by Robin Hobb
She found Captain Leftrin alone at the galley table. Two steaming mugs of coffee waited there. His back was to her as she entered and he was frying thick slices of yellow bread on the galley stove. A sticky pot of treacle and two heavy earthenware plates awaited the bread. As Leftrin turned to slide a slice of bread onto each plate, he smiled at her. 'Well, that was quick! It always took my sister half a day to get dressed to do anything. But here you are, all ready to go and pretty as a picture to boot!'
She was shocked to feel a blush rose her cheeks. 'You are too kind,' she managed to say, and disliked how formal a response that seemed. She wished that Sedric had not put it in her head that it was inappropriate for her to encourage the captain's rustic flirting. It is just his manner, she told herself firmly. It's nothing to do with me, and she took her place at the table.
It seemed they were the only two people astir on the boat. She took a sip of the coffee. It was thick and black and had probably been kept on the ship's stove all night. There was no cream to tame it with so she followed the sailors' previous example and generously ladled treacle into it. It tasted like sweet tar then instead of just tar. She trickled threads of syrup over her fried bread and ate it while it was hot. They breakfasted with more efficiency than manners. Leftrin cleared the table, clattering the plates and mugs into a dish pan. 'Shall we go, then?' he invited her, and she responded with a nod.
They left the galley together, and he offered her his hand to disembark from the ship. As they had put out no gangplank, this required a small jump from the scow to the dock. Once she had landed safely, it seemed only natural to accept the arm that he offered her. As they strolled down the docks in the early morning light, he gestured to the boats they passed, telling her their names and a bit about each one. Tarman was the largest vessel by far. 'And the oldest,' he told her proudly. 'When they built him, they didn't spare the wizardwood. The river has eaten thousands of boats since he was launched, but Tarman takes the river, rocks and acid flows and snags, and just keeps on splitting the water.'
When they left the floating docks, it was to step from them onto a wide path of beaten earth. The ground gave strangely under her feet. 'It's a leather road,' he told her. 'It's an old technique. Layers of tanned hides over logs, and cedar branches and bark in the thick layer over that, then more hides and finally ash and then a layer of earth over all. The rot process is slowed and the wood-and-leather layers have some buoyancy. It doesn't last forever, but if they didn't do something, this road would be trodden to mud in a few weeks, and soon after that water would seep up and fill it in. May not look like much but it cost Cassarick a pretty penny to make it. And here we are at the lift station. Or would you prefer the stairs?'
There at the base of an immense tree was a spiral staircase that wound up and around the tree's trunk. She craned her head back and saw the lowest level of Cassarick above her. Beside the staircase as an alternative was a flimsy looking platform with a woven railing around it. A long woven cord with a handle dangled next to it. 'You pull the bell pull and if the operator is at work, he sends down the counterweight to lift you up. It costs a penny or two, but it's faster and easier than the staircase.'
'I think I prefer the stairs,' Alise decided. But she wasn't even halfway up before she regretted her decision. The climb was steeper than it had looked. The captain gamely accompanied her, grunting softly with each step. When she reached the first landing and looked around her, she suddenly forgot her aching legs.
A wide platform circled the tree's huge trunk. The vendor stalls that backed up to the trunk were just opening their canvas curtains. From the central platform around the trunk, a spider web of suspended boardwalks spread out in various directions toward other trees and the platforms that circled their trunks. Although the boardwalks had railings woven of vines, they sagged in the middle, and there were visible gaps in the planking. 'This way to their Traders' Hall,' Leftrin told her and putting her hand on his arm, he guided her out onto one of the walks.
Four steps out, she felt giddy. The planks thunked musically under their feet. Leftrin didn't bother with the flimsy rails and seemed unaware of the gentle swaying of the bridge. She glanced down, gasped at a glimpse of the earth far below her, then looked to the side and felt suddenly ill. The bridge sagged under their weight and she was stepping down the planking and certain that she was going to fall at any moment. Leftrin put his hand over hers on his arm. 'Look ahead to the next platform,' he told her in a low reassuring voice. 'Get the rhythm of it, and it's just like climbing stairs. Don't look down and don't worry about what isn't there. Rain Wilders have been building these for over a hundred years now. They're our streets. You can trust them.'
He spoke in a matter-of-fact way that wasn't condescending. He didn't think less of her for being afraid; he accepted it that she would naturally be apprehensive. Somehow that made it easier to take his advice. She firmed her grip on his arm and matched her stride to his, so that soon they were clomping along in rhythm. Suddenly, it was almost like a dance they were partnered in. They reached the lowest point of the bridge and then they were climbing up the gentle rise, the planks becoming a sloping ladder until they abruptly reached the next platform. She halted there to breathe, and Captain Leftrin paused with her.
'Only three more to go,' he told her, and although she felt a bit frightened, she didn't feel daunted by the prospect. Challenged, she thought. Challenged, but not afraid to take up that challenge.
'Well, let's go then,' she said.
She nearly lost her courage on the second bridge when they encountered a group of workmen heading in the opposite direction. She and Leftrin had to move closer to the edge to allow them passage, and the rhythm of their strides made the whole structure waggle like a friendly dog being petted. But by the third crossing, she had recovered her sensation of dancing with Leftrin. They reached their final platform with her slightly out of breath but feeling triumphant.
Cassarick had ambition. That was evident from the size of the Traders' Hall they had built all around the trunk of the largest tree she had visited yet. The platform that supported and surrounded it served as an esplanade. It circled both Hall and tree, and four staircases wound up from it to platforms in adjacent trees. Early as it was and dim as the light was this far below the treetops, sputtering torches still lit the walkways. Their journey had led them away from the riverbank, and less light from that open area penetrated the settlement. Alise felt that she had journeyed into a twilight city of fantastic people.
She had grown up in Bingtown among the descendants of the original Trader families who had settled there. She had always known of their Rain Wilds kin and respected the bonds between Rain Wilds and Bingtown. Only here in the Rain Wilds were the magical treasures of the ancient Elderlings to be unearthed. But living in the Rain Wilds and working in the buried Elderling cities exacted a toll on the folk who settled there. Almost all Rain Wilders had some disfigurement at birth, and it increased with each year of their lives. Sometimes it was a bit of scaling on the scalp or lips, or a fringe of wattled growths along the jawline. With age might come a change in eye colour and a thickening of nails; those were typical of the sorts of things one might see on a Rain Wilder who visited Bingtown. Even Captain Leftrin had his share of marks. The skin on the backs of his hands and on the knobs of his wrist was bluish and lightly scaled. Behind his bushy eyebrows and on the back of his neck, she thought she had glimpsed more scaling. It had been easy to ignore.
Here in Cassarick as in Trehaug, the majority of the Rain Wilders went unveiled. This was their city and if folk who visited here did not respect them, such folk were swiftly encouraged to leave. She had tried not to stare at the workmen who had passed them earlier. The backs of their hands and their elbows had been heavily scaled, and the scales had not been flesh coloured, but blue or green or shocking scarlet. One man had been completely hairless, scales like fine mail over his bared scalp, and outlining his brow and replacing his lips. Another had sported a heavy fr
inge of fleshy growths along his jaw and some that overshadowed his eyes, thick and floppy like the comb of a rooster. She had averted her eyes from them, grateful that keeping her balance on the galloping bridge demanded all her attention.
But now she was on a solid platform and it was difficult to know where to put her gaze. This early in the day, there were not many folk about but all were unmistakably marked as Rain Wilders. Many cast curious glances her way, and she desperately told herself that it was her attire, so different from what they wore, that drew their eyes. The men had been wearing almost a uniform of heavy blue cotton shirts, thick brown canvas trousers and loose canvas jackets. The boots they wore were heavy things, still clotted with dried mud from their previous day's work. They'd carried their lunches in canvas sacks. Thick gloves and woollen hats protruded from their trouser pockets. 'Diggers,' Leftrin had told her as they passed. 'Headed off for a long day's work underground. Cold down there, and damp, winter or summer.'
Now, as they passed a woman clad in soft leather trousers and a leather vest tufted with fur, Leftrin said, 'She's a climber. See how she goes barefoot for a better grip. She'll be headed up into the canopy today, to gather fruit or hunt birds.'
Just as she nearly decided that the women of Cassarick led hard, lean lives, two chattering girls passed them going the other direction. They wore morning dresses and were perhaps going off to call on a friend or to visit the early markets. Their flounced skirts were shorter than those currently worn in Bingtown, and showed off their soft brown shoes. They wore lacy little shawls and their hats were designed to look like large, softly folded leaves. She turned her head to look after them, and for a moment a familiar envy flooded up to drown her spirits. They looked so cheery and busy, chattering away together. When they came to a bridge, they linked arms and clattered across it together, whooping like hoydens when they reached the other side.
'What makes you sigh?' Leftrin asked her, and she realized that she was staring after them.
She shook her head, smiling tightly at her own foolishness, 'I was just thinking that somehow I skipped being that age, and I'll always regret it. I often feel that I went from being a girl to being a settled woman, with none of that giddiness in between.'
'You talk like you're an old woman, with.your whole life lived.'
A sudden lump rose in her throat. I am, she thought. In a few days, I'll go home and settle down to what I'll be the rest of my life. No adventures ahead, no changes to anticipate. Nothing to anticipate except leading a proper life. She swallowed and by the time she could speak, she had more appropriate words. 'Well, I'm a married woman with a settled life. I suppose what I miss is a sense of uncertainty. Of possibility waiting just around the corner.'
'And you're saying you never had that?'
She paused because the truth was somehow humiliating. 'No. I don't think I did. I think my life was more or less mapped out from the beginning. Getting married was a surprise for me. I didn't think I'd ever marry. But once I was a married woman, my life settled into a routine that wasn't much different from when I was single.'
He was silent for longer than was his wont, and when she glanced over at him, his mouth was strangely puckered as if he strove to keep words in. 'Just say it,' she suggested and then wondered if she was brave enough to hear whatever judgment he held back.
He grinned at her. 'Well, it's not polite to say, but if I were a man and married to a woman such as you, and she said to another fellow that her life as my wife wasn't much different from her life when she'd been single, well, I'd wonder what I was doing wrong.' He raised his eyebrows at her and whispered in a ribald tone, 'Or not doing at all!'
'Captain Leftrin!' she exclaimed, genuinely shocked. Then, when he burst out laughing, she was horrified at joining in.
When they both paused for breath he held up a warning hand. 'No. Don't tell me! Some things a wife should never say about her husband! And here we are, anyway, so our time for chat is over.'
They had reached the doors of the Traders' Hall. Each tall door was a single slab of black wood, twice as tall as a man. Leftrin pushed on one and it swung silently open.
The hall had no windows. There was an antechamber, lit with a single branch of candles that smelled like orange blossom. Leftrin didn't pause as he crossed the carpeted floor and went through yet another set of tall doors. Alise followed him, and found herself in a circular chamber. Tiers of descending benches circled a wide dais. On the dais was a long table of pale wood, with a dozen heavy chairs behind it. Only half of them were currently occupied. Suspended globes that looked like balls of yellow glass cast a golden light throughout the room. The scattered lights bent the shadows in the room in odd ways. The walls of the room were hung with tapestries. They were either of Elderling origin or very clever imitations. Her eyes snagged on them and she longed to beg for time to study every aspect of them.
But their abrupt entry had caused a stir among the six Rain Wilders seated at the table. Despite the early hour, they were formally dressed in their Trader robes. Each robe was of a different colour and design to indicate which of the original settlement families the Trader represented. Alise did not recognize any of them. The Trader families of Bingtown were different from those of the Rain Wilds, even though there had been substantial intermarriage for years. Close to the centre of the seating a woman with a lined face and a stiff grey brush of hair glared at them. 'This is a private committee meeting,' she announced. 'If you are here on Trader business, you will have to make an appointment and come back later.'
'I believe we were invited to this meeting,' Leftrin responded.
His use of 'we' was not lost on Alise and her heart leapt. He would do whatever he could to keep her here and privy to what was happening with the dragons. 'I'm Captain Leftrin of the scow Tarman. When I docked late last night, I was invited to call here "as early as possible" this morning. To discuss moving some dragons upriver, I believe. But if I'm wrong—'
He let the word hang and the woman's hands fluttered up in a gesture dismissing her previous protest. But before she could speak, the door behind Alise and Leftrin shut with an audible and angry thump. Alise turned, startled, and gasped in surprise. An Elderling woman, gowned all in silver and blue, stood there. Her eyes gleamed metallic in the golden light and her face looked like anger cast in stone. 'This is not a legitimate meeting, Captain Leftrin. As you can see, there are not enough members of the committee seated to authorize any action.'
'On the contrary, Malta Khuprus.' The woman who had spoken earlier held up a sheaf of paper. 'I have letters of authorization to act on the behalf of two members who are too occupied with business to attend today's meeting. I can cast their votes as I see fit. And if all of us here vote the same way, then we are a majority, with or without the others voting.'
'But you do not, I'll wager, have such a letter from my brother Selden Vestrit. And, Trader Polsk, as he represents the interests of the dragon Tintaglia, I do not see how you can make any sort of a binding vote without his presence.'
'He is only one vote. Whether he agreed with us or not, his vote would not change the outcome.'
'He represents Tintaglia's concerns. He speaks for the dragons. How can you finalize decisions about their fate without consulting him? The simple fact is that you cannot!'
The Elderling woman strode past them as she talked. Alise tried not to stare but could not help it. Everyone knew the story of Malta Vestrit. She had been involved with a failed kidnapping plot against the Satrap of Jamaillia. With him, she had been captured by pirates and ultimately she had been one of the forces to help forge a peace between Jamaillia and the Pirate Kingdom. But that was not what everyone remembered about her. She had been in close contact with the dragon Tintaglia just before she hatched from her case. Some said that was what had precipitated her change from ordinary Bingtown Trader girl to a woman who was obviously changing into an Elderling. Others said it had been a gift from the dragon. Both her fiance and her brother had been affected
as well, and they, too, had been present at the hatching of the dragon. All of them showed similar changes.
'We attempted to include Selden Vestrit in this meeting, but he is not here nor in Trehaug. And we have been told that we cannot expect his return for at least four months. By then, we will be venturing toward foul weather, and another long wet winter with dragons churning the grounds around Cassarick into a quagmire. We have to act now. We cannot delay any longer simply to hear the opinion of a single member of the committee.'
'You are acting now purely because he is away from the Rain Wilds and unable to intervene on Tintaglia's behalf.'
The grey-haired woman at the table looked beleaguered. Several of her fellows looked uncomfortable, but one at least expressed his annoyance by marching his fingers on the table's edge. A young man with a flash of orange scales on his high cheekbones was obviously angry. He gritted his teeth as if to cage furious words. The head of the committee spoke. 'You were with us when we went to speak to the dragons. You heard that they understood what we were proposing. You know that the largest dragon, the black one, agreed to our proposal to move them all to a better place. We even acceded to his demands for extra hunters to accompany the herd. Those hunters will be arriving any time now, and they will expect to leave immediately. Our meeting this morning is, in fact, to assure that we can meet the dragons' expectations. Captain Leftrin, we summoned you here in the hopes of securing you and your barge to escort the dragons and their hunters up the river.'
Alise had to admire how deftly the woman had shifted her conversation from Malta to Leftrin. She was still trying to understand how it all fitted together. The dragons were to be moved from Cassarick? Hunters would accompany them? And possibly Captain Leftrin's barge?
