Dragon Keeper Free Edition with Bonus Material

by Robin Hobb

  Sedric spoke, and the gentler tone of his voice took Leftrin off guard. “Look, man. I’m not blind. If there’s a man on board this ship who is unaware of your infatuation with her, well, then he’s a man with no senses and no heart. Your crew knows, your hunter friends know. Knowing Alise as well as I do, I can also see that she is venturing onto dangerous ground. You’re a man of the world, out and about, meeting all sorts of women. But perhaps you’ve never met someone as sheltered as Alise has been. She went from her father’s house to her husband’s. He was her first and only beau. In some ways, she and Hest are well matched. He’s wealthy, he provides for all her needs, and that includes giving her the materials and the time for her precious studies. She had never met a man like you. To a Bingtown lady, you probably seem a bit larger than life. If your admiration for her tempts her to step outside the bounds of society, she will be the one to pay the cost, not you. To her, the shame and the shunning. Possibly the divorce that will send her, irrevocably shamed, back to her father’s household. He’s not a wealthy man. If you continue to pursue her, even if she doesn’t fall as your conquest, people will hear of it. You could ruin her life, send her back to live in reduced circumstances without the scholarly pursuits she has come to love. I don’t mean to sound harsh, man, but are you worth it? Will you continue this dalliance, to her ruin? You’ll walk away; forgive me if I say that all know the way of sailors in these matters. But she will be crushed.”

  Sedric spoke his piece and turned away from Leftrin, as if giving him a chance to think. Two of the dragons were awake now and lumbering down to the water. Sedric stared at them as if fascinated, as if he’d forgotten the man beside him.

  Anger vied with horror inside Leftrin’s chest. His face had first flushed and then drained of blood. He was not a man who was faint of heart or body, but Sedric’s words sickened him. Was he right? Was there any way this would not end in disaster for her? He mastered his emotions and spoke.

  “I doubt there’s any man aboard this ship who is bound for Bingtown, let alone prone to gossip about a lady. The only exception is you, and if you’re her friend, as you claim to be, you won’t say ugly, untrue things about her. I have no intention of disgracing the lady. And I think you wrong her when you suspect she would betray her husband.” That last he felt was true, but oh, how he longed that she would at least consider it.

  “I am Alise’s friend. If I weren’t, I’d have kept to my words and left her on this ship while I went back to Bingtown. But I knew that if I did, she’d be ruined. The only reason I’m here is to safeguard her reputation. You can’t imagine that I’m enjoying this little misadventure! No. The only reason I’m here is for Alise. I want to protect her. Her husband is a close friend as well as my employer. So you might, for a moment, consider what an untenable position you are forcing me into. Do I respect Alise’s dignity and refrain from reprimanding her? Or do I respect my employer’s dignity and challenge you?”

  “Challenge me?” Leftrin was shocked.

  Sedric spoke quickly. “That’s not what I’m doing, of course. I don’t think I need to. Now that I’ve come to you and explained the situation in civil terms, I’m sure you’ll see that there is only one solution.”

  He paused, as if he expected Leftrin to fill in his silence. He tried. Despite his efforts at control, his voice went deep with fury and despair. “You want me to stop speaking to her, don’t you?”

  Sedric tucked his chin and widened his eyes, surprised that Leftrin didn’t see the obvious. “I’m afraid that, at this stage and in these close quarters, that would be inadequate. You need to order one of your hunters to take one of the keeper’s small boats and transport Alise and me back down the river to Trehaug.”

  “We are nearly thirty days upriver of Cassarick,” Leftrin pointed out. “And one of those small boats wouldn’t hold half your luggage, let alone you and Alise and all your trappings.”

  “I’m aware of both those things,” Sedric replied briskly. Leftrin was watching his face. He thought the corner of his mouth almost twitched into a smile. “Traveling downriver, with the current, the little boats go much faster. I heard the hunters talking about it yesterday. I suspect that Alise and I would have to spend a dozen nights camping out before we reached Cassarick. From there, we could make proper travel arrangements to reach Trehaug and then home. As for our belongings, well, they’ll have to remain on board for now. We’d travel light, and rely on you to ship our things to us in Bingtown when you finally return to Trehaug. I’m sure we could trust you to do that.”

  Leftrin just stared at him.

  “You know it’s the right thing to do,” Sedric urged him quietly, and then added, like a twist of the knife, “For Alise’s sake.”

  A long wailing cry of anguish from the shore rose to crack the sky.

  “HE WAS BETTER last night!” Sylve insisted. Red-tinged tears were streaming down her cheeks. Thymara winced at the sight of them, knowing well how much such tears hurt. Perhaps the fear of that pain was the only thing keeping her own eyes dry. She knelt by the little copper dragon. He had eaten last night, the first really large meal he’d taken since they’d fed him the elk meat a couple of nights ago. But unlike the other dragons, who had put on flesh and gained muscle since their trek began, the copper one had remained thin. His belly still bulged from what he had eaten last night, but Thymara could have counted his ribs. At the top of his shoulders and along his spine, some of his scales looked as if they were slipping loose from his hide.

  Tats stood up from examining the dragon’s muzzle. He put a comforting arm across Sylve’s shoulders. “He’s not dead,” he told her, laying her fear to rest. But in the next breath, he took that comfort from her. “But I think he will be dead before the day is out. It’s not your fault!” he added hastily as a Sylve drew in a sobbing breath. “I think you just came into his life too late. Sylve, he didn’t have much of a chance from the start. Look how disproportionate his legs are to the rest of him! And I caught him eating rocks and mud the other night. I think he has worms in his gut; look how swollen his belly is while the rest of him is skinny. Parasites will do that to an animal.”

  Sylve made a choking noise. She shrugged off Tats’s touch and walked away from the group. Other keepers were coming to join them, forming a circle around the downed dragon. Thymara bit her lips tight to keep from speaking. Some callous part of her wanted to ask Tats where Jerd was. After all, she was the one who had volunteered to help him with this dragon. Sylve had promised to help with the silver, but the soft-hearted girl had ended up involved with both failing dragons. And if this copper died, it would devastate her.

  “What’s wrong with him?” Lecter asked as he hurried up.

  “Parasites,” Rapskal responded wisely. “Eating him up from the inside, so he gets no good from his food.”

  Thymara was a bit surprised by the coherency of his remark. Rapskal saw her looking at him and came to stand beside her. “What are we going to do?” he asked her, as if it were up to her.

  “I don’t know,” she said quietly. “What can we do?”

  “I think we should make the best of it, and go on,” Greft said. His voice was not loud, but his words carried to everyone. Thymara glared at him. She still had not forgiven him for the elk. She hadn’t raised a public fuss about it, but she had avoided speaking to him or Kase or Boxter. She watched them, watched how Greft assumed leadership and tended to push the other keepers around, but hadn’t said anything openly. Now she lifted her head and squared her shoulders, preparing to take him on.

  Sylve abruptly turned back to face them all. Her tears had stopped, but they’d left red tracks down her face. “The best of it?” she said thickly. “What is that supposed to mean? What can be ‘best’ about this?”

  Silence thick as a blanket had fallen over the gathering. Sylve stood, her shoulders lifted and her small fists knotted. All waited to hear what Greft would say. For the first time since Thymara had met him, she saw him hesitant. He surveyed his li
steners. It was strange to see his human tongue dart out to lick his narrow scaled lips. What was he looking for? Thymara wondered. Acceptance of his leadership? Willingness to follow him as he made “new rules” for them?

  “He’s going to die,” he said quietly. Thymara saw a scream gather on Sylve’s face; she held it in.

  “And when he dies, his body shouldn’t go to waste.”

  “’Course not,” Rapskal, breaking the silence that the others held by tacit consent. His matter-of-fact boyish voice in contrast to Greft’s controlled and mature speech made him sound foolish as he voiced what everyone else was thinking. “The dragons will eat him to get his memories. And for food. Everyone knows that.” Rapskal looked around at the other keepers, nodding and smiling. Slowly the smile faded from his face; he seemed puzzled at their stillness. Thymara concentrated her attention on Greft again; he had an exasperated look on his face, as if what Rapskal proposed should seem obviously foolish to all of them. But when he spoke, there was a note of caution to his words, as if he hoped someone else would speak for him.

  “There may be a better use for his body,” he said, and waited. Thymara held her breath. What was he talking about? He looked around at all of them, daring himself to speak. “There has been talk of offers for—”

  “Dragon flesh belongs to dragons.” It was not a human who spoke. Despite his great size, the golden dragon could move quietly. He towered above them, his head lifted high to look down on Greft. The keepers were parting to let him advance as if they were reeds giving way to the river’s flow. Mercor strode majestically past them. He looked, Thymara thought, magnificent. Since their journey had begun, he had put on weight and muscle. He was beginning to look the way a dragon was supposed to look. With the muscling, his legs looked more proportionate. His tail seemed to have grown. Only his broken-kite wings betrayed him. They were still too small and frail-looking to lift even a part of him.

  He bent his long neck to sniff at the copper dragon’s body. Then he swiveled his head to stare at Greft. “She’s not dead,” he told him coldly. “It’s a bit early to plan to sell her flesh.”

  “She?” Tats asked in consternation.

  “Sell her flesh?” Rapskal sounded horrified.

  But Mercor didn’t reply to either comment or the murmur of words among the keepers that followed them. He had lowered his head to sniff again at the copper. He nudged her hard. She did not respond. As the dragon slowly swung his head to study all the keepers, his scales flashed in the sun. His eyes, gleaming black, were unreadable to Thymara. “Sylve. Stay beside me. The rest of you, go away. This does not concern you. It does not concern humans at all.”

  Thymara could almost see the girl drawn to the dragon. His voice was compelling, deep as darkness and rich as cream. Sylve walked to him and leaned against him as if taking comfort and strength from him. She spoke shyly. “May Tats and Thymara stay? They have helped me care for Copper.”

  “And me,” Rapskal announced, reckless as ever. “I should stay, too. I’m their friend.”

  “Not now,” the dragon announced with finality. “There is nothing for them to do here. You stay to be with me. I’ll watch over this dragon.”

  There was a subtle force to his words; Thymara felt not just dismissed but pushed, as if she were a child being ushered out of a sickroom. Without deciding to do so, she turned and found herself walking away. “I have to check on Skymaw,” she explained to Tats, as if to excuse her departure.

  “I felt it, too,” he whispered.

  “Sintara.” Behind her, Mercor spoke the name. A shiver ran down Thymara’s spine, a sudden knowing she couldn’t deny. His rich voice vibrated through her. “The dragon you serve is named Sintara. I know her true name, and I know she owes it to you. So have it.”

  Thymara had halted in her tracks. Beside her, Tats paused, looking at her with a puzzled face. She felt as if her ears were blocked, her eyes dimmed. A storm raged somewhere, just beyond her senses. Sintara was not pleased with what Mercor had done, and she was letting him know it.

  Mercor laughed humorlessly. “You can’t have it both ways, Sintara. The rest of us realized that right away. None of us has held back our names, save those poor souls who cannot remember that they have proper dragon names.”

  Rash as always, Rapskal spoke into the pause. “Does Heeby have a dragon name?”

  To Thymara’s surprise, the great gold dragon took the boy’s query seriously. “Heeby is now Heeby. She had made the name hers as you gave it to her. It remains to see if she will grow into it, or find herself limited by it.”

  Thymara desperately wanted to ask about the injured silver dragon, but did not have the courage. Sometimes, she reflected, it might be easier to be Rapskal, without the sense to be frightened of anything.

  Mercor had lowered his nose to the copper dragon. He gave her a nudge, then a stronger push. The copper didn’t move. Mercor lifted his head and regarded the fallen dragon with his bright black eyes. “We will have to remain here until she either rises or dies,” he announced. He looked around himself gravely and let his gaze stop on Greft. “Leave her alone here. I will be back shortly.” Then, “Come, Sylve,” he beckoned her and strode off toward the water. His heavy clawed feet left deep tracks. Soon water would seep up to fill them.

  MORNING HAD COME and grown strong. Alise could tell by the squares of sunlight that fell in her small chamber from the tiny windows set high in the wall. She tried again to muster her courage to leave her room, and once again sat down at her little desk instead. She had to go outside soon. She was hungry and thirsty and she needed to empty her chamber pot. Instead, she folded her arms on the desk in front of her and then rested her forehead on them. She stared into the small darkness her arms enclosed. “What am I going to do?” she asked herself.

  No easy answer came to her. Outside, the deckhands would soon be casting loose and pushing the barge off the muddy bank. Doubtless by now the dragons had set out and their keepers in their flotilla of small boats would be following. Another day of travel up the river awaited her. Ahead of her were vistas of open river, tall trees, and the slice of sky overhead that sometimes seemed like a different sort of river. Every day was a new adventure for her. There would be new flowers perfumed with unfamiliar fragrances, strange animals that came down to the river’s edge or rose from its depths to leap glittering into the sunlight. Never had she imagined that the Rain Wilds would be so rich with life. When she had heard of the river and how it could sometimes run white with acid, she had expected the lands to either side of it to be deserted wastelands. To the contrary, she found herself encountering all sorts of trees, plants, and animals that she had never imagined existed. The fish and creatures in the water that had adapted to its varying acidity astounded her. Of the birds alone, there were hundreds. And by sight or song, Leftrin seemed to know them all . . .

  And again, her errant thoughts had circled back to him, to the very man who was at the root of all her problems.

  No. That wasn’t fair. She couldn’t blame him. It was her own fault she was so taken with him. Oh, she knew he was infatuated with her; he was an honest soul. He hid nothing from her. His affection for her and interest in her were conveyed in every glance, in every word he spoke to her. An accidental touch of his hand against hers was like a leap of lightning from earth to sky. Feelings, physical sensations she had thought long vanished from her life, were awakening violently and rolling through her like groundshaking thunder.

  Last night, when he had been showing her how to refasten the bowline, she had feigned incompetence at the simple knot. It was a schoolgirl’s trick, but the poor, honest man had been completely deceived. He’d stood behind her, with her in the circle of his arms and taken her hands in his to guide them through the easy motions. Heat had flushed through her, and her knees had actually trembled at his closeness. A wave of dizziness had washed through her; she had wanted to collapse to the deck and pull him down on top of her. She’d gone still in his loose embrace, praying
to every god she’d ever heard of that he would know what she so hotly desired and act on it. This, this was what she was supposed to feel about the man she was joined to, and had never felt at all!

  “Do you understand it now?” he’d asked her huskily. His hands on hers pulled the knot firm.

  “I do,” she’d replied. “I understand it completely now.” She hadn’t been speaking of knots at all. She’d dared herself to take half a step backward and press her body to his. She dared herself to turn in the circle of his arms and look up into his whiskery beloved face. Cowardice paralyzed her. She could not even form words. For a time that was infinitely brief and forever, he stood there, enclosing her in a warm, safe place. All around her, the night sounds of the Rain Wilds made a soft music of water and bird and insect calls. She could smell him, a male musky smell, “sweaty” as Sedric would have mocked it, but incredibly masculine and attractive to her. Enclosed by his embrace, she felt a part of his world. The deck under her feet, the railing of the ship, the night sky above her, and the man at her back connected her to something big and wonderful, something that was untamed and yet home to her.

  Then he had dropped his arms and stepped back from her. The night was warm and muggy, the insects chirred and buzzed, and she heard the night call of a gnat-chaser. But it had all seemed separate from her then. Last night, as now, she knew herself for the mousy, scholarly little Bingtown woman that she undoubtedly was. She’d sold herself to Hest, prostituted out her ability to bear a child for the security and position that he had offered. She’d made the deal and signed on it. A Trader was only as good as his word, so the saying went. She’d given her word. What was it worth?