The Liveship Traders Series

by Robin Hobb

  Kennit listened in admiration. She was so adept at making Wintrow seem both foolish and selfish for trying to oppose him. It must be a female talent. So his mother had often spoken to him, letting the edge of impatience show to convince him of his error. He thrust the memory aside. The sooner Paragon was gone, the better. Not for years had so many buried recollections stirred so uncomfortably in him.

  Wintrow glanced uncertainly from one to the other. ‘But I had hoped to be here when Kennit met –’

  ‘It would look as if we flaunted you as hostage. I wish them to see you are a willing member of my crew. Unless…’ Kennit paused, and gave Wintrow an odd look. ‘Did you wish to leave the ship? Are you hoping to go with them? For if that is your desire, you but have to speak it. They could take you back to Bingtown, or your monastery…’

  ‘No.’ Even Etta looked surprised at how swiftly Wintrow replied. ‘My place is here. I know that now. I have no desire to leave. Sir, I would remain at your side, and be witness to the creation of the Pirate Isles as a recognized kingdom. I feel – I feel this is where Sa intended me to be.’ He looked down at the deck silently for an instant. Then he met Kennit’s gaze again. ‘I’ll go to Sorcor, sir. Right now?’

  ‘Yes. I’d like him to hold off where he is. Be sure he is clear on that. No matter what he sees he is to let me resolve it.’

  As they hastened away, he took Wintrow’s place at the railing. ‘Why do you take such delight in tormenting the boy?’ he asked the ship in amused tolerance.

  ‘Why does he insist on bothering me with his fixation on Vivacia?’ the ship growled in return. ‘What, exactly, was so marvellous about her? Why cannot he accept me in her stead?’

  Jealousy? If he had had more time, it would have been an interesting possibility to explore. He rolled her questions aside with, ‘Boys always strive to keep things as they always have been. Given time, he’ll come around.’ Then he asked a question he had never dared before: ‘Can serpents sink a vessel? I don’t mean just batter it so it can’t sail; I mean send it down to the bottom?’ He took a breath. ‘Preferably, in pieces.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ she replied. Glancing at him from the corner of her eye, she asked him, ‘Would you like us to try?’

  For a moment, his mouth could not find the shape of the word. Then, ‘Yes,’ he admitted. ‘If it becomes necessary,’ he added feebly.

  Her voice dropped throatily. ‘Consider what you ask me. Paragon is a liveship, like myself.’ She stared across the water at the oncoming ship. ‘A dragon, kin to me, sleeps within those wooden bones. You are asking me to turn on my own kind, for your sake. Do you think I would do that?’

  This sudden gaping hole in his plans nearly unmanned him. They were bringing the Paragon about and dropping anchor, just out of arrow range. They were not complete fools. He had to win her over, and swiftly.

  ‘With me, you come before all others. Should you ask a similar sacrifice from me, I would not hesitate,’ he promised her heartily.

  ‘Really?’ she queried him callously. ‘Even if it were Etta?’

  ‘Without a pause,’ he promised, refusing to let himself think.

  ‘Or Wintrow?’ Her voice had gone soft and knowing.

  A knife twisted in him. How much did she truly read of his heart? He took a deep breath. ‘If you demanded it.’ Would she? Could she insist he give him up? He pushed the thought aside. ‘I hope I hold as dear a place with you.’ He tried to think of other fine words for her. Failing, he asked her instead, ‘Will you do it?’

  ‘I think it’s time you knew the price,’ she countered.

  The Marietta had taken up Wintrow’s small boat. Sorcor’s ship was veering off. Soon they would drop anchor at a discreet distance. He watched the routine of Sorcor’s crew and waited.

  ‘When we are finished here,’ she told him, ‘you will muster all your ships, every one that flies a raven flag. You and they will serve as escort for us. The serpents must travel north to a river mouth they scarcely remember, but one I have entered many times in my life as Vivacia. As we move north, we will seek to gather up other serpents. You will protect them from humans. When we reach the river, I will guide them up it, while your other ships keep guard behind us. No ordinary wooden ship can accompany them on that migration. You will give to me, Kennit Ludluck, all that remains of this winter, all of spring, all your days until high summer and the sun’s full heat, as we aid the serpents in what they must do, and guard them through their helpless time. That is the price. Are you willing to pay it?’

  In the naming of his name, she bound him. How had she known? Had she guessed? Then he glanced down at the small grinning charm on his wrist. Looking into features twin to his own, he knew his betrayer. The charm winked up at him.

  ‘I, too, was once a dragon,’ it said quietly.

  There was so little time to think. For him to vanish with the serpents now for all those months might undo all he had built. Yet, he dared not refuse her this. Perhaps, he thought grimly, it would only add to his legend. The Paragon was lowering a small boat into the water. Althea Vestrit would be in it. ‘If I do as you ask, you will sink Paragon?’ It was harder to ask now, for he knew that she knew all the reasons he desired Paragon to end.

  ‘Tell me why you want him to be gone. Say the words.’

  He took a breath and met her gaze. ‘My motives are the same as yours,’ he said coldly. ‘You do not wish Althea to come aboard, for you fear she would “bring you back to yourself ”.’ He lifted his eyes and stared at the Paragon. ‘There floats a piece of myself I could do without.’

  ‘Then it seems wisest, for both of us,’ she agreed. ‘He is mad. I cannot count on him to aid us; worse, as a liveship, he could follow us up the river and oppose us. He can never fly again as a dragon. So let us put him out of his misery. And end your misery as well, while binding you to me. Only me.’

  Jealousy. This time it was unmistakable. She would tolerate no rivals for his attention, let alone so potent a competitor as Paragon. In this also, they were alike. She tucked her chin to her chest and summoned the serpents. The sound she made was something Kennit more felt than heard. Their serpent escort had lagged behind them to hunt and feed, but at her call, they came swiftly. Soon a forest of attentive heads sprouted around them. The green-gold serpent from Others’ Island came to the front of the throng. When Bolt paused, the serpent opened her jaws and roared something back at her. Bolt threw back her head and sang. Her voice battled against a wind that promised a storm to come. There were several exchanges of moans, bellows and high, thin cries between the two. Two other serpents added their voices as well. Kennit grew restless. This had to be a discussion of Bolt’s orders. That had not happened before. It was not auspicious, but he dared not interrupt her with a question. His own crew was watching curiously. He glanced down to his hands gripping the railing, and saw the small face at his wrist staring up at him. He brought the charm close to his face.

  ‘Do they oppose her?’ he asked.

  ‘They question the necessity. She Who Remembers thinks Paragon might be useful to them alive. Bolt counters that he is both mad and a servile tool of the humans aboard him. Maulkin asks if they may eat him for his memories. Bolt opposes this. She Who Remembers demands to know why. Now Maulkin asks if the ship holds knowledge she wishes to keep from the serpents.’

  Bolt was visibly angry now. Behind him, Kennit was aware of his gawking crew. Without turning his head, he warned Jola, ‘The men to their posts.’ The mate obeyed, sending them running.

  ‘What do they say?’ he demanded of the charm again.

  ‘Use your eyes,’ was the whispered retort. ‘They obey her.’

  Brashen had remained on board Paragon. It did not seem wise for both of them to leave the ship, and Althea could not bear to be so close to Vivacia and not speak to her. In the boat with her, Haff and Jek bent to their oars. Lop, clutching a mooring line, sat in the bow and stared grimly ahead. Althea sat stiffly in the stern seat. She was freshly washed and
attired in the clothes she had worn when the Paragon had left Bingtown. She resented the weight of the split skirt, but the occasion called for formality, and these were the best clothes she possessed. Indeed, of all her garments, these were the only ones still remotely presentable. The rising winter wind tugged hopefully at her plaited and pinned hair. She hoped Kennit would not see her attempt at formality as hiding behind feminine garb. He had to take her seriously.

  She clutched the scroll in her hands and stared at their destination. On the foredeck of her beloved Vivacia, a single figure stood. His dark blue cloak flapped in the wind and he stood hip-shot, all his weight on one leg. It had to be Kennit. Before she had left Paragon’s deck, there had been others with him. She had thought that one young man might be Wintrow. She could not claim to recognize him, but the figure’s dark hair and stance put her in mind of her father. Could it have been him? If it was, where had he gone? Why did Kennit alone await her?

  Reflexively, she glanced back at Paragon. Brashen stood anxiously on the foredeck. Clef stood beside him, hands on his hips in unconscious mimicry of his captain. Amber’s hair blew like silk strands in the wind, and her set face made her a second figurehead. Paragon, arms crossed and jaw set, stared sightlessly towards Vivacia. There was a terrible finality in the brace of his muscles. He had not spoken a word to anyone since Vivacia was sighted. When Althea had dared to reach out and touch his muscular shoulder, she had found it set and hard as wood. It was like touching the tensed back of a snarling dog.

  ‘Don’t be afraid,’ she had told him softly, but he had made no reply.

  A composed Amber, sitting on the railing beside her had shaken her head. ‘He’s not afraid,’ she had said in a low voice. ‘The anger that burns in him destroys every other emotion.’ Amber’s hair lifted slightly in the rising wind and she had spoken in a distant voice. ‘Danger cups us under its hand, and we can do nothing but stand witness to the turning of the world. Here we walk on the balancing line between futures. Humanity always believes it decides the fate of the whole world, and so it does, but never in the moment that it thinks it does. The future of thousands ripples like a serpent through the water, and the destiny of a ship becomes the destination of the world.’ She turned to look at Althea with eyes the colour of brandy in firelight. ‘Can’t you feel it?’ she asked in a whisper. ‘We are on the cusp. We are a coin spinning in the toss, a card fluttering in the flip, a rune chip floating in stirred water. Possibilities swarm like bees. In this day, in a moment, in a breath, the future of the world will shift course by a notch. One way or another, the coin will land ringing, the card will settle to the table, the chip will bob to the surface. The face that shows uppermost will set our days, and children to come will say, “That is just the way it has always been.”’

  Her voice dwindled away, but Althea had a sense of the wind carrying the words around the world. Her scalp prickled. ‘Amber? You’re frightening me.’

  Amber had turned a slow and beatific smile on her. ‘Am I? Then you grow wise.’

  Althea did not think she could bear the steady gaze of those eyes. Then Amber blinked and saw her again. She had hopped from the railing to the deck, dusting her bare hands on the seat of her pants before drawing on her gloves. ‘It’s time for you to go,’ she announced. ‘Come. I’ll help you with your hair.’

  ‘Watch over Paragon for me,’ Althea had said quietly. ‘Don’t leave him alone.’

  ‘I would like to.’ Amber’s long-fingered hand caressed the railing. ‘But today is a day he must face alone.’

  Now, Althea looked back from the ship’s boat and wished Amber had come with her. She tightened her grip on the scroll and prayed Kennit would be swayed by the carefully-penned offer. He had to be! Everything she had heard of this man spoke of a resolute intelligence coupled with great foresight. He had hung out a truce flag of his own, so he was open to negotiation. He would at least hear her out. Even if he loved Vivacia, perhaps especially if he loved Vivacia, he would see that returning her to the Vestrits in exchange for trade agreements was in everyone’s best interest. Suddenly, Amber lifted a finger and pointed ahead of Althea. At the same instant, Lop gave a wild cry, echoed by Haff who dropped his oar and came halfway to his feet. Althea swivelled her head to see where Amber pointed and froze.

  The sea around Vivacia bristled with serpents. Head after glittering head lifted from the depths until a forest of serpents stood between Althea and her ship. In the boat, Haff cowered and babbled, while Jek demanded, ‘Do we go back?’ Lop crawled through the boat and took up Haff’s oar hopefully. Stricken, Althea watched the horde of serpents menace her ship. Yet what happened next was even worse.

  Vivacia threw back her head and sang to the creatures. Her throat swelled and she opened her mouth wide. Inhuman moans and roars and trills came from her mouth. The serpents’ heads swayed, captivated by her song. After a time, they sang back as if ensorcelled by her. Althea realized she stood in a half-crouch, staring at the figurehead. Uneasiness squirmed through her. Vivacia spoke to them, that was plain, and they spoke back to her. The face of the ship as she stretched her features to make the serpent sounds was alien, as was the unnatural lifting and writhing of her hair. It reminded Althea of a serpent’s mane unfolding just before she shook venom from it. Was Vivacia miming the actions of a serpent to convince them not to harm her?

  As Althea stared up at her, a terrible chilling knowledge moved deep inside her. She pushed it aside as one flings off the lingering terror of a nightmare. Mine, she insisted, Vivacia is mine, my family, my blood. Yet she gave the low-voiced command, ‘Lop, Jek, get us out of here. Haff, shut up if you can’t be useful.’ She did not have to speak again. Lop and Jek bent eagerly to their oars.

  Vivacia lifted a great hand and pointed commandingly at Paragon. From her throat issued a high qui-ii-ii like the cry of a striking hawk. Like a wheeling flock of birds, every serpent head turned towards the blind liveship. In the next instant a wave of serpents moved towards him in a purposeful rippling of scintillant colours. Their heads split the water and their gleaming backs wove through the sparkling surface of the waves as they arrowed towards Paragon. Althea had never seen anything so lovely or so terrifying. As she watched, their jaws gaped wide, displaying scarlet maws and white teeth. Like flowers turning to the sun, their multi-hued manes began to open around their throats, standing out like deadly petals.

  On Paragon’s deck, Brashen bellowed for them to return to the ship now, as if his command could somehow make the small craft move faster. Althea stared back at the oncoming serpents and knew it was too late. Lop and Jek rowed hard, long deep stokes that sent the boat shooting forwards, but a small boat and two rowers could never outdistance these creatures of the sea. Poor Haff, victim to his memory of his last encounter with a serpent, huddled in the bottom of the boat. Althea did not blame him. She watched the serpents gain on them, transfixed by danger. Then a towering blue serpent rose over the boat, his erect mane an immense parasol of tentacles.

  All in the boat cried out, but the huge creature merely shouldered them out of its way. The little boat rocked wildly in the serpent’s wake, only to be struck and spun about by yet another passing snake. The brush of the passing serpent snatched the oar from Jek’s grip and tore the oarlock loose. Althea clung to the seat with a white-knuckled grip and hoped they would not capsize. As the wild rocking of the boat settled, she watched with horror as the serpents surrounded Paragon. There was nothing she could do for the ship or the crew on board him. She forced herself to think only of what measures she could take.

  The first mate made her decision. ‘Use that oar as a scull and make for the Vivacia. She’s our only hope now. We’ll never get back to Paragon through all those serpents.’

  Brashen watched helplessly as Althea’s small boat wallowed and swung in the wakes of the serpent horde. His mind rapidly sorted and discarded possibilities. Launching another ship’s boat could not aid them; it would only put more crew at risk. He looked away from her
and took a deep breath. When his eyes found her again, he regarded her as her captain. If he believed in her at all, he’d trust her to take care of her boat and her crew. She’d expect him to do the same. The ship had to be his first responsibility.

  Not that there was much he could do. He issued orders anyway. ‘Get our anchor up. I want to be able to manoeuvre if we have to.’ He wondered if he only said it to give the men something to do so they wouldn’t stare at the oncoming wave of serpents. He glanced at Amber. She held tight to the railing, leaning forwards and speaking low to Paragon, telling him all she could see.

  He cast his mind back over his other encounters with serpents. Recalling Haff’s serpent, he commanded his best bowmen to the rails. ‘Don’t shoot until I tell you,’ he told them harshly. ‘And when you do, take your shot only if you can strike the brightly coloured spots just back of the angle of their jaws. No other target! If you can’t hit it, hold fire until you can. Every shot has to count.’ He looked back to Amber and suggested, ‘Arm the ship?’

  ‘He doesn’t want it,’ she replied in a low voice.

  ‘Nor do I want your archers.’ Paragon’s voice was hoarse. ‘Listen to me, Brashen Trell. Tell your men to set their bows and other weapons down. Keep them to hand, but do not brandish them about. I want no killing of these creatures. I suspect they are no danger to me. If you have any respect for me at all…’ Paragon let the thought die away. He lifted his arms wide and suddenly shouted, ‘I know you. I KNOW YOU!’ The deep timbre of his bellow vibrated through the whole ship. Slowly he lowered his arms to his sides. ‘And you know me.’

  Brashen stared at him in confusion, but motioned for his bowmen to obey. What did the ship mean? But as Paragon threw back his head and filled his chest with air, Brashen suddenly knew that the ship spoke to the oncoming serpents, not the crew.