by Robin Hobb
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He’d expected the hunter to praise him, she realized. To give him the credit for saving the keepers. “And of course you were very helpful to Thymara and me when Sintara brought us here,” Alise interjected, hoping to soothe his ruffled feathers. He flicked a glance at her that was like a slap. It suddenly reminded her of Hest and how annoyed he would get, even in a social situation, if she spoke during what he deemed “a man’s conversation. ” Her sympathy for him evaporated. Almost vindictively she added, “Thymara has been doing most of our providing. I’ll speak to her now about going out. ”
She turned and walked away from them, surprised by the strength of the anger washing through her. He isn’t Hest, she reminded herself fiercely and, in doing so, realized the true source of her anger. In a short time, the man she had come to love would be here beside her again.
And her husband still stood between them.
THREE SHORT BLASTS of the horn!
The first time he heard it echoing back to him, he hadn’t dared to hope. Sounds traveled strangely across the wet lands of the Rain Wilds. Leftrin had not seen Carson for some hours. He had vanished around one of the gentle bends in the immense river. Then Tarman had been delayed when Davvie had spotted exactly what Leftrin had most feared to see: a body tangled in the driftwood and debris along the side of the river.
It had been Warken, and he had not drowned but been smashed against the flotsam in the river. Carefully they had taken up the body of the young keeper, wrapped him in a fold of canvas, and laid him on the deck of the barge. Every time he passed the body, it seemed an ill omen of things to come. How many more draped bodies would weight Tarman’s deck before this day was out?
So he had been cautious when he first heard the three short blasts clearly. He had Davvie signal back and then had asked Tarman to make haste. Even as the barge picked up speed, he reminded himself that the three short blasts could signify anything; Carson could have discovered more bodies just as easily as survivors. But as the boat rounded the bend and came in sight of the tiny camp and its smoldering signal fire, his heart had leaped. He had squinted at the small figures in the shade of the great trees and tried to make out who might be there.
Sooner than he had a right, he saw her. There was no mistaking the sun glinting off that head of glorious red hair. He’d given a roar of delight and felt an answering surge of speed from his ship. “Easy, Tarman! We’ll be there soon enough!” Swarge had bellowed, and the ship had reluctantly slowed. Not even a liveship was immune to every danger the river offered. Now was not the time to discover a submerged rock or a waterlogged snag.
It was hard to remain on board and wait patiently for Carson to begin the slow process of ferrying the keepers back to the barge. He dared not let Tarman go nosing in among the debris. The push and wake of the bigger ship could easily disrupt the fragile unity of the mat and send the keepers plunging into the cold river water. No. No matter how he longed to somehow fling himself across the distance that separated them, he stood firmly on the deck of his ship and waited. He muttered imprecations when he saw that Carson’s first passengers were Greft and Jerd and Sylve.
Despite his disappointment, he was still able to welcome them warmly aboard. All three looked a bit worse for wear, but the girls both hugged him and thanked him for finding them. He sent them off to the galley for hot fish soup to warm them up. “Get some food in your bellies and you’ll be your old selves. But I have to warn you, go easy on the fresh water! Share a bucket and a rag for now. Until we get rain or the river goes down so we can make a sand well, we’re going to have to conserve. Off you go now!”
And the girls had gone, obedient and grateful, while Leftrin watched Carson heading back to the floating mat for more passengers.
“Captain. ” Greft’s officious voice was an unwelcome distraction.
“What is it?” he said, and upon hearing the impatience in his own voice, he added, “You must be as weary and hungry as the others. Why don’t you get yourself some soup?”
“Soon enough,” Greft replied brusquely. “First, we have to lay our plans for what will happen next. Three keepers and three dragons are still missing. We have to discuss plans for either continuing or abandoning the search. ”
Leftrin shot a look at the younger man. “I’ll make it easy for you and tell you my plans, son. First, I’m sorry to tell you that only two keepers are still missing. We found young Warken dead in the river only a few hours ago. And second, we’ll continue our search for at least another day and perhaps two. Once we have the rest of the keepers aboard, Carson will set out to see if he can find anyone else. We’ll either hold here with the dragons, or leave a few keepers here with the dragons and follow Carson more slowly. That just may depend on what the river does. The water is going down fast. I think whatever broke loose upriver has just about passed us by now. ”
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“Captain, in my opinion, there isn’t much point in our delaying our journey. You’d only be wasting time and precious fresh water. What you’ve told me about Warken saddens me, but it confirms what I’ve feared since we first pulled ourselves out of the water. I think the others are dead. And I feel that…”
“Go feel whatever you’re feeling in the galley, lad. On the Tarman, the only opinion that counts is the captain’s, and oh, looky, that’s me. Go on with you, now. Eat something. Sleep. You’ll more clearly remember who I am and who you are, and that you’re standing on the deck of my ship. ”
His words were considerably gentler than how he would have addressed a deckhand who so far forgot himself as to speak to his captain like that. Besides, he could see Alise stepping into Carson’s tippy little boat and he wanted to watch her come aboard without distractions.
He saw the youngster’s jaw snap shut and marked the baleful look in his eye. Well, he’d get over it. And if he didn’t, he’d just get smacked down a bit more firmly the next time. Leftrin didn’t watch him leave. His eyes were locked on the boat, which Carson was paddling crosscurrent toward them.
Abandoning all pretense, he left the top of the deckhouse and descended quickly to the deck. He stood by the railing and waited for her, grinning stupidly. When the small boat was alongside and she looked up at him with her eyes so gray in her poor water-scalded face, his heart ached for her. “Oh, Alise!” No other words came to him. Her red hair was a tangled tumble down her back. She still wore the copper gown he had sheathed her in. Thank Sa for Elderling artifacts. He leaned over the railing, and as soon as he could, he put his hands lightly on her wrists as she climbed up the ladder.
And when he helped her over the railing and onto the deck, he didn’t let her go. He folded her in his arms and held her gently against him, mindful of how sore her skin must be but also knowing, “I’m never, ever going to let you get that far away from me again, Alise. Sa be praised that you’re here and safe. I’m not letting you go again. I don’t care what anyone says. ”
“Captain Leftrin,” she said softly. She leaned her brow against the side of his jaw. Was it an accident? Did he imagine the quick brush of her lips against his throat? A shiver, a flush of heat, ran over him and he stood perfectly still, as if a rare bird had deigned to alight on his shoulder. She pulled herself slightly back from him and looked up into his eyes. “It’s so good to be safe with you,” she said. “I knew you’d come for us. I knew it. ”
Could she ever have said a more touching thing to him? He was so pleased by her words that he felt both foolish and extremely manly at the same time. He grinned fiercely and held her closer for a moment. Then, before she could request to be released, he set her free. Never did he want her to feel trapped by him.
Her next words brought him firmly back to earth. “Do we know what befell Sedric? Was he lost overboard during the wave?”
“I am so sorry, Alise. I don’t know. I thought he was in his cabin. I’d gone ashore to…check on things. I was there when the first wav
e hit. ” He had to think fast now. No one knew he’d gone to meet Jess. No one connected him to the hunter at all. In his heart, he knew he’d killed the man. He’d given him a bad enough beating that he could not possibly have survived his time in the water. He’d killed him, and he couldn’t regret doing it. That didn’t mean he wanted to let anyone else know that he’d done it. It was his secret, and he’d take it to the grave with him. “It was sheer luck that the Tarman found me in the dark and took me aboard. ” Another lie. Didn’t he owe her better than this? He plowed ahead with his tale. “Sedric might have been on deck and got washed overboard when the water hit. Or he might have been ashore. All I know is that when I went looking for him, he wasn’t here. And neither were you. ”
“And it’s my fault, for dragging him into this. ” She spoke the words quietly but firmly, as if it were a fault she had to confess.
“I don’t see how that’s true,” he offered her.
“I do. ”
The depth of guilt in her voice unnerved him. “Now, Alise, I don’t think there’s any future in following that thought. We’ve been looking for him, and we’re going to continue looking for him. We’re not giving up. As soon as we’ve settled what we’re doing with the dragons, we’ll make our plans to continue the search. We found you, didn’t we? We’ll find Sedric, too. ”
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“Captain?” It was Davvie.
“What is it, lad?”
“Everyone coming on board is really thirsty and hungry. How much food and water do I let them have?”
The ugly reality of that question reminded him that he was a captain as well as a man. He gave Alise a final apologetic look and turned aside from her, saying, “I have to deal with the survivors right now. But we’re going to keep looking for Sedric. I promise. ”
SHE NOTICED HE didn’t promise to find Sedric. He couldn’t. Her relief at being found, her joy at seeing Leftrin and knowing he was safe, had passed in a matter of heartbeats. Any joy, any relief seemed selfish to her just now as she wondered where Sedric was and what sort of condition he was in. Dead? Dying as he clung to a log somewhere? Alive and helpless somewhere on the river? He wouldn’t know how to take care of himself, not in this sort of situation. For an instant, she saw him beside her, dapper and clever, smiling and kind. Her friend. Her friend whom she had dragged away from all he enjoyed and held dear, and brought to this savage place. And it had destroyed him.
She made her way to her cabin and was grateful to close the door behind her. Soon enough, she’d have to deal with everyone again. For now, she needed a few moments to find herself. Habit made her strip off her clothing. The long Elderling gown still looked perfectly intact. She gave it an experimental shake. A fine shower of dust fell from it; no mud clung to it, no snag or tear showed in the fabric. She dragged it over her hands and it flowed like a molten fall of copper. Such a marvel! A gift far too rich for a married woman to accept from a man not her husband. The thought ambushed her, and she thrust it ruthlessly aside.
The gown had swiftly dried once she was out of the river and had kept her warm during those rough nights. And somehow, where it had touched her body, the scalding from the river was far less. Suddenly self-conscious, she raised her hands to her face and then touched her wild hair. Her skin felt rough and dry, her hair like a bundle of straw. In the dimness, she looked at her hands. The skin was reddened, her nails snagged and rough. She felt a double shame, not just that she looked so awful but that she could care about how she looked at such a time.
Feeling shallow, she nonetheless found scented lotion for her hands and soothed her face with it. She dressed in some of her now well-worn clothing and then spent time working at the snarls and tangles in her hair. Then a fresh wave of despair struck her. She had successfully lost herself in the tiny routine of tidying up her self. Now that it was finished, her loss and guilt roared back. For a brief moment, she tempted herself with going to the galley for a hot cup of tea and a piece of ship’s bread. Hot tea would taste so good after her days without it.
Sedric had no tea.
It was a sudden silly thought, but it brought tears to her eyes. A trembling ran through her and then was still. “I don’t want to think about it,” she admitted aloud. When she had been stranded, she’d made herself believe that he was safe on board the ship with Leftrin, even though she had no reason to suppose that Leftrin or the Tarman were intact. She’d hidden her fear from herself. And now that she had to face it, she was still burying it, still hiding behind chapped hands and rough hair and cups of tea. Time to face it.
She left her room and walked quickly to Sedric’s cabin. The keepers were mostly aboard now; she could hear the buzz of talk from the galley. She passed Davvie, the ship’s boy, staring disconsolately out over the water. She stepped around him and went on, leaving him to his thoughts. Skelly was talking to Lecter, both their faces etched with sorrow. His eyes lingered on the girl’s face. She heard Skelly ask him something about Alum. Lecter shook his head, the spikes along his jaw quivering. She slipped past them quietly.
She tapped on Sedric’s door and, half a heartbeat later, cursed herself for stupidity. She opened the door and went in, closing it behind her.
Had absence sharpened her awareness? Everything in the room seemed wrong. It smelled of unwashed clothing and sweat. The blankets were rucked about like an animal’s nest, the floor littered with discarded garments. Untidiness was very unlike Sedric, let alone this sliding into grubbiness. Her guilt hit her with a double sharpness. Sedric had been suffering from dark spirits for days, ever since he had poisoned himself with bad food. How could she have left him alone so much, even if he had been unpleasant and cold to her? How could she have visited this room for even a few minutes and not admitted how he was declining? She should have tidied things for him here, kept it as clean and bright as she could. The signs of his despondency were obvious in every part of the room. For one shocking moment, she wondered if he had deliberately done away with himself.
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Knowing it was ridiculous, a mercy performed too late, she gathered his unwashed garments and carefully folded them, setting some aside to launder. She shook out his bedding and re-made his pallet. A promise to herself—a foolish promise—that he would return and be relieved to find a tidy room waiting for him. She took up the bundle he had been using for a pillow and shook it to fluff it.
As she did so, something fell to the floor. She stooped in the darkness and groped until her fingers found a fine chain. She lifted it and held it to the light. A locket swung from it. It gleamed gold and flashed even in the dim light. She had never seen Sedric wear it, and the moment it had tumbled from its hiding place in his pillow, she knew it was something private. She smiled even as her heart ached. She’d never suspected that he had a sweetheart, let alone that she’d gifted him with a locket. With a sudden wrench, she understood his reluctance to be stolen away from Bingtown, and his agony over being gone so long. Why hadn’t he told her? He could have confided in her, and then she would have understood his driving need to return. His melancholy of the last week suddenly shone in a different light. He was heartsick. With her free hand, she caught the locket as it swung.
She had not intended to open it. She was not the sort of woman who pried and spied. But as her hand closed on the locket, the catch sprung and it opened in her hand. With an exclamation of dismay, she saw that a lock of gleaming black hair was now escaping from its golden prison. She opened the locket the rest of the way to tuck it back in, and then stopped. Gazing up at her from the locket’s confines were features that she recognized. Whoever had painted the miniature had known him well, to catch his face at just that moment before he burst into laughter. His green eyes were narrowed, his finely chiseled lips pulled tight enough to partially bare his white teeth. The painting was the work of a skilled artist. She looked down at Hest smiling up at her. What did it mean? What could it mean?<
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She sank down slowly to sit on Sedric’s bed. With trembling fingers, she poked the curl of black hair, tied with a single golden thread, back into the locket. It took her three tries before it would stay snapped shut. And when it was closed, the mystery only enlarged. For engraved on the outside of the golden clam-shell was a single word. “Always,” she whispered to herself.
She sat for a long time as the afternoon sunlight outside the small window slowly died. There could be but one explanation. Hest had had the locket made and entrusted it to Sedric to give to her. Why had he done such a thing?
Always. What did that word mean to her, coming from Hest? Had he feared to lose her? Did he actually care for her, in some thwarted bizarre way that he could not confess to her face? Was that what this locket was supposed to tell her? Or had it been intended as a threat, that “Always” he would keep a hold on her? No matter where she went, no matter how far, or how long she stayed away, Hest held her leash. Always. Always. She looked at the locket in the palm of her hand. Carefully, she lifted the chain and puddled it in a golden coil around the closed locket. She shut her fist around it, thrust her hand inside Sedric’s pillow and dropped it. Carefully, she set the pillow down on his pallet.
Her eyes roved around the small place where she had kenneled Sedric. Dim and small and crowded. Untidy. Completely unlike his personal chambers at their home in Bingtown. He loved high ceilings and tall windows open to the breeze. His desk and shelves were always a model of organization. Hest’s servants knew to stock his room daily with fresh flowers, that he loved fragrant applewood burning in his small fireplace and hot tea served on an enameled tray. Scented candles in the evening and mulled wine. And from all that, she had snatched him away and condemned him to this. “Sedric, I will make it up to you. I promise. Just be alive. Just be where we can find you. My friend, I’ve treated you badly, but I swear it was not with intent. I swear. ”
She stood on her tiptoes to open the small windows to the evening breeze. As soon as they had water for washing, she’d see that his clothes were laundered and hung fresh in his wardrobe. It was all she could do. She refused to consider the futility of promises made to a dead man. He had to be alive and he had to be found. That was all there was to it.
