The Dragon Keeper (55 page)

“I’m not. I’m taking my side. Basically, it’s the deal you were ready to offer me, only expanded to include everyone.”

She went on silently pulling her load, pushing her way past leaning branches and gritting her teeth every time she missed her footing and plunged ankle deep in muck. She was stingingly aware that Sylve could hear every word. She couldn’t just say to Tats that it was different, that he was her friend and her ally and she didn’t mind sharing with him. Not that she minded sharing with Sylve tonight; the girl had done her best to take care of the injured silver dragon. In a way, Thymara supposed that she was her partner now, since they’d both agreed to do what they could for the creature. In another moment, she became uncomfortably aware that she knew Sylve had only the smallest chance of keeping even one dragon alive, let alone volunteering to help with the silver, too. Maybe she owed the girl her help. She didn’t like the way that idea jabbed her. She didn’t want anyone depending on her, let alone have someone that she owed help to. And what about Rapskal? If he asked her for meat for his runty little Heeby, would she say no? He partnered with her every day in her boat, and he always did at least half the work there. So what did she owe him? Tats spoke at just the wrong moment.

“You want me to take the lead for a while?”

“No,” she replied curtly. No, she didn’t want anyone doing anything for her. Because who knew what she would owe them then?

He should have known better than to say anything more. But a few moments later, he asked in a low voice, “So, what are you going to do when we get back to camp?”

She’d been pondering that question herself. Having him poke her with it didn’t help her indecision. “What if I did nothing? Would that make me a coward?”

He was quiet for a time. She slapped mosquitoes on the back of her neck and brushed her hands wildly over her ears, trying to drive them and their persistent buzzing away. “I think you’d be doing the sensible thing,” he said quietly.

It surprised Thymara when Sylve spoke. “He’ll make you look selfish if you say anything. Turn everyone against you. Like he did with Tats that night. Saying he wasn’t one of us.” The girl was huffing and puffing. Her words came in short bursts. Thymara was rapidly realizing that Sylve was not the little girl she had thought she was. She was younger, but she listened and she thought about what she heard. “Ouch! Stupid branch!” she complained abruptly and then went on, “Greft is like that. He can seem so nice, but there’s a mean part of him. He talks like he wants good things for everyone. Changes, he says. But then he has those other times. And you see that he has a mean part of him. He scares me. He talked to me once, for a long time, and, well, sometimes I think that if I stay away from him, that’s the safest thing to do. Other times I think that if I don’t find a way to be one of his friends, that will be the most dangerous thing.”

Silence fell except for their breathing, the sounds of their loads bumping and dragging, and the normal night sounds of the forest. Insects buzzed all around Thymara’s head, almost as maddening as the thoughts buzzing inside her head. Thymara wondered just what Greft had said to Sylve in their “talk.” She feared she knew, and she felt fresh outrage. Tats broke their mutual reverie. “I’m scared of him for the same reasons. And one other. He has plans. He’s not just a fellow taking on a bad job for money or because it looks like an adventure. He’s thinking something about all this.”

Thymara nodded. “He says he wants to make a place where he can change the rules.”

For a time, they plodded on in silence, each pondering this. At last Tats said softly, “Rules exist for a reason.”

“We don’t have any rules,” Sylve interjected.

“Of course we do!” Thymara objected.

“No, we don’t. Back home, there were our parents. And the Rain Wild Council, and the Traders, each with a vote to say what got done or didn’t happen. But we left all that behind. We signed contracts, but who is really in charge? Not Captain Leftrin. He’s only in charge of the boat, not us or the dragons. So who says what the rules are? Who enforces them?”

“The rules are what they’ve always been,” Thymara replied doggedly, but she had an uneasy feeling that the girl was seeing things more clearly than she was. When Greft spoke of making changes, what could he be talking about except changing the rules they’d accepted all their lives? But he couldn’t do that. Could he?

There was light breaking through the trees ahead of them, the fading evening light of the Rain Wild Forest. Somehow her legs found the strength to pick up their pace.

“Hey! Hey! Where have you been? I was starting to get worried about you all! The hunters came in and brought a whole load of riverpigs. You should see, Thymara! There’s a whole one cooking on a spit for all to share, and the dragons got half a pig each. Hey! What you dragging? Did you kill something?”

It was Rapskal, jumping and hopping as if he were a boy half his age. He stopped dead when he reached Thymara, staring at the meat she was dragging. “What was that thing?”

“An elk,” she replied shortly.

“An elk. That’s big! You were lucky, I guess. Greft got one, too. He said he brought the meat back to share with everyone, but it was all dirty and beat up and then the hunters brought the riverpig and started building a big fire, so Greft’s elk got fed to one of the dragons. Oh, you should come and see Heeby! She ate so much today, she looks like a stomach with a dragon wrapped around it. She snores when she’s full. You got to hear her to believe it!” Rapskal laughed joyously. He clapped Thymara on the shoulder. “Glad you’re back, because I’m starving. I didn’t want to eat until I found you and made sure you got a share, too!”

They had emerged from the forest onto the muddy bank of tall reeds. Well, they had been tall when Thymara had last left. The activities of the dragons and their keepers had trampled most of them flat now. From where they stood, the barge with its welcoming lamps was easily visible. A campfire was burning; silhouetted against the flames was a large spit threaded with chunks of riverpig. Tats sniffed appreciatively and as if in response his stomach rumbled. They all laughed. The knot of Thymara’s anger loosened. She wondered if she could just let it go. If she did, would that mean Greft had won something from her?

“Let’s go and eat!” Rapskal urged them.

“Soon,” Thymara promised him. “First, this meat needs to go to any dragon who is still hungry. And we should check on Tats’s copper dragon. He said he wasn’t eating much.”

“Well, I’m going to head down to the fire. I only left it to come and find you all. Hey, one of the hunters plays harp, that Carson, and there’s a woman from the barge who plays a pipe, and earlier they were playing some music together. So we might have music after we eat, too. Even dancing, if the mud lets us.” He stopped suddenly, and a slow wide grin spread across his face. “Isn’t this just the best time ever in your life?”

“Go enjoy it, Rapskal,” Tats urged him.

Rapskal looked at Thymara. “I’m starving,” he admitted, but then asked, “You’re coming soon, aren’t you?”

“Of course I am. Go and eat.”

He needed no other prompting. He left them at a run. Thymara watched his fleeing shadow as he rejoined the keepers clustered around the fire. She heard a shout of laughter go up at someone’s comment. A chunk of driftwood was thrown on the fire and a dazzling fountain of sparks flew up into the darkening sky.

“It could be a wonderful time,” Sylve said quietly. “Tonight, with talk and food and music.”

Thymara sighed and surrendered. “I won’t ruin it, Sylve. I’m not going to say anything to anyone about the elk meat and Greft tonight. I’d just sound argumentative and selfish. Here we are tonight, our first night with plenty of food and music. My quarrel with Greft will wait for another time.”

“That isn’t what I meant,” the girl said hastily.

But when she didn’t say what she had meant, Tats filled in with, “Let’s take this meat to the dragons and go join the others by the fire.”

Skymaw was sleeping soundly, her belly distended. Fente roused, claimed the meat that Tats had brought, but then fell asleep with her chin on top of it. Mercor was awake. The gold dragon was standing alone, staring toward the fire and the keepers when they found him. He seemed pleased that Sylve had brought him meat. He thanked her for it, something that astonished Thymara, and then satisfied them all by immediately devouring the head and neck portion of the elk. His great jaws and sharp teeth made nothing of the animal’s skull. He closed his mouth on it and the elk’s head gave with a wet crushing sound. They left him chewing and went off in search of the copper dragon.

They found him not far from the silver one. The silver was sleeping, his bandaged tail curled around a distended belly. The copper sprawled near him. But his posture didn’t look right to Thymara. Tats voiced it. “He looks like he just fell down rather than curled up to sleep.” Alone of the dragons, he looked thin and empty. His head was cushioned on his front feet. He was breathing huskily, his eyes half closed. “Hey, Copper,” Tats said softly. The dragon didn’t react to him. He put his hand on the dragon’s head and scratched gently around his earholes. “He seemed to like this earlier,” Tats explained. The dragon made a small huffing sound but didn’t budge.

Thymara dragged the elk section around and halted with it right in front of the copper. “You hungry?” she asked the small dragon and found herself deliberately pushing the thought at him. “There’s meat here. All for you. Elk. Smell it? Smell the blood?”

He took a deeper breath. His eyes opened wider. He licked timidly at the meat, and then lifted his head. “There you go. Meat for you,” Tats encouraged him. Thymara thought she felt an echo of response from him. Tats knelt by the elk and drew his belt knife. He scored the meat several times. Finally, he sheathed his knife and reached up inside the rib cage of the elk. He pulled at the guts and then smeared his bloody hand across the dragon’s snout. “There. You smell that? That’s meat for you. Eat it.”

The dragon’s tongue moved, cleaning his muzzle. Then a shudder ran over him. Tats pulled his hand back just in time as the dragon darted his head in to seize a mouthful of the dangling entrails. He made small snorting sounds as he ate, and he seemed to gain strength with each mouthful. By the time they left him, he had his front feet braced on the elk carcass and was tearing free mouthfuls of meat and bone. He appeared to be gulping them down whole.

“Well, at least he’s eating now,” Thymara commented as they walked away from him toward the fire. The smell of the roasting meat was making her mouth water. She was suddenly extremely hungry and very tired.

“You don’t think he’s going to survive, do you?” Tats accused her.

“I don’t know. I don’t know about any of the dragons.”

“My Mercor is going to live,” Sylve declared earnestly. “He’s come too far and through too much to die on the journey.”

“I hope you’re right,” Thymara agreed comfortingly.

“I know I am,” Sylve insisted. “He told me so.”

“I wish my dragon talked to me like that,” Thymara said enviously.

Before Sylve could respond, Rapskal appeared out of the darkness. His face shone with grease, and a thick slab of meat was in his hands. “I brought this for you, Thymara. You have to try this! It’s so good!”

“We’re coming,” Tats assured him.

“Captain Leftrin says we all get to sleep on his deck tonight, too!” Rapskal told them. “Dry bed, hot food—what could make this night better?”

At the circle around the fire, music as sudden and bright as sparks suddenly burst up into the night.

Year the 6th of the Independent Alliance of Traders

From Erek, Keeper of the Birds, Bingtown

To Detozi, Keeper of the Birds, Trehaug

Detozi,

Apologies for any difficulties you’ve experienced recently. Am sending a hundredweight sack of the yellow peas. Keep them from damp, as once wet, they spoil quickly. Always feed them dry to your birds. In the same shipment, I am sending two well-fledged youngsters, both of Kingsly’s line, a male and a female.

Erek

F
or three days, their journey upriver had gone better than Leftrin could ever have hoped. Their start had been a bit rough, true, but things had smoothed out soon enough. The dragons had made their own first kill, and that had certainly wrought a change in the beasts. They were still dependent on what the hunters and their keepers killed for them, but now that the dragons knew that they could kill, they attempted to hunt every day. Their successes were uneven, but any food they caught and killed for themselves lessened the burden on their human companions. Their young keepers praised them lavishly for each kill, and the dragons basked in the adulation.

He leaned on Tarman’s railing, listening to his ship and the river that caressed it. His rough hands cradled a heavy mug of morning tea. From the small sounds his keen ears picked up from Alise’s compartment, he knew she was awake and dressing. He would not let his mind dwell on the details of that process. No sense in tormenting himself. Soon enough, he hoped, she would emerge. They were both early risers, and he cherished these dawn moments almost more than he enjoyed their evenings of companionable conversation. Evenings were wonderful, with food and laughter and music, but he always had to share her with the hunters and the ever-present Sedric. When Bellin played her pipes and Carson the harp, Alise had eyes only for the two of them. Jess, much to Carson’s chagrin, had proven himself to be every bit as good a hunter as Leftrin’s old friend. He also, it seemed to Leftrin, had an eye for Alise. The fellow was a wonderful storyteller, for his dour expression concealed an ability to make himself the butt of every tale, and to win laughter from everyone, even sour Sedric. The evenings were made pleasant with song and story, but he had to share Alise’s attention.

In the mornings he had her to himself, for his crew had already learned to avoid any but the most pressing of questions during those hours. He took a short breath, sighed, and found himself smiling. Truth be told, he even enjoyed the anticipation of waiting for her.

Last night’s campsite had not been as wet as the previous ones, and he’d felt no qualms about suggesting that the keepers could sleep ashore with their dragons. In some wild flood rage years ago the river had swept gravel and sand into a compact beach. Tall grass and young trees grew there, creating an unusually sunny woodland for the keepers and their dragons to enjoy. As the years passed, the trees would grow taller until this was just another part of the rain forest.
Or,
he thought,
the next storm flood might sweep it away completely.
For now, he looked out on a grassy sward that was just slightly above the level of the river. The dragons sprawled there, sleeping heavily. Their keepers were scattered among them, rolled in their blue blankets. The remnants of last night’s driftwood cook fire sent a thin tendril of bluish smoke toward a deep blue sky. As of yet, none of them was stirring.

Both dragons and keepers had changed mightily in the short time he had known them. The keepers had stopped being a mismatched conglomeration and were starting to form a cohesive community. Most of the time they were exuberant, the boys brash and wild. They splashed one another, challenged one another, laughed and shouted as only boys teetering on the edge of manhood do. Even in the short time of their journey the boys were building muscle from the daily paddling. The girls were less noisy and exhibitionist about the changes they were going through, but the signs were there all the same. The boys vied for their attention, and sometimes the rivalries grew rough indeed. And the girls seemed, like the dragons, to bask in the boys’ attention. They preened and flirted, albeit in very different ways.

Sylve was still little more than a child. She’d obviously set her heart on winning Tats’s attention. She trailed behind him like a toy on a string. Yesterday, she’d braided flowers into her hair, as if their scarlet glory could hide her pink-scaled scalp. Leftrin gave the young man credit. He was kind to her, but kept her at a proper arm’s length, as he should with a girl so young.

In contrast, Jerd seemed to hourly change her mind as to which young man she fancied. Greft courted her in a desultory way. Leftrin had watched him draw his boat alongside hers and endeavor to win her attention with conversation. But during the day’s passage Jerd seemed focused not only on making good time to keep up with the dragons that preceded them, but in filling her small boat with as many fish as she could catch. She was dedicated to Veras, grooming her each evening until the small green dragon’s gold stippling looked like a sparkling of nuggets on a dark green cloth. In the evenings, when the herders gathered around a riverbank fire, Jerd sat with the other girls and let the young men compete to see who could take the spot next to her. It made Leftrin smile to watch them, even as he wondered uneasily where it might lead.

He had never had much to do with folk born so heavily touched by the Rain Wilds. Most of them were given back to the forest on the day of their birth, for the Rain Wild Traders had long recognized that those who were born so deformed would either break their parents’ hearts with their early deaths, or give rise to a second generation of deformed children who never survived. The Rain Wilds were a harsh place. It was better to let go of an infant immediately and try for a new pregnancy than to pour love and food into a child who would never live long enough to carry on the family line. The recent influx of the Tattooed folk had brought fresh life to the Rain Wild population, but for decades before that, their birth rates had only marginally exceeded their death rates.

Alise had still not appeared. On the riverbank, Lecter had arisen. Cloaked in his blanket, he’d wandered over to the coals of the fire and was feeding it the ends of last night’s wood. A tiny flame leaped up and the boy crouched, holding out his hands to it. Warken came to join him, rubbing his eyes and scratching at his scaled neck. His skin had taken on a coppery glint over the last few days, as if he would complement his red dragon. He greeted Lecter warmly. Lecter said something that made Warken laugh, a hearty boy’s laugh that came clearly to Leftrin’s ears.

As Leftrin watched the youths who should have been discarded as infants, he almost doubted the wisdom of the old ways. They seemed vigorous enough, if strange to look upon. He wished them well, boys and girls alike, and yet he hoped he would not see romance blossom. Allowing such folk to breed would go against every Rain Wild tradition. So far, he had seen no indication that any of the girls would allow such a transgression. He hoped it would remain so, even as he uneasily wondered if he had any responsibility to enforce the Rain Wild rules against them mating. “Well, Tarman, no one told me that was part of the contract. I know it’s everyone’s duty to honor the rules that keep us alive. But my grandpa used to tell me that everyone’s job was nobody’s job. So maybe I won’t be blamed if I don’t take that task on.”

There was no response from his ship. He hadn’t expected one. The sun was warm and the river gentle here. Tarman seemed to be enjoying the brief respite as much as his captain was. Leftrin glanced again toward Alise’s compartment. Patience. Patience. She was a lady, and a lady took her time readying herself every morning before she emerged to face the day. The effect was worth it.

He heard a sound behind him and turned to wish her good morning. The welcoming words died on his lips. Sedric, polished as ever, was pacing quietly over the deck toward him. Leftrin watched him come, caught between envy and loathing. Sedric’s hair was impeccably combed, his shirt white, his trousers brushed, and his boots clean. He was freshly shaven and a faint spicy scent rode the morning air. He was the worst sort of rival that a man could imagine. Not only was he immaculately groomed every day, his manners were impeccable. Compared with him, Leftrin felt swinish and ignorant. And hence the loathing he felt for him. Whenever they were both in Alise’s presence, she must compare the two of them, and Leftrin must always be lacking in her gaze. That alone was enough reason to hate the man. But there was more.

Sedric’s unfailing courtesy to Leftrin and his men could not camouflage the contempt he held them in. Leftrin had seen it before; every ship rat had. There would always be certain people who saw a sailor and immediately tarred him with the poor reputation that seamen traditionally had. After all, weren’t all sailors drunken, ignorant louts? Once aboard the vessel, that disdain often broke down, as the passenger realized that Leftrin and his men, though rough and uneducated in some ways, were savvy and competent in what they did. Passengers came to see the sort of brotherhood that existed on a ship, and often their initial disdain turned to envy before the voyage was over.

But he could already tell that Sedric would not be one of those. The man clung to his superior position and poor opinion of Leftrin as if it were the only piece of wreckage floating after a storm. But the stiff expression and cold gaze he offered Leftrin now were not based on his generalized opinion of sailors. Leftrin set his jaw. This dandy looked determined to have a word with him, man to man. The captain took another mouthful of his coffee and stared out at the shore. More and more of the keepers were beginning to stir. Soon it would be time to get under way. He’d get no private conversation with Alise today, only more words with Sedric than he’d enjoy.

He’d found his way to the railing. “Good morning, Captain.” His tone said that he doubted it.

“Morning, Sedric. Sleep well?”

“Actually, no, I didn’t.”

Leftrin suppressed a sigh. He should have known that the man would seize on any pleasantry and use it as a pry bar to open a way for his complaint. Leftrin responded, “That so?” and took another drink from his coffee. It was still a bit too hot, but he suddenly decided to finish it as rapidly as he could and then use getting a refill as an excuse for walking away from the man.

“Yes, that is so,” Sedric replied, almost mockingly, adding an aristocratic enunciation to the words.

Leftrin took another gulp of his coffee and decided to attack. He was certain he’d regret it, but not as much as he’d regret just standing here and taking Sedric’s guff. “You ought to try hard work. Helps a man sleep.”

“Perhaps you should try having a clean conscience. But perhaps you slept well despite lacking one.”

“I’ve got nothing on my conscience,” Leftrin lied.

Sedric looked like a cat about to spit. He’d huffed up his shoulders. “Then ignoring a woman’s marriage vows doesn’t bother you?”

He couldn’t let those words go unanswered. He turned to face Sedric, feeling his own shoulders and neck begin to swell. Sedric didn’t step back, but he saw him shift his weight, to be ready to move quickly. Leftrin forced himself to speak calmly. “You are insulting a lady who doesn’t deserve your contempt. Alise hasn’t done anything to violate her marriage vows. I haven’t tried to persuade her to do anything wrong. So I think you’d best rethink what you just said. Words like that can do big damage.”

Sedric narrowed his eyes but spoke calmly. “My words are based on what I’ve seen. I’ve a deep affection for Alise, based on a lengthy friendship. I don’t say such things lightly. You might both be innocent, but it no longer appears that way. Early-morning meetings and late-night conversations alone—is that how a married woman should comport herself? I’ve been cursed with being a light sleeper with very keen hearing. I know that after Alise and I bid you good night and sought our separate quarters, she went out again and met you. I could hear you talking together.”

“Did she take a vow she wouldn’t talk after midnight?” Leftrin asked sarcastically. “Because if she did, then I admit, she broke it, and I helped her.”

Sedric glared at him. Leftrin drank more coffee, looking at him over the rim of the mug. Sedric looked like a man trying to contain himself. When he finally spoke, the eternal courtesy in his voice seemed strained. “For a lady like Alise, married to a prominent and wealthy Bingtown Trader, appearances can be as important as realities. If I know that she arose from her bed to seek out your company late last night, then I’ll wager that others aboard this vessel also know. Even a rumor of that sort of behavior released into Bingtown could compromise her reputation.”

Sedric finished his speech and turned his gaze out over the riverbank. More of the keepers were waking up. Some were clustered around the fire, warming themselves from the night’s chill and heating food. Others were around the shallow sand well they’d dug the night before, taking the earth-filtered water for washing and cooking. The dragons, Leftrin noted, weren’t stirring yet. They were creatures that loved the sun and warmth and would sleep as long as their keepers allowed them to, rising at noon if they were left to their own devices. He stared at them and wished his life were as simple as theirs. It wasn’t.

Leftrin forced himself to loosen his hold on the mug’s handle before he broke it. “I’ll speak plain to you, Sedric. Nothing happened. She came up on deck, and I was making my night rounds. So we talked a bit. She walked my rounds of the ship with me. We checked the tie-up lines and the anchor. I showed her some constellations and explained how a sailor can use the stars to know where he’s headed. I told her the names of some of the night birds she heard. If any of that offends your morality, it’s your problem. Not mine and not Alise’s. I’ve done nothing I’m ashamed of.”

He spoke righ teously, but guilt coiled inside him like a snake. He thought of the moments when her hands had been under his as he showed her how to tie the bowline. He’d put his hands on her warm shoulders and turned her to face Sa’s Plough in the southern sky. And very late or rather early, depending on how one reckoned it, when she had bid him good night and sought her compartment, he’d leaned on the railing outside her door and looked out over the river and pondered all the things that might have been. From there, he’d allowed himself to think of things that still could be, if he had the courage to propose them and she felt the passion to accept them. Under his hands, the railing had thrummed with the sweep of the river’s current and the response of his ship to it. It had seemed to him then that he was a sort of river and Alise might be a ship that had ventured into his current. Was he strong enough to carry her off with him?