Rain Wilds Chronicles (96 page)

“I overheard him and Swarge talking about it one night. Leftrin listens to his crew, more than most captains, and that's why so many of them have been with him so long. He wanted to know if Swarge and Bellin were discontented and wanted to turn back. Swarge said, ‘It's all one to us, Cap. No homes in the trees waiting for any of us. And this river has to come from somewhere. We follow it far enough, we're bound to come to something.' And Leftrin laughed and said, ‘What if what we come to is a bad end?' and Swarge said, ‘A bad end is just a new beginning. We've been there before.' So. I think they'll keep going, until they find Kelsingra or the
Tarman
can't crawl any farther.”

He poked the firepot again and seemed to take genuine pleasure in the drakes-tail of sparks he freed. “And I'll go with them. After all, I've got nothing and nobody calling me back to Trehaug. Or anywhere.”

His statement seemed to be a question in disguise. Sedric considered it. He shrugged and answered it. “I've got no choice, do I? There's a life waiting for me back in Bingtown. One I'm rather good at, even if I can't survive on my own out here. But I've no way to get back to it. So I'm doomed to return to the
Tarman
with you and endure whatever comes next. I'm trapped.”

And he was and he knew it. Even so, he regretted how mean and small his words seemed following Carson's more generous view of the world.

Carson's face shifted. The corners of his mouth dropped, and
his eyes became solemn. He dropped the stick he'd been stirring the fire with into the pot and leaned back a bit. With both his big hands, he pushed his wild hair back from his face. When he spoke, his voice was tight. “You don't have to go back, Sedric. Not if you hate it that much. I've got the boat and the basic tools of my trade. I could take you downriver. It wouldn't be an easy trip, but I'd get you back to Trehaug. And from there, you could go home.”

“What about the others?” Sedric asked reluctantly, trying to keep his rising excitement out of his voice. And then, as the complication came to him, “And what about the dragon?”

Yes. What about me?
Her voice was a sleepy gurgle.

“Oh. That's right. The dragon.” Carson smiled ruefully. “Strange, how a small detail like a very large dragon can slip my mind for a time. I suppose I'm still thinking of you as Alise's assistant rather than as a keeper.” He was quiet for a time, and the bubble of excitement that Sedric had felt at the prospect of an early return to Bingtown began to subside.

Carson shrugged. “We could make sure she got back to the other dragons. After that, she'd have to manage on her own. We'd have to go upriver first anyway. I couldn't just vanish; Leftrin would think I was dead, and Davvie would be crazy with fear and sorrow. I wouldn't do something like that to a friend, let alone a boy who depends on me. And I'd want to ask Leftrin to let me out of my contract to hunt. A bad time for me to be asking that, with Jess missing. And you'd want to say good-bye to Alise, I'm sure…” His voice dwindled away. “I guess neither of us is as free as I was thinking we were,” he said softly. “Too bad.”

“Too bad,” Sedric agreed sickly. He was silent for a time, and then he observed, “Just a few minutes ago, you were talking about how wonderful it was to be part of something big like this expedition. Mapping the river, looking for an ancient city. Why would you offer to walk away from that just to take me to Trehaug?”

Carson grinned. He met his eyes frankly. “I like you, Sedric. I
really
like you. Haven't you figured that out yet?”

The man's frankness astounded him. He stared at the hunter, at his scaled skin above his bearded cheeks, his wild hair, and his scruffy clothing. Could he have been more unlike Hest?

A moment too late, he realized he should have given some response to that honest offering. Carson had already looked away from him. He gave a tiny shrug. “I know you've got someone waiting for you to come back. I think he was an idiot to let you go in the first place. And of course, I don't forget the differences between us. I know what I am, and I got my place in the world. And most of the time, I'm pretty satisfied with my life.”

Sedric found his voice. “I wish I could say the same,” he offered, then knew it had come out wrong. “I mean, I wish I could say I'd found satisfaction in my life. I haven't.” There had been moments of it, he thought. Time spent with Hest in some of the more exotic cities they'd visited, times of excellent wine and rare foods and the prospect of a long, merry evening in a finely appointed inn. Had that been satisfaction with his life, he suddenly wondered, or simply hedonistic satiation? Uncomfortably he sensed that Carson was right. The differences between them were extreme. He suddenly felt shamed but also a bit angry. So he liked things to be nice; so he enjoyed the fine things life could offer. That didn't make him shallow. There was more to him than just enjoying what Hest's money could buy him. Carson's voice called him back to reality. His voice sounded resigned.

“It's getting late. We should get some sleep. You can have the blanket.”

“There's another blanket in the other boat,” he said.

“Other boat?” Carson asked him.

He'd relaxed too much. The truth had slipped out. Then he wondered how long he would have lied? Would he have kept his silence tomorrow, let them abandon supplies and gear that were even more precious now than when they had left Trehaug?

“It's tied up on the other side of that big snag over there.” He tossed his head toward it, and then sat, guilty and silent, as Carson gracefully rose and crossed the mat of rocking logs and debris to look down on it. He stared at the firepot. He heard the big man thud gently down into the bottom of the boat. In a mo
ment, his voice came through the dimness. “This is Greft's boat and his gear. One thing about him, he's good at taking care of what's his. If I were you, I'd be careful with his stuff. He's going to want it all back, and in good condition.”

A few moments later, Carson returned. The blanket was slung over his shoulder. He tossed it to Sedric, not hard but not softly either. Sedric caught it. It was still damp in places. He'd intended to spread it out to dry in the sun and forgotten.

“So,” Carson said, sitting down on the log again. “That's Greft's boat. And you didn't tie the knots that are securing it. What's the whole story? And why didn't you tell it?” There was a chill in his voice, a cold spark of anger.

Sedric was suddenly too tired to dissemble. Too tired to be anything but honest. “I did tell you what happened to me. I saw this pack of logs here, and Relpda brought me here. Then I found out that Jess was already here. He'd been swept away, too, but he'd found a boat. And he'd got here before I did.”

“Jess is here?”

A simple question. If he answered it truthfully, how would Carson react? He looked at him wordlessly. No lie came to him and he didn't dare tell the truth. He fingered the massive bruise on the side of his face as he tried to decide where to begin. Carson's deep eyes were fixed on his. A furrow had begun to show between his brows, and his mouth was suspicious.
Talk. Say something
.

“He wanted to kill Relpda. Cut her up into parts, take the parts to Chalced and sell them.”

For a long moment, Carson was silent. Then he nodded slowly. “That sounds like something Jess was capable of doing. Sounds like what he was trying to get Greft to persuade the keepers to do. So what happened?”

“We fought. I hit him with the hatchet.”

“And I ate him.” There was satisfaction in Relpda's quiet rumble.

The copper distracted Carson completely from what Sedric had said. His head swiveled to face her. “You ate him? You ate Jess?” He was incredulous.

“It's what dragons do,” she replied defensively. Sedric's own words, coming out of her mouth.

Sedric found himself justifying it. “Jess wanted me to help him trick her into keeping still while he killed her. I wouldn't. So he stabbed her with a spear and then came after me. Carson, he was going to kill her and cut her up and sell her. And he didn't care if he had to kill me first to do it.”

The hunter's head swiveled back to regard Sedric skeptically. His eyes wandered over Sedric, his bruised face and battered condition, assigning new meaning to what he saw. Sedric felt his muscles tighten as he faced that gaze, fearing that soon it would turn to judgment and condemnation. Instead, he saw disbelief slowly become admiring amazement.

“Jess was one of the nastiest fellows I'd ever had to work alongside. He had a reputation for being a dirty fighter, the kind who didn't stop even after the other fellow was willing to give in. And you stood up to him for your dragon?” He glanced over at Relpda. Nothing remained of the elk carcass. She'd eaten it all.

“I had to,” Sedric said quietly.

“And you won?”

Sedric just looked at him. “I'm not sure I'd describe it as winning.”

The comment surprised a guffaw out of Carson. Then Relpda intruded.

“And I ate him. Sedric fed him to me.” She seemed to savor the memory.

“That isn't exactly what happened,” Sedric hastily interposed. “I never intended for that to happen. Though I'll admit that at the time, what I mostly felt was relief. Because I wasn't sure if anything else would have stopped him.”

“And Jess is what happened to your face, then?”

Sedric lifted a hand to his jaw. His cheekbone was still tender, and the swollen inside of his cheek kept snagging on his teeth. But he felt almost strangely proud of his injury now. “Yes, it was Jess. I'd never been hit in the face like that before.”

Carson gave a brief snort of laughter. “Wish I could say that!
I've caught plenty of fists with my face. Though I'm truly sorry to see it happen to yours.”

Almost timidly, the hunter put out a large hand. The touch of his rough fingers on Sedric's face was gentle. Sedric was shocked that such a slight brush against his cheek could send such a rush of feeling through him. The fingers pressed gently around his eyes socket and then the line of his cheekbones. He sat very still, wondering if there would be more, wondering how he would react if there was. But Carson dropped his hand and turned his face away, saying hoarsely, “Nothing's broken, I don't think. You should heal.” A moment later, he fed another stick to the firepot. “We should get some sleep soon if we're going to get up early.”

“Jess said Leftrin was in on it.” Sedric blurted the statement out, letting it be its own question.

“In on what?”

“Killing dragons and selling off the parts. Teeth, blood, scales. He said that whoever had sent him had said that Leftrin would be willing to help him.”

Carson's dark gaze grew troubled. “And did he?”

“No. That was part of Jess's complaint. He seemed to feel Leftrin had cheated him.”

Carson's expression lightened somewhat. “That seems likely to me. I've known Leftrin a long time. And over the years, once or twice, he's been involved in a few things that I found, well, questionable. But slaughtering dragons and selling off their bodies? No. To Chalced? Never. There are a number of reasons why I couldn't imagine him getting involved with something like that. Tarman being the big one.” His brow wrinkled as he stared into his fire. “Still, it would be interesting to know why Jess thought he would.”

He shook his head, then stood up slowly, rolling his shoulders as he did so. He was surprisingly graceful for his size, catching his balance easily as he stepped down into his small boat. His own blanket was neatly stowed, folded, and shoved high under the seat out of the damp. Sedric still clutched the damp and
wrinkled blanket Carson had tossed at him. He looked at Carson's boat, at every item in a precise location, and he suddenly felt childish and ashamed. Over in the other boat, a hatchet was probably rusting from its immersion in the bloody bilgewater. Carson had arrived and had seen to every need that he and the dragon had, without a single wasted movement. Sedric hadn't even remembered to spread his blanket out to dry.

He wondered how Carson saw him. Incompetent? Self-indulgent? Rich and spoiled?
I'm not truly any of those things,
he thought.
I'm just out of my place right now. If we were back in Bingtown, and he came to where I was helping Hest prepare to negotiate a trade, he'd see what I truly am.
Carson would be the incompetent and useless one there. Then even that thought seemed self-indulgent and spoiled, a child's wish to show off for someone he desired to impress. What did it matter what Carson thought of him? When had he begun to care what an ignorant Rain Wild hunter thought of him?

He shook out the smelly blanket and slung it around his shoulders. Within its shelter, he sat hugging himself. And thinking.

 

N
IGHT WAS FULL
dark around Tarman. Captain Leftrin walked his decks. The night sky was a black strip sprinkled with glittering stars. To one side of the barge, the river stretched out to an invisible distant shore. On the other side the forest loomed, making the barge small. At the foot of the forest, on a narrow muddy bank, the dragons slept. On the roof of the deckhouse, laid out in neat rows as if they were corpses, the keepers slept. And Leftrin was awake.

Swarge was supposed to be on watch, but he'd sent him off to his bed. The entire crew was asleep. The river was down, Tarman was safely snugged on mud for the night, and his crew deserved a rest. It would be the first full night of sleep any of them had had since the wave hit. They all needed the rest. Everyone needed to sleep.

Even Alise. That was why she had sought her room early. She was exhausted still. He began another slow circuit of the decks.
He didn't need to walk laps around his ship. All was safe and calm now. He could have gone off to his own bunk and slept and left Tarman to watch for himself. No one would fault him for that.