by Robin Hobb
'The lady had no intention of alarming your ship,' Sedric informed Captain Trell, a bit stiffly. He put his hand firmly over Alise's, a protective gesture that she found oddly reassuring. 'The ship invited her forward to speak with him. And he was the one who brought up the topic of dragons.'
'Did he?' The captain exchanged a glance with his wife. She nodded slightly and he shifted his feet. Alise felt that he granted them permission to move away. His tone was a bit more kindly as he admitted, 'Well, I'm not surprised. We've had troubling news about the hatchlings almost every time we visit Trehaug. I think they weigh on his mind. We encourage Paragon not to dwell on things that he finds upsetting.'
'I understand,' Alise replied faintly. She wished the conversation were at an end. She did not do well at confrontation with strangers, she abruptly decided. With her own husband, she had barely been able to take a stand and feel courageous about doing so. But out here in the real world and almost on her own, she felt she had not done well at facing her first challenge. Even as she felt grateful for Sedric's support, her gratitude shamed her.
'I think you might warn your passengers before they stumbled into such a circumstance,' Sedric said firmly. 'Your ship is not the only one that might become alarmed. Neither of us sought conversation with him. On the contrary, he invited us forward.'
'So you've said,' Captain Trell replied, and his voice warned of patience wearing thin. 'You may recall you were told that we do not often take passengers, only cargo. Usually those who ride with us are family or friends. They're well aware of Paragon's quirks. I do recall that Trader Finbok was quite insistent that she had to book immediate passage.'
Alise tightened her grip on Sedric's arm. She wished only to go back to her tiny stateroom. Her vision of herself as an intrepid explorer braving new experiences and acquiring firsthand knowledge of dragons was fading. She felt sure that if Sedric had not been by her side, she would have fled. Or worse, burst into tears. At the thought of it, her eyes began to sting. No. Oh, no, please, not now.
Perhaps the threat of breaking down in front of strangers gave her courage. She drew a deep breath, squared her shoulders and with all her might pretended that she was as brave as she wished she were. 'Hatchlings,' she said quietly. Then she firmed her voice and spoke with more force. She pushed a smile onto her face as well. 'I regret that I upset your ship, sir. But I would be extremely interested if you could share any news you have of the «hatchlings» as you call them. Paragon said that I should not think of them as dragons. I find that an extraordinary statement. Can you clarify what he meant by it? Have you yourself seen them? What did you think of them?' She stacked her questions one on top of the other as if building a wall to protect herself.
'I haven't,' the captain admitted.
'I have,' his wife said quietly. She turned and walked slowly away from them all. As Alise stared after her curiously, she turned and silently beckoned for them to follow. She led them to the captain's quarters, invited them inside, and closed the door.
'Would you care to sit down?' she asked them.
Alise nodded silently. The sudden hospitality was a bit confusing, but also welcome. The confined room was a setting more familiar to her than the open deck. She immediately felt more comfortable. The stateroom was not large but was still impressive. It was efficiently designed and simply furnished, but every item in the chamber was of excellent quality. Shining brass and richly gleaming wood welcomed them. A chart table dominated the room. A compass rose inlaid into the table top was formed from various shades of wood. Heavy damask draperies curtained off a bed in one corner of the wood-panelled room. Scattered about the room were small artefacts that were obviously of Elderling make. A small mobile of fish hung near a window. As the light touched it, the fish 'swam' in the air, changing colours as they did so. A fat green pot with a gleaming copper spout sat in the middle of the table. Alise felt as if she had just stepped into the drawing room of a wealthy Bingtown family rather than a stateroom on a ship. She took her offered seat and waited as the others joined her at the table.
Althea smoothed a few stray strands of hair back from her face. She glanced at her husband. Captain Trell had not joined them at the table, but leaned on the wall by a small window, watching the shore slip by. 'Paragon helped escort the serpents up the Rain Wild River. He accompanied them as far as he could, and had the highest of hopes for them. He was deeply and bitterly disappointed when they emerged as pitiful shadows of the dragons they should have been. Not one of them was near Tintaglia's size. Since then, they have grown, but still are stunted.'
Althea picked up the pot on the table, hefting it to check if it still held water. 'Will you have a cup of tea?' she offered as she set it down again, as if they were indeed in a Bingtown drawing room. She stroked an insignia on the side of the kettle, an image that looked rather like a chicken with a crown. Almost immediately, the pot gave a small rumble and steam began to waft from its spout.
'Priceless!' Sedric exclaimed. 'I'd heard a few such Elderling kettles have been discovered, but none seemed to come to the Bingtown market. It must be worth a fortune.'
'It was a wedding gift, from family,' Captain Trell said. 'Quite a prize. It requires no fire to heat the water. And of course, on a ship, fire is always a concern.' He had visited a sideboard and now brought a tray laden with cups and a teapot to the table. Althea took over the hostess duties. It was odd to watch her shift from her mannish abilities on the deck to the delicate business of measuring tea into a pot and setting out cups all round. Alise abruptly felt that she glimpsed a possible life that she had never known existed. Why, she wondered, had she never even considered making her own way in the world? Why had marriage or spinster-hood seemed her only choices? She only realized she was staring at Althea when the woman returned her a slightly puzzled glance. Alise immediately redirected the conversation with a question.
'But Paragon has never seen the new dragons?'
Althea shot her an odd glance. 'Of course not. The river is too shallow to permit him to venture that far. A great deal of effort went into making that part of the river passable for the serpents. It was not as successful as it could have been, and winter storms and floods in the years since then have mostly destroyed those works. The banks of the river, as you have seen, are marshy and difficult to walk on. The forest is dense and unfriendly to creatures of that size. So the dragons have never moved from their hatching place.'
'But you went to see them?'
'Yes. At Paragon's request, I went. And also because I wished to visit my niece, Malta.'
'Malta Khuprus? The Elderling queen?'
Althea smiled more broadly. 'So some name her, though she is not queen of anything. It was a fancy of the Jamaillian Satrap to title Reyn and her as the King and Queen of the Elderlings. In reality, they are both of Trader stock, just as you and I are, and not royalty at all.'
'But they are Elderlings!'
Althea started to shake her head, and then shrugged instead. 'So Tintaglia the dragon called them. And they have both physically changed over the years to resemble, more and more, the images of Elderlings that we've seen unearthed from the ancient Rain Wilds cities. But Malta was born just as human as I am, and Reyn, though marked as many of the Rain Wild Traders are, was not extraordinarily different. That's no longer the case, of course. Our family has watched both of them, and Selden Vestrit, my nephew, change substantially since they encountered Tintaglia. It's my thought that exposure to the dragon was what started their changes. All three have grown taller. Malta is remarkably tall for a woman of my family now. And more beautiful in a way that has nothing to do with human beauty. When she goes uncloaked and unveiled, she reminds me of a jewelled statue come to life. Tintaglia has told them that they may enjoy much longer life spans than ordinary humans. But for all of that, Malta is still Malta.' Althea sounded as if she almost regretted that fact. Quietly she added, 'And I think she and Reyn would trade away all their Elderling glory for one healthy baby.'
'But the dragons?' Sedric interrupted to demand. 'Are they really so deformed and mentally deficient? Is it possible that we have come all this way on a useless quest?'
Alise felt doubly annoyed that he had interrupted Althea's revelations about the only living Elderlings and that he sounded so hopeful her expedition would come to nothing. Althea folded her hands on the edge of the table and considered her rough brown knuckles before she spoke.
'They are not like Tintaglia,' she said quietly. 'None of them can fly. We started up the river escorting one hundred and twenty-nine serpents. Fewer than half successfully cocooned and hatched. And now there are left, what? Fewer than seventeen when last I heard.' She glanced up and met Alise's desperate gaze. For a moment, sympathy shone in her eyes. 'I wish it had been otherwise, if only for Paragon's sake. It was tremendously important to him that the serpents reach their cocooning grounds. Despite what he said to you, I believe the heart of a dragon still resides in this ship. He longed to restore his kind to the skies; it would have given great meaning to his own fate.
'But the creatures I saw when I visited Cassarick were pathetic, malformed things. It is telling that Tintaglia seems to have completely abandoned them. Dragons do not pity the weak, but let them meet their fates. The Rain Wilds folk who live closest to them are rapidly losing all sympathy for them. They are unruly and dangerous, intelligent but unreasonable. But perhaps being unreasonable is the only rational response to leading such miserable lives. They have neither respect nor gratitude for humans. They have yet to attack a human, though I've heard rumours that they've chased a few. And devoured at least one corpse in the midst of the family funeral. I don't know what's to become of them, other than gradual decline and death.' She paused, sighed and said, 'I think Paragon has decided they are not dragons because that is less painful for him. He can do nothing to help them. So, by separating himself from them, perhaps his shame for them is a bit less. I really think there is nothing any of us can do for them.'
Alise sat very still and silent for three breaths. Then she said quietly, 'Little of this has been heard in Bingtown.'
Althea smiled, a secret shared between fellow Traders. She poured fragrant tea into the cups. Captain Trell came to the table to accept his cup but immediately returned with it to his post by the window and his watch on the river. 'Our Rain Wilds brethren have always kept their own affairs quiet. And for generations, those of Bingtown stock have been trained not to gossip about them. It still seems strange to me that the outside world now knows that they exist and wish to visit their cities. For so long we kept them secret, to protect them.'
Alise looked directly at Althea and suddenly felt grateful for the woman's bluntness. 'Do you think I will be able to speak with the dragons at all? Learn anything from them?'
Althea shifted in her chair. From the corner of her eye, Alise glimpsed Captain Trell regretfully shaking his head. 'I don't think so,' she said. 'From what I saw of them, they are fixated on the basics of life. The only talk I heard from them were demands for food. And complaints about their condition. From what little I know of Tintaglia, I would say that dragons do not deem humans worthy of thoughtful conversation. And the hatchlings at Cassarick disdain us as completely as if they were full grown and powerful dragons. Combine that with the bitterness they feel…' She gave a shrug of her shoulders. 'I do not think they will confide their ancestral memories to you. If they have any.'
Alise nodded dumbly. She felt empty and sick. She took a sip of her tea to give herself time to think, but no ideas came to her. 'I feel so foolish,' she said softly. She looked at Sedric and apologized, 'I've dragged you all this way, for nothing it seems. I should have listened to Hest.' She laced her fingers together on the table in front of her and spoke to Althea past a lump in her throat. 'I only booked passage on your ship as far as Trehaug. From there, I planned to travel by one of the cargo barges, the small ones. I didn't buy tickets for our return, because I hoped to stay weeks if not months learning from the dragons.' She reached up to massage her own temples. A storm of a headache was brewing in her skull. She tried to keep tears out of her voice as she asked, 'Is it possible to arrange to return to Bingtown immediately?'
'You can travel back with us.' The captain spoke without moving away from his window. There was sympathy in his voice.
'But you should understand that it takes time for us to unload cargo and take on supplies and more cargo,' Althea cautioned her. 'And I had planned to visit Malta while we were here. So we will not be immediately returning to Bingtown. You will have to spend a few days in Trehaug while we do so.'
'I understand,' Alise said faintly. 'I am sure we will find things to see in Trehaug until you are ready to begin the journey back to Bingtown.'
'Then you don't plan to even visit Cassarick? I can't believe that! Alise, you must go. We've come so far, it would be foolish not to at least visit it.'
The apparent disappointment in Sedric's voice startled her. A few minutes ago, he had seemed positively hopeful that their journey had been for naught.
'What would be the point of it?' she asked him dully.
'Well,' he seemed to flounder briefly for a reason. 'Well, to say that you'd seen what you'd gone to see. Done what you meant to do. You said you wanted to see the young dragons for yourself. Do so.' Suddenly he seemed more confident of his words. He leaned across the table and took her hands. He gazed earnestly into her eyes. 'Isn't that what you've been telling Hest you wanted, for years now? Simply to see for yourself?' He gave her a twisted smile. 'Surely you don't want to go back to Bingtown and admit to him that you came all this way and didn't even look at a dragon?'
She stared at him. Suddenly she could imagine Hest's delighted grin at such an admission from her. Bile rose in the back of her throat. No. No. Her disappointment was big enough without letting it be his triumph. She blinked back tears, and suddenly felt a wave of gratitude toward Sedric that he had thought of her and spoken out to save her from such shame. 'You're right,' she said in a shaky voice. She thought of her years of carefully compiled notes, scroll after scroll, page after precisely lettered page. Resolve settled and firmed in her. 'You're right, Sedric. I have to go. The least I must do is see them for myself.' She drew a deeper breath. 'I've committed a grave error, one that too many scholars fall prey to. I've let my expectations and hopes colour my opinion. If what I see are deformed and near mindless creatures, then that is what I must observe and document. Just because my studies do not reflect what I hoped to find is no reason to turn aside from them. Thank you, Sedric' She sat up, squaring her shoulders and met Althea's measuring gaze. 'I will be journeying on to Cassarick.'
Althea slowly nodded. A grim smile of understanding touched her face.
'But we won't be staying long,' Sedric hastily added. 'I suspect that we will still be travelling downriver with you. In fact, I'd like to secure our passage home right now.'
Both Althea and Brashen were looking at Sedric oddly. Alise understood. If she hadn't known the man, she too would have wondered at his weather-vane spinning. He'd gone so quickly from persuading her that she must go to Cassarick to declaring that they would stay only a very brief time. But she knew why. She sat silent as he discussed with the captain the likely dates of their departure for Bingtown. Without a word, she signed the note for funds for their return tickets. All the while, she looked at Sedric, not with new eyes, but with fond remembrance of their old friendship. He hadn't wanted to come to the Rain Wilds. She was certain he didn't want to make the uncomfortable journey by flat-bottom barge to Cassarick. But he would do it, for her sake. He'd help her save face with Hest, no matter the discomfort and inconvenience to himself.
When their business was concluded and she rose from the table, he offered her his arm, just as he always did. As she took it, she looked up at him and smiled. He smiled back and patted her hand reassuringly. 'Thank you, my friend,' she said quietly.
'Not at all,' he replied.
Day the 23rd of the Growing Moon
From Detozi, Keeper of the Birds, Trehaug
to Erek, Keeper of the Birds, Bingtown
From the Traders' Councils at Cassarick and Trehaug to the Bingtown Traders' Council, in a sealed scroll case, an accounting of the expected expenses for moving the dragons to a spot more conducive to their good health, with the Bingtown Traders' Councils share of the expenses itemized in detail.
Erek,
You should not listen to silly gossip. The dragons are to be moved, not slaughtered or sold! How rumours do twist as they fly. I have received the peas, and the difference in my birds' plumage is already noticeable. Is this feed expensive? Is it possible you could acquire a hundredweight sack for me, if it is not too dear?
Detozi
CHAPTER NINE
Journey
Leftrin straightened up from slouching against the railing and peered down the dock at the procession headed toward the Tarman. Was this what Trell was sending his way? He scratched a whiskery cheek and shook his head to himself. Two dock workers were pushing barrows laden with heavy trunks. Another two followed carrying something the size of a wardrobe. And following behind them came a man dressed more for a tea party in Bingtown than for a trip up the Rain Wild River on a barge. He wore a long dark blue jacket over dove grey trousers and low black boots and was bare-headed. He looked fit, in the manner of a man who is generally so but has never developed the muscles of a particular trade. He carried nothing save a walking stick. 'Never worked a day in his life,' Leftrin decided quietly.
