by Robin Hobb
Jess leaned back, bracing his back against the wall and swinging his boots up onto the bench in front of him. “Superstitious?” he asked Leftrin with a knowing grin. “I’d have pegged you for a man of the world, Cap. Not someone trapped in all those old Rain Wild notions. It’s awfully provincial of you. Those keepers, some of them recognize that sometimes we need to make new rules to make the best of a situation.”
Leftrin slowly stood, leaned both his fists on the table, knuckles down and shoulders tensed as he put his face close to the hunter’s. He spoke in a low voice. “You’re an ass, Jess. An ass and a fool. You don’t even know what you’re suggesting. Why don’t you go do what you were paid to do?”
The way Leftrin’s body blocked Jess’s access to her suggested he was protecting her. She wasn’t sure from what but felt profoundly grateful he was there. Alise had never seen the captain so clearly enraged and yet so controlled. It frightened her, and at the same time it spurred a powerful surge of attraction toward him. This, she suddenly knew, was the sort of man she wanted in her life.
Yet despite Leftrin’s intensity, Jess seemed unfazed. “Go do what I was ‘paid’ to do? Isn’t that exactly what we’re talking about here, Captain? Getting paid. And sooner rather than later. Perhaps we should all sit down and have a chat about the best way to make that happen.” He leaned around Leftrin to shoot Alise a knowing grin. She was appalled. What was he talking about?
“There is nothing to discuss!” Leftrin’s voice rattled the windows.
Jess’s gaze went back to Leftrin. His voice lowered suddenly, taking the note of a warning snarl. “I’m not going to be cheated out of this, Leftrin. If she wants a share, she’ll have to go through me. I’m not going to stand by and watch you take a new partner and cut me out for the sake of making a sweet little deal for yourself.”
“Get out.” From a roar, Leftrin’s voice had dropped to a near whisper. “Get out now, Jess. Go hunting.”
Perhaps he knew he’d pushed Leftrin to his limit. The captain hadn’t verbalized a threat, but killing hung in the air. Every beat of her thundering heart seemed to shake Alise. She couldn’t draw a breath. She was terrified of what might happen next.
Jess swung his feet to the floor so that his boots landed on the deck with a thump. He stood, taking his time, like a cat that stretches before it turns its back on a slavering dog. “I’ll go,” he offered lightly. “Until another time,” he said as he walked out the door. Around the corner but still within hearing, he added, “We all know there will be another time.”
Leftrin leaned across the table to reach the door’s edge. He slammed it so hard that every cup on the table jumped. “That bastard,” he snarled. “That traitorous bastard.”
Alise found she was hugging herself and trembling. Her voice shook as she said, “I don’t understand. What was he talking about? What does he want to discuss with me?”
LEFTRIN WAS AS angry as he’d ever been in his life, and by his fury, he knew that the damn hunter had woken fear in him as well. It wasn’t just that the man was misjudging Alise in such a base way. It was that his assumptions threatened to ruin Leftrin’s good image in her eyes.
The questions he didn’t dare answer hung in the air between them, razor-edged knives that would cut them both to pieces. He took the only safe course. He lied to her. “It’s all right, Alise. Everything will be fine.”
Then, before she could ask what was all right and what would be fine, he silenced her in the only way he could, drawing her to her feet and folding her into his arms. He held her firm against him, his head bent over hers. Everything about it was wrong; he could see her small fine hands against the rough, grimy weave of his shirt. Her hair smelled like perfume, and it was so fine and soft it tangled against his unshaven chin. He could feel how small she was, how delicate. Her blouse was soft under his hands, and the warmth of her skin seeped right through it. She was the opposite of him in every way, and he had no right to touch her, none at all. Even if she hadn’t been a married lady, even if she hadn’t been educated and refined, it still would have been wrong for two such different people to come together.
And yet she did not struggle or shriek for help. Her hands didn’t pound against his chest; instead they gripped the rough fabric of his shirt and pulled him tighter, fitting herself against him, and again, they were opposite of each other in every way, and each way was wonderful. For a long moment he just held her in silence, and in that brief instant he forgot Jess’s treachery, and his vulnerability and the danger awaiting all of them. No matter how complicated the rest of it was, this was simple and perfect. He wished he could stay in this moment, not moving on, not even thinking of all the complications that threatened him.
“Leftrin.” She spoke his name against his chest.
In another time and another place, it would have been permission. In this time and place, it broke the spell. That simple moment, their brief embrace, was over. It was as much as he would ever taste of that other life. He tipped his head just slightly and let his mouth brush her hair. Then, with a heavy sigh, he set her back from him. “Sorry,” he muttered, even though he was not. “Sorry, Alise. I don’t know what came over me. Guess I should not let Jess rile me up like that.”
She gripped his shirt still, two small tight handfuls of fabric. Her brow pressed against his chest. He knew she didn’t want him to step away from her. She didn’t want him to stop what had begun. It was like peeling a clingy kitten from himself to ease free of her grip, and all the harder because he didn’t want to do so. He had never imagined that he would be the one to gently push a woman away “for her own good.” But he’d never imagined that he would find himself in such a precarious position. Until he could deal with Jess in a way that solved his problem permanently, he couldn’t allow Alise to do anything that might make her more of a weapon to be used against him.
“Feels like the current is getting tricky. I need a word with Swarge,” he lied. It would take him out of the galley and away from her so she couldn’t ask the questions that Jess had stirred up. And it would give him a chance to make sure that Jess had actually left the barge and gone hunting.
As he set her gently away from him, she looked up at him with utter bewilderment. “Leftrin, I—”
“I won’t be gone long,” he promised and turned away from her.
“But—” he heard her say, and then he closed the door gently on her words and hurried aft. Out of sight of the galley windows, he halted and walked to the railing. He didn’t need to talk to Swarge or anyone else. He didn’t want any of his crew to know what a situation he’d put them all in. Damn Jess and his sly threats, and damn that Chalcedean merchant and damn the wood carvers who couldn’t keep their mouths shut. And damn himself for getting them all into this mess. When he had first found the wizardwood, he had known it could bring him trouble. Why hadn’t he left it alone? Or spoken of it to the dragons and the Council and let them worry about it? He knew it was now forbidden for anyone to take it and make use of it. But he had. Because he loved his ship.
He felt a thrum of anxiety through Tarman’s railing. He gripped the wood soothingly and spoke aloud but softly to the liveship. “No. I regret nothing. It was no less than you deserved. I took what you needed, and I don’t really care if anyone else can understand or excuse that. I just wish it hadn’t brought trouble down on us. That’s all. But I’ll find a way to solve it. You can count on that.”
As if to confirm both gratitude and loyalty, he felt the ship pick up speed. Back on the tiller, he heard Swarge chortle and mutter, “Well, what’s the hurry now?” as the polemen picked up their pace to match the ship’s. Leftrin took his hands from the railing and leaned back against the deckhouse, hands in pockets, to give his crew room to work. He said nothing to any of them, and they knew better than to speak to the captain when he stood thus, deep in thought. He had a problem. He’d settle it without help from any of them. That was what captains did.
Leftrin dug his pipe out of one pock
et and his tobacco out of the other, and then stuffed them both back as he realized he couldn’t go back into the galley to light it. He sighed. He was a Trader in the tradition of the Rain Wild Traders. Profit was all-important. But so was loyalty. And humanity. The Chalcedeans had approached him with a scheme that could make him a wealthy man. As long as he was willing to betray the Rain Wilds and butcher a sentient creature as if it were an animal, he could have a fortune. They’d made their offer in the guise of a threat; such a typically Chalcedean way to invite a man to do business. First there had been the “grain merchant,” bullying his way aboard the Tarman at the mouth of the Rain Wild River. Sinad Arich had spoken as plainly as a Chalcedean could. The Duke of Chalced was holding his family hostage; the merchant would do whatever he had to do to obtain dragon parts for the ailing old man.
Leftrin had thought he’d seen the last of the man when he set him ashore in Trehaug, thought that the threat to himself and his ship was over. But it wasn’t. Once a Chalcedean had a hold on you, he never let go. Back in Cassarick, right before they left, someone had come on board and left a tiny scroll outside his door. The clandestine note told him to expect a collaborator on board his ship. If he complied with their agent, they’d pay him well. If he didn’t, they’d betray what he had done with the wizardwood. That would ruin him, as a man, as a ship owner, as a Trader. He was not sure if it would lower him in Alise’s esteem.
That final doubt was more powerful than the first three certainties. He’d never been tempted to take the bait, though he had wondered if he might surrender to the duress. Now he knew he would not. The moment he’d heard the scandalized whispers of the dragon keepers over what Greft had proposed, he’d known who his traitor was. Not Greft; the youngster might claim to be educated and radical in his thinking, but Leftrin had seen his ilk before. The boy’s political ideas and “new” thoughts were skin-shallow. The keeper had only fallen in with an older man’s persuasive cant. And not Carson, he thought with relief. And there was that to be grateful for. It wasn’t an old friend he’d have to confront over this.
It was Jess. The hunter had come aboard at Cassarick, ostensibly hired by the Cassarick Rain Wild Traders’ Council to help provide for the dragons on their journey. Either the Council had no knowledge of Jess’s other employer or the corruption ran deeper than he wanted to think about. He couldn’t worry about that now. The hunter was his focus. Jess was the one who had seemed to be befriending Greft, talking with him at the campfire each night, offering to teach him to be better with his hunter’s tools. Leftrin had seen him building up the young man’s opinion of himself, involving him in sophisticated philosophical conversations and persuading him that Greft understood what his fellow keepers were too rural and naive to grasp. He was the one who had convinced the boy that leadership meant stepping forward to do the unthinkable for the “greater good” of those too tenderhearted to see the necessity. Jess had been reinforcing Greft’s belief that he was the leader of the dragon keepers. Not so likely, my friend, he thought. Leftrin had seen the faces of the other keepers when they had spoken of what Greft had proposed. One and all, they’d been shocked. Not even his no-necked sidekicks, Kase and Boxter, had followed him into that quicksand. They’d looked at each other, as bewildered as puppies. So he hadn’t talked it over with them previously.
Therefore, Leftrin knew the source of that toxic idea. Jess. Jess would have made it sound logical and pragmatic. Jess would have introduced the idea that a real leader would sometimes have to make hard decisions. True leaders sometimes had to do dangerous and distasteful, even immoral, things for the sake of those who followed them.
Such as carving up a dragon and selling the bits to a foreign power to line your own pockets.
And the young man had been gullible enough to listen to the wise old hunter and had put the idea out as his own. When it had fallen flat, only Greft had been touched with the ignominy of it. Jess was unscathed in his friendship with some of the other keepers, and much more aware now of how they felt about the idea of butchering dragons for profit. And that was a shame, for privately Leftrin thought that Greft had the potential to captain the group, once he’d had his share of hard knocks on the way up. He supposed that his misstep with the other keepers would be one of them. If the young man had grit, he’d learn from it and keep on going. If not, well, some sailors grew up to be captains and others never even rose to be mate.
Be that as it would be, Greft’s mishap had lifted the lantern high for Leftrin. He had suspected Jess before, but on that day, he’d known. When Leftrin had first confronted Jess privately and accused him of being the Chalcedean merchant’s man, Jess had not even flinched. He’d admitted it and promptly suggested that now that things were out in the open between them, their task would be much easier. Even now, Leftrin gritted his teeth to think of how the slimy bastard had smiled at him, suggesting that if he slowed the barge down and let the keepers and dragons and the other hunters range far ahead of him, it would be easy for them to pick off the last lagging dragon. “And once we’ve put the poor suffering creature down and butchered it up proper, we can turn right around and head back for the open water. No need to stop by Trehaug or Cassarick, or even to pass by them during daylight hours. We could just head for the coast with our cargo. Once we’re there, I’ve a special signal powder—puts up a bright red smoke from even a tiny fire. Your galley stove would do it. A ship comes right to meet us, and off we go to Chalced and money such as you and your crew can’t even imagine how to spend.”
“Me and my crew aren’t the only ones aboard the Tarman,” Leftrin had pointed out coldly to him.
“That hasn’t escaped my notice. But between the two of us, I think the woman fancies you. Take a forceful hand with her. Tell her you’re swooping her off to Chalced and the life of a princess. She’ll go. And the fancy lad who’s with her, all he wants to do is get back to civilization. I don’t think he’ll much care where you take him, as long as it isn’t the Rain Wilds. Or cut him in on the deal, if you want.” He’d grinned wider and added, “Or just be rid of him. It makes small difference to me.”
“I’d never abandon the Tarman. My barge isn’t suited to a trip to Chalced.”
“Isn’t it?” The traitor had cocked his head and said, “It seems to me that your barge is better suited to many things than it would appear. If your share of the money from the dragon parts didn’t sate you, I’d wager you’d get near the same amount for the barge, ‘specially modified’ as it is. In one piece. Or as parts.”
And there it was. The man met his outraged gaze squarely, never losing his nasty little smile. He knew. He knew what Tarman was, and he knew what Leftrin had found, and what he’d done with it. Leftrin, that smile said, was no better than he was. There was no difference between them. Leftrin had already trafficked in dragon parts for his own benefit.
And if Leftrin did anything to betray Jess for what he was, Jess would return the favor. He felt Tarman quest toward him. He stepped quickly to the railing and put his hand on the silvery wood. “It will be all right,” he assured his ship. “Trust me. I’ll think of something. I always do.”
Then he took his hands off the railing and walked back to talk to Swarge, just in case Alise happened to come out on deck.
Swarge, taciturn as ever, was leaning on his tiller, his eyes fixed on the river, distant and dreaming. He wasn’t a young man anymore, Leftrin suddenly realized. Well, he supposed he wasn’t a young fellow himself anymore. He totted up the years they’d been together, and thought of all they’d been through, good days and bad. Swarge had never questioned Leftrin’s decision when his captain had revealed the trove of wizardwood and outlined his use for it. Swarge could have talked, but he hadn’t. Swarge could have held him up, demanded a chunk of the wood to keep his silence, gone off and sold it and been a wealthy man. But he hadn’t. He’d made only one request, a simple one he should have made long ago. “There’s a woman,” he’d said slowly. “A good river woman, can do a good day’s
work on a ship. If I stay aboard for this, I know I’m staying aboard forever. She’s the kind of woman who’s easy to live with. Could be part of the crew on this boat forever. You’d like her, Cap. I know you would.”
So Bellin had been part of Swarge’s deal, and no one had ever regretted it. She’d come aboard and hung up her duffel bag and sewn a curtain to give them a bit of privacy. Tarman had liked her, right from the start. Tarman was her home and his life. She and Swarge had lost their shoreside ties long ago, and Swarge was a man content with his life. Now he stood, his broad hands gripping the handle of the tiller, doing what he did all day long. Gripping the wood like that, Leftrin reckoned that Swarge knew Tarman almost as well as he did. Knew the boat and loved him.
“How’s he going today?” he asked the man, as if he didn’t know himself.
Swarge looked at him, a bit surprised by such a useless question. “He goes well, Captain,” he said. As always, the man’s voice was so deep it took a trained ear to make out his words. “He goes with a will. Bottom’s good here. Not all sink-silt like yesterday. We’re on our way. No doubt about it. Making good time, too.”
“Good to hear you say it, Swarge,” Leftrin said and let him go back to his dreaming and staring.
Tarman had made a hard transition that year. Leftrin had let most of his crew go, confiding his discovery of the wizardwood and his plans for it only to the people he felt could keep a secret and would stay. No poleman would ever work aboard Tarman and not know the difference in the barge. Every member of this crew was handpicked now and likely to remain aboard for life. Hennesey was devoted to the ship, Bellin loved her life aboard, and Eider was as conversational as the anchor. As for Skelly, the ship was her fortune. The secret should have been safe.
But it wasn’t. And now they were all at risk, his ship included. What would the Council do if it knew what he had done? How would the dragons react? He clenched his teeth and fists. Too late to turn back.
