City of Dragons: Volume Three of the Rain Wilds Chronicles

by Hobb, Robin

  “So. That’s settled. Now. Here’s our day. We’ll do a bit of shopping and then stop for a cup of tea. There’s a new place that I’ve heard is marvelous. Teas from beyond the Pirate Isles! They grind their spices right at your table, and pour the boiling water right into little pots, just the right size to hold two cups of tea. Trader Morno told me all about it, and I simply must see it for myself. Then we can visit your tailor.”

  “As you wish,” he complied contentedly. The prospect of being among the first to try the new transport was appealing. And he had no wish to book passage until he had conferred with his own rumormongers. His first question of them would be, why had his father heard these things before he had?

  Because Sedric hadn’t been there to bid him pay attention and prattle endlessly at breakfast about what he thought was most important for Hest to know. With a scowl, he banished that thought.

  The Great Market of Bingtown had been built, not on a square, but on an immense circular plaza. It had changed a great deal since the Chalcedeans had made a very enthusiastic effort to invade and destroy the city all on one night. Hest liked some of the improvements. The tall, old-fashioned warehouses on the waterfront had blocked the view of the sea. Many of those had burned in the attack, and the Council had seen fit to decree that the newer warehouses be built with a lower profile. Now the Great Market had a wonderful view of the harbor. Many of the shops and businesses that had been destroyed or damaged in the battle had rebuilt since then, and the last few years of recovering prosperity had meant that the Great Market now had a fresh new look.

  Hest had been born in Bingtown. As he stepped out of the carriage and looked around the market prior to helping his mother down the steps, he reflected that in his childhood and youth, he had taken the town for granted. It was only when he was a young man and old enough to travel that foreign cities had shown him the superiority of his home.

  “This way,” his mother announced decisively, and he was content to follow her through the thronged marketplace. He smiled. Bingtown was a place where the entire world came to trade, for only in Bingtown could one find the magical and wondrous artifacts of the Elderlings. Merchants who came to Bingtown to trade knew to bring their very best trading items if they wished to acquire Elderling magical items. As a result, the stocks in the stores of Bingtown were varied and rich, and the Bingtown Traders enjoyed a lifestyle that was unrivaled in the known world. That suited Hest admirably.

  He enjoyed travel and the exotic pleasures that foreign cities might offer, but he had always been glad to return to Bingtown and its comforts. It was by far the most civilized city, for here trade was of the utmost importance, and a bargain was a bargain, forevermore. He was born of one of the old Trader families and expected to inherit his family’s wealth and their vote on the Traders’ Council. The best goods of the world made their way to his door, and he had the fortune to buy what he chose, hampered only by his father’s tightfisted ways. But his father would not live forever. One day he would own it all, and the wealth would be at his disposal. He would inherit it all . . . as long as he provided an heir to satisfy his father’s concern that there be yet another Finbok after Hest.

  “Did you say something?” His mother looked over his shoulder at him. She had paused at one of the tiny market stalls that crowded the alleys between the proper shops.

  “Just a slight cough.” He smiled at her and then, with an effort, kept the expression on his face. Just past her shoulder, his Chalcedean assailant mingled with the crowd. He was not looking their way; he appeared to be considering the purchase of some freshly fried fish, but the man’s profile was unmistakable. Also unmistakable was that the fellow was alive and apparently well. And he should have been neither. Hest had hired the best to deal with him and paid him well. Annoyance at being cheated of his money was a distant second to the rising fear in his heart.

  He took his mother’s arm firmly. “What about that tea shop?” he asked her and tugged at her as he had not since he was a child. “Please, let’s visit it first, and then ramble through the stores.”

  “Oh, you are such a boy, still!” She turned to smile at him, obviously delighted at his demand. “We’ll go then. Come. The tea shop I want to try is this way, right near the intersection of Prime with Rain Wild Street.”

  Hest quickened his pace. He longed to look back, to see if the man had seen him and was following. But he didn’t dare. That glance back might be just the motion that would call the assassin’s attention to him. His smile was getting stiff. “You know, I haven’t been on Rain Wild Street in a while. Let’s shop there a bit, before we have our tea.”

  “Well, aren’t you a weathervane today? But we can begin on Rain Wild Street, if you wish,” she agreed easily.

  He wanted only to leave the Great Market and put some distance between himself and the Chalcedean. It had come to him suddenly that the warren of small and elegant shops that lined Rain Wild Street was the ideal place for them to disappear. They entered Rain Wild Street and as he let his mother slow to a saunter to consider the various shops and wares, he glanced back the way they had come. No sign of the man. Excellent. But he’d still have words for his so-called assassin. The man had promised him a quick quiet job. He’d want a bit of his money back for that failure. It was a good thing Hest himself had a keen eye and was quick thinking enough to get himself out of danger.

  His nemesis evaded, he let the magical merchandise of the Rain Wild Street shops distract him. This was the street that Bingtown’s fame was founded upon. Here was where one came to buy goods from the Rain Wilds: perfume gems with their eternal fragrances; wind chimes that played endless, never-repeating melodies; objects made of gleaming jidzin; and hundreds of other magical items. Here, too, one might find the one-of-a-kind discoveries, often at one-of-a-kind prices. Containers that heated or chilled whatever was put into them. A statue that awoke as a babe every day, aged through the day, and “died” at night as an old man, only to be reborn with the dawn. Summer tapestries that smelled of flowers and brought warmth to the room when hung. Items that existed nowhere else in the world and were impossible to duplicate.

  And scrolls and books, of course. He’d lost count of how many he’d had to pay for when Alise had found them here. That damned woman and her obsession with dragons and Elderlings! Look at all the trouble she had caused him. But, if she truly had made a claim on the new city, well, perhaps she would have been worth all the nuisance she had put him through.

  Hest and his mother wandered the street of shops, exchanging comments on the merchandise. His mother bought a ring that changed with the phases of the moon and a scarf that had a cool side and a warm side. Hest quailed at the prices she paid, but he did nothing to dissuade her. Eventually, they found her tea shop and enjoyed an excellent repast together. The tea was as good as she had said it would be, and Hest arranged that a supply of several varieties be delivered to his home. Refreshed, they began to shop in earnest. They visited several tailor shops, and Hest allowed his mother to make all decisions about what was purchased for him. In each case, the tailor knew from past experience to wait to hear from Hest as to changed fabrics, colors, and cuts. He was most particular about his clothes, and as he did not often spend much time in his mother’s company, she never expected to see him wearing the clothing she had selected.

  They visited a new cheese market she had heard of, and this time both of them made purchases to be sent to their homes. His mother then insisted that they go shopping for “gifts for that fickle woman you married” and demonstrated her disdain of Alise in her choice of gaudy scarves; cheap, sparkly jewelry; and hats more suited for a dowager than a woman of Alise’s years. Again, Hest gave way to her in all things. He had no intention of taking the trove of trinkets with him. Alise did not deserve any gifts. He would go to the Rain Wilds, assert his rights to her, and be damned to anyone or anything that stood in his way. He had an absolutely legal claim to her. She was his wife, and he intended to assert the marriage contra
ct that they had both signed. He’d put an end to her foolish declaration of freedom and regain his right to share in whatever claim she’d made to the city. That was all there was to it.

  “Don’t grind your teeth, dear. It’s a most unsettling noise,” his mother observed.

  “I suppose I’m just a bit weary. Shall we go home, then?”

  She had her carriage drop him at his own door. He went in to discover that some of his purchases had already been delivered. He sent the tea and the cheese off to the kitchen, with a message that he wished a pot of hot tea prepared for him immediately. He went to his study, composed a list of the various changes for each tailor, and called one of his servants to deliver those. Annoying to do all these small organizational tasks himself, but Redding was hopeless at them and Ched would have stood at attention, asking questions about each detail. Not like Sedric, who had often known his mind before Hest knew it himself. Stupid Ched.

  A tap at the door was Ched with the tray of tea and some sweet biscuits. “And I should like to remind you, sir, that the healer will be dropping by later today to see how your hand is.”

  “Fine. Leave me.”

  The brief winter day was ending, and the rain that had threatened all afternoon began to fall. He poured himself a cup of the new tea and took it to the window to look out on the garden. Draggled, brown, and depressing: he pulled a cord and the curtains fell. He sought his favorite chair by the fire and sipped the tea. The flavor was good but not as excellent as it had been in the market. There was an undertone to it, a sweetness that was not altogether pleasant. He sipped more and then shook his head. The idiot cook had spoiled it, added honey or something. He lifted the lid on the pot and smelled it; yes, there was something else there. Suddenly, he had a foul taste in the back of his throat.

  He was scowling when there was yet another rap on the door.

  “Enter!” he cried, and when he saw it was Ched, he ordered immediately, “And take this back to the kitchen and let the cook know that the cost of the tea he has spoiled will be taken out of his wages. Have him brew it again, in a clean pot, and add nothing but the tea I purchased.”

  “Of course, sir.” Ched bowed and set a small parcel on the edge of the desk as he took up the tray. “This just arrived for you, and the courier said he was told it was most urgent that you open it immediately. Something about it spoiling. Oh. And here’s a package from the tea vendor as well.”

  Ched was already moving toward the door. Hest scowled. The new package was probably the rest of the cheese he had ordered. He should make him take it directly to the kitchen. And more tea? Had they doubled his order by mistake? His stomach gave an unhappy rumble as the door closed behind Ched.

  Hest picked up the small unmarked package that Ched had said was so urgent. Far too tiny to be cheese; crumpled paper was wrapped carelessly about something small and tied with string. As he fought with the knots on the string, he glanced at the additional tea. It was wrapped nicely in a lovely blue paper, and the wax seal bore the merchant’s stamp. Not at all like the earlier package of tea . . .

  An ear tumbled out of its wrappings. Hest gave a cry of mingled horror and disgust and stepped back from his desk. Then a terrible fascination pulled him in for a closer look. It was bare of earrings, but the multiple piercings remained. Only one man this ear could have belonged to. Reflexively, he dropped the crumpled paper in his hand. Spidery writing marred the inside of it, he saw. He forced himself to flatten it and read the missive there.

  You’d best find your slave and my merchandise. Don’t think your ears or your life are any safer than your hireling’s were. Did you enjoy your tea? At any time, I can kill you. Take this as a foreshadowing of what will become of you if you continue to defy me.

  A terrible cramping tore at his belly, and he fell to his knees, retching. The room spun. “Poisoned,” he gasped. “Poisoned.”

  But there was no one to hear.

  Day the 7th of the Fish Moon

  Year the 7th of the Independent Alliance of Traders

  From Erek, Trehaug

  To Reyall, Acting Keeper of the Birds, Bingtown

  A private note to you, nephew. How strange to call you that!

  The Master of the Birds here seems to have finally recognized that perhaps I know a thing or two about the care and feeding of pigeons. Yesterday, he offered to allow my keeper rating to be transferred here to Trehaug. I am quietly thinking of accepting his offer. Although Detozi puts on a brave face about it, I know she has been dreading the move to Bingtown. And I will admit I find this birdhouse city far more charming and interesting than I expected to!

  But if I accept this position here, then we must recognize that it will leave my spot in Bingtown empty. And I have the right to nominate a journeyman who should step up to care for my birds.

  That would be you, of course.

  Send me a private message to let me know what you think of this. If you accept the post, you would be expected to stay there in Bingtown indefinitely.

  Remember, none of this is settled yet, so not a word to anyone. And think well before you let your answer fly to me.

  Your uncle, Erek

  Chapter Fifteen

  STRANGE BEDFELLOWS

  “I’m here and ready to listen.” Leftrin folded his hands on top of the galley’s scarred tabletop. He tried to remember if Bellin had ever before asked to speak to him privately. He didn’t think so. He tried to be calm but feared what she might tell him. Was she ill? Was Swarge ailing and trying to keep it to himself? Both were sturdy folk. The thought that one of them might be threatened alarmed him, not just for his friends but for his ship. The crew of a liveship tended to stay aboard for a lifetime. Losing any one of his crew would unsettle Tarman badly. Leftrin tried not to jump to the worst conclusion, but when Bellin quietly latched both the doors to the galley and brought mugs of coffee to the table, dread roiled in his belly.

  “I’ve got two things to tell you,” she said without preamble. “Neither is any of my business, and maybe one of them isn’t your business, either. But what happens on Tarman’s deck affects all of us, and as a member of the crew, I feel I’ve a right to speak out. Maybe a duty to speak out.”

  Fear lurched through his bones. “Is someone sick?” he demanded.

  “Ha!” The laugh burst out of her. For an instant, she grinned, and she kept her smile as she said, “Some call it that, and as I’ve felt it myself, I won’t disagree. Seen you catch that sickness, too, not so long ago.”

  “Bellin,” he warned her, and she dropped her smile.

  “Captain, Hennesey is in love. With Tillamon Khuprus, a woman far, far above him. Thought you needed to know that, as captain. I don’t know what Reyn Khuprus might think of his sister dallying with a common riverman. We’re a tight crew here, and even in the hard times, we’ve all pulled together. So when trouble tries to come on board, well, I think we all need to shove him off before he sets foot on the deck.”

  Leftrin stared at her and then transferred his gaze to the black surface of his coffee. He tried to think. This was the last piece of news he’d ever expected to receive. Hennesey in love? That was bad enough. Hennesey sniffing after a woman, a passenger on his ship, was even worse. Especially a well-born woman of a house that had just financed their resupply.

  He took a breath and spoke heavily. “I’ll take care of it.” It was his task and he knew it. He just wished he knew how to approach it, what tack to take. First, he’d sound Hennesey out, he supposed. If it was just his pecker leading the way, that would be one thing, something that Leftrin wouldn’t hesitate to crush. But if Hennesey was losing his heart . . . He thought of how Alise had made him feel, and he recalled too how sternly Sedric had spoken to him, forbidding him from loving her. It hadn’t stopped him.

  “There’s something else to consider, Captain. She likes him back. Really likes him. I saw her sitting with Skelly on the deck late last evening. They both looked of an age in that light, and when I came up to join them, t
hey sounded of an age. Talking about boys.” Bellin shook her head and smiled fondly. Then, with a sigh, she added, “And that brings me to my second thing we got to talk about. Skelly.”

  Leftrin made as if to speak, but Bellin held up a hand. “Captain, you promised to hear me out. I know she’s your family. She’s my family, too. It doesn’t look like Swarge and I will ever get a baby of our own. That girl, she’s in both our hearts. And we’ve been talking about her of a night, more than once, and we don’t see this going anywhere good for her. We know what she hopes. She wants that Trehaug family to break her engagement now that maybe she won’t be your heir. But if that happens, and she flies off to that Alum boy, well, that’s not going to end good. To put it plainly, he’s an Elderling now, and she isn’t. He isn’t going to come aboard and learn this ship and work it. He has to stay with his dragon. And she might think she could walk off Tarman’s decks and be happy ashore, but she won’t. For a month or two, she might. But in the long run—”

  “I know,” Leftrin said, cutting in abruptly. He lifted weary eyes. “Do you think I haven’t thought of all that, Bellin? I have. I was hoping she’d have a chance to see her fiancé when we were in Cassarick, that perhaps that spark might kindle. She’s young. It may be that what she feels for Alum is just an infatuation. We’ll see. But that, too, I’ll take care of.”

  She tipped her head and appeared to be on the cusp of saying something more. Then she gave him a curt nod. “I know you will, Cap. You take good care of all of us, and Tarman, too. I don’t envy you right now. But I know you’ll do whatever has to be done. Or said.”