Rain Wilds Chronicles

by Robin Hobb

  Alise swayed in Leftrin’s arms, and he tightened his embrace to keep her from falling. “Alise, I thought you had gone apart to take some rest! How could you risk yourself so? We are not Elderlings, to fearlessly touch the stones!”

  “How could I not?” she asked him faintly. “How could I not?” She laughed brokenly. “The music, Leftrin. There was music, in one place, and dancing. I wanted to forget what I came for and just dance. Then I thought of you and I wished you were with me . . .” Her voice trailed away.

  He tipped her face up to look into her eyes. “Alise?” he begged. “Alise?” Her gaze shifted to meet his. She was still there. A bit of life came back into her face. Sedric hovered nearby, with Sylve at his side. He knew they wanted to help, but he could not surrender her to them. He suddenly saw them as Elderlings, impossibly different from himself and the woman he held in his arms. He spoke hoarsely by her ear. “Why did you do it? It’s dangerous. You know it is! Regardless of what Rapskal may say or the others do, we know what memory stone can do to us. Many of the Rain Wild folk have drowned in memories. Perhaps Elderlings can use such stones without threat, but we cannot. I know you wish to know all about the city, but touching the stone is something you must leave to the others. What could make you do such a foolish thing?”

  “It wasn’t for the city,” she said. He felt her pull herself together. She stood on her own now, but chose not to leave the circle of his arms. “Leftrin. It’s about the baby, little Phron. And Bellin’s babies, never born. About—” She paused and took a long breath, then plunged into it. “About your baby that I would want to bear someday. You heard what Mercor has told us. If we live near the dragons and the Elderlings, then we will change also. Skelly will change. Our children will continue to be born changed, and for those of us not Elderlings with dragons, they will die young. As we will. If there is another way, we have to discover it, my dear. No matter the cost.”

  Her words drenched and drowned him like a flash flood. He hugged her close to him, his mind whirling with possibilities that had never seemed quite real to him before. “I’ll clear the well,” he promised her. “I’ll get that bucket up and out of the way. It’s as much as I can say for certain, but I’ll do it.”

  “It’s the missing piece,” she said into his chest. “Of that I am certain. Silver is what is needed. You will be restoring full magic to the Elderlings.”

  Now there was a frightening thought. He looked around at the keepers, marking how they had drawn near to hear her words. All these youngsters with magic. What would they do with it? Use it wisely? He shook his head at such a foolish hope.

  Malta had stood, and Reyn had trailed her as she approached them. Her lips were chewed and chapped, her hair like straw. The babe in her arms mewed endlessly. “Thank you,” she said. “For all the ways you have tried to help us, thank you.” Leftrin did not doubt her sincerity, but pure weariness and unadulterated sorrow sucked the heart from her words. She might have been thanking Alise for a cup of tea instead of thanking her for risking her sanity.

  Leftrin stepped back, holding Alise by the shoulders. “Bellin!” he barked suddenly. “Take her down to the ship. Get a hot meal into her and see that she goes to sleep in my stateroom. I want her out of the city for a night at least.” As Bellin approached, he looked at the well with new eyes. “I’ll clear it,” he promised her again.

  Alise muttered a protest, but she did not resist as the deckhand took her arm and led her away. As they walked away from him, Leftrin heard Bellin’s husky words. “Oh, Alise. If only it can be. If only it can be.”

  The “fishing” consumed the rest of the day. The line was long and the ghost light of the jewelry barely enough to see anything by. Sedric took a fruitless turn at the effort. A hundred times, a thousand times, the hook slid past the bucket’s handle without catching on it. Keeper and crewmen, all took turns. All failed. When Sylve finally hooked it, she gave a single whoop of excitement.

  “Keep it taut!” Carson barked at her, but he grinned as he said it. Everyone gathered in a circle around her held their breaths. The Elderling girl grasped the line firmly, holding the tension while Carson slowly took up the slack on the other side of the pulley. “Got it,” he told her, and very slowly she let go of the rope. She backed away from the well’s edge and then stood up, arching her back. Lecter came without asking to take up the line behind Carson. “Slow and steady,” Carson told him, and he nodded.

  All saw the strain as the two men pulled. The rope creaked, and Leftrin came to add his strength. “Stuck in the dried muck,” Carson guessed breathlessly and Leftrin grunted in agreement. The rope creaked more loudly, and then Sylve gave a small shriek as all three men abruptly stumbled back.

  “You’ve lost it!” she cried. But she was wrong. The line swung slowly as it took the weight of the bucket in full.

  “Keep the tension on it.” Carson advised them. “Go slow. We don’t know how strong the bail is on the bucket. Try not to let the bucket touch the wall; it might jar it loose. Then we’d have it all to do over again.” Sedric watched the keepers trade their grips, hand over hand, as the ancient bucket slowly rose toward the surface.

  The sun was toward the horizon when the flame jewels finally emerged and the handle of the bucket was seized with eager hands. “It’s plain damn luck that line held,” Leftrin exclaimed as they lifted it over the lip and onto the ground. The keepers crowded round. It was, as Rapskal had speculated, large enough for a dragon to drink from, lovingly crafted from dark wood lined with beaten metal.

  “Silver!” Tats had gasped.

  Sedric stared at it, unable to speak. Carson came to rest a hand on his shoulder and stare with the others.

  It was obvious the bucket had long rested at an angle at the bottom of the well. There was a slope of packed silt in the bottom of the bucket. Draining away from it and gathering itself into an uneven puddle on the bottom was Silver. Sedric stared at it, his breath caught in his chest. Yes. He understood now what Mercor had said about the stuff, that it was in the blood of dragons. For that was where he had seen it before.

  The unwelcome memory burst into his mind. He had crouched in the darkness, full of greed and hope, and cut the dragon’s neck and caught the running blood. She had not been Relpda then, his gleaming copper queen. She had been a muddy brown animal dying on the riverbank, and his only thought had been that if he took her blood and sold it, he could buy himself a new life in a distant land with Hest. He had trapped her blood in a bottle and left her to her fate. But he remembered now how the dragon’s blood had swirled and drifted in the glass bottle, scarlet on silvery red, always moving before his eyes.

  Yes. There was Silver in dragon’s blood, for he watched it now as it stirred and moved like a live thing seeking an escape. Such a shallow puddle to evoke such awe in all of them! It drew itself together in a perfect circle and stood up from the bottom of the old bucket like a bubble of oil on water. There it remained in stillness, and yet silver in every variant of that color moved and swirled through it. “It’s beautiful,” Thymara breathed. She stretched out a hand, and Tats caught her by the wrist.

  Malta and Reyn stood side by side. The babe fell suddenly silent.

  “It’s deadly,” Tats reminded them all. The young keeper looked around at the circle of faces that hemmed the bucket and its contents. “What do we do with it?”

  “For now? Nothing,” Leftrin declared sternly. He met Malta’s stare with one of his own. “We brought it up. There’s Silver down there, though this is scarce enough to wet a dragon’s tongue. What little we have here, we save until the dragons’ return, in hopes they can use it to save the baby. Do any disagree?” His eyes roved the assembled keepers.

  Sylve looked shocked as she said, “What else would we do with it? All of us want the young prince to live!”

  Sedric concealed his surprise. Prince. So they thought of the sickly child, and so they had risked all for him. Leftrin cleared his throat. “Well then. I say we take no more risk
s this evening, but set this aside and all of us go take some rest.”

  She could feel the light fading from the day. Her last day? Probably. Pain lived in her, a fire that did not warm her. Some little scavenger, braver than most, tugged at her foot. Tintaglia twitched, a reflex that hurt now, and it scampered off into the rushes to wait. Not for long, she thought. Not for long.

  She felt him land not far from her. The thud of a grown drake vibrated the mud beneath her, and the wind of his wings washed over her. She smelled his musk and the fresh blood of his latest kill. It stirred hunger in her, but suddenly even that sensation took too much effort. Her body released her from that need. Nothing left to do but stop.

  She felt him coming closer.

  Not yet. It was hard to focus the thought at him. I’ve had enough of pain. Let me die before you take my memories.

  Kalo came closer and she felt him stand over her. She braced herself. He would finish her with one bite to the back of her neck, at the narrowest part, where her skull joined her spine. It would hurt, but it would be quick. Better than feeling the ants that were already investigating her wounds.

  Blood from his jaws dripped down, falling on her face and on the side of her mouth where her jaw hung ajar. She tasted it with the edge of her tongue. She drew a sharper breath. Sweet torture. Her eyes flickered open.

  The big drake stood over her. Light touched him, gleaming him black and then blue. A riverpig hung limp from his jaws. The blood dripping onto the side of her mouth was warm. He had brought his kill here to devour while he waited for her to die. The smell of it was intoxicating. She moved her tongue in her mouth, tasting life one last time.

  He dropped the pig right in front of her.

  Eat that.

  Her incredulous response had no words.

  Eat that. If you eat, you might live. If you live, I might find a mate worthy of my size. Kalo wheeled away from her. I will make a kill for myself. I will be back.

  She felt the sodden earth under her shudder as he bounded into flight. Stupid male. She was too far gone for this. It was of no use. She opened her jaws slightly and the fresh blood ran over her tongue. She shuddered. The dead pig was so close to her, reeking of warm blood. She could not lift her head. But she could snake it along the ground on the length of her neck and open her jaws wide enough to close them around its water-gleaming hindquarters. As she closed her jaws, her teeth sank in and blood flowed into her mouth. She swallowed it, and her hunger woke like a banked fire does to wind. She lunged, snapped, and tipped her head up to swallow. A short time passed, and she lifted her head. She had dragged the pig closer with her first assault on it, and now she could scissor off chunks and gulp them down. Blood and life flowed back into her.

  Pain came with vitality. When the pig was gone, she shuddered all over. Small creatures that had crept closer under cover of darkness suddenly scattered back into the rushes. She rolled onto her belly and then gave a roar of pain as she lurched to her feet. She walked to the river’s edge and then out into the icy water. Ants and beetles that had come to feast on her wounds were washed away in the water’s chill rush. She felt the acid’s hard kiss and hoped it would sear some of the lesser wounds closed. She groomed awkwardly, too swollen and stiff to reach some of her injuries. And the worst one that still held part of the damned Chalcedean arrow forced her wing out at an odd angle. There was less pressure from it since the second piercing, and it seemed to be draining still. She forced herself to move the wing and felt a rush of liquid down her side. She screamed her fury at the pain to the night, and night birds lifted from the trees and a passing troop of monkeys fled shrieking from the river’s edge. Good to know that something still trembled in fear of her. She staggered from the water and found a less trampled place among the tall rushes and fern fronds and lay down to sleep. Not to die. To sleep.

  That’s good to know. His thought touched her before she felt the wind of his wings sweep past her. He landed heavily, and the gelid earth quaked beneath him. She smelled fresh blood on him; so he had made another kill and fed himself.

  Tomorrow morning, I will hunt meat for you again. He stretched out his body casually beside hers and she knew a moment’s unease. This was not the way of dragons. No dragon brought down prey for another, nor did they sleep in proximity to each other. But his eyes were closed and the stentorian breath of his sleep was regular. It was very strange to have him so close to her. Strange, but comforting, she thought to herself, and closed her eyes.

  Day the 6th of the Plough Moon

  Year the 7th of the Independent Alliance of Traders

  From Erek Dunwarrow, former Keeper of the Birds, Bingtown, presently residing in Trehaug

  To Kerig Sweetwater, Master of the Bird Keepers’ Guild, Bingtown

  Master Sweetwater, I send this sealed missive by a bird released from my wife’s own hand from her coop here in Trehaug. I write of a matter of great concern to all of us.

  I trust you to remember that I was your apprentice once, and that from you I learned my standards of honesty and integrity. I am now married to Detozi Dunwarrow, long known as an excellent and honorable bird keeper here in Trehaug.

  This day as I approached Detozi’s coop to deliver her noon meal, I heard and then saw a bird in distress, a messenger bird tangled and hanging by his foot. I climbed out into the smaller branches of the pathway and was able to cut him free. Imagine my surprise to recognize a bird I had myself raised in Bingtown, one that was subsequently sent as an unmated male to the coops in Cassarick. Although he was unbanded, I assure you that I recognize this bird. In my care, he was known as Two-Toes and was unusual for hatching with a missing toe. Even more shocking was when I confirmed what I recalled from the red lice plague. This bird had been listed as one of those who had perished in the Cassarick coops.

  The message fastened to his leg was not in a Guild tube, the bird was badly fed and in poor health, and the careless manner of the fastening for the message tube was responsible for his becoming entangled.

  I believe he was sent from Cassarick to Trehaug clandestinely, and only by happenstance have I intercepted him. Please do not suspect me of ill doing; I have concealed the bird in my home until I can bring him back to full health. He deserves that at least. I have preserved the illegal message packet unopened. I beg you to tell me to whom I can entrust it here, for I fear to hand it over to the very villain who has constructed this deceit.

  If you find fault at all with how I have handled this, I beg that all blame fall upon me and not Detozi. This is none of her doing, but only mine.

  Erek Dunwarrow

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Blood Price

  Selden jerked awake to the pounding on the door. Shaking with alertness, he rolled from the divan to the floor and then, surprising himself, to his feet. He had no time to wonder if he was getting better or if his fear was overriding the weakness of his body. He heard the key turning in the lock.

  “Lady Chassim, we must enter, on the Duke’s orders. He wishes the dragon man brought to him immediately!” A man shouted harshly as the door swung open.

  The lady herself strode from her bedchamber, an unfastened robe hastily thrown over her nightdress and a stone vase balanced over her head in her two hands. The set of her mouth said she would battle first and then find out why. Selden had taken to sleeping with a stick of kindling on the divan beside him. His was a feebler weapon than hers, but he gripped it tightly, intending to defend her to the death this time.

  The two guardsmen fell back at the sight of her fury. “Lady, please, we are sorry to disturb you. Our orders are absolute. We must take the dragon man to the Duke. His need is dire and he cannot wait longer.”

  Dizziness swooped through Selden’s brain at those words, and the stick of wood tumbled from his nerveless hand. Here was death, barging in the door in the middle of the night. “I am not ready,” he said, to himself rather than the guardsmen.

  “He is not!” Chassim snapped out her agreement. “Look at him.
He coughs and spits gobs of yellow mucus. He has a fever, and his piss is the color of old tea. He is thin as an old horse, and he shakes when he tries to stand. You will take this to the Duke? Sick as he is, you will take this diseased creature into his presence? Woe betide you when you are his death!”

  The younger of the two guardsmen blanched at her words, but the grizzled older guard only shook his head. He looked haggard, as if sleep had long abandoned him. “Lady, you know well we are dead if we return without him. Disobeying the Duke’s order will only ensure that we are tortured to death along with our families. Stand back, Lady Chassim. I have no desire to handle you roughly, but I will take the dragon man now.”

  Vase in hand, she stepped boldly between Selden and his abductors. She set her feet and he knew she would fight them. He staggered in a wobbly circle around her and into their arms before she realized what he was about. “Let us go quickly,” he told them. They seized him by the arms, and as they hastened him out the door, he called over his shoulder, “For a few days of respite, may Sa bless you.”

  “Sa, the god that fucks itself,” the younger guardsman sneered.

  The heavy vase landed with a crash on the floor just behind them. “You didn’t lock her in?” the older man exclaimed in horror, but there came the sound of a slamming door. “Run back and lock it,” the guard told his junior in disgust. He kept his grip on Selden’s upper arm and half dragged him until the youngster caught up with them to seize Selden’s other arm.

  “You sick like she said she was? Are we going to catch your disease?”