Rain Wilds Chronicles (185 page)

“Wings?”

The older woman nodded. “Wings. And Sylve may be growing a crest on her brow.”

“Did I change?” Malta had asked her immediately.

“Well, you seem to shimmer more brightly to me. But perhaps that is a question better asked of your husband, who knows best how you usually look.” Politeness ruled Alise. She would not say what Malta knew was true. She had been so unkempt from her constant vigilance over little Ephron during the journey that Alise could not tell if the changes in her scaling were merely that she was clean now, or if her dragon characteristics had advanced. Malta found she didn't care and smiled wearily.
Look what it had taken to erode girlish vanity,
she thought to herself.
Merely threaten my son's life and none of it mattered anymore.
She looked down into his little face. He was silent but not asleep. His face did not look like the face of any baby she had ever seen before. His little mouth was pinched up as if he were in pain, and his breath whispered through his narrow nostrils. She tried to see him impartially; was he an ugly child, doomed to be rejected by other children as he grew? She had found she could not tell. He was Ephron, her little boy, and his differences were part of who he was, not points to be compared with others. With a forefinger, Malta had traced the fine scaling that outlined his brows, and he closed his eyes. She had handed him to Alise, who wrapped him in the waiting towel while Malta waded wearily out of the water.

Her skin had dried quickly in the warm chamber, and Alise had supplied her with an Elderling gown of shimmering pink. The gleaming color reminded Malta of the inside of a conch shell. At another time, she would have longed to see herself in a mirror, to admire the supple fall of the soft fabric. But at the pool's edge all she had wanted was her child back in her arms. Now she stared numbly down the hall of closed and opened doors. Choices, some she might make and others closed forever to her. How did one ever know how one small choice might forever change the course of one's life?

“Let me show you a chamber I think you'll like and settle you there for the night. In the morning, after you've rested, if you don't like it, you can change it.”

Malta realized that she hadn't moved nor spoken in several minutes. Had she fallen asleep standing up? “Please,” she said faintly, and did not mind when Alise took her arm and guided her down the hall. It was a relief to be away from the keepers' noisy and joyous welcome. When they had introduced themselves, several had seemed stunned. “The king and the queen of the Elderlings!” someone had whispered.

Malta had shaken her head, but it had not seemed to affect their awe. They had pelted them with hundreds of questions, and Reyn, knowing her exhaustion, had tried to answer them. The girls had seemed entranced by her baby, and even the boys had come to look on him in amazement.

“Like Greft,” one of them had exclaimed as he stared at her boy. A taller keeper on the verge of manhood had bade him hush and pulled the scarlet-scaled boy aside. Reyn had read her anguished look and drawn the keepers off, while suggesting strongly that Alise help her find a place to bathe and rest. Now here she was, barely able to make sense of things as the evening drew to a close. She had come all this way, hoping to be greeted by dragons. None had appeared. Now all she wanted was Reyn back, wanted her little family close at hand again.

At the end of the hall Alise escorted her through a door that swung wide at her touch. The room had been dark, but it lit as they entered, gaining sourceless light slowly until a warm glow suffused the room. There was no hearth, Malta noticed with dismay, and almost as if Alise heard her, she said, “The rooms stay comfortably warm. We don't know how. The chairs and the beds soften as you sit on them, and we don't know how that works either. There is still so much to learn about Kelsingra. There is no bedding. Perhaps the Elderlings had no need for it when the rooms stayed warm. Some of the closets had clothing in them, and a few of the shelves and cupboards held personal items. Some things were of obvious use, such as brushes and necklaces and others we didn't understand at all. I've urged all the keepers to leave nonessential items in place until we can learn more. But”—a small sigh—“they do not listen to me very well. Jerd is the worst, treasure-hunting from building to building and amassing more jewelry than one woman could wear in a lifetime, with no thought as to where it came from or who wore it before her. Goblets made of gold, as if we had wine worthy of them. A mirror that shows what it should have reflected the moment before, so she can examine the back of her head. And useful items as well. A pot that warms whatever is put into it. Stockings with sturdy soles that adjust to the wearer's foot . . . Oh. I'm sorry. I'm chattering away while you stand there. Come. This room has only a table and chairs, as if for a gathering of people, as you can see. But here is a bedchamber, and those other two doors also go to bedchambers. As soon as you sit down on one of the beds, it will start to soften to your form.”

Malta nodded dumbly. “Reyn?” she asked wearily, and Alise promised, “I'll see that he knows where you are. You are exhausted, my dear. Go to bed right away, for the sake of your child, if not yourself.”

Alise patted the bed, and Malta carefully set Phron down on it. He squirmed, and with a sinking heart, she knew he was going to wail again. Then, as the bed softened around his tiny form, his cross expression eased. As she watched him, his eyes sagged slowly closed. Reflexively, she leaned down, putting her cheek and ear near to his face, to assure herself he was breathing. She wanted so to follow him into slumber, but not yet. Not yet. A sad smile twisted her mouth as she recalled how her own mother had always seen to her children's needs before she allowed herself to rest.

“His things,” she said, turning to Alise. “Will my trunks be brought here? There is a blue case that has all Phron's things in it, his extra napkins, his little robes and soft blankets . . .” She let her voice trail away as she wondered what was wrong with her, to be so stupid as to leave such things behind. She could not seem to focus her thoughts; her mind seemed to buzz with a thousand half-remembered ideas . . .

“Malta!” Alise's voice was almost sharp, and the Bingtown woman gave her elbow a gentle shake. “This city is full of Elderling memories. This building does not seem to be as heavy with them as some, but still, it is easy to let your mind drift here and lose track of what you were thinking and doing. Will you be all right sleeping here tonight? Do you think you should return to the ship?”

The moment Alise mentioned it, Malta recognized it for what it was. Memory stone, full of stored lives and thoughts. She squinted her eyes tight and opened them again. “I'll be fine, now that I'm aware of it. I've been around it before. The first time was when I went into the buried part of Trehaug, to try to find Tintaglia and plead with her to leave Reyn alone.”

Alise looked intrigued and Malta had to smile. “It's a long tale, but if you wish, I'll tell it to you. But not now. I'm exhausted.”

“Of course you are. And I heard Tarman's crew say that everything on board would be off-loaded tonight so that they could move him to a safer place across the river. I'll go and make sure your things are brought here. Now. Before I leave, is there anything else you need?”

“Only Reyn,” Malta replied honestly.

Alise laughed, the sort of laugh that women share. “Of course. It was so clever of him to keep the keepers occupied. All of them are buzzing with curiosity about why you are here and all you can teach them of Elderling ways. The king and queen of the Elderlings. Did you ever think those titles would come to mean so much? For here, they do. I heard the youngsters talking.”

Malta stared at her. Alise smiled and spoke more softly. “They think you've come to lead them. To use your power and stature to establish Kelsingra. I heard Rapskal say, ‘They will call us the Dragon Traders, and we will stand on an even footing with Bingtown or the Pirate Isles or even Jamaillia. They'll respect us now that our king and queen are here.' ” Alise dropped her voice. “I know it isn't why you came. But you need to know that. Every word you speak here carries weight with these young Elderlings. They'll be gathered around Reyn now, hanging on his every word. But I'll free him from them and send him up to you. And I'll let them know that their queen wishes her trunks delivered tonight. And it will happen.”

“Alise, I can't deal with this,” Malta replied feebly. “I never thought . . .” Words failed her. Useless things. She was so tired. Stupidly tired. She'd forgotten all about Tillamon. “Reyn's sister . . . will you help her find us here? She must be as tired as I am, and I just left her there at the docks. So rude, but I'm just so tired.”

Alise looked a bit surprised. “Well, I thought Tillamon said that she wanted to stay on board Tarman tonight and help take him across to the village tomorrow. But if you wish, I'll ask after her.”

“Sleep aboard Tarman? Well, as she wishes. I thought she might want to join us here where things are so comfortable. But perhaps the memory noise would bother her.” Malta was suddenly too tired to think about it anymore. “Please, just ask Reyn to come up. And good night to you, and many, many thanks for your welcome here.”

“Good night. And by tomorrow morning, I am sure we can persuade one of the dragons to speak to you. I'll ask every keeper to summon his dragon, to speak with the king and queen of the Elderlings. Surely one will be able to help your babe.”

King and queen. It made her ridiculously sad. The dreams of Malta the girl might come true even as the longings of Phron's mother were destroyed. She had no words for it. “Alise, you have been too kind. I have been thoughtless . . .”

“You are just tired,” Alise replied firmly, with a smile. “Get some rest. I'll free Reyn from the keepers and send him up.”

A
lise slipped from the room, pulling the door closed quietly behind her. It was a relief to let the false smile fade from her face. Tragedy. She had never seen such a bony baby. And despite what the keepers said, Malta the Elderling queen was gone, replaced by a grieving mother with a lined face. The hot water had brightened her scale colors, but her once-golden hair reminded Alise of the dead straw after harvest, and her hands were clawlike. Beauty had fled before life's harshness. She wondered if it would ever return.

Alise hurried down the hall and then down the spiraling stair. The dragon baths, with their hot water and comfortable lodgings, were a popular gathering place for the keepers. At the back of the entry hall, behind the stairs, a door led to a gathering space. A long table and chairs and benches that became comfortable after one sat on them filled that room. Beyond it, there was a kitchen area. It illuminated when one entered, and the cupboards and worktables reminded Alise of the cooking space in many a Bingtown mansion. But there was no hearth, only stone ovens and several mysterious workbenches. There was a large basin with a drain in it, and a mechanism that possibly should have furnished water, but no one had deduced how to make it work.

So cooking took place in an alley behind the building. It had pained her heart to see the keepers build a large hearth of rubble where they cooked game meat on spits over driftwood hauled up from the riverbank. She knew it was a necessity, but the mess it created in the formerly pristine city shamed her. In this, Rapskal was right. There was a way to use this city, and the sooner they learned it, the better for both city and keepers. For now, she felt as if she were part of a barbarian invasion rather than settlers reclaiming a beautiful place.

She opened the door to conversation and the smell of cooked food and almost swooned when she smelled hot tea. She had not tasted tea for months! And bread, there were rounds of hard bread in baskets on the table. It seemed no less than a miracle. She made her way to the table, past a jumble of stacked crates and barrels, the foodstuffs unloaded from the
Tarman.
With relief, she saw a number of large trunks and cases that probably belonged to Malta

She made her way through the hodgepodge of crates and barrels to where Reyn sat at the head of the long table. Six keepers clustered about him, and Lecter was telling the tale of how they had treated the dragons for rasp snakes on their way to Kelsingra. Reyn was leaning forward on the table, the picture of a rapt listener, or a very weary man who might otherwise collapse. Alise spoke crisply. “Enough! It's time to let this man join his wife and child in some well-earned rest after such a journey. There will be plenty of time to exchange news and tales tomorrow.”

“After you summon the dragons for us,” Reyn ventured.

The smiles around the table faded a bit. “I'll try,” Sylve volunteered quickly. The others exchanged glances. Their thoughts were plain to Alise. Their king and queen wished to speak with their dragons, but no one could promise the dragons would come.

“Let the poor man get some rest!” she insisted again, and Reyn seized the opportunity to stand up.

The gathered keepers groaned at losing him. He gave them a weary smile. “I would greatly welcome a bit of assistance with our trunks,” he said gently, and the response was overwhelming.

Alise took the opportunity to slip out of the gathering. Her heart beat faster at the thought of her own reunion. She paused only to get her cloak and then hastened out of the door.

It was raining, yet she wasn't cold. She pulled up the hood of her midnight blue Elderling cloak. It was spangled with yellow stars at the hem. Her feet and legs were warmly covered in Elderling garb as well. Sylve had been the one to bring it to her, telling her that everyone thought it ridiculous that she went clad in leaking boots and a ragged cloak while they walked in warmth and finery. “But . . . I am not a true Elderling like the rest of you,” she had said. It was as close as she had come to admitting to anyone how much of an outsider she had become.