City of Dragons: Volume Three of the Rain Wilds Chronicles

by Hobb, Robin

  “But it did not work that way, not entirely,” Malta agreed. She heard guilt in Jani’s voice. It was a familiar conversation as the older woman went over what she had negotiated and wondered how it had gone wrong. Malta reached over and picked up a pair of stockings. Slowly she rolled them into a ball. “Jani, it is not your fault. At the time, it seemed a brilliant solution, for them and for us. You bargained in good faith, and no one can fault you if it did not turn out as you planned. We cannot force them to join us. But we all know that eventually they will. Already the Rain Wilds have touched some of them, though not as heavily as it did the early settlers. Some of the Tattooed who came here as adults have begun to scale as they age, and their youngsters more so. Their children are being born with copper glints in their eyes and that sheen to the skin that speaks of pebbling later in life. Their children will be Rain Wilders whether they like it or not.” Malta set her feet firmly on the floor and stood up. Her lower back protested, and without thinking, she set her hands to her belly, supporting her growing child.

  Jani smiled. “As will your child, Malta Vestrit Khuprus.”

  Malta’s smile was more tenuous. She turned away hastily to drop the balled-up stockings in her case, then turned back to her wardrobe to look for a winter cloak to add to what she had packed. Tears stung her eyes, and she did not want Reyn’s mother to see them.

  Jani spoke quietly. “Sometimes, sharing a fear or sorrow can lessen it.”

  “Oh,” Malta said, striving for a casual note in her voice and failing as her throat closed on the words. “It was just something the midwife said yesterday when I went to see her.”

  “Koli is one of our best midwives. She has been helping with births for years.”

  “I know. She is just so blunt sometimes. About our chances. About what she thinks of us for even trying for a child.” Malta searched through the wardrobe and found the cloak she wanted. It was scarlet and lined with velvet, so soft against her skin. She held a fold of it to her cheek. “She said we can hope for the best, but we must plan for the worst. That we must choose now what we will do if the child is born breathing but so changed that survival is unlikely.” She tried to steady her voice. “If I wish, she can smother or drown our baby in warm water before she is exposed for the animals to devour. She can let us see it dead and say farewell. Or we can leave it to the midwife to whisk it away, to make her decision, and never speak of it again. If I choose that, we don’t have to know if the baby ever drew a breath or was stillborn.” Despite her resolution, her voice was trembling. “She said that only the mother has the right to make those choices. But I cannot, Jani. I cannot. Yet each time I see her, she presses me for answers.” Malta clutched the cloak to her as if it were a child about to be torn from her arms. “But I cannot.”

  “It’s her job,” Jani said softly. “Years of doing it have hardened her in some ways. Ignore her words. It’s her hands and her skills that we’ll be paying Koli for, not her opinions.”

  “I know.” Malta barely breathed the word. She didn’t want to think about what else the pessimistic old woman had said. She might be a skilled midwife, but she was also a mean and bitter old woman with no living offspring of her own. There were words so harsh she would not inflict them on her husband or his mother. “No right to try for a baby; his brother Bendir already has an heir. What need do you have of a child? You know the baby will be a monster. All your miscarriages and stillbirths have been monsters.” Such words were hard to ignore when the accusations were so true.

  Malta held back a sob. Stop being silly. Everyone said that being pregnant made a woman prey to her emotions. Focus on the task at hand. Packing. She forced herself to fold the cloak and set it in the trunk. She was going to go to Cassarick with her husband. And his sister Tillamon was coming along, to visit one of her girlhood friends who had moved. It would be a pleasant afternoon boat ride up the river. A nice day to enjoy getting out of the house for a time and having Reyn’s company for a full day. Choose a warm cloak; it will be windy and rainy on the river.

  Next to the red winter cloak’s hook hung another favorite, one that was black and embroidered with green and blue and red dragons in flight. It had been a gift from a weaver in Jamaillia in the days when she and Reyn had been guests of the Satrap of Jamaillia and honored by him as the “king” and “queen” of the Elderlings. Elderlings they might truly be; so Tintaglia the dragon had named them. But dragons were no more honest than humans and would say whatever pleased them at the moment. There were days when she doubted her Elderling status. Perhaps both she and Reyn and even Selden were simply changed by the Rain Wilds and merely more fortunate that in their cases the changes had imbued them with an exotic beauty. So Elderlings, perhaps. But never had they been king and queen of anything, save in the boyish Satrap’s fancy.

  After their “great adventure” in the Pirate Isles, after she had saved Satrap Cosgo’s sorry life more times than she could count, it had pleased him to present Reyn and her to his court as Elderling royalty. At the time, she had relished the attention and luxury he bestowed on them. Several harsh years of hardship had left her starved for pretty trinkets and lovely clothes and extravagant parties. But his honoring of them had gone far beyond that. The Jamaillian nobility had showered them with gifts and praise. Songs had been composed in their honor, tapestries and stained-glass windows were created to commemorate their visit, and exotic dishes of supposed Elderling delicacies were contrived. It had been a soap bubble illusion, a few months of everything she had ever imagined her life could ever be. Balls and dinners, jewelry and feasts, perfumes and performances . . . it still startled her that she and Reyn had both eventually tired of it and longed to go home to be wed and begin their life together. She drew the cloak out and folded it softly over her arm. The faded perfume of a long-ago ball rose from its soft folds, sweeping her back into a memory of a wild whirling dance, of looking up into the handsome face of the young man who would become her husband.

  The tears that had threatened her a moment ago were suddenly gone.

  “There’s that smile, the one that made my boy fall in love with you,” Jani said fondly.

  “Oh, I feel so foolish. One moment, my eyes are full of tears and the next I am floating with joy.”

  Jani laughed out loud. “You’re pregnant, my dear. That’s all.”

  “That’s all?” Reyn’s voice was full of mock outrage as he swept into the room, pushed along by a gust of wind. He slammed the door against winter’s chill thrust. “That’s all, Mother? How can you say that when for years, all we’ve heard is ‘That is everything! Make another little Khuprus, Malta dear! Replenish the family coffers with an heir or two!’ ”

  “Oh, I am not that bad!” Jani Khuprus exclaimed.

  “You make me sound like a brood cow!” Malta exclaimed.

  “Ah, but such a pretty little cow! One that will make us all late if she doesn’t finish her packing right away and waddle down to the boat with me.”

  “You, sir, are a beast!” Malta attempted outrage but spoiled it by laughing.

  “Mannerless boy,” his mother rebuked Reyn as she gave him a fond push. “Don’t you tease her! She has a fine baby belly, something to be proud of!”

  “And proud I am,” Reyn said, setting his hands gently to either side of the mound of Malta’s belly. His eyes gleamed with such tenderness that she felt a blush rise to her cheeks and his mother turned discreetly away as if what passed between them were too personal a thing for her to witness.

  “I’ll find a man to take the trunks down. You watch over her, son, and not just on the way down to the boat.”

  “I will. I always do,” he replied, and neither he nor Malta seemed to take much notice of the door closing behind Jani. Nonetheless, as soon as he heard the latch set, Reyn leaned in over her belly to set his mouth softly on his wife’s lips. He held the kiss, as tender and passionate as if they were still newlywed, until she broke away and leaned her head on his chest. He stroked her gleaming gold
en hair, and then let his hand wander to her brow where his fingers caressed the scarlet crest that marked her as an Elderling. She trembled at his touch and, murmuring a soft rebuke, moved her head away from his hand.

  “I know.” He sighed. “Not while we might hurt the baby or bring it too soon. I will wait. But I don’t want you to think I’m waiting too patiently!”

  She laughed quietly and stepped free of his embrace. “Then be patient now and let me finish choosing what I must take.”

  “No time,” he told her. Stepping to the wardrobe, he considered its contents for a moment. Then he darted swiftly in, seized a fat armful of clothes, turned, and deposited them in the traveling trunk. As Malta voiced a hopeless protest, he tucked them ruthlessly down and shut the lid on them. “There! All done! And now I will whisk you away. We will be taking the lifts down rather than the trunk stairs, and you know how slow they can be.”

  “I could still manage the stairs,” Malta insisted indignantly, but secretly she was glad of his thoughtfulness. She did not feel as agile as she usually did, and her feet were often swollen and tender.

  “Off we go, then. I’m sure I’ve put enough of everything in that trunk, and if not, there is the first one that was taken down to the boat this morning.”

  “That was just the baby’s things. Just in case he surprises us in Cassarick. And Tillamon? Is she packed yet?”

  “My sister is waiting for us at the lift.”

  Malta cast a longing eye at the other wardrobe, but Reyn seized her hand, tucked it firmly into the crook of his arm, and opened the door. From the set of his mouth, Malta decided it was time to pretend to be meek and wifely. She caught up only one extra cloak and swirled it around her shoulders as he led her out into the day.

  Not much sunlight reached the household level of the family tree even on a bright day. On gray winter days like this one, forest twilight was the rule. In the high treetops, a wind was battering the forest. She knew it only by the occasional flurries of leaves and needles that drifted down. Most of the trees that would shed their leaves for this season were already bared, but there were enough evergreen trees in this section of the Rain Wilds to shelter them from all but torrential rains.

  The lifts were a series of platforms with basket-weave sides that traveled vertically from canopy to earth, operated by stoutly muscled men working a system of lines and pulleys and counterweights. Malta did not enjoy using the lifts, but she no longer feared them as she once had. In truth, she had dreaded taking the long spiraling staircases that wound around the tree trunks and were the only alternate routes to the forest floor.

  Tillamon, cloaked and heavily veiled, awaited them. Malta wondered why but said nothing. Reyn, in his typically brotherly fashion, was not so discreet. “Why are you veiled as if for a trip to Bingtown?”

  Tillamon stared at him through a mask of lace. “To visit the lower levels now is almost like going to Bingtown. There are so many staring outsiders in the city now. And not all of us, little brother, are so fortunate as to have had our changes make us lovelier.”

  Malta knew the rebuke was for Reyn, not her. Even so, she repressed a squirm. Of late she had become more aware that she possessed everything that Tillamon had ever longed for. She had a husband and a child on the way. And she was undeniably beautiful. The changes the Rain Wilds had wrought on her had all been kindly ones. The fine scaling on her face was supple, the colors flattering. She had grown taller than she had expected, and her long hands and fingers were graceful. When she contrasted that to Tillamon’s pebbly face and the multiple dangling growths that fringed her jaw and ears, it was hard not to feel guilty at her good fortune, though none of Reyn’s sisters had ever seemed to resent her for it.

  She followed Tillamon into the lift and waited for Reyn to join them. Reyn tugged the cord. High above them, a lift tender rang a bell in response and from below she heard his partner’s answering whistle. For a brief time they dangled, waiting. Then, with a small hitch and a lurch of Malta’s heart, they were descending.

  The lift dropped more swiftly than she liked, and she found herself clutching Reyn’s arm. She was grateful when they reached the bottom of the first lift’s run and stepped out and then into the next lift. “Slower, please,” Reyn warned the tender sternly, and the man bobbed his head in response. He was Tattooed, she noted, and watched how his eyes lingered curiously on Tillamon’s veil. Tillamon noticed also, for she turned away from him to gaze out into the forest. She spoke only after the lift was in motion. “Sometimes I feel that I am the stranger here, when they stare at me like that.”

  “He is ignorant. He will learn better,” Reyn said.

  “When?” Tillamon replied acerbically.

  “Perhaps when he has a child and it is born changed by the Rain Wilds,” Malta said quietly.

  Reyn turned startled eyes on her, but Tillamon gave a bitter laugh. “What will he learn then? To kill the children who can never be pretty? But I was born pretty. My changes came on me early, and now I walk in death. There will never be a marriage for me, never a child. He stares at me rudely, but my own people look away. Perhaps I should be grateful that at least someone sees me.”

  “Tillamon! I see you. I love you.” Reyn was aghast. He set a hand on her shoulder, but she did not turn into his embrace. Her voice was muffled by her veil.

  “You love me, little brother, but do you really see me? Do you see who I am becoming?”

  “I don’t know—” Reyn began, but the lift had arrived at its next stop, and Tillamon lifted a lace-gloved hand to silence him.

  Malta felt a wave of despair rise in her. She could think of nothing to say to Tillamon, but as they moved to the next lift, she quietly took her hand.

  As the lift lurched into motion, Reyn began, “Tillamon, I—” but his sister quickly said, “You know, we should not speak of troubling things now. While Malta is with child, she should think only calm and pleasant thoughts.” Tillamon gave Malta’s hand a brief squeeze before releasing it.

  It was clear that Tillamon wished to change the direction of the conversation, and Malta was happy to help her. “Look. Down there, through the trees. Is that our boat?” It was a long, narrow craft manned by many rowers, designed to defeat the river’s current as it moved upstream. Aft, there was a small cabin for passengers. A long deck for freight ran down the middle of the ship. At the very back of the vessel, a brawny man leaned idly on the sweep that was also the tiller for the ship. He looked bored.

  “That’s the River Snake. And yes, she’s waiting for us.” There was relief in Reyn’s voice. He, too, preferred to think of pleasant things. Perhaps, for a short time, she could allow him that.

  Tillamon asked, “Is that one of the new boats I’ve been hearing about? The Bingtown ones that can withstand the river water as well as a liveship?”

  “No, she’s Rain Wild made and crewed. But you may get a glimpse of one of the Bingtown ships before we return. I’d heard one was making a tour of the Rain Wild settlements, to show how impervious it is to the acid and also how swiftly it can move, even in shallower channels. That’s what the Jamaillian boat builder is calling them: impervious boats. That one is supposed to make a stop in Trehaug and then go up to Cassarick. You know that’s been a choke point in the movement of goods: the locks we built for helping the serpents reach Cassarick are mostly destroyed now; the winter floods took them out. And the deep draught liveships can’t navigate past that stretch of the river. A freight vessel that can run the shallows and doesn’t melt after half a dozen trips would revolutionize how we trade up and down the river.”

  “And they are made in Bingtown?”

  “Yes. That one, at any rate. A Pirate Isles fellow came up with the formula for the hull coating, so it will be a joint venture. Some Jamaillian boat builder is financing the undertaking, I’m told.”

  “Oh.” Tillamon’s voice went flat suddenly. “So once the ships start plying our waters, there will be more Bingtowners and Tattooed and Jamaillians than ever
in the Rain Wilds.”

  Reyn looked startled. “I . . . suppose there will.”

  “Not an improvement,” Tillamon said decisively, and she stepped off the lift briskly as it halted on the landing platform.

  A final lift carried them all the way down to the ground and released them onto the wooden walkway. Walking on solid ground felt strange now, even if Malta was glad to be off the lift. Reyn took her arm, and Tillamon followed as they hurried toward the waiting boat. Malta heard a thud behind her and turned to see a faster freight lift arrive with her trunk on board. The servant who had brought it hefted it to his shoulder and followed them. “I hope they have saved room on the freight deck,” she said, and Reyn replied, “We are the only passengers today, and they didn’t have much of a load. There will be plenty of room.”

  Stepping out of the forest’s eternal shadows and into full sunlight was almost as much of a shock as setting foot on earth had been. I’m truly becoming a Rain Wilder in all things, Malta thought. She glanced down at the finely scaled skin on the back of her hand. All things. The wind off the river struck her, and she wrapped her cloak more tightly.

  The captain of the River Snake had freight to deliver and was eager to be on his way. Malta, Reyn, and Tillamon were scarcely in the passenger cabin before he was having his crew untie from the docks. In a matter of moments, the rowers had the long ship free and headed out into the river. Malta sat down gratefully on one of the padded benches that lined the walls of the cabin, but Tillamon stood at the aft window, looking out longingly. “It has been so long since I’ve been away from home to go anywhere. Ages since I felt full sunlight on my face.”