s in for some rough seas before he fits in here. He’s never lived aboard a ship. Never been …’ He shook his big head. ‘My fault,’ he said hoarsely.
‘I’ll teach him,’ Brashen said in a low voice. ‘He’ll have to learn to bend a bit. But I won’t deliberately break him. The first thing he’ll have to learn is how to take an order.’ He cleared his throat and gave Sorcor an apologetic look. ‘Grit your teeth and stand back, Sorcor.’ Then Brashen drew breath and bellowed, ‘Kennitsson! Your gear is aboard. Come and stow it. Boy-O, show him his hammock and help him square himself away.’
Boy-O came at a run, a grin on his face, which faded when he saw the trunk being lowered back over the side. Barla shrugged and went down the ladder after it. A moment later, one of the new hands appeared, the canvas sea-bag slung over her shoulder. She set it down on the deck as Kennitsson strode up. He had not loitered but neither had he hastened. He looked at Brashen with his eyebrows cocked. ‘My “hammock”?’ he queried, a small smile on his lips as if he were certai
n the captain had misspoken.
‘Right by mine!’ Boy-O interjected. ‘Grab your sea-bag and let’s take it below.’ I wondered if Kennitsson heard the note of warning in his friend’s voice.
‘Below?’ Kennitsson asked, his eyebrows venturing toward his hairline. His glance flickered to Sorcor and waited for him to intervene.
Brashen slowly crossed his arms on his chest. There was reluctance on Sorcor’s face but no challenge as the old pirate offered, ‘Good voyaging, Captain Trell. May you have smooth seas and a steady wind.’
‘I doubt I’ll get either at this time of year, heading southeast, but I appreciate the wish. Please convey my respects to Queen Etta. I would thank her again for all she has done to equip us for this voyage and to help us make amends with our trading partners.’
‘I’ll be sure she knows you thank her.’ I could see Sorcor’s unwillingness to leave. Behind him, incredulous indignation was building on Kennitsson’s face. Boy-O had picked up the sea-bag.
‘Where are my trunks?’ Kennitsson demanded. ‘Where is my valet?’
‘That’s your sea-bag there, in Trellvestrit’s hands. I packed it myself. Everything you need is in there.’ Sorcor turned slowly and made his way to the side of the ship. Below, the dory that had ferried them out awaited him. Barla popped her head up over the railing. Sorcor shook his head and motioned her to return to the dory. Puzzled, she obeyed. Sorcor straddled the railing beside the rope ladder. ‘Honour your father’s memory. Become a man.’
Kennitsson stared after him, his cheeks going scarlet. ‘I am a man!’ he bellowed after Sorcor.
Brashen spoke in an even voice. ‘Boy-O. Drop it.’ As soon as his son obeyed, he turned to the pirate prince. ‘Can you manage your own sea-bag, sailor? I can tell Prince FitzChivalry to give you a hand with it, if there’s need.’ His voice betrayed no emotion. He was a captain finding the limits of a new hire.
