Rain Wilds Chronicles (219 page)

“I'm
not
sorry.” She spoke the words without remorse. “I pity my people. I am saddened to see them terrified. But I do not pity my father or the end he has brought upon himself. Nor am I sad that he will not drain you dry and bring your body back to me. That, at least, I am spared.”

Abruptly, she sat down on the floor beside him. He reached out blindly and took her hand into his. Tears were running down her cheeks, but a smile trembled on her lips. “We will still die together.” With a shaking hand, she reached for the teapot. “Will you have a last cup of tea with me?”

He turned his gaze on her. An odd calmness was welling up in him. “I would rather have a kiss. My first and last, I think.”

“Your first kiss?”

He laughed shakily. “My circumstances have not lent themselves to the giving or receiving of kisses.”

She blinked and the tears spilled faster. “For me, also.” She leaned a little closer to him and then stopped.

He looked at her. She had closed her eyes. Her hair was sleek, her skin like cream, her lips pink. Her first kiss would come from a scaled dragon man. He leaned in and found her mouth with his. He kissed her softly, unsure of how it was done, expecting her to pull away in revulsion. Instead, when he leaned back, she was smiling through her tears.

“To be touched by a man, with gentleness,” she said, as if that wonder were so great it dispelled the circling dragons.

He put his bandaged arm around her, and she leaned close to him. Together they watched as the dragons swept out of sight. A moment later, they returned in another sweeping arc. For the first time he saw that two of them carried riders. Their scaled bodies gleamed in the sun as brightly as the dragons they bestrode. One of the dragons trumpeted, and suddenly the three of them swept in a wider, lower circle. As the dragons flew, they gave cry. Gleaming droplets of acid venom drifted from their wide-stretched mouths, and then they suddenly beat their wings more strongly, all three rising above the path of death they had spewed.

Chassim put her arms around him. She held him closer, and her face was white as she said quietly, “It looks a quick way to die. Perhaps faster than a fall.” She helped him to stand. He clung to the stone railing of the balcony and they looked down on the city.

In the distance, the streets were full of fleeing people. Horns vied with screams to fill the air, but the trumpeting of the dragons triumphed over all. They fled away from the widening circle of scorched earth. A circle, a moat of death and crumbling masonry, was forming around the Duke's grand palace. Selden saw the dragons' plan clearly now. “They will seal the castle so there is no escape without running into the venom on the ground. And then they will slowly destroy it,” he said quietly. The plan came so clearly into his mind. He could almost see it unfolding as if he were with the dragons above. He lifted his eyes to the sky.

“I wish we could live,” Chassim said wistfully. “I wish I could live to see Chalced dragged out from under my father's foot.” She turned her face and her soft lips brushed his scaled cheek. “I wish
we
could live,” she whispered.

“Tintaglia!” He cried out his dragon's name with every ounce of strength he had, shouted it in desperation. “Tintaglia! If you live, then I do, also! Blue queen, gem of the skies, where are you?”

R
eyn felt sickened, but not by the swaying flight of the dragon. Below him, buildings were slowly crumbling. Those too slow to flee had fallen beneath dragon spray. He had pulled his tunic up over his head and tugged the sleeves down over his hands, having seen what dragon venom could do. He viewed the world through a narrow fabric window and wished devoutly he did not have to see that much.

He could not fault the courage of the Chalcedean soldiers. He had watched them loose arrows that arced far beneath the dragons and then watched their ranks literally melt in a fall of acid. Some gave way to the dragons' glamour as they overflew them, breaking to run. But they ran the wrong way, away from the stronghold and into the acid-riddled streets that now ringed it. Poor bastards. He caught a stinging whiff of dragon venom and drew his shirt tighter over his face.

He tried to admire the dragons' strategy. No dragon flew behind or below any other. They had broken into groups, and in each group, each dragon flew alongside the others, all spewing their venom so that it fell below them, and then they turned back and retraced their arc, each time getting closer to the center of the Duke's castle. Their timing was perfect, so that the dragon groups never encountered one another. The outer walls of the castle had received several passes. They were old and very stout, but the dragons were intent on killing people, not crumbling stone. Within the arcs they had overflown, nothing moved.

Tintaglia shuddered suddenly and broke ranks. She rose so sharply that Reyn lunged from the shelter of his tunic, thrusting his hands clear of his sleeves to seize her harness. He thought she would loop over backward. “Are you hit? Have they hurt you, Tintaglia?”

“Hark!” she responded and shot higher in the air with a speed that left him gasping. Above all the other dragons, she banked in a tight circle over the Duke's stronghold.
Where? Where? Where?
she demanded, ignoring Reyn's cries of “What is it? What is wrong?”

And then she was diving, diving alone on the tallest tower of the keep, ignoring the angry trumpeting from Icefyre that she was ignoring their plans. Reyn could do nothing but hold tight to her harness and bellow his terror as she arrowed straight for the side of the tower.

“S
he comes like a blue star falling through the heavens. She is the Empress of Destruction, the Queen of Vengeance, and if I must die, let her deliver my death to me!”

“That is her? She is like the fire inside a blue opal!” Chassim stared, her eyes wide in terror and delight. Her body was behind his, holding him pressed against the stone balustrade so he could stand, watching the blue miracle streaking toward them.

Selden lifted his voice and found that not all music had fled from him.

“She is both wise and terrible. Clever beyond cleverness is hers, swift winged, sharp taloned, and keen of sight. Tintaglia!” His voice broke on the last word.

Tintaglia tipped back, giving them a view of her sparkling belly and the glittering claws on her feet.

Chassim held him tightly, but her entire body was quivering. “Like glittering blue steel is she! Bring my death then, lovely one. We await you.”

But it was not her jaws that came at them, but her clasping front talons. Chassim staggered back from the brink as Tintaglia seized the stone balustrade of the balcony and clung, the wind of her battering wings a hurricane around them. The talons of her front feet scored and slipped on the stone balustrade; her hind feet were braced on the tower below, and the wind of her wings battered all. Cracks raced through the stone railing.

“Climb up, climb up now, now, NOW!” The man on her back was roaring the words, and then, “
Climb now, now!
” commanded the dragon, the words echoing through Selden's bones.

He tried hard to do as she commanded, but the weakness of his body betrayed him. He felt Chassim grip the back of his robe and push him forward. He caught at the strap on the dragon's chest. The man on the dragon clambered down the harness, clamped a grip on his bandaged wrist, and dragged him up. He screamed in pain and scrabbled feebly with his feet, then his hands found leather and iron rings to grip. Chunks of the balcony were falling away as the dragon tore them free in her desperate bid to cling to the side of the tower. The rider dragged him up and held him before him on the dragon's back. Selden sagged forward, and then gripped tight as the dragon pushed off from the tower face. She swooped away from the structure as he screamed, “Chassim! No, go back, Tintaglia, fair queen! Chassim!”

“I . . . am . . . here!” Her voice was weak with terror.

He looked down. Chassim clung grimly to the rings of Tintaglia's harness, her garments whipping in the wind as the dragon fell suddenly away from the tower. He more saw than heard her wild scream as they plummeted together.

Then, with a sickening lurch, the fall became a glide. With a beat, beat, beat of Tintaglia's powerful wings, they slowly began to rise. Chassim, her teeth bared in a determined snarl, her hair a wild stream of glory around her face, climbed doggedly, ring by ring, until his reaching hand closed over her wrist. Wisely, she did not trust his grip, but he could not let her go. Ring by ring, she came closer and then was hugging him as tightly as the man who held on to him. He twisted to see the rider and found himself looking upon an Elderling such as Selden had seen only in old tapestries.

“Sir, I thank you,” he gasped. “Oh, Tintaglia, blue queen of the skies, most powerful and wisest of all dragons, I give you thanks.”

“Little brother, I am always doomed to find you in the damnedest places,” the rider said, and abruptly he knew that it was Reyn who clasped him so securely. “You look but two heartbeats this side of death,” Reyn added.

“If only you knew,” Selden replied. He was suddenly dizzy and faint with relief. “What do you here? Whence come all these dragons?”

“Don't you know them?” Tintaglia was ignoring her riders, carrying them higher and higher above the city, away from the death and destruction below them. “You saw them encased, you saw them hatched! We come from Kelsingra, Selden, and we come to kill the Duke of Chalced for daring to hunt dragons for their blood.”

He felt Tintaglia's assent to those words course through him, strong with her anger.

“But what of you? You sent us no word! Your sister thinks you're dead, and your mother fears she is right. What happened to you? I do not think you were in that tower willingly, by the look of you. And who is this you have brought with you?” Reyn asked.

Selden drew breath, but before he could reply, Chassim spoke for herself. “My name is Chassim. And if this glorious queen and her dragons are able to fulfill their mission today, by nightfall I shall be the rightful Duchess of Chalced. And in your debt.”

Day the 10th of the Greening Moon

Year the 7th of the Independent Alliance of Traders

From Selden Vestrit, Singer to Tintaglia, Kelsingra

To Keffria and Ronica Vestrit of the Bingtown Traders, Bingtown

 

Dear Mother and Grandmother,

I write this tiny scroll to be carried by Tarman to Trehaug and from there dispatched by Dunwarrow to Bingtown. A much lengthier account of my misadventures will follow, in a scroll far too heavy for any pigeon to bear. I will ask Alise to pass it to Althea to bring home to you.

For now, the essentials. I was betrayed by my companions. I was held captive and eventually treated as a slave in Chalced. But I am alive, and once more in the incomparable company of the magnificent queen Tintaglia, to whom I owe my life and the restoration of my health. I do not wish to go into great detail about the trials I have endured, especially not on this tiny slip of paper. I will say only this now; I assure you, I am recovering and among good people.

You will doubtless hear many strange rumors about my role in the fall of Chalced and my friendship with Duchess Chassim. I will say only that the truth is undoubtedly stranger than any gossip you may hear, and the truth is what you shall have from me when the scroll arrives.

Mother, you ask me when I will come home to stay. Please do not take these words amiss. I am home. In Kelsingra, among the other Elderlings and near the dragons, I feel more at peace and more safe than I have felt in many months. My sister, Malta, is here, and Reyn, like a brother to me for so many years, and so many other Elderlings! The beauty of the country here is healing by itself, and I have access to thousands of records of Elderling dragon poets who have gone before me. I am almost shamed to think I considered myself a singer, now that I have heard for myself the poets of old! And there are traditional songs that I must learn, songs for welcoming dragons, for celebrating the first flight of a hatchling, songs to thank dragons for sharing their presence with us. I think it will take me a score of years before I shall again claim I am a competent singer!

This does not mean I do not wish to see you. When my health permits, I will come for a visit. And I hope that in time you and Grandmother will be willing to undertake the journey to see me here. I would show you my city and introduce you to the keepers and the other dragons. Especially Tintaglia's mate, Kalo. Such a handsome fellow, and so strong! I am as pleased to see her with him as I am sure you were delighted to see Malta settle with Reyn.

For now I must let this missive be enough, for I am already weary with writing this. Please be patient. A more detailed account will soon be in your hands.

As ever,

Your Selden

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY-TWO

Summer

I
t had begun rather formally as afternoon tea in the captain's stateroom on the
Paragon.
But by the end of the first hour, it had become mugs of coffee on the foredeck of the liveship, with the figurehead fully involved in the conversation. Tarman was moored alongside Paragon at the docks of Trehaug. Alise wondered if the two ships communicated on a level that excluded humans, but decided it would be rude to ask. It seemed decades since she had last been aboard Paragon. She looked back at her memory of the journey to the Rain Wilds and recalled her awkward conversation with the ship and with Althea and Brashen Trell. She laughed to herself, but no one remarked on it, for Paragon was in the middle of a lively tirade against the indignity of transporting chickens and sheep.

“And I wish Tarman well with the nasty creatures. Worse than seagulls for squawking and mess on the decks.”

“Perhaps so, but our boy is going to miss them,” Brashen observed.

“I think he'll miss the fresh eggs more than he'll miss the messes he's had to clean up,” Althea countered, laughing. She stood up and leaned to see past the deckhouse. “He and Clef have just about finished transferring the stock to Tarman's deck. So we have perhaps ten more minutes of adult conversation before you are inundated with questions about the dragons and the One Day War.”

“We'll be happy to answer them as best as we can,” Alise said. “Not that we were there for any of it. And if we are to believe what every dragon told us of it, then each one was personally responsible for the fall of the city and the death of the Duke.”

“And the rise of a Duchess,” Althea added. “We've had bird messages from Selden, but they are not very satisfactory. We have only the bones of his tale, and each time he writes, we learn a bit more; but he also tells us that still he cannot come home just yet. That there are still things he must ‘settle' there in Kelsingra.” Her emphasis on the word
settle
made it clear that she thought there was more going on than her nephew had confided. She looked from Alise to Leftrin, perhaps seeking confirmation or gossip.

Leftrin spoke hastily. “Your youngster looks like he knows his way around a deck. When you think he's ready to try a term under a different captain, he'd be welcome aboard Tarman. Things are a bit more rustic and he'd be sleeping in the deckhouse with the crew, but I'd be glad to foster him for a trip or two.”

Brashen and Althea exchanged a look, but it was not his mother who said, “Not quite old enough yet. But I'll take you up on that offer when he is. I know he'd like to see his aunt and uncle soon. Not to mention his cousin Ephron.” Brashen smiled as he attempted to change the subject. “When do you think Malta and Reyn might be bringing the baby downriver for a visit?”

“You'd take Boy-o off my decks?” Paragon was appalled.

“Only for a short time, ship. I know he's yours as much as ours,” Brashen replied placatingly. “But a slightly wider circle of experience wouldn't hurt him.”

“Hmph.” The figurehead crossed his arms on his carved chest. His mouth went to a flat line. “Perhaps when Ephron is old enough to take his place here for a time. An exchange of hostages, as it were.”

Brashen rolled his eyes at them. “He's in a mood today,” he said in a low voice.

“I am
not
in a mood! Merely pointing out that you are a liveship family, and that you should think well before letting one of our own go off on another liveship, with no guarantees that he will be returned. Ideally, the exchange should be a member of Tarman's family.” He turned his gaze to Leftrin and Alise. “Do you expect to breed soon?”

Leftrin choked on his tea.

“Not that I'm aware,” Alise replied demurely.

“A pity. It might be productive for you just now.” Paragon was politely enthused.

“Can we please just not?” Althea asked him, almost sharply. “It's bad enough to have you offering Brashen and me your helpful insights into productive breeding without you extending your wisdom to our guests.”

Alise could not tell if Brashen were embarrassed or red from suppressing laughter.

“It was Tarman's suggestion that they might find such information helpful, as so far they have enjoyed breeding, but fruitlessly. That's all.” Paragon was unflustered.

Brashen cleared his throat suddenly. “Well, speaking of hostages—”

“Were we?” his ship interjected curiously.

“We were. Speaking of hostages, how did all that work out? There were rumors in Bingtown, but we left to go south to pick up your stock, and then returned right up the river. So we haven't heard much of that.”

“Sadly, if you ask me,” Alise replied. “I'm sure you know that the Chalcedeans chose to drown themselves rather than face the Council or be ransomed to their duke. The Council did finally pay us, but only, I think, because I was present to speak for the keepers, and to testify that nothing nefarious had befallen any of us, except what some members of the Council itself had planned for us. Trader Candral went back on his word and denied everything, even when confronted with all the pages he had penned while in Kelsingra. He maintained that we had forced him to write such things, and one of the Jamaillian merchants vouched for him. Personally, I suspect that some sort of a private trade agreement was brokered during the voyage back to Trehaug, one that was very profitable to the Jamaillian merchant. I fear we will never see justice for what was done to us. We should, perhaps, have kept Candral sequestered from the others.” She looked to Leftrin as she said this, and he shook his head.

“As loaded as Tarman was? Small chance of that. And I think there were others on the Cassarick Council that had more than an inkling of what was going on. He was protected.” He shook his head. “Well, they'll pay a price for that. Tarman will never carry any cargo for them again. Nor will the
Warken
or the
White Serpent.
” At Brashen's quirked eyebrow, Leftrin clarified, “The keepers and dragons have finally named their impervious ships. Come the end of summer, they plan to make their maiden voyages on them, but to Trehaug. They won't stop in Cassarick at all. No goods from Kelsingra will ever be traded there, until the Council investigates and punishes those who plotted against us.”

“The most solid blow that a Trader can take is to his purse,” Althea said approvingly. “You may yet rout out the rotten apples in the barrel. And the others?”

“The slaves who were working the ships stayed in Kelsingra. Some seem to be adapting. Others may want to leave. We've left that up to them. There were others, some from Bingtown, a few from Trehaug. None of them wanted to stand as a witness against Candral. So we can't actually prove that Candral or any others on the Council were either bribed or threatened by the Chalcedeans to sabotage us.”

“So. Refusing to trade with them is as much as we can do to them,” Leftrin concluded somberly.

“They tried to kill Tintaglia,” Paragon reminded them all severely.

“The orders to attack her and Icefyre originated in Chalced,” Alise pointed out gently. “And Sa knows they've paid for it a hundred times over.”

Paragon made a skeptical sound, but all the humans fell silent for a time. The reports of the fall of Chalced had been dire. The Duke's palace had fallen to Icefyre's orchestrated attack. The old black dragon had been both ruthless and relentless. He had not been content with killing the occupants. By the time the dragons had finished, nothing but crumbled ruins remained. There had been a disorderly military response that Spit had enthusiastically retaliated. The populace had quickly learned that not even buildings offered any real protection against dragons newly infused with Silver. By evening, a cowed group of nobles offered a surrender, only to discover that the dragons had “captured” the Duchess of Chalced and already arranged terms with her.

“Rapskal and Heeby remained in Chalced. Nortel, Kase, and Boxter and their dragons stayed as well. Strange to think that four dragons are deemed an ample force to back the new duchess as she establishes her authority over Chalced.”

“So Kelsingra favors her rise to power?” Althea asked.

Alise lifted one shoulder. “The dragons favor her rise to power. She set very favorable terms for an alliance. Chalced had always had harsher laws than Bingtown. She has imposed a death sentence on anyone who lifts a hand against a dragon. Shepherds and herdsmen are to pay a dragon tax that sets aside a certain number of beasts each year as prey for dragons. She had some opposition from some of the nobles at first, but she was ruthless with them. That the nobles must recognize her authority had been a key term of their negotiations and the end of hostilities. Only one defied her. She sent the dragons. That was the end of it.”

“Harsh,” Brashen said quietly.

“Chalcedean,” Leftrin replied. He shrugged. “I don't think she could establish order there any other way. There is still restlessness in Chalced, especially in the outlying provinces, but I don't think it will reach civil war as some said. Duchess Chassim seems to be trying for other alliances as well.”

Althea broke in with, “We heard an extraordinary rumor that the new duchess was actually negotiating a truce between the Chalced States and the Six Duchies region of Shoaks.”

“Preposterous,” Alise said. “No one remembers a time when those two countries weren't warring.”

“So preposterous, it's probably true,” Brashen offered. All of them fell silent for a moment, considering the changes.

“Selden,” Althea abruptly said. She looked directly at Alise. “How is he? Really?”

Alise looked for a long moment at Leftrin, decided that they were owed honesty, and met Althea's gaze. “You are his family. You need to know. He is scarred, and not just physically. The Duke was literally devouring him. Sucking the blood right out of his veins. The marks on his arms were still visible weeks after Tintaglia brought him back to Kelsingra. When first I saw him, I could not believe he was standing upright by himself; he was so thin and his face so drawn.”

Althea went pale. “We'd heard rumors. Sweet Sa. Little Selden. I think of him, and I see him always as a noisy little fellow of seven or eight. But we heard other rumors, ones that link him with the Duchess of Chalced? They made no sense to us!”

“They were prisoners together,” Alise confirmed. “And they seem to have formed an attachment. More than that, I don't know, so I won't gossip. Except to say that I know some have been critical that the dragons and Kelsingra have backed the young Duchess of Chalced in taking over rule of her country. They say we should have made Chalced completely subservient. But if not for the efforts of the Duchess Chassim, Selden would have died there. From what he tells us, her imprisonment was worse than his and for years longer. Given all she did for him, as an Elderling and as Tintaglia's singer, those who negotiated the terms felt that putting her in power would be the swiftest path to peace in the region.”

Brashen scratched his chin and then smiled at Althea. “Changing history seems to run in your family. First Wintrow and Malta, now Selden.” He took a sip of his tea.

Paragon spoke up, his voice wry. “So fortunate for you that you married the sane, responsible female in the family.”

Brashen choked. Althea slapped him on the back perhaps a trifle harder than she needed to. She spoke through his choking laughter. “But Selden is recovering?”

“Quite remarkably, given all he endured, and not just at the hands of the Duke of Chalced. Tintaglia has hinted that some of his illness was simply due to his unsupervised growth. He was young when she changed him, and away for quite a time, so not all was right inside his body . . .”

“That is dragons' business!” Paragon interrupted indignantly.

“That is
family
business. Selden is my nephew, Paragon, as well as Tintaglia's Elderling. I have a right to know how he progresses, and therefore so do you! And you should care as much as I do.”

The rebuke from Althea subdued the ship. Paragon's face grew thoughtful. He lowered his voice. “Did not they think to treat him with Silver?”

Alise stared at him for a moment, shocked that he would speak such a secret aloud. Then she decided that if it was dragons' business, then he had the right to know the whole of it. “The knowledge of how to do that is lost to us,” Alise told him. “But his dragon oversees him daily. His outer injuries have healed. He walks among us, and eats well, and sings to Tintaglia once more. And I suspect that you will see him again, down this way. He desires to visit not only the Khuprus family in Trehaug, but also his mother in Bingtown. And eventually to return to Chalced and the Duchess.”

“I would not allow that, were I Tintaglia,” Paragon offered.