by Robin Hobb
Ronica shook her head. "We have become a ghost town ruled by rumors. The latest rumor is that Serilla has appointed Roed as the head of a new Bingtown Guard and that he has called a secret meeting with the remaining leaders of the Bingtown Traders' Council. Tonight. If we reach consensus today, we will all be there, to put an end to such nonsense, and an end to Caern's brutality. When have secret meetings ever been part of Bingtown's government?"
The red-bearded Three Ships man spoke up. "All the doings of the Bingtown Traders' Council have always been secret from us."
Keffria looked at him, puzzled. "That is how it has always been. Trader business is for Traders," she explained simply.
His ruddy color heightened. "But running the whole town is what you claim as Trader business. That's what forces Three Ships folk to the edge, and keeps us there." He shook his head. "If you want us on your side, then it has to be by your side. Not outside a wall, nor on a leash."
She stared at him, uncomprehending. A deep unrest was building in her. Bingtown as she had known it was being dismantled, and the folk in this room seemed intent on speeding the process along. Had her mother and Jani Khuprus gone mad? Would they save Bingtown by destroying it? Were they seriously considering sharing power with former slaves and fishermen?
Jani Khuprus spoke quietly. "I know my friend Ronica Vestrit shares your feelings. She has told me that the folk of Bingtown with similar goals must ally, regardless of whether they are Trader or not." She paused, turning her veiled face to survey all the folk at the table. "With great respect for those here, and for the opinions of dear friends, I do not know if that is possible. The bonds between the Bingtown Traders and the Rain Wild Traders are old and secured with blood." She paused. Her shoulders rose and fell in an eloquent shrug. "How can we offer that loyalty to others? Can we demand it in return? Are your groups willing to forge that strong a bond and abide by it as we have, not just binding ourselves, but binding our children's children's children?"
"That depends." Sparse Kelter, that was the bearded man's name, Keffria suddenly recalled. He glanced at the slaves at the table as if this was something they had already discussed. "We would make demands in return for our loyalty. I may as well lay them on the table now. They're simple, and you folks can say yea or nay. If the answer is nay, there's no sense my wasting a tide's fishing here."
Keffria was suddenly reminded of her own father and his reluctance to waste time on mincing words.
Kelter waited and when no one opposed him, he spoke. "Land for everyone. A man should own the spot his house stands on, and I'm not talking a patch of beach barely out of the tide's reach. Three Ships folk are sea folk. We don't ask much more than enough space for a proper house, some ground for a chicken to scratch in, some greens to sprout and a place to mend our nets. But those that have a bent to farming or beasts will need more than that."
He was still looking around the table to see how this would be received when a Tattooed woman spoke. "No slavery," she said huskily. "Let Bingtown become a place slaves can flee to, and not fear being turned back to their masters. No slavery, and land for those of us who are already here." The woman hesitated, then surged on determinedly. "And each family gets a vote in the Bingtown Council."
"Council votes have always gone with land ownership," Naria Tenira pointed out.
"But where did that bring us? To here, to this mess. When the New Traders claimed votes based on land they'd purchased from financially wounded Traders, we were foolish enough to grant them. If it hadn't been for the Traders' Council, they'd be running Bingtown already." Devouchet's soft deep voice somehow kept his words from sounding offensive.
"We kept the Bingtown Traders' Council separate before," Keffria offered. These people were swaying her, but something, she felt, must be held back for Selden. She could not stand by and let being a Bingtown Trader become merely an empty title. "Could not we do that again? Have one Council where all landowners vote, and a separate one for the Bingtown Traders only?"
Sparse Kelter crossed his arms on his chest. The woman beside him looked so like him, she must be some relation, Keffria decided. "Do that, and we all know where the true power would remain," he said quietly. "No leashes. A fair say in Bingtown."
"We've heard what you ask, but not what you offer," another Trader spoke. Keffria admired the way he had sidestepped Kelter's observation, but at the same time she wondered what they were doing. What was the sense of asking any of these questions? No one here had the power to make a binding decision.
Sparse Kelter spoke again. "We offer honest hands and strong backs and knowledge, and we ask the same. Let us stand on an equal footing with you to share the work of rebuilding Bingtown. We offer to help defend her, not just from pirates and Chalcedeans, but from Jamaillia itself if need be. Or do you think the Pearl Throne will let you slip its leash and speak not a word to rebuke you?"
The full realization of what they were discussing suddenly settled on Keffria. "We are talking about separating Bingtown completely from Jamaillia? About standing on our own, alone, between Jamaillia and Chalced?"
"Why not?" Devouchet demanded. "The idea has been broached before, Trader Vestrit. Your own father often spoke of it privately. We will not have a better chance than this. For better or worse, the Satrap has perished. The Pearl Throne is empty. The birds we've had from Jamaillia speak of civil unrest, rioting by the Jamaillian army over unpaid wages, an uprising by the slaves and even a Condemnation of State from the Temple of Sa in Jamaillia. The Satrapy is rotten. When they discover that the Satrap is dead, the nobles there will be too busy scrabbling for power in Jamaillia to pay any mind to what we do. They have never treated us as equals. Why not break free now, and make Bingtown a place where folk begin anew, all men standing on an equal footing?"
"And all women, too." She must be Sparse's daughter, thought Keffria. Even her voice echoed his in tone.
Devouchet looked at her in surprise. "It was but a manner of speaking, Ekke," he said mildly.
"A manner of speaking becomes a manner of thinking." She lifted her chin. "I am not here simply as Sparse Kelter's daughter. I've a boat and nets of my own. If this alliance comes to pass, I'll want land of my own. Three Ships folk know that what a person has for a mind is more important than what is between their legs. Three Ships women will not give up our place alongside our men simply to say we are part of Bingtown now. That, too, must be understood."
"That is only common sense," Grag Tenira asserted smoothly. He smiled warmly at the Three Ships woman as he added, "Look about this table, and see who speaks here. Bingtown has a long tradition of strong women. Some of the strongest are seated here today. That tradition will not change."
Ekke Kelter leaned back in her chair. She returned Grag's smile easily. "I just wanted to hear those words spoken aloud here," she confirmed. She nodded to Grag, and for an instant, Keffria wondered if there was an understanding between them. Had Ekke spoken her piece knowing that Grag Tenira would take her side? Did Grag Tenira count her, Keffria, as one of those strong women? But as swiftly as her interest had been piqued, it faltered. She took a breath and spoke her thoughts.
"What do we do here? We talk of agreements, but none of us has the power to make these agreements binding on all Bingtown."
Her own mother contradicted her. "We have as much power as anyone in Bingtown these days. More than the Traders' Council has, for we do not fear to wield it. They dare not meet without asking Serilla's opinion. And she dares not give it without looking to Caern." She smiled grimly at her daughter. "There are more of us, Keffria, than just those you see here. More could not gather for fear of drawing attention. One of the Council heads sides with us; he told us of the secret meeting. After tonight, we shall not fear to gather openly. Our strength comes from our diversity. Those of us who were made slaves have an intimate knowledge of the New Traders and their holdings. The New Traders hope to hold what they have taken with folk they have tattooed. Once the Tattooed are freed, will they fight for
their masters? I doubt it. When the New Traders are stripped of their slaves, their number is greatly reduced. Nor do they defend home and family as we do; their homes and their legitimate families are in Jamaillia. They have brought their mistresses and bastards to share the risks of living on the Cursed Shores, not their legitimate heirs. With Jamaillia in a civil uproar, the New Traders won't get help from that quarter. Many will rush back to Jamaillia to defend ancestral holdings there.
"There are also the pirates to consider. Eventually, Jamaillia may send an army against us to master us once more, but first it must make its way through the Pirate Isles. Well do I know to my own sorrow that that is not an easy journey these days."
"Are you saying the New Traders are no threat to Bingtown?" Jani Khuprus asked incredulously.
Ronica smiled bitterly. "Less of a threat than some would have us believe. Our first danger comes from those within our town who seek to corrupt the Traders and our ways. Tonight, we will defeat them. After that, the real danger will come from the usual source: Chalced. While Jamaillia is fighting internal battles and we chase one another through the streets with swords, Chalced has the opportunity to sweep in and subdue Bingtown." Again, her gaze swept the folk seated around the table. "But if we rally ourselves, we can stand them off. We have Trader ships, liveships and the working vessels of the Three Ships families. We know our waters better than anyone else."
"You are still talking about a single city-state standing against all of Chalced. And possibly Jamaillia." Another of the Bingtown Traders spoke. "We might hold them off for a while, but in the long run they could starve us out. We've never been completely self-sufficient. And we must have markets for our trade goods." He shook his head. "We must retain our bond with Jamaillia, even if it means compromising with the New Traders."
"There must be some compromises with the New Traders," Ronica agreed. "Not all will simply leave. Compromises should include trade agreements with Jamaillia for fair and open trade. But those compromises must be on our terms, not theirs. No more tariff ministers. No more tariffs." She looked around the table for support.
"Not compromise with New Traders. Ally." Startled eyes turned to Keffria. She could scarcely believe it was herself speaking, yet she knew her words made sense. "We should invite them to stand with us tonight when we break into Serilla's secret meeting with the Council heads." She took a breath and crossed a line. "Ask them, boldly, to break with Jamaillia, stand with us and take up our ways. If Bingtown is to be one, then we must be one today. Now. We should send word to that friend of Davad's… what was his name? Mingsley. He seemed to have sway with his fellows." She firmed her voice. "A united Bingtown is our only hope against both Chalced and Jamaillia. We have no other allies."
A daunted silence followed her words.
"Maybe the dragon would help us." Selden's piping tenor voice was startling.
All eyes turned to her son, sitting so straight on his chair. His eyes were wide-open, but he looked at no one. "The dragon could protect us from Jamaillia and Chalced."
An embarrassed silence fell. Reyn spoke at last, his voice heavy with emotion. "The dragon cares nothing for us, Selden. She showed that when she let Malta perish. Forget her. Or rather, remember her with contempt."
"What is this about a dragon?" Sparse Kelter demanded.
Gently, Naria observed, "Young Selden has been through a great deal of late."
The boy's jaw firmed. "Don't doubt me. Do not doubt her. I have been carried in her claws, and looked down on our world. Do you know how small we truly are, how pitiful are even our greatest works? I have felt her heart beating. When she touched me, I realized there could be something beyond good and evil. She… transcends." He stared, unseeing. "In my dreams, I fly with her."
A silence followed his words. The adults exchanged glances, some amused, some pitying, some annoyed at this interruption to their business. It stung Keffria to see her son treated so. Had not he been through enough?
"The dragon was real," Keffria declared. "We all saw it. And I agree with Selden. The dragon may change everything." Her words shocked them but the look Selden gave her was worth it. She could not recall the last time her son had looked at her with such shining eyes.
"I don't doubt that dragons are real," Sparse hastily interjected. "I saw some myself, a few years back when sailing far to the north. They flew over, like jewels winking in the sun. Buckkeep mustered them against the Outislanders."
"That old tale," someone muttered, and Sparse glowered at him.
"This dragon is the last of her kind. She hatched in the collapsing ruins of the Elderling city, just before the swamp swallowed it," Reyn stated. "But she is no ally of ours. She is a treacherous and selfish creature."
Keffria looked around the circle of faces. Disbelief loomed large. Pink-faced, Ekke Kelter suggested, "Perhaps we should return to discussing the New Traders."
Her father slapped the table with a broad palm. "No. I can see now that I need the whole telling of what went on in the Rain Wilds. Long have we been kept ignorant of what is up that river. Let this be the first sign of openness from the Bingtown Traders to their new allies. I want a full telling of this dragon tale, and how Malta Vestrit and the Satrap perished."
A heavy silence followed his words. Only the turning of their veiled heads revealed that Reyn and his mother conferred. All the other Traders at the table kept the silence of their ancestors. It was a mistake, Keffria knew. But even knowing that, she could not change it. The Rain Wild must choose to reveal itself, or remain hidden. Reyn leaned back. He crossed his arms on his chest.
"Very well, then," Sparse Kelter declared heavily. He set his wide, work-reddened hands to the table and pushed his chair back to rise.
Selden glanced up at Keffria, gave her hand a quick squeeze, and suddenly stood beside his chair. It did not make him much taller, but the look on his face demanded recognition. "It all began," Selden's young voice piped, "when I told Malta I knew a secret way to get into the Elderling city."
All eyes went to the boy. He met Sparse Kelter's astonished gaze. "It's my story as much as anyone's. Bingtown Trader and Rain Wild Trader are kin. And I was there." The look he gave Reyn defied him. "She's my dragon as much as yours. You may have turned on her, but I have not. She saved our lives." He took a breath. "It's time to share our secrets, so we can all survive." The boy's glance swept the table.
With a sudden motion, Reyn threw back his veil. He pushed back his cowl as well and shook free his dark, curly hair. He looked with shining copper eyes from face to face at the table, inviting each of them to stare at the scaling that now outlined his lips and brows and the ridge of pebbled skin that defined his brow. When he looked at Selden, respect was in his eyes. "It began much farther back than my young kinsman's memory," he said quietly. "I suppose I was about half Selden's age the first time my father took me to the dragon's chamber far underground."
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Divvytown
"I'm just not sure." Brashen stood on the foredeck next to her. The late evening mist dampened his hair to curls and beaded silver on his coat. "It all looks different now. It's not just the fog, but the water levels, the foliage, the beach lines. Everything is different from how I remember it." His hands rested on the railing, a handsbreadth from her own. Althea was proud that she could resist the temptation to touch him.
"We could just lie out here." She spoke softly, but her voice carried oddly in the fog. "Wait for another ship to go in or come out."
Brashen shook his head slowly. "I don't want to be challenged or boarded. That may happen to us anyway when we reach Divvytown, but I don't want to look like I'm blundering about out here. We'll go in cocky and knowing, sail up there and drop anchor in Divvytown as if we're sure of a welcome. If I seem a bit of a braggart and a fool to them, their guards will drop faster." He grinned at her crookedly in the gathering darkness. "It shouldn't take much effort for me to give them that impression."
They were anchored off a
coastline of swamp and trees. The rains of winter had filled the rivers and streams of this region to overflowing. At high tide, salt water and river water mingled in the brackish bogs. In the gathering darkness, trees both living and dead loomed out of the gently drifting mists. Breaks in the fog occasionally revealed dense walls of trees laced with dangling creepers and curtained with draping moss. The rain forest came right down to the waterline. By painstaking observation, Brashen and Althea had spotted several possible openings, any of which might be the narrow mouth of the winding river leading to the sluggish lagoon that fronted Divvytown.
Brashen once more squinted at the tattered scrap of canvas in his hand. It was his original sketch, a hasty rendering done while he was mate on the Springeve. "I think this was meant to indicate a kelp bed exposed at low tide." He glanced around at his surroundings again. "I just don't know," he confessed quietly.
"Pick one," Althea suggested. "The worst we can do is waste time."
"The best we can do is waste time," Brashen corrected her. "The worst is considerably worse. We could get lodged in some silty-bottomed inlet and have the tide strand us there." He took a deep breath. "But I guess I choose and we take a chance."
