by Robin Hobb
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She replied quietly. “I know all about his offers to buy such things. ”
He looked down again. “I contacted the merchant. I told him where I was going. He supplied me with what he thought I would need. Specimen bottles and preservatives. A list of the most desirable parts. ” He lifted his chin suddenly and said stubbornly, “I accompanied you on this expedition determined to harvest those parts. With them, I intended to make my fortune, and then to persuade Hest to leave you and come away with me. ”
She sat very still, waiting for the rest of it.
“What I accused Leftrin of planning, I actually did. I used you to get close to the dragons. I took scales and blood, even small pieces of flesh from when Thymara cleaned the wound on the copper dragon. I hid them in my room. ” As he spoke, he reached into the canvas bag. One at a time, he took out several small glass bottles and set them on the table. One had a tinge of red stain down it. “I intended to take them back to Bingtown, to meet up with the Chalcedean merchant, and make a fortune. ”
He stopped there.
After a moment, she realized he was waiting for her. She took up one of the empty bottles and turned it in her hands. “What did you do with them?”
“Greft stole them from me. When he fled with the boat. They’re gone forever, now. ” He gestured at the glass vials. She suppressed a shudder and set the one in her hand back on the table with a small clink.
“Why are you telling me this now?”
He paused, then said unwillingly, “Carson. He said I needed to finish old things before I could start something new. This is part of that. ”
“You’re finishing with me. ”
“No. No, that’s not it at all. I don’t want to lose you, Alise. I know that it’s probably not possible, but somehow I’d like to go back to being the sort of friend I once was to you. Being that person from my side, if you see what I mean, even if you can’t feel about me as you once did. Somehow I went from being your friend to someone who could participate in deceiving you, could even exploit you just to get close to the dragons. I don’t want to be that person anymore. Telling you is a way of destroying him. Telling you about someone like him is something the old Sedric would have done, back when he was really your friend. ”
“You mean before Hest got to him. Before Hest got to either of us. ” She lifted a hand and rubbed her brow. It gave her a moment to cover her eyes, a brief time of being alone with her own thoughts. It wasn’t really fair to blame it all on Hest. Was it? She and Sedric had gone their own ways before he came along and joined their lives again in such a bizarre fashion. She tried to remember how she had once thought of Sedric. In those years when their lives had taken separate paths, she’d recalled him fondly and smiled over her girlhood infatuation with him. Whenever she chanced to see him, in the market or visiting mutual friends, she’d always felt a leap of pleasure at the sight of him and always greeted him warmly.
His presence, she slowly realized, had been the only pleasant part of her marriage to Hest. She tried to imagine the past few years without him. What if she had been marooned in her marriage to Hest without Sedric’s presence in the house, without his thoughtfulness and conversation at meals? He had, she recalled, been Hest’s adviser in the gifts chosen for her, in her access to the scrolls and books that had made her life tolerable. In some ways, they had been two animals in the same trap. If he had some responsibility for her falling into Hest’s power, he at least had done what he could to ameliorate her misery.
And he had helped to win this journey for her. At what must have seemed a terrible price to him.
It had been a chain of events that led to her finding Leftrin. That led to her finding both love and a life.
With a fingertip, she touched the red-stained bottle. Then she frowned, leaned forward, and picked up the one next to it. It was slightly larger than the others. Something winked at her from inside it. She held it up to the light from the galley window and peered at it. She shook it. It didn’t move, but there was no mistaking what it was.
Then, with a strength that surprised him, she smashed it on the edge of the galley table. Shards of glass went flying, and Sedric instinctively put up his hands to shield his face. “Sorry,” she muttered, shocked at her own impulsiveness. With cautious fingers, she separated the shattered glass until the bottle bottom was revealed. Carefully she plucked out the single small copper-edged scale that had remained stuck inside the bottle. She held it to the light. It was almost transparent.
“A scale,” he said.
“Yes. ”
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With a table rag, she wiped the shards of glass off the planks and into the waste bucket that held the guts and feathers of the birds she’d cleaned. Then, from her trouser pocket, she took the locket.
“You kept it?” He was stunned.
“I did. I didn’t know why. Perhaps to remind me of how stupid I had been. ” She glanced at him from under lowered lashes. “But perhaps you need the reminder even more than I do. ”
She opened the locket, and Hest peered out at both of them, his supercilious smile no longer handsome at all, only mocking. She lifted the tiny bundle of silk-secured black hair and set it aside as she had earlier set aside the guts she’d pulled out of the dead birds. Then she picked up the knife she’d used to disjoint the fowls, slid it under Hest’s portrait and popped the little image free. She carefully placed the copper-edged scale inside the locket case and snapped it shut. ALWAYS said the small case. She held it up on its chain. “Always,” she said to Sedric, holding it out.
After a brief hesitation, he took it from her. For a moment, he held the trinket in his hand. Then he looped the chain over his neck and slid the locket inside his shirt. “Always,” he agreed.
She rose so he wouldn’t see her eyes filling up. Could it be that simple to be done with the old and finally begin clean with the new? She lifted the lid off the kettle and gave the soup a stir. It was barely simmering. She’d have to ask the keepers to go out and bring her back anything that might burn if they wanted cooked food tonight. She opened the front of the little stove and scowled at the dying coals. “We need fuel,” she said, to be saying anything.
“Here’s something we can burn,” Sedric said and flipped the tiny portrait into the fire. She hadn’t seen him pick it up and look at it. It landed in the fire, and a single flame flared up briefly before the image curled and blackened. “And here’s something else. ” The lock of Hest’s black hair landed on the dying coals and singed. Smoke rose from it and she hastily slammed the door of the stove.
“Oh, that stinks!” she exclaimed.
Sedric sniffed. “He does, doesn’t he?”
She covered her mouth and nose, and then she laughed around her hand. To her surprise, Sedric joined her, and suddenly they were both laughing together as they had not in Sa knew how long. Then somehow, he was crying instead, and her arms were around him, and she found she was crying, too. “It’s going to be all right,” she managed to say to him. “It’s going to be all right. I’ve got you, my friend. We’ll be fine. ”
AFTER SYLVE HAD left the room, Thymara had spent some time alone in the darkness crying. It was stupid and useless. She’d done it anyway. And when she was sure that all her tears had been used, that all of her sorrow had been converted to anger, she left the little room and went in search of Sintara.
She went to the bow rail and located the dragons. They were not far from the barge. Some of them were lying down next to one another, each one’s chin cradled on the next dragon’s back. It looked sociable and peaceful, but she knew the truth. It was the only way the dragons could rest their legs and sleep without their heads dipping into the water. Sintara was not sleeping. She was moving slowly through a reed bed, peering down into the water. Probably hoping for a frog or a fish. Or anything made of meat. The recent rainfall had washed the dragons clean. The afternoon sun had b
roken through the overcast and glittered on Sintara. Despite her anger, Thymara could not help but see the beauty of her dragon.
Light ran and shivered along her blue scales. When she moved her head, there was grace and danger in every ripple of muscle. Despite her size, despite the fact that she was not a creature made for the water, she edged through it soundlessly. Beautiful death-dealer, she thought, and the now-familiar sensation of the dragon’s effortless glamour washed through her. She was the loveliest creature Thymara had ever seen.
Thymara groped frantically and then angrily for her sense of self. Yes. Sintara was the most beautiful creature in the world. And the most thoughtless, selfish, and cruel! She shook herself free of the dragon’s charm, seized Tarman’s railing, and clambered over it.
The keeper boats were tethered to Tarman’s ladder. She didn’t bother with any of them. The Tarman was aground, and here the water varied from waist- to knee-deep. Just enough water to make everyone perfectly miserable, she told herself, and jumped down into it. Her feet sank more deeply into silt than she’d expected and she knew a moment’s panic. But the water was not even waist-deep, and she used the instant of fear to fuel her anger. She wasn’t going to cry or whine. Not this time. Maybe not ever again.
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She looked around, saw that Sintara was still hunting, and made her purposeful way toward her. When she reached the reed bed, she pushed her way through it, not caring how she splashed or that she was most likely ruining what little hunting there was for the hungry dragon. Had Sintara ever thought about what she was ruining for Thymara? She doubted it. She doubted that Sintara had ever considered what any of her actions might mean to Thymara or any other human.
“Stop being so noisy!” the dragon hissed at her as she drew nearer.
Deliberately Thymara splashed through the water until she stood directly in front of the incensed dragon. Sintara drew her head up to her full height, looked down on the girl, and slightly opened her wings. “What is wrong with you? There is little enough hunting here, and you have chased away every fish or frog in this reed bed!”
“You are what is wrong with me! What have you done to me?”
“I? I’ve done nothing to you!”
“Then what is this? What is this change in me?” Thymara stripped off her shirt angrily and presented her back to Sintara.
“Those. Oh. They’re not finished. ”
“What is not finished? Sylve said it looked like I had fingers growing in gashes inside my back!”
“Fingers!” The dragon trumpeted her amusement. “Fingers? No. Wings. Here, let me see. ”
Thymara was too shocked to move. Wings. Wings. The word was suddenly nonsense. It meant nothing to her. Wings. Wings on her back. “But I’m a human,” she said stupidly. She could feel the dragon’s breath on her bared skin.
“You are, for now. But when you have finished changing, you’ll be an Elderling. With wings. The first one ever, if my recollections are correct. They are still not mature, but…can you move them? Have you tried to move them at all?”
“Move them? I didn’t even know I had them!” She had cried herself out earlier; shed every tear she had over her sorrow at her disfigurement. What had it meant to her earlier this afternoon? That she was a freak and a monster. That she would never dare bare her body to any man; no, not before any person at all. Fingers growing on her back. But they weren’t fingers. They were wings. And the stupid dragon who had caused them to grow there without even asking her was now wondering if she could move them.
Tears threatened again, and she couldn’t say what kind they were. Fear? Anger? Her heart was leaping against her ribs.
“Try to move them,” Sintara insisted, and her voice was full not of concern but only curiosity. Thymara felt a puff of breath against her bare back and shivered, and suddenly felt the twitch of something on her back.
“What is that?” she cried, hunching away from her own body. But now it hurt, as if she had wrenched her back or sprained a finger joint. Something connected to her spine was cramped, jammed, and painful. She writhed, and with horror felt a trickle of warm fluid run down her back, and then a damp weight hung limply against her back.
“What is it?” she cried out. She dared not and yet she must. She reached over her shoulder and touched something that felt like sticks bundled in wet cloth. “NO!” she cried, and as her body jerked with shock, she felt the other wing break free of its concealment. “No!” she said more faintly. She started to cover her face with her hands and found herself staring at a coating of thin blood on her fingers. She shuddered. That was a mistake. The things on her back twitched and shook. They were part of her. Foreign and monstrous and part of her. She could feel the summer air on them, feel Sintara’s snort of amusement as she said, “Well. I’d expected better than that. ”
“I didn’t expect them at all!” Thymara shouted at her. “How can you do this to me? Why would you do this to me?”
“I didn’t intend to!” the dragon admitted. For that moment, she sounded almost flustered. Then anger won as she said, “You did it to yourself, if you must know. You were careless. When you pulled the rasp snakes from me, my blood spattered on you. Some must have gone in your mouth. From that time on, I felt you more intensely. You must have felt that our shared awareness grew! How could you not?”
“I thought it was just…just what keepers and dragons felt. But why did you do this to me?”
“I didn’t. I didn’t want to change you then; I hadn’t planned to. Usually, a dragon is very selective in who she chooses to accept as an Elderling. Such a change is an honor reserved for the most devoted, the most loyal and intelligent of humans. In ancient times, humans vied for such attention granted by a dragon. They didn’t just fall into it by virtue of being given the care of a dragon as if it were a menial chore!”
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“Then why did you do it? Why?” Tears were running down her face. Their voices had carried. She heard keeper voices lifted querulously, heard the rumble of dragons. She didn’t care, didn’t care if the others were watching from the deck of the Tarman, didn’t care if the other dragons were disturbed and drawing near to see what the fuss was. This was between her and Sintara, and she intended to have it out, once and for all.
“You began changing yourself! You dreamed of flying more than I did! I was not even thinking of changing you. When Mercor pointed out to me that you were changing, I took pity on you. That’s all. You should be grateful! They will be quite beautiful when they are finished, almost a mirror to my own. And I, I will have the first winged Elderling! No other dragon has ever created such a creature. ”
Thymara craned her neck to try to look over her shoulder. The dragon sounded so pleased with herself. Were the wings actually beautiful? Should she feel herself honored rather than made monstrous? No matter how she twisted her head, all she could see was the wet tip of something that reminded her of a rain-soaked parasol. Timidly she reached back with both hands. Wings. She felt skin stretched over bone and cartilage, but strangest of all, when she touched them, she felt herself, just as she did when she touched her own hands.
She dared herself, took hold of them, and tried to stretch them out. No. No, that was like bending her fingers the wrong way. She twitched a shoulder and instinctively folded her wings back in tight to her back. Tight to her back, yes, but not concealed as they had been. Folded smooth to her body, even as Sintara’s wings or a bird’s wings fit flush to her back. “Will they…will they grow more?” She dared herself and then asked boldly, “Will I be able to fly some day?”
“Fly? Don’t be ridiculous. No. They’re much too small. But they will be lovely, as lovely as mine. All will envy you. ”
“Why can’t they grow larger? Why couldn’t they grow large enough for me to fly? I want to fly!”
“Why are you daring to ask for more than you’ve been given?” The dragon had gone f
rom being bemused at what she had created to being angry again. Thymara thought that perhaps the truth slipped out when Sintara demanded, “Why do you think you should be able to fly when I cannot?”
“Perhaps because it would only make sense to me that any changes you made in me would be useful to me!”
“You will be pretty! And interesting to other dragons. And that is enough for any Elderling, let alone a human!”
“Perhaps ‘pretty’ wings are enough for you, but if I must bear their weight and the inconvenience of having something growing out of my backbone, perhaps they should be useful. I have never understood why you don’t even try to use your wings. I see the other dragons stretching and working theirs. I’ve seen the silver almost lift himself from the water with his, and he began with a much more ungainly body and smaller wings than yours! You don’t try! I groom your wings and keep them clean. They’ve grown larger and stronger and you could try, but you don’t. All you do is tell me how lovely they are. And lovely they may be, but have you never considered trying to use them for what they are intended?”
She could see the dragon’s fury build. She’d dared to criticize her, and Sintara could not tolerate even the implication that she was lazy or self-pitying or perhaps even just a bit…“Stupid. ”
Thymara said the word aloud. She had no idea what prompted her to do it. Perhaps simply to show Sintara that she’d gone too far and that her keeper would no longer be terrorized by her. How dare she put wings on her back when she could not even master the ones that had grown naturally on her own?
The murmur of voices from the barge was growing louder. Thymara refused even to glance in that direction. She stood, her bunched shirt clutched over her breasts, and faced the furiously spinning eyes of her dragon. Sintara was magnificent in her wrath. She lifted her head and opened her jaws wide, displaying the brightly colored poison sacs in her throat. She opened her wings wide, a reflexive display of size that the dragons often used in an attempt to remind one another of their relative sizes and strengths, and they spread like magnificent stained-glass panels unfolding. For a moment, Thymara was dizzied by her glory and her glamour. She nearly fell to her knees before her dragon.
