Blood of Dragons (54 page)

‘They fly at dawn,' Leftrin told her. He and Alise were leaning on Tarman's rail, drinking tea and looking across the ever-restless river. ‘And I think we should leave tomorrow, too.'

She looked at him in astonishment. ‘Tomorrow?'

He nodded. ‘My dear, Reyn has sent his last bird, but news such as this cannot depend on those little wings. Nor do I think it was well trained, for when he set it free, it seemed to fly off randomly. No. When the dragons take flight, Tarman must leave as well. The dragons all say it is dragon business, but Chalced may very well view it as a strike by Bingtown and the Rain Wilds. We need to get to Cassarick and warn them, so they can send on word from there. The Traders must be given the chance to prepare for whatever may come.'

The sun was setting on a day that had shaken Alise's world to its foundations. Yesterday, her life had had a routine. She had Leftrin in her arms again at night, a fascinating city to study, and a lifetime of useful tasks before her. Then IceFyre had arrived, a dragon such as dragons had once been. His accusations of human treachery and his call for vengeance had fallen on fertile soil. She had been willing to admit that something must be done, but was horrified at how quickly the dragons had decided to destroy Chalced. For that was their avowed ambition. Alise and Leftrin both suspected that Tintaglia had already been preaching the necessity of war to the other dragons, just as Rapskal had been trying to stir the keepers. And the keepers! How willingly the youngsters had leapt at the chance to ride off to war. They had raced one another to the armoury, selecting armour and battle colours, working earnestly to repair ancient weapons. Sylve had come to her, begging her to come and help them make sense of the dragon harness and armour. And so she had gone, taking her sketchbook of all the ancient murals, and using her drawings as examples of how dragons were once garbed for battle. She had been torn between fascination at making her sketches come to life, and dismay that she would help the young Elderlings ride off to risk their own lives.

And to kill.

It made no sense to her. When had the keepers become capable of killing? Did they not understand what they were going into? Her own memories of the Chalcedeans invading Bingtown flooded back into her mind. She smelled again the stink of the burned-out warehouses in the days that had followed the raids and looting. Her mother's sister and her entire family had perished in the first attack, slain in their nightrobes, even the youngest girl, a child of three. Alise had gone with her mother, to find the bodies and bring them to their house on a cart and wash them for burial …

‘Alise? Do you agree we must leave tomorrow?' Leftrin took her hand and tugged at it gently to turn her gaze to meet his. She had been silent and thoughtful for too long. He was worried that she was wandering in her stone memories again. She would not tell him she had been somewhere far darker.

‘The dragons are right. The old saying is true. “Sooner or later, there is always war with Chalced.” It is all they know there. And better that we take war to them than that they bring it to us again. Leaving tomorrow isn't a problem, my dear. I have little enough to pack. I've spent so much time on Tarman lately that most of my things are already in your cabin.'

‘Our cabin,' he said, and grinned. ‘Our home now. I wish I could offer you a more pleasant voyage than what is before us. The crew will rig shelters on the deck, and more than half of the slaves have decided to build new lives here. The other slaves want to be taken back to Trehaug. But even leaving some behind, the galley will always be crowded. I'm glad the weather has turned milder. Half our passengers are going to have to sleep out on the decks.'

‘I'm sure I will be fine. As long as I can retreat to the cabin and have a bit of time alone with you, I can manage. And I'm looking forward to journeying with Tarman again. He will show these “impervious-ship” sailors how a true liveship runs the river.' She ran her hand along Tarman's railing in a caress, as if she stroked a dragon. Leftrin shook his head in wonder as he felt his ship give a shiver of pleasure. Her hand stilled as she added in a lower voice, ‘But I'm not looking forward to being around Hest. I know I must see him, and so must you. Pledge to me now that you will not let him provoke you to violence.'

‘Me? With my mild temper?'

She seized his shirt-sleeve and shook it lightly. ‘I'm not teasing you, Leftrin. The man's arrogance knows no bounds. No matter what anyone says or does to him, he only sees the world as it relates to him and what he wants. You haven't truly seen how he is. Any situation, he always finds a way to turn to his advantage. He will find some sort of profit from this. Some advantage for himself. Nothing else has ever mattered to him.'

‘Well …' Leftrin hesitated and Alise felt dread rising in her soul. He met her gaze, wet his lips and added, ‘Transporting Hest may be a problem that we don't actually have.'

‘The keepers haven't offered him asylum here, have they? Who did he talk to? They should be warned! That man can make any lie believable! Does Sedric know Hest will be staying here?' She felt sick with dread.

‘No. Nothing like that, my dear. Actually, I've been wondering how to tell you this. Harrikin has been in charge of those keeping watch on the captives. He always had at least two guards on the doors at all times. He allowed a few of the captives to go out for walks, well chaperoned, but the Chalcedean hunters and Trader Candral, he kept on a tight leash.'

She was nodding, her brow furrowed. ‘And Hest?'

Leftrin licked his lips, clearly uncomfortable with the news he had to share. ‘Hest is missing.' He blurted the announcement, and added hastily, ‘When they took a count tonight, there was no sign of him. Davvie was the last guard to see him. He let him go up the tower and look out of the windows. Sedric and Carson both vouch that they last saw him there, on the second landing. They admit there was a quarrel and it got physical, but they left him there and walked out right in the middle of IceFyre coming down. The guards didn't leave their posts, but they were distracted. Hest could have come down the steps, gone into the baths, hidden, and then escaped when everyone was caught up in Rapskal's speech-making. However it happened, Hest is gone.'

Alise felt sick. Hest. Hest loose in her city, looking for treasure. Hest where she might round a corner on one of her rambles and suddenly confront him. She knew an instant of chilling dread. Then she reconsidered and smiled at Leftrin. ‘He'll have gone treasure-hunting, to try to fill his pockets with whatever he can carry. But soon enough, he'll discover that we have the only food supplies in the city. And if he knows somehow that this boat is leaving tomorrow, he'll want to be on it. I doubt he wants to stay in Kelsingra any longer than he has to.' She took a breath and squared her shoulders. ‘Eventually, I'll sit down with him and get what I need from him. But until then, I'm not going to worry about him.'

‘Then neither shall I,' he promised, and drew her closer. Then he looked at the sun and sighed. ‘Go gather your things. I have to stay here. The crew is loading supplies tonight. They'll bring our passengers down in the morning.'

The moment she opened the door to her chamber, she was aware of him. Rapskal was sitting on the edge of her bed, waiting for her. She halted where she was, the light from the long hall spilling into the room. Wariness rose in her, and she felt a surge of hatred for the circumstances that made her so wary of him.

As she moved into the room, the light strengthened. ‘Shouldn't you be sleeping?' she asked him, her voice tight.

‘I wanted to see you before I left tomorrow. I don't know how long I'll be gone. Or if I'll come back. I thought we might have a last night together. Not a commitment from you; just a last night.'

Thymara stared at him. He looked very fine. His long hair had been brushed until it gleamed and was fastened back from his face. It bared his features and made him look older than she knew he was. But his face had changed from the boyish Rapskal who had embarked on the expedition with her. His jaw was stronger, the planes of his face flatter. Heeby had scaled him red to match her, but his scales were as fine and supple as those on a tiny fish. The tunic he wore was gold and brown and the breadth of his shoulders filled it. He was muscled differently from the other keepers, his body deliberately built rather than showing the strengths of his work. His eyes gleamed blue at her.

She realized she was staring at him. A smile very slowly came to his face. He lifted a hand, crooked a finger at her.

‘No,' she said. ‘I want you out of my room, Tellator.'

‘Thymara, please. I know I was harsh that night. It was necessary. Think of what would have happened if I hadn't insisted you go down the well. It was much more than you finding the Silver for us. You found yourself. You discovered anew who you were meant to be, how strong you were …'

‘Stop it.' She walked swiftly to a bag on the vanity table, opened it and drew out the moon-faced pendant. It glowed at her touch. ‘You should take this with you.'

‘It's yours.'

‘It's not mine, it was never mine, and I don't want it. I'm not Amarinda and I don't want to be Amarinda.'

He hadn't moved. ‘You don't have to be Amarinda for me. In this life, I loved Thymara long before I knew that I had loved Amarinda.'

She crossed the room, and when he made no move to take the pendant, she dropped it in his lap. He caught her wrist. She didn't struggle against his grip, but only said, ‘If you don't let go now, I'm going to hit you as hard as I can in the face.'

He gave a snort of amusement. ‘You might try, but it would never land on me.' He let go of her wrist and she stepped away.

‘You're not Rapskal,' she said unevenly, hating that her voice caught in her throat. ‘Rapskal wouldn't act like this. He wouldn't talk to me this way. Rapskal was strange and silly, but he was also honest and honourable. And yes, I loved him. I don't love you.'

His eyes followed her as she moved away from him. ‘I'm Rapskal. I've always been Rapskal.'

‘You were Rapskal. You're someone else now. Rapskal would never talk to me this way, would never resort to trickery or pry at me with emotions—'

‘Everyone changes,' he cut off her words.

She looked at him. Tears threatened but she would not weep in front of Tellator. Rapskal would have known that she wept for loss. Tellator would see it as feminine weakness. With a sickening lurch of her heart, she realized that there was enough of Amarinda in her to know exactly how he would react to her tears. ‘Not everyone changes as you have. Rapskal let you in and you became him. But if he had never touched the stone, he would never have become you. He would have grown and changed but—'

‘You're being ridiculous!' He laughed. ‘Are you saying I should have grown and changed only exactly as you wanted me to? Am I a plant, to be snipped and pruned and kept in a pot? Is that what you want? Someone you can completely control, someone to whom you dictate exactly who and what he is? How is that fair? What sort of a love did you have for me, that demands that I must always remain the same? If you had never groomed a dragon, you would not be the woman you are now. Does that mean your changes are wrong? Can you go back and be the Thymara you were the day we left Cassarick?'

‘No,' she admitted. She took a ragged breath. His words were like a shower of stones. He spoke so quickly, built his logic so fast that by the time she'd seen the fault of his reasoning in one thought, he was ten thoughts away from it. His voice was low and reasonable but she felt battered by his words. She spoke quickly. ‘I'd give anything to speak to the Rapskal who journeyed here with me. He is the one I wish I could embrace one last time. Because I now know that I will never see him again, regardless of whether you come back or not.'

He opened his arms. ‘I'm here, Thymara. I'm here right now, and always have been. You're the one who has refused to grow and change. You want to stay the girl who scampered through the treetops and accepted her father's rules. Your parents made all your decisions for you, and now that you're on your own, you still can't step away and decide things for yourself. You want nothing to change, Thymara. But things that don't change die. And even after death, change happens. You are asking the impossible. And if you keep requiring the impossible of your friends, they are going to grow and change and leave you behind. There you are right now, always standing apart and alone. Is that what you want? To be alone the rest of your life? Is that how you are choosing to grow? You used to be so indignant at how Jerd regarded you, but truly, what did you expect? She was growing into this new life. And you were not.'

The hateful, painful tears spilled. She knew that he twisted the facts, that what he said was not true, but the words wounded her all the same. She gave up trying to talk to him. Gave up trying to defend herself from Tellator. ‘You drowned him,' she said in a low savage voice. ‘You pulled him down and drowned him.'

He shook his head at her and his eyes went hard. ‘You want me to be silly and boyish, don't you? To chatter like a brainless squirrel, to hold your hand and run beside you and never think of you as a woman or of myself as a man. Why would I want that? The other keepers are beginning to respect me and my dragon. Listen to what you are saying! To win your love, I must remain the laughable idiot Rapskal, keeper of foolish, tubby Heeby. Is that what you are saying?'

His words trampled her. ‘That's not what I'm saying,' she protested. ‘You're twisting everything.'

‘No. I'm just making you look at things as they are. Do you want to love a lack-wit boy, a bumbler, the butt of the jokes? Or do you want to love a man, a competent fellow who can protect you and provide for you?'

She shook her head, helpless before the onslaught of his words. ‘Stop talking about Rapskal like that,' and it was as if she pleaded with a stranger to stop mocking her friend. She just wanted it all to stop. She wanted him to go away, but also wanted to never have the memory of this horrid, useless quarrel. The realization came to her, as clear as water. ‘You're not trying to talk to me any more. You're not trying to talk me into being Amarinda; you're not even trying to get me to spread my legs for you tonight. You're just trying to hurt me now. To say anything that will hurt me because I won't let you rule me. The Rapskal I loved would never do this to me. Or to anyone.'