The Dragon Keeper trwc-1 Read online

  'You're welcome,' Sedric replied sourly. He tried not to think of his role in Hest's scheme; he felt sullied by it now. Alise had been his friend. What had he been thinking, the night her name had rolled off his drunken tongue? He knew the guilty answer to that. He'd been thinking of himself, and how pleasant life was at the side of Hest Finbok. He'd been thinking of how he could keep that life intact and still advance his friend's ambitions for himself.

  He pushed the thought aside and busied himself guiding the horse around the worst of the potholes. Bingtown had focused its efforts on rebuilding burned and vandalized buildings, and neglected maintenance of the existing roads. By the time they got round to them again, there would be a whole season of repairs to be done. Sedric shook his head. Lately he felt as if the whole city was eroding away; everything that had made him so proud to be the son of a Bingtown Trader was now broken or tarnished or changed.

  In the aftermath of the Chalcedean raids, the various factions of Bingtown had turned on one another settling old scores. When those had finally been resolved, the rebuilding had seemed slow and dispirited. It was better now, for the Traders' Council had finally resumed their authority and enforced the laws. People felt it was safe now to rebuild, and with limited trade resuming, some had the resources to do so. But the new buildings going up seemed to have less character than the old ones, for they were built with haste rather than deliberation, and many looked almost identical. And Sedric was still not sure he agreed with the Council's decision to allow so many non-Traders to share power and decisions in the rebuilding process. Former slaves, fishermen, and newcomers were mingling with the Traders now. It was all changing too fast. Bingtown would never be restored to what it was. Last night, when he had lamented the situation to his father, the man had been singularly unsympathetic to his view.

  'Don't be an idiot, Sedric. You're so dramatic about these things. Bingtown will go on. But it will never be what it was before, because Bingtown never was "what it was before".

  Bingtown thrives on change. Bingtown is change. And those of us who can change will prosper right along with our town as it changes. A little change won't hurt any of us. Wherever there is change, a clever man can find a profit. That's what you should be turning your wits toward. How can you make this change benefit your family?' And then his father had taken his short-stemmed pipe from his mouth, pointed it at his son and demanded, 'Have you thought that maybe a bit of personal change would do you good? This arrangement you have as secretary for Hest and his right-hand man, well, it's a good connection for you. You'll meet many of his trading partners. You need to think how you can use those connections. You can't spend your entire life playing second fiddle to your friend, no matter how deep the friendship or how pleasant a lifestyle it offers. And you should make the best of what you have, since you've thrown away all the opportunities I won for you.'

  Sedric sighed at the memory. His father always turned any conversation back onto his failures as a son.

  'Are those heart-felt sighs for me, my friend?' Hest gave an indulgent laugh. 'Seddy, you always think the worst of me, don't you? You're fearing that the poor woman is deceived, her head turned by sweet words and my charming smile, aren't you?'

  'Isn't she?' Sedric asked tightly. He already felt bad enough that he'd suggested Alise to his friend. Hest's mockery of his regret stung.

  'Not at all. You're chastising yourself over nothing. It's all for the best, my friend!' Hest clapped him genially on the shoulder and left his hand there as he leaned toward Sedric and confided, 'She understands the arrangement completely. Oh, not at first. Initially, she stung me enough to make me nearly lose my aplomb, for she asked me, very bluntly, if my courtship were a jest or perhaps the result of a bet! That jolted me a bit, I'll tell you. And then I recalled that you had said she was nobody's fool, but a woman with an intellect. Scary little creatures, aren't they?

  'So, I hastily reconsidered my strategy. I turned the tide of battle when I put all my cards on the table for her to see. I admitted to her that I was intent on making a marriage of convenience, and I even told her that I had specially selected her as the female most likely to cause me the least disruption to my life. Oh, don't give me that baleful look! Of course, I put it a great deal more tactfully than that! But I made no avowals of love and affection. Instead, I offered her the chance to hire a staff for my house to keep all her housewifely duties at bay, and the budget to pursue her own eccentric little hobby.'

  'And she accepted that? She accepted your marriage proposal, on those terms?'

  Hest laughed again. 'Ah, Sedric, not all of us are idealistic romantics. The woman knew a good bargain when she was offered one. We shook hands on it, like good Traders, and that was the end of it. Or rather, I should say, this is the beginning of it. She'll marry me, I'll get an heir on her and my father will stop lecturing me on how important it is to him to see the family robe and vote have a worthy heir before he dies. He's all but threatened to make my cousin his heir, and all on the basis of him being so infernally fecund. Two sons and a daughter, and Chet's a year younger than I am. The man has no moderation at all. It pleases me unreasonably that when I get myself a son on Alise, he may come to regret how generously he's ploughed and planted that wife of his. Wait until Chet realizes he's going to have to find a way to provide for all of them, without my family's fortune to sustain them!' He lifted his hand, slapped his own knee and leaned back, well pleased with himself. A moment later, he had straightened up again and nudged his friend.

  'Well, say something, Sedric! Isn't this what we both wanted? Life goes on for us. We're free to travel, to entertain, to go out with our friends — nothing has to change. All is well in my world.'

  Sedric was silent for a time. Hest crossed his arms on his chest and chuckled contentedly. The wheels of the cart jolted across a rutted crossroads and then Sedric asked quietly, 'And getting yourself a son on her?'

  Hest shrugged his shoulders. 'I'll blow out the candles and pursue my goal manfully.' He laughed heartlessly. 'Sometimes the dark is a man's best friend, Sedric. In the dark, I can pretend she's anyone. Even you!' He laughed uproariously at Sedric's horrified expression.

  When Sedric managed a reply, his voice was low. 'Alise deserves better. Anyone does.'

  Hest feigned an offended look. 'Better than me? Doesn't exist, my friend, as you well know. Better than me doesn't exist.' His laughter rang out on the summer day.

  Day the 2nd of the Growing Moon

  Year the 7th of the Reign of the Most Noble and Magnificent Satrap Cosgo

  Year the 1st of the Independent Alliance of Traders

  From Detozi, Keeper of the Birds, Trehaug

  to Erek, Keeper of the Birds, Bingtown

  Erek,

  This is my fourth bird bearing a copy of this request. Please send a bird back confirming receipt as soon as possible. I fear hawks are taking my birds before they reach you. In the enclosed sealed case is a message for the Bingtown Traders' Council. It is the fourth copy of the Rain Wild Traders' Council's request for advice on how best to deal with the young dragons. I believe this one also contains a request for additional funds to aid in the hiring of hunters. I hope you will reply that my birds are safe with you and that it is only your council that is so slow to respond to ours in this matter.

  Detozi

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Vows

  'Just one more dusting,' her mother pleaded.

  Alise shook her head. 'There is more flour on my face now than we used for the wedding cake. And as tight and heavy as this gown is, I'm already starting to perspire. Hest knows I have freckles, Mother. I'm sure he would rather see them than have our guests see cracks in the powder layer on my face.'

  'I tried to keep her out of the sun. I warned her to wear a hat and veil.' Her mother turned away from her as she muttered the words, but Alise knew that she intended them to be heard. She would not, she suddenly realized, miss her mother's softly-voiced comments and rebukes.

  Would
she miss anything about her old home?

  She glanced around her small bed chamber. No. She wouldn't. Not the bedstead that had once belonged to her great aunt, not the worn curtains nor the threadbare rug. She was ready to leave her father's home, ready to begin something new. With Hest.

  At the thought of him, her heart gave a small surge. She shook her head at herself. It was not time to think of her wedding night. Right now, she had to focus on getting through the ceremony. She and her father had worked carefully on the promises she would make to Hest. They had exchanged their list of proposed vows, negotiated changes and discussed wording for several months now. A marriage contract in Bingtown was to be as carefully scrutinized as any other contract. Today, in the Traders' Concourse, before families and guests, the terms of the marriage contract would be spoken aloud before either one of them set a signature to the final document. All would witness the agreement between Hest and her. The demands of Hest's family had been precise, and some had made her father scowl. But at the last, he had recommended she accept them. Today she would formalize the agreement before witnesses.

  And afterwards, when the business was done, they would celebrate as a newly wed couple.

  And consummate their agreement tonight.

  Anticipation and dread roiled and fought in her. Some of her married friends had warned her of the pain of surrendering her virginity. Others had smiled conspiratorially, whispered of envy for her handsome mate and gifted her with perfumes and lotions and lacily beribboned nightdresses. Many a comment had been made about how handsome Hest was, and how well he danced and what a fine figure he cut when he went out riding. One less reserved friend had even giggled as she said, 'Competence in one saddle sometimes bespeaks competence in another!' So, even though their courtship had been bereft of stolen kisses or whispered endearments, she dared to hope that their first night alone might break his reserve and reveal a concealed passion for her.

  She snapped open a lacy little fan and cooled her face with it. A subtle fragrance rode the small breeze from the perfumed lace of the fan. She looked a final time into her vanity mirror.

  Her eyes were sparkling, her cheeks pink. As infatuated as a silly little girl, she thought to herself, and smiled forgiveness at her own image. What woman would not have given way to Hest's charms? He was handsome, he was witty, intelligent and a delightful conversationalist. The small gifts he showered upon her were thoughtful and apt. He'd not only accepted her ambition to be a scholar; his bridal gifts to her revealed that he would support her in her studies. Two excellent pens with silver tips, and ink in five different hues. A glass ground to magnify the fading letters of old manuscripts. A shawl embroidered with serpents and dragons. Earrings made from tinted flaked glass to mimic dragon scales. Every gift had been tailored to her interests. She suspected that his gifts said what he was too reserved to put into words. In response, she, too, had remained correct and formal, but despite her quiet manner, warmth for him had begun to grow in her heart. The restraint she practised daily only fuelled her fantasies at night.

  Even the homeliest girl secretly dreams that a man might fall in love with her inner spirit. He had told her, plainly, that their marriage was one of convenience. But did it have to be, she wondered? If she devoted herself to him, could not she make it something more than that, for both of them? In the months that had slowly passed since the announcement of their engagement, she had become ever more aware of Hest. She learned the shape of his mouth as he spoke to her, studied his elegant hands as he lifted a cup of tea, admired his wide shoulders that pulled at the seams of his jacket. She stopped asking why and disbelieving that love could find her, and drowned joyously in her infatuation.

  War had ravaged Bingtown, and even if her parents had had money to fling into the wind, there were many items that simply could not be bought. For all that, this day still seemed like something out of a tale to her. It did not matter to her that her dress had been made from her grandmother's gown; it only made it seem more significant. The flowers that decorated the Traders' Concourse came, not from hothouses or the Rain Wilds, but from the gardens of her family and friends. Two of her cousins would sing while their father played his fiddle. It would all be simple, and honest, and very real.

  In the previous weeks, she had imagined their wedding night a hundred ways. She had dreamed him bold, and then boyishly shy, gentle and hesitant or perhaps rakishly bawdy or even demanding of her. Every possibility had warmed her with desire and chased sleep from her bed. Well. It was only a matter of hours now before she would find out. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. The smile on her face surprised her. She tilted her head and studied her own reflection. Alise Kincarron, smiling on her wedding — who would ever have imagined it?

  'Alise?' Her father stood at the door. She turned to him in surprise, and felt an odd lurch of her heart at the soft, sad smile he wore. 'Darling, it's time to come down stairs. The carriage is waiting for us.'

  Swarge stood stiffly in the small galley. At a nod from his captain, he sat down. His big rough hands rested lightly on the edge of the table. Leftrin sat down opposite him with a sigh. It had been a long day; no, it had been a long three months.

  The secrecy the project demanded had tripled the work involved. Leftrin had not dared to move the log; towing it down the river to a better place to work on it was not an option. Any passing vessel would have recognized what he had. So the work of cutting the log into usable lengths and sections had all had to be done right there, in the mud and brush of the riverbank.

  Tonight it was finished. The wizardwood log was gone; the small scraps that remained had been stowed as dunnage in Tarman's holds. Outside on the deck, the rest of the crew was celebrating. And in light of what they'd conspired to do, Leftrin had decided it would be best if all of them made a fresh commitment to Tarman. All the rest of them had signed the ship's papers. Only Swarge remained. Tomorrow, they'd relaunch Tarman, return to Trehaug to drop off the carefully selected and discreet woodworkers who had served them so well. And afterwards, they would go back to their regular run on the river. But for now, they celebrated the completion of a massive project. It was finished, and Leftrin found he had no regrets.

  A bottle of rum and several small glasses occupied the centre of the table. Two of them weighted down a scroll. A bottle of ink and a quill rested beside it. One more signature, and Tarman would be secure. Leftrin nodded to himself as he studied the riverman opposite him. Streaks of dried mud and tar clung to the tillerman's rough shirt. His thick fingernails were packed with silvery sawdust, and there was a stripe of dirt on his jaw where he'd probably scratched his face earlier.

  Leftrin smiled to himself. He was probably just as grubby as the tillerman. It had been a long, hard day's work, and it was labour of a kind neither one of them was accustomed to. It was coming to a close now, and Swarge had more than proven himself. He had been willing to join Leftrin's little conspiracy and had done more than his share without complaint. It was one of the things that Leftrin liked about the man. Time to let him know that. 'You don't complain. You don't whine and you don't find fault when something just plain goes wrong. You jump in and do your best to fix the situation. You're loyal and you're discreet. And that's why I want to keep you on board.'

  Swarge glanced again at the small glasses and Leftrin got the message. He uncorked the bottle and dolloped out small measures for both of them. 'Best clean your hands before you eat or drink. That stuff can be poisonous,' he advised his tillerman. Swarge nodded and carefully wiped his hands down the front of his shirt. Then they both drank before Swarge responded.

  'Forever. I heard from the others that's what this is about. You're asking me to sign on and stay aboard Tarman forever. Until I die.'

  'That's right,' Leftrin confirmed. 'And I hoped they mentioned that your wages will go up as well. With our new hull design we're not going to need as large a crew as we've shipped in the past. But I'll budget the same for pay, and every sailor aboard will get an equ
al share of it. That has to sound good, doesn't it?'

  Swarge bobbed a nod at him, but didn't meet his eyes. 'Rest of my life is a long time, Cap.'

  Leftrin laughed aloud. 'Sa's blood, Swarge, you been with Tarman for ten years already. For a Rain Wilds man, that's half of forever already. So what's the problem with signing on permanent? Benefits us both. I know I got a good tillerman for as long as Tarman floats. And you know that no one is ever going to decide you're too old to work and put you ashore without a penny. You sign this, it binds my heir as well as me. You give me your word on this, you sign the paper with me and I promise that as long as you live, Tarman and I will take care of you. Swarge, what else you got besides this boat?'

  Swarge answered the question with one of his own. 'Why has it got to be forever, Cap? What's changed so much that I got to promise to sail with you forever now or clear off the ship?'

  Leftrin concealed a small sigh. Swarge was a good man and great on the tiller. He could read the river as few men could. Tarman felt comfortable in his hands. With all the changes the ship had undergone recently, Leftrin didn't want to break in a new tillerman. He met Swarge's look squarely. 'You know that my claiming that wizardwood and what we've done with it is forbidden. It's got to stay a secret. Best way to keep a secret, I think, is to make sure it benefits every man who knows it. And to keep those who share the secret in one place.

  'Before we started, I let go any man I didn't think was mine, heart and soul. I've got a plum little crew here now, hand-picked, and I want to keep you all. It comes down to trust, Swarge. I kept you on, because I knew you'd done some boat-building back when you were a youngster. I knew you'd help us do what Tarman needed doing, and keep it quiet. Well, now it's done, and I want you to stay on as his tillerman. Permanently. If I bring a new man aboard, he's going to know immediately that something about this ship is very unusual, even lor a liveship. And I won't know if he's someone I can trust with a secret that big. He might just have a big mouth, or he might be the type that thinks he could squeeze some money out of me for silence. And then I'd have to take steps I'd rather not take. Instead, I'd rather keep you, as long as I can. For the rest of your life, if you'll sign on for that.'