Dragon Haven (45 page)

He met her gaze. “Yes.” There wasn’t much treacle left. He scooped a big spoonful into his mug and then asked conversationally, “How did you know?”

“I saw you walking in the streets of Kelsingra. I was trapped in the crowd, trying to catch up with you. I called your name, but you didn’t hear me.”

“Our Tarman was a busy fellow last night.” He took a sip of his coffee and weighed his thoughts. “If I were just your uncle and not your captain, what might you say to me about it?”

She looked down at her mug. “I’m happy for you. Happy you get to be with someone you choose.”

Nice little jab there. “I’m not promised to anyone else.”

“She’s married.”

“She was.”

“And now she’s not?”

He considered. “I trust her to know what she’s free to do.”

She thought about that and gave a slow nod. He was trying to be absolutely fair when he said to her, “This could change things for you, you know. A lot. If we have a child.”

Her smiled widened. “I know that.”

“Have you thought about what it might mean?”

“Since before dawn.”

“And?”

“That boy back in Trehaug? The one my parents promised could marry me? He thinks he’s been promised the heir to the
Tarman
. If he finds out that might not be so, he might look for a more promising bride.”

That was so. For the first time he thought about how his decision might affect a wider circle of folk.

She hadn’t finished. “The way I see it, I’m on this boat for life. It’s what I know, and I’m not worth much to anyone anywhere else. Not to sound cold, Uncle, but even if you had a child tomorrow, chances are I’d still get in my years as captain on Tarman. That’s all I want out of it. Not to own him. No one ever owns him. But my chance to be his captain. And maybe get my chance to be with whom I choose to be.” She sipped her coffee and grinned at him. “It seems to agree with you.”

“Don’t be cheeky, girl.” He fought the smile that tried to break out on his face.

“Captain or uncle speaking?”

“Captain.”

“Yes, sir.” She wiped the grin off her face so smoothly that he had to wonder how often she’d employed that talent to learn it so well. But there were other fish to fry right now.

“So Tarman sent you a little dream in the night, did he?”

“That he did. Kelsingra. Clear as I’ve ever seen any town. Nice place. Really made me want to be there.”

“Me, too.”

Skelly spoke more hesitantly. “I think Tarman remembers it. And that might be what he wants us to know.”

“So what was yesterday all about?”

“I don’t know. But I wager we’ll find out today.”

Day the 4th of the Gold Moon

T
hymara came to her shortly after dawn. She had a line with two gleaming silver fish strung on it. They were fat and flopping still. Sintara was not enamored of fish; she’d had far too many of them in her life. Still, they were food and fresh.

“I made my own spear to get these for you,” Thymara said as she unfastened the first fish from the line threaded through its gills. “I didn’t have a spear point, but I hardened the wood in a fire, and it seemed to work very well.”

“Commendable of you,” Sintara said, waiting.

Thymara held the first one up and then asked suddenly, “What are you doing to me?”

“I’m waiting for my fish,” the dragon pointed out acerbically.

Thymara didn’t give it to her. “I’m changing faster than I ever have in my life. My skin itches with the scales. My back hurts all the time. Even my teeth feel sharper. Are you doing this to me?”

“The fish,” Sintara insisted, and Thymara tossed the first one. Sintara caught it in her jaws, tossed it up, caught it again, and gulped it down.

“You’re changing, too. You’ve grown. You’re bigger and stronger, and you’re not just blue anymore. You’re sapphire and azure and every color of blue that there is. Your tail is longer. And yesterday, I saw you shake water off your wings. They’re more beautiful than ever, with a silver web on them as if you’d embroidered them. They’ve grown, too.”

“I’d grow even faster if I were offered more food and less talk,” Sintara interjected, but she could not keep the pleasure out of her voice, despite her words. Sapphire and azure. One thing she had to say for humans, they had descriptive words. “Cobalt, cerulean, indigo,” she said as Thymara unfastened the second fish.

The girl looked up. “Yes. All of those colors, too.”

“And black. And silver, if you look carefully.”

“Yes. And there are greens on your wings when you unfold them, like a pattern of lace over the silver. I noticed that your markings have become much sharper.”

“The fish,” Sintara reminded her, and with a sigh, Thymara complied.

“Are you doing something to me, or is this just happening?” she asked after the dragon had swallowed.

Sintara wasn’t certain. She replied, “No human can be around dragons for long without experiencing some changes. Accept them.”

“And no dragon can be around humans constantly without being changed by them.” This was Mercor, strolling up to interrupt their conversation, and probably to see if any fish were left. There weren’t any, so Sintara minded slightly less that he was intruding. But then he offended her gravely by lowering his head and carefully sniffing her keeper. “Are you in pain, girl?” he asked her quietly.

“A bit.” She turned away, uncomfortable with his attention.

The gold dragon turned his gaze on Sintara. His eyes, black on black, spun accusingly. “It isn’t something you can ignore,”
he warned her. “The bond goes both ways. What affects one affects all. You could cause great discontent among the keepers.”

“What does he mean?” Thymara broke in anxiously.

“The concerns of dragons are the concerns of dragons,” Sintara said crushingly.

Mercor did not reply to the girl. “It will be like your name, Sintara,” he said flatly. “I will let it go so far, and then I will take charge of it. And perhaps I will take charge of your keeper as well.”

Sintara opened her wings and stretched her neck. She felt what would one day be the frilled spines of her neck stand out. Even so, Mercor was still larger than she was. A glint of amusement in his black eyes only incensed her more. “You will never take charge of my keeper,” she hissed. The barest threat of venom floated on her words. “What is mine, I keep.” Thymara lifted her arms to shield her face and eyes and retreated a few steps.

“See that you do,” Mercor replied affably. “Keep your keeper as you should, and you have nothing to fret about, little queen.”

The diminutive infuriated her beyond reason. She shot her neck out, jaws wide. Mercor whirled, and a snap of his larger wing slammed the bony joint knob of it against her ribs. She slapped ineffectually at him with her smaller wings as she staggered back. Thymara let out a shriek. All around them on the muddy delta, dragons were lifting heads and opening wings, staring toward the altercation. Keepers darted about like ants in a disturbed nest, squawking at one another.

“Do you require help, Sintara?” Sestican asked. The large blue advanced a step toward them, his own wings lifting and the frill on his neck standing out in challenge.

“Sestican, no!” his keeper shouted, but the dragon paid no attention to Lecter. His spinning eyes were fixed only on Mercor. The two dragons, wings lifted, heads swaying, regarded one another balefully.

“I am a queen! I require no help from anyone,” Sintara replied disdainfully. “Keeper! I wish to go to the freshwater river to be cleaned. Get your tools and follow me there.”

It was not a retreat, she thought angrily as she stalked haughtily away. She was simply not interested in anything either of them might do or say. She would not allow the males to fight over her on the ground, as if such an earthbound battle could prove something or win favor with her. No. When the time came, she would soar in flight, and all the males, every one of them, would vie for her and beat one another bloody in an attempt to catch her eye. And when they were eliminated to one, then she would outfly and defy him. Mercor would never master her.

“P
ERHAPS YOU COULD
reason with him.”

Leftrin glared at Skelly. She folded her lips and turned away. He wasn’t angry with her, but the idea that Tarman could be reasoned with only irritated him. He’d gone out on deck in the morning to discover that the barge had only hunkered down deeper into the mud in the night. Leftrin had had every hand he could muster straining to shove the ship off for half the morning. It was impossible to ignore that the barge was deliberately resisting efforts to move him. Every member of the crew knew it; the confusion and worry were painted in their eyes.

The keepers were beginning to pick up on the uneasiness. It was strange for him to realize that every one of them must know that Tarman was a liveship, but so few of them seemed to grasp fully what that meant. They seemed to have forgotten that at his core, Tarman was kin to the dragons and just as capable of being cantankerous. Or dangerous.

Leftrin glanced over at Skelly, who was not looking at him. She had her pole over the side again, positioned and ready for when he might demand another effort from them. He pitched his voice for her ears alone. “I’ll try. You come with me.”

“Hold on to this for me, will you?” she asked Bellin, surrendering her pole to her crewmate. She followed her captain forward. “He showed us Kelsingra,” she whispered. “Why would he do that, and then wedge himself in the mud here? Why would he make us want to go there, and then refuse to budge?”

“I don’t know, but I do know we’re wasting daylight. It won’t
be long before the dragons decide they’re ready to go, and we have to be ready to follow them. Not stuck in the mud.”

“What happened with the dragons earlier this morning?”

“No idea. Some sort of a dustup. Not too serious, I suspect, as it was over so fast. Probably just a bit of sorting out as to who’s on top. Happens in any group of creatures, animal or humans. Or dragons.”

He heard his own words and realized a truth he hadn’t before. Dragons were not animals to him in the way that deer or birds were animals. But they weren’t humans, either. It suddenly seemed a very large truth to him. When he had been a boy growing up, he had divided creatures that lived and moved into two groups: animals and humans. And now there were dragons in his life. When, he wondered, had that distinction formed in his mind? When they had begun this expedition, they had been animals to him. Oddly intelligent animals who spoke. But now they were dragons, not animals and not humans.

And what about Tarman, then?

He’d reached the bow and been on the point of putting his hands on the railing. Skin to wood, he’d always felt, was how he heard Tarman best. But now he folded his arms and stood, reordering his thoughts, wondering just how much of them he wanted his ship to know. Tarman reached right into his dreams with apparent ease. How much of his day-to-day thoughts was the ship aware of?

Skelly already had her hands on the railing. “Kelsingra was beautiful,” she said quietly. “The best place I could imagine. I wanted to be there. I want to be traveling to Kelsingra now. So, Tarman, old friend, why are we stuck here in the mud? What’s the problem?”

She didn’t expect a direct answer to her query. Neither did Leftrin. Direct answers were not in a dragon’s nature, and that, Leftrin suddenly knew, was what he was dealing with here. He was as much a keeper as any of the youngsters were. Only his dragon had the form of a barge. He was reaching for the railing to put his hands on it when Tarman answered. The whole ship lurched. With a surprised curse, Leftrin’s reach for the railing be
came a grab. He hung on, hearing the confused shouts from the crew and the keepers aboard as Tarman lurched again. And again. The ship heaved up and settled, heaved up and settled. He could imagine those squat wizardwood legs and the finned feet shoving and shifting, not unlike a toad resettling itself in the mud. But with every heave and lurch, the Tarman was shifting his bow.

“What is going on?” Greft was grabbing at the railing as he came staggering down the deck. His teeth were bared behind his narrow silver lips as if he were in pain.

“Don’t know. Hang on,” Leftrin said sharply. Something was happening with his ship, and he wanted to focus his attention on Tarman, not some cocky young man.

Perhaps Greft picked up a hint of that, or perhaps the glare that Skelly shot him silenced him. He clung to the railing grimly as Tarman continued to heave and lurch along. When at last he settled, Leftrin waited a few minutes longer before he spoke. The ship had reoriented himself until his stern floated free. The merest push of the poles would now be enough to free the barge’s bow from the muddy bank.

But the most important change was that the
Tarman
’s bow now pointed up the freshwater river rather than toward the main channel. For a short time Captain Leftrin mulled over what he was seeing. He reached a conclusion and received the assent of his ship.

“Nothing’s wrong!” He bellowed at the rising babble and clamor of voices from crew and keepers alike. In the shocked lull that followed his shout, he spoke clearly. “We were about to go the wrong way. That’s all. Kelsingra is up this river, not that one.”

“How can you possibly know that?” Greft demanded.

Leftrin gave him a chill smile. “My liveship just told me so.”

Greft gestured to the dragons gathering on the shore. “And will they agree?” he asked him snidely. A dragon’s sudden roar broke the relative quiet.

“D
ID YOU SEE THAT?”

Thymara had. She had been on her way back to the vessel,
having given Sintara a hasty scrubbing with cold river water. She was soaked and cold. She didn’t believe the dragon had wanted or enjoyed the washing; she suspected that Sintara had used it as an excuse to flee the snorting males and their aggressive display. She had spoken very little to her keeper through the whole process, and Thymara had kept her questions to herself. Sylve, she decided, would be her best source of information. She had an uneasy feeling that there was something more to the increase in her scaling. Harrikin had dropped a careless remark about his scaling and his dragon, but he had become very quiet when she wanted to know what the connection was. And Sintara had been no help at all.

So, cold, wet, still half frightened, and with her injured back hurting more than it had in days, she had begun her dash back to the boat. She hoped to get on board and cozy up to the fire in the galley stove before the day’s travel began. It was her turn to be in one of the remaining keeper boats, and she wanted to be warm again by then.

Instead, she had seen the boat suddenly heave itself up as if a wave had risen up under it. She had heard the cries of those on board. All the dragons had turned at the sound; she heard Mercor trumpet in surprise. Ranculos roared a response as he looked all around, seeking a source of the supposed danger. The ship suddenly settled again, sending a little wash of water out from his sides.

She had halted an arm’s length away from Sedric. She hadn’t realized he’d come ashore. He turned to her and said, “Did you see that?” His damp sleeves were rolled back to his elbows, and he carried a ship’s bucket and a scrub brush. She suspected he had borrowed them without asking to aid in his grooming of his copper. She hoped Captain Leftrin would not be angry at him.

“I did,” she replied. At that moment, the ship again lifted, lurched and rocked, and then resettled.

“Is one of the dragons behind the ship? Are they pushing it?”

“No.” Mercor had overheard her question as the golden dragon arrived to stand near her. “Tarman is a liveship and a most unusual one at that. He moves himself.”

“How?” she demanded, but in the next instant she had her answer. The ship rocked from side to side and then, with tremendous effort, heaved himself up. For a moment, she had a glimpse of squat front legs. Then they bent and the ship settled once more in the shallow water and mud. She stared in astonishment and then her gaze wandered to the ship’s painted eyes. She had always thought they looked kind. Now they seemed determined to her. Water had splashed up over them in his latest effort. She stared at him, meeting his gaze and trying to decide if she looked at more than paint.

A moment later the ship gathered himself and again lifted, shifted, and dropped. He was unmistakably moving his bow.

“He’s trying to free himself,” Sedric suggested shakily. “That’s all.”

“I don’t think that’s all,” Thymara muttered, staring.

“Nor I,” Mercor added.

Ranculos had come closer. This time, as the ship lifted, he flared his nostrils and lifted the fringes on his neck. “I smell dragon!” he proclaimed loudly. He lifted his wings slightly and craned his head about.