Dragon Haven (47 page)

Sylve kept on paddling. She didn’t turn back to look at the other girl. She might have been speaking to the river when she said, “You forget. I saw it. I know what it is now.”

“Because you are changing in the same way.” Thymara flung the words back at her.

Sedric felt trapped between them. Why on earth would Sylve bring up such a topic, so private and specific to the keepers, while he was in the boat?

Then dread dropped the bottom out of his stomach.

Thymara wasn’t the target of her words. He was. His hand shot up to the back of his neck and covered the line of scales that had started down his spine. Carson had assured him that they were barely noticeable yet. He’d said they didn’t even seem to have a color yet, unlike the pink of Sylve’s and the silvery glints on Carson’s own scaling. Sedric didn’t say a word.

“I am changing,” Sylve admitted. “But I was given the choice, and I chose this. And I trust Mercor.”

“But he left you today,” Thymara pointed out. Sedric wondered if she were relentless or just tactless.

“I’ve thought it over, and what Sedric said, too. If, tonight, I were not there when we gathered, then Mercor would go back for me. I know that. But I will be there, and I will have got my
self there. It is what he expects of me. I am neither a pet nor a child. He believes I am not only capable of taking care of myself, but that I am worthy of the attention of a dragon, and that I can survive without him.”

When Thymara asked her question, she sounded half strangled. “Why does he believe that of you? How did you convince him?”

Sylve glanced back at them, and an otherworldly smile flitted across her face. “I am not sure. But he offered me a chance and I took it. I am not an Elderling yet. But I will be.”

“What?” Thymara and Sedric chorused the word together.

Then Thymara added another one. “How?”

“A little bit of blood,” Sylve said in a near whisper, and Sedric went cold. A little bit? How much was a little bit? He tried to remember how much blood he’d taken in that night, and wondered how much it took.

“Mercor gave you some of his blood?” Thymara was incredulous. “What did you do with it?”

Sylve’s voice was very quiet, as if she spoke of something sacred. Or horrifying. “He told me to pull a small scale from his face. I did. A drop or two of blood welled out. He told me to catch it on the scale. And then to eat it.” Her breath caught, and the rhythm of her paddling broke. “It was…delicious. No. It wasn’t a taste. It was a feeling. It was magical. It changed me.”

With two strong strokes of her paddle, Thymara drove them out of the current and into the shallows. She reached up and caught a branch and held them all in place.

“Why?” The question exploded out of her. It sounded as if she asked it of the universe in general, as if it were almost a cry of despair at an unfair fate, but it was Sylve who answered her.

“You know what we are, Thymara. You know why some of us are discarded at birth. Why those of us who change too much too soon are denied mates and children. If they discover us when we are born, we are denied any future at all. It’s because we change in ways that make us monstrous. And make us die, sooner rather than later, after giving birth to monsters who cannot live. Mercor believes those changes happen to any humans who are around dragons for any length of time.”

“That makes no sense! Rain Wilders were changing from the very first generation who settled here. Long before dragons came back into this world, children were developing scales, and pregnant women were giving birth to monsters!”

“Long before dragons came back, we were living where they had lived, and digging into the places where the Elderlings had dwelt. We were plundering their treasures, wearing their jewelry, making timber out of dragon cases. There may not have been dragons walking among us, but we were walking among them.”

A silence held as Thymara digested those words. The water rushed past their canoe. Sedric felt cold and still inside. Blood. Blood from a dragon was changing Sylve. Two drops and one small scale was all it had taken. How much had he taken in? What changes had he triggered in himself? Monsters, they had said. Monsters who didn’t live long, monsters denied any future. Something in the middle of him had gone tight and was twisting, twisting so hard it hurt. He bent forward slightly over his belly. Neither of them appeared to notice.

“But the blood he gave you will change you more?”

“It was his blood. He says he will shape my change. He warned me that it doesn’t always work, and that he does not remember all of what a dragon should do to facilitate such a change. But he said the Elderlings did not just happen. Every Elderling who existed was once the companion of a dragon. Well, almost everyone. Sometimes humans started to change and even unguided, the changes didn’t kill them. They noticed it in the humans who tended the dragons while they were in their cases and the ones who were present at the hatchings. Some became beautiful and lived a long time, but most didn’t. But the ones the dragons chose as worthy and guided carefully, they became extraordinary and some lived for generations.”

She ran out of words for a moment.

“I don’t understand.”

“Art, Thymara. Elderlings were a form of art for the dragons of that time. They found humans they thought had potential and developed them. That was why they cherished them. Everyone cherishes what they create. Even dragons.”

“And my changes? I was born with the sort of changes one usually sees only in very old women. And since we left Trehaug, I’ve continued to change. The changes are progressing faster than they ever have before.”

“I’ve noticed. That’s why I asked Mercor if Sintara was changing you. He said he would ask her.”

“I asked her already,” Thymara admitted. “I suspected she had something to do with it. From something I heard Harrikin say. Is his dragon changing him, too?”

“Yes. And Sintara is changing you.”

A silence. Then Thymara admitted. “No. She said she wasn’t, and Mercor said that if she didn’t take charge of my changes, he would.”

“What?”

What was in that incredulous question from Sylve? A touch of jealousy? Disbelief?

Thymara seemed to hear it, too. Her reply was glum. “Don’t worry. He won’t. Sintara said she would never allow anyone to take over her keeper. I’m doomed to belong to her, even if she doesn’t want me. And doomed to change however I change, for better or worse.” She took a deep breath. “We’d better get moving. I can’t even see the other boats now.”

“You want me to paddle for a while?” Sedric offered.

“No. Thank you.” Quietly she added, “I think I just want to work for a while.”

Sedric cleared his throat, forced the difficult words out. “I’m changing, too.”

A silence. Then Sylve said delicately, “Yes, we noticed.”

He phrased his next statement a dozen ways before he found one that avoided the issue of blood and how he had tasted it. “Sometimes I’m afraid that Relpda doesn’t know how to control the changes.”

“I think we’re all a bit afraid of that,” Sylve commiserated. And he could think of no response.

Thymara’s paddle dug in, pushing them out into the river. They moved on, battling the slow current.

Day the 9th of the Gold Moon

Day the 10th of the Gold Moon

Day the 12th of the Gold Moon

A
s evening closed in, the river still had no discernible banks. Leftrin stood on the bow of the barge, looking out over the wide spread of water before him. To the left and to the right, tall reeds and unnaturally thick cattails bounded the open channel that remained. The shallow channel itself was only about three times as wide as the barge itself. The dragons trudged slowly before them in a disconsolate bunch. Nothing even approaching solid land was in sight. Likely it would be their second night of standing in water all night. Dark was coming on. A single bright star already showed in the deepening blue of the sky. Soon the hunters and keepers would be bringing their boats back to the barge to reboard for the night. It felt strange to be on such flat water, on the deck of Tarman, and to have such a wide open sky overhead. The forested horizons were a distant circle surrounding his boat. A wide margin of vegetation-choked shallow water walled him off from them.
Overhead, flocks of waterfowl and small birds were wheeling and coming down to settle for the night. The waterfowl coasted in to land in sprays of water. The small birds found perches in the tassels and seedheads of the water plants. Small fish, frogs, and something that looked like swimming lizards were plentiful in the shallows. The dragons did not enjoy the effort of feeding on such small life-forms, but at least they were not going hungry. Yesterday, they had encountered an immense flock of long-legged wading birds. They were at least as tall as a man, and heavy-bodied. Their plumage had been stunningly brilliant, in every shade of blue. He’d only had a short time to marvel at them before the dragons charged them. Most of the birds fled, almost running on top of the water in their haste to take flight. The rest had become dragon fodder. He’d had Davvie pluck a few of the floating feathers from the water for Alise to record and collect. Life here was plentiful on this river, and in varieties that Leftrin had never seen or imagined.

“At least this is fresh water, with no acid.” Alise spoke as she approached him. “There’s that small mercy to be grateful for. Still, the dragons aren’t going to be happy about standing in water all night.” She came to stand beside him, and he watched her place her hands lightly on the bow railing. How long had she been doing that, he wondered, but did not ask her. Tarman accepted her touch, even acknowledged her. She smoothed her hand along the railing the same way she stroked Grigsby when the ship’s cat honored her by leaping into her lap. It was a fingertip stroke, an awareness that he belonged to himself, and she was allowed to touch him but never own him.

Yes. That described Tarman for as long as Leftrin had known him, and even more since his modification. There was a stubborn streak to the ship that was familiar but more intense since they had entered the freshwater tributary. He sensed a certainty in his ship that neither the keepers nor the dragons shared. It pervaded his dreams at night; it was the only thing that let him rise and face each day with optimism.

Alise set her hand upon his.

Well, perhaps not the only thing. For how could any man
feel discouragement when every night a woman engulfed him in tenderness and sensuality? She woke in him appetites he had not known he had, and she sated them as well. He had been more surprised than she had at how quickly the crew and keepers accepted their new arrangement. He had expected difficulties with Sedric at least, for although Alise nominally kept her separate quarters, she openly came and went from his stateroom without apologies or explanations. When Sedric’s silence on the matter had extended to two and then three days, he had asked Alise if she thought he had best directly tackle the subject with him.

“He knows,” she said bluntly. “He doesn’t approve. He thinks you are taking advantage of me and that I will one day greatly regret the trust I’ve put in you.” Her eyes scanned his as she said this, as if she were trying to read his very soul. “I thought about that for a time. And I decided that if you were deceiving me, at least this is a deception that I have chosen.” A strange little smile knotted her mouth. “And it is a deception that I will enjoy however long it lasts.”

He’d folded her into his arms then. “It’s not a deception,” he promised her. “And what we have will last. Perhaps some days you will be disappointed by me; perhaps eventually you’ll tire of me and seek someone cleverer or wealthier. But for now, sweet summer lady, I plan to enjoy my days with you wholeheartedly.” They had been standing in his stateroom, face-to-face, as they spoke. And on his final words, he stooped and picked her up and deposited her on his bed. She gave a whoop of surprise as he scooped her off her feet, and then, as she landed safely on the bed, she had given a throaty chuckle that sent a flush of pleasure through him. There was a bit of the bawd in this Bingtown lady, he was discovering to his delight. He suspected that discovery was new to Alise also.

Now, as they stood and looked out over the water, quiet stretched out around them. When she finally spoke, she asked her question gently. “Are you sure Tarman was correct when he brought us this way?”

He lifted his hand from the railing, catching hers as he did
so. The ship was irritable enough without him doubting it. “I’m as certain as he is,” he said. More quietly he added, “What else do we have to go on, Alise? If the dragons had felt strongly that it was in the other direction, I think they would have objected.”

“I just thought, well, it appeared to be more of a navigable waterway. And so I thought it likely that a large city, such as Kelsingra must have been, would be built on a navigable waterway.”

“That would make sense.” That idea had occurred to him, more than once. He consoled her as he did himself. “But everything has changed since the days of the Elderlings. This might have been a deep lake then. Or perhaps a lazy river wandered through low banks of farmland. We can’t know. Trusting Tarman makes just as much sense as ignoring him and going the other way.”

“So. We have an even chance of being right and finding Kelsingra.”

He scratched at his beard. “As even as any other chance. Alise, we might have passed its sunken ruins days ago. Or the tributary that led there might have silted in and grown up as forest a hundred years ago. We don’t know. Do you want to give up and go back?”

She thought for a long time. “I don’t want to go back ever,” she said quietly.

“Then we go on,” he said. He squinted. “Look at that, over there. Something wrong with that patch of reeds?”

She leaned past him, pressing against his arm to do so. Boyish and silly to enjoy that so thoroughly, but he did. Then she shocked him by gripping the railing and saying, “Tarman, we need to go over there and see what that is! Right away!”

He didn’t know whether to laugh aloud or feel affronted when he felt his ship heel over to obey her.

“It’s a perfect rectangle. And look over there. Another, smaller one.” Despite her efforts to be calm, Alise was grinning insanely and her voice shook. She leaned so far over the edge of the small boat as she peered down through the water that Leftrin leaned
over to grip the back of her shirt. “I won’t fall in,” she responded to his touch, but did not straighten up.

“D
O YOU THINK
they’re roofs of sunken buildings?”

“That could be, I suppose, but they’re flat and from the tapestries and preserved images from Elderling times, I know they seldom built plain, flat-roofed structures. Some cities, such as the sunken one at Trehaug, were more like interconnected warrens rather than the freestanding buildings that we create in our cities. One of the difficulties in excavating Cassarick is that the structures are not all connected as they were at Trehaug. Why they built one way in one place and differently in another is something we don’t know.” Alise lifted her eyes and scanned the shallows. Plant life was thick on the surface of the river. The flat leaves of lilies barely moved in the sluggish current here, and ranks of reeds lifted tasseled heads. At the oars, Leftrin held the small boat in position over a perfect rectangle of shorter rushes. The uniformly stunted square of plant life was unmistakably unnatural. She eyed the shallow water beneath the boat and announced, “I’m getting out.”

“Alise!” Sedric objected before Leftrin could, but she was already pulling off her shoes and rolling up her ragged trousers.

“It’s clean water, remember? And so shallow here that not even reeds can take root and grow tall. That’s what first attracted Leftrin’s attention. Don’t worry so much.” She clambered out and was pleased that she hardly tipped the boat. Nonetheless she landed with a splash that flung water up to her thighs. Her feet sank into the muddy bottom.

“What about leeches? And rasp snakes?”

“I’ll be fine,” she repeated, but wished Sedric hadn’t mentioned them. She wasn’t sure why he’d insisted on coming along in the small boat to explore the square of uniformly short reeds. She gritted her teeth and then scraped her bare foot, trying to discover what was beneath the mud. Sediment spun up to obscure her view. She rolled up her sleeves and reached in with both hands. The water over the sunken structure was shallow,
barely knee-deep. But reaching to the bottom with her hands still meant nearly putting her face in the water. She dug at the mud and matted roots, and then ran her fingertips over what she’d exposed. Then she straightened up, dripping and grinning. “Mortar and stone. And the stone feels regular, as if it were cut and shaped and then put together.”

“So what is it? What have we found?”

When Leftrin had halted the
Tarman
and then ventured out in the small boat to investigate the patch of reeds, the dragons had paused and then come back to watch the humans. Now Mercor and two of the other dragons lumbered up to investigate for themselves. Mercor lifted a foot, tested his weight on the concealed surface, and then surged up out of the water to stand beside Alise. “Be careful!” she cried, alarmed. “It may give way.”

“It won’t,” he said shortly. “It was made to take a dragon’s weight.” He paced to the edge, turned, and then came back. “Somewhere here,” he said, and then, “Ah. Here.”

He hooked his claws into something, tugged, then grunted, “It’s stuck.”

“What is?” Alise demanded, and “What are you doing?” Leftrin demanded just as the dragon, with a roar of effort, pulled on something under the water.

The result was immediate. Alise gave a cry of fear as the mud and water under her feet suddenly warmed. A bluish light suffused the sunken rectangle unevenly, making the water clear as glass in some places but in others was blocked completely by straggling roots. Alise splashed hastily back toward the small boat as the water swiftly warmed around her. She seized the edge of it, and Leftrin, with no regard for her dignity, reached over the side and clutched her shirt collar and the waist of her trousers to haul her in. “Back away from it!” he shouted to Sedric, and the two men employed their paddles to move the boat away from the glowing and humming rectangle.

“Mercor, Mercor, be careful!” Alise shouted at him. But the dragon calmly lay down in the water. Ranculos and Sestican had already ventured to join him there, and the other dragons were moving slowly toward them.

Mercor stretched and spoke as if in a dream. “They’re not supposed to be underwater. Once, they stood on the grounds of some of the finest lakeside cottages. They were built for dragons, to welcome them when they chose to visit here. On cool evenings or rainy days, they made a warm and comfortable place for a dragon to stretch out.”

“Guest beds for dragons,” Alise said faintly.

“Um. You might call them that. Delightfully warm. Even now, the heat feels good.”

As Alise watched, Sestican lay down in the water. He heaved a sigh and stretched out. Around the dragons, the water had begun to shimmer with heat. Kalo clambered up onto the rectangle and found just enough space to join them. The other dragons drew closer, staring enviously and leaning as close to the warmth as they could. Streams of bubbles began to rise and break at the surface.

“Does this mean you know where we are? Are we close to Kelsingra? Was this place a part of it?” Alise shouted her questions to the blissful dragons.

Beside her, Sedric yawned suddenly. “You’ll get no sense out of them,” he said quietly. “The warmth is something they’ve been craving for a long time. They’re nearly stupefied with it.”

And indeed, they reminded Alise of cows more than dragons as they crowded together, leaning against one another. Even Sedric had begun to breathe more slowly and deeply. Alise stared at him in horrified fascination. His eyes were beginning to droop closed.

“What’s the matter—” Leftrin began, but she placed a restraining hand on his arm. She leaned closer to Sedric. “Does Relpda remember this place?”

He sighed. “There were lots of places like this. Elderlings wanted to welcome the dragons. They competed for dragon favor, and to get the attention of the most powerful ones, wealthy Elderlings spared no efforts in accommodating their large guests.”

“So there were many of these dragon beds?”

It took longer for him to respond. “Not in the city. Kelsin
gra had an entire plaza that remained warm. But at the country homes of wealthy Elderlings, or at the dwelling places of Elderlings who lived on the northern islands or even farther north, there would be places for dragons to be comfortable.” He opened his eyes and tried to focus them. He took a deeper breath, and his voice changed slightly as he seemed to come back to them. “At Trehaug, there were chambers with glassed-in ceilings, places large enough for dragons to enter. They were kept warm for them when they visited. The Elderlings grew beautiful plants in them and had fountains.”

“That makes sense,” Alise said quietly, recalling what she had heard of an excavated room called the Crowned Rooster Chamber. “The place where Tintaglia hatched was a chamber with large doors and heavy glass panels. It would have admitted sunlight year-round, but been a shelter from the rains of winter. It has been speculated that there was a great earthquake or other disaster, and some of the dragon cases were dragged into the chamber for protection. Instead, when the city was buried, the dragons were interred with it.”