Dragon Haven

CHAPTER THREE First Kill

Every one of the keepers had instantly recognized the danger when the shuddering water had rippled against their small boats. Ahead of them, the dragons had suddenly halted, spreading their legs wide and digging their feet into the riverbed as the wave of motion passed. The silver dragon had trumpeted wildly, flinging his head about as he tried to look in every direction simultaneously. Dislodged birds burst upwards from the trees and flew out over the river, croaking and squawking their distress.

When the second quake hit and branches and leaves showered down in the forest and on the shallows, Rapskal had exclaimed, ‘Good thing we didn’t run for the shore. Think any of the trees will fall on us?’

Thymara hadn’t worried about it until he mentioned it. She had been caught up in comparing how a quake felt on water to how it felt when one lived high in a treetop. She wondered if her parents had felt it; up high in the canopy of Trehaug, in the flimsy cheap houses known as the Bird Cages, a quake would make everything dance. People would shout and grip a tree limb if they could. Sometimes houses fell during quakes, heavy ones as well as flimsy ones. The thought had filled her with both worry for her parents and homesickness. But Rapskal’s wondering snapped her out of that as she realized that being crushed under a falling tree might be just as dangerous as tumbling out of one. ‘Move away from the shore,’ she directed him, digging her own paddle into the water more vigorously. They had nearly caught up with the waiting dragons. Around them, the scattered flotilla of keeper boats moved chaotically.

‘No. It’s all over now. Look at the dragons. They know. They’re moving on again.’

He was right. Ahead of them, the dragons made small trumpeting sounds to one another as they resumed their slogging march through muck and water. They had bunched up around Mercor when they first halted. Now they spread out again. Mercor led the way and the others fell in behind him. She had almost become accustomed to the daily sight of dragons wading upriver in front of her. At that moment, as they resumed their trek, she saw them afresh. There were fifteen of the creatures, varying in size from Kalo who was almost the size of a proper dragon now down to the copper, who was barely taller than Thymara at the shoulder. The sun glinted on the river’s face and on their scales. Gold and red, lavender and orange, gleaming blue black to azure, their hides threw the glory of the sun back up into the day. It made her realize that their colours had deepened and brightened. It was not just that the immense dragons were cleaner now; it was that they were healthier. Some of them were developing secondary colours. Sintara’s deep blue wings were laced with silver, and the ‘fringes’ on her neck were developing in a different shade of blue.

All of them moved with ponderous grace. Kalo and Sestican followed behind Mercor. Their heads wove back and forth as they moved, and as she watched them, Sestican darted his head into the water and brought up a fat, dangling river snake. He gave his head a sharp shake and the writhing creature suddenly hung limp in his jaws. He ate it as he walked, tilting his head back and swallowing it as if he were a bird with a worm.

‘I hope my little Heeby finds something to eat on the way. She’s hungry. I can feel it.’

‘If she doesn’t, we’ll do our best tonight to come up with something for her.’ She spoke the words almost without thinking. She was becoming resigned, she suddenly realized, to sharing whatever she could bring back from her evening hunt. Most often it went to whatever dragon was hungriest. That did not endear her to Sintara, but the blue queen had not been exactly generous with Thymara. Let her find out that loyalty was supposed to run both ways.

The rest of that day, Thymara expected to feel echoing quakes, but if they came, they were so small that she didn’t notice them. When they camped that night on a mud bank, the main topic of discussion had been the quake, and whether or not a rush of acid water would follow it. After spending the meal hour chewing over the potential threat to all of them, Greft had suddenly stood and dismissed the topic. ‘Whatever will happen is going to happen,’ he said sternly as if expecting them to argue. ‘It’s useless to worry and impossible to prepare. So just be ready.’

He stalked away from their firelit circle into the darkness. No one spoke for a few minutes after he left. Thymara sensed awkwardness; doubtless Greft was still smarting from his misspoken words about the copper dragon. His pronouncement of the obvious seemed a feeble attempt to assert his leadership over them. Even his closest followers had seemed embarrassed for him. Neither Kase nor Boxter followed him or even looked in the direction he had gone. Thymara had kept her eyes on the flames, but from the corner of her eyes, she marked how shortly after that Jerd stood up, made a show of stretching, and then likewise wandered away from their company. As she passed behind Thymara, she bid her ‘Good night’ in a small catty voice. Thymara gritted her teeth and made no response.

‘What’s bothering her lately?’ Rapskal, to Thymara’s right, wondered aloud.

‘She’s just like that,’ Tats said in a low, sour voice.

‘I’m sure I don’t know what’s bothering her. And I’m off to bed now,’ Thymara replied. She wanted to get away from the firelight, lest anyone notice how embarrassed she was.

‘Good night, then,’ Tats muttered, a bit stiffly, as if her brusque reply was a rebuke to him.

‘I’ll be along shortly.’ Rapskal informed her cheerfully. She had not found a way to tell him that she didn’t really want him to sleep against her back each night. Once, when she’d gently told him that she didn’t need anyone to guard her, he’d replied cheerfully that he liked sleeping against her back.

‘It’s warmer, and if danger does come, I think you’ll probably wake up faster than me. And you’ve got a bigger knife, too.’ And so, to the veiled amusement of the others, he had become her constant night companion as well as her boat partner by day. In a way, she was fond of him but could not help but be annoyed by his constant presence. Ever since she had observed Greft and Jerd, she’d been troubled. She’d pondered it deeply on her own, and found no satisfying answers to her questions.

Could Greft just make new rules for himself? Could Jerd? If they could, what about the rest of them? She desperately wanted to find a quiet time to talk with Tats, but Rapskal was almost always present. And when he wasn’t following her about, Sylve was trailing after Tats. She wasn’t sure that she would actually tell Tats what she had seen, but she knew she did want to talk with someone about it.

When she had first returned to camp that night, she’d actually wondered if she should go to Captain Leftrin and let him know what was going on, as captain of the vessel that supported their expedition. Yet the more she thought about it, the more reluctant she felt to go to him. It would, she decided, fall somewhere between tattling and betrayal. No. What Jerd and Greft were doing was a matter that concerned the dragon keepers, and no others. They were the ones that had always been bound by those rules. It was a rule that had been imposed on them by others, others like Captain Leftrin, ones who were marked but did not restrict their own lives because of it. Was that fair? Was it right that someone else could make a decision like that, and bind her and the other keepers with it?

Every time she thought of what she had seen, her cheeks still burned. It was uncomfortable enough that she had seen them and was now aware of what they were doing. It was even worse to know that they knew of her spying. She felt unable to face them, and felt almost as uncomfortable in how she avoided them. Worse, Jerd’s little barbed remarks and Greft’s complacent stares made her feel as if she were the one in the wrong. That couldn’t be so. Could it?

What Greft and Jerd were doing ran counter to everything she’d ever been taught. Even if they had been wed, it would still have been wrong – not that they would have been allowed to wed. When the Rain Wilds marked a child heavily from birth, all knew that it was best to expose the baby and try again. Such children seldom lived past their fifth birthdays. In a place where scarcity was the norm, it was foolish for parents to pour effort and resources into such a child. Better to give it up at birth, and try for another baby as soon as possible. Those like Thymara who, by fluke or stubbornness, survived were forbidden to take mates, let alone have children.

So if what they were doing was wrong, why was she the one who felt not only guilty but foolish? She wrapped her blanket more tightly around herself and stared off into the darkness. She could still hear the others talking and sometimes laughing around the fire. She wished she were with them, wished she could still enjoy the companionship of their journey. Somehow Jerd and Greft had spoiled that for her. Did the others know about it, and not care? What would they think of her if she told them? Would they turn on Greft and Jerd? Would they turn on her and laugh at her, for thinking she was still bound? Not knowing the answers made her feel childish.

She was still awake when Rapskal came to take his blanket from their boat. She watched him from under her lashes as he came to her cloaked in his blanket. He stepped over her, sat down with his back to her, and then snugged himself up against her back. He heaved a great sigh and within a few moments fell into a deep sleep.

His weight was warm against her back. She thought how she could just roll over to face him, and how that would wake him. She wondered what would happen next? Rapskal, for all his oddness, was physically handsome. His pale blue eyes were at once unsettling and strangely attractive. Despite his scaling, he’d kept his long dark eyelashes. She didn’t love him, well, not that way, but he was undeniably an attractive male. She caught her lower lip between her teeth, thinking about what she had seen Jerd and Greft doing. She doubted that Jerd loved Greft, or that he cared deeply for her. They’d been arguing, right before they’d done it. What did that mean? Rapskal’s back was warm against hers through the blankets, but a sudden shiver ran over her. It was a quiver, not of chill, but of possibility.

Moving very slowly, she edged her body away from his. No. Not tonight. Not by impulse, not without thought. No. It did not matter what others did. She had to think for herself about such things.

Dawn came too soon, and brought no answers with it. She sat up stiffly, unable to tell if she had slept or not. Rapskal slept on, as did most of the others. The dragons were not early risers. Many of the keepers had taken to sleeping in almost as late as the dragons did. But for Thymara, old habits died hard. Light had always wakened her, and she’d always known from her father that the early hours were the best for hunting or for gathering. So despite her weariness, she rose. She stood a time looking thoughtfully down on Rapskal. His dark lashes curled on his cheeks; his mouth was relaxed, full and soft. His hands were curled in loose fists under his chin. His nails were pinker than they had been. She bent closer for a better look. Yes, they were changing. Scarlet to match his little dragon. She found herself smiling about that and realized that she could smell him, a male musk that was not at all repellent. She straightened up and drew back from him. What was she thinking? That he smelled good? How had Jerd chosen Greft, she wondered, and why? Then she folded her blanket and restored it to her boat.

Part of the camp routine each night was to dig a sand well. The hole was dug some distance away from the water’s edge, and then lined with canvas. The water that seeped up in the shallow hole and filtered through the canvas was always less acid than the river water. Even so, she approached it with caution. She saw with relief that this morning the river was still running almost clear, so she judged it safe to wash her face and hands and drank deeply. The cold water shocked the last vestiges of sleep from her mind. Time to face the day.

Most of the others were still bundled in their blankets around the smouldering embers of last night’s fire. They looked, she thought, rather like blue cocoons. Or dragon cases. She yawned again and decided to take a walk along the water’s edge with her pole spear. With a bit of luck, she’d find either breakfast for herself or a snack for Sintara.

Fish would be nice. Meat would be better. The sleepy thought from the dragon confirmed her impulse.

‘Fish,’ Thymara replied firmly, speaking aloud as she shared her thoughts with the dragon. ‘Unless I happen to encounter small game at the river’s edge. But I’m not going into the forest at the beginning of the day. I don’t want to be late when everyone else wakes up and is ready for travel.’

Are you sure that you don’t fear what you might see back there? The dragon’s question had a small barb to it.

‘I don’t fear it. I just don’t want to see it,’ Thymara retorted. She tried, with limited success, to close her mind to the dragon’s touch. She could refuse to hear Sintara’s words, but not evade her presence.

Thymara had had time to think of Sintara’s role in her discovery. She was sure that the dragon had deliberately sent her after Greft and Jerd, that she had been aware of what they were doing, and had used every means at her disposal to be sure that Thymara witnessed it. It still stung when she thought of how Sintara had used her glamour to compel her to follow Greft’s trail into the forest.

What she didn’t know was why the dragon had sent her after them, and she hadn’t asked directly. She’d already learned that the fastest way to make Sintara lie to her was to ask her a direct question. She’d learn more by waiting and listening. Not so different from dealing with my mother, she thought, and smiled grimly to herself.

She pushed the thought out of her mind and immersed herself in her hunting. She could find peace in this hour. Few of the other keepers roused so early. The dragons might stir but were not active, preferring to let the sun grow strong and warm them before they exerted themselves. She had the riverbank to herself as she quietly stalked the water’s edge, spear poised. She forgot everything else but herself and her prey as the world balanced perfectly around her. The sky was a blue stripe above the river’s wide channel. Along the river’s edge, knee-high reeds shivered in water that was almost clear. The smooth mudbank of the river had recorded every creature that had come and gone in the night. While the dragon keepers had slumbered, at least two swamp elk had come down to the water’s edge and then retreated. Something with webbed feet had clambered out on the bank, eaten freshwater clams and discarded the shells, and then slid back in.

She saw a large whiskered fish come groping into the shallows. He did not seem to see her. His barbels stirred the silt and with a snap he gobbled some small creature he had ousted. He ventured closer to where she stood, spear poised, but the instant she jabbed with her weapon, he was gone with a flick of his tail, leaving only a haze of silt floating around her spear.

‘Damn the luck,’ she muttered, and pulled her spear back out of the silt.

‘That doesn’t sound like a prayer,’ Alise rebuked her gently.

Thymara tried not to be startled. She brought her spear back to the ready, glanced at the woman over her shoulder and resumed her slow patrol of the riverbank. ‘I’m hunting. I missed.’

‘I know. I saw.’

Thymara kept walking, her eyes on the river, hoping the Bingtown woman would take the hint and leave her alone. She didn’t hear Alise following her, but from the corner of her eye, she was aware of Alise’s shadow keeping pace with her. After holding her silence for a time, Thymara defiantly decided she wasn’t afraid of the woman. She spoke to her. ‘It’s early for you to be out and about.’

‘I couldn’t sleep. I’ve been up since before dawn. And I confess that a deserted riverbank can be lonely after an hour or so. I was relieved to see you.’

The comment was far more friendly than she had expected. Why was the woman even speaking to her? Could she truly be that lonely? Without pausing to think she said, ‘But you have Sedric to keep you company. How can you be lonely?’

‘He still isn’t well. And, well, he has not been as friendly to me of late. Not without cause, I’m ashamed to say.’

Thymara stared into the river, glad that the Bingtown woman could not see her expression of astonishment. Was she confiding in her? Why? What could she possibly think they had in common? Curiosity dug its claws into her and hung on until she asked, in what she hoped was a casual voice, ‘What cause has he to be unfriendly to you?’

Alise sighed heavily. ‘Well, you know he hasn’t been well. Sedric usually has excellent health, so it would be hard for him to be ill at any time. But it is especially hard for him when he is in what he regards as very uncomfortable living circumstances. His bed is narrow and hard, he doesn’t like the smell of the boat or the river, the food either bores or disgusts him, his room is dim, there is no entertainment for him. He’s miserable. And it’s my fault that he’s here. He didn’t want to come to the Rain Wilds, let alone embark on this expedition.’

Another big lunker had come into the shallows, investigating the silt. For an instant, he seemed to see her. Thymara stood perfectly still. Then, as he began to sift the silt with his whiskers, she struck. She was so sure that she had hit him, it was a surprise to have the silt clear and find that her spear was simply dug into the mud. She pulled it out.

‘You missed again,’ the Bingtown woman said, but there was genuine sympathy in her voice. ‘I was so sure you got that one. But they’re very quick to react, aren’t they? I don’t think I could ever manage to spear one.’

‘Oh, it just takes practice,’ Thymara assured her, keeping her eyes on the water. No, it was gone, long gone. That one wouldn’t be back.

‘Have you been doing this since you were a child?’

‘Fishing? Not so much.’ Thymara continued her slow patrol along the water’s edge. Alise kept pace with her. She kept her voice soft. ‘I hunted in the canopy mainly. Birds and small mammals up there, some lizards and some pretty big snakes. Fishing isn’t that different from hunting birds when it comes to the stalking part.’

‘Do you think I could learn?’

Thymara halted in her tracks and turned round to face Alise. ‘Why would you want to?’ she asked in honest confusion.

Alise blushed and looked down. ‘It would be nice to be able to do something real. You’re so much younger than I am, but you’re so competent at taking care of yourself. I envy you that. Sometimes I watch you and the other keepers, and I feel so useless. Like a pampered little house cat watching hunting cats at work. Lately I’ve been trying to justify why I came along, why I dragged poor Sedric along with me. I said I was going to be collecting information about dragons. I said I’d be needed here to help people deal with the dragons. I told my husband and Sedric that this was a priceless opportunity for me to learn, and to share what I’d learn. I told the Elderling Malta that I knew about the lost city and could possibly help the dragons find their way back. But I’ve done none of those things.’

Her voice dropped on her last words and she sounded ashamed.

Thymara was silent. Was this grand Bingtown lady looking to her for comfort and reassurance? That seemed all wrong. Just when the silence would have become too obvious, she found her tongue. ‘You have helped with the dragons, I think. You were there when Captain Leftrin was helping us get the snakes off them, and before, when we were bandaging up the silver’s tail. I was surprised, I’ll admit. I thought you were too fine a lady for messy work like that—’

‘Fine a lady?’ Alise interrupted her. She laughed in an odd shrill way. ‘You think me a fine lady?’

‘Well … of course. Look at how you dress. And you are from Bingtown, and you are a scholar. You write scrolls about dragons and you know all about the Elderlings.’ She ran out of reasons and just stood looking at Alise. Even today, to walk on the beach at dawn, the woman had dressed her hair and pinned it up. She wore a hat to protect her hair and face from the sun. She wore a shirt and trousers, but they were clean and pressed. The tops of her boots were gleaming black even if fresh river mud clung to her feet. Thymara glanced at herself. The mud that caked her boots and laces was days, not hours, old. Her shirt and her trousers both bore the signs of hard use and little washing. And her hair? Without thinking, she reached up to touch her dark braids. When had she last washed her hair and smoothed it and rebraided it? When had she last washed her entire body?

‘I married a wealthy man. My family is, well, our fortune is humbler. I suppose that I am a lady, when I am in Bingtown, and perhaps it is a fine thing to be. But here, well, here in the Rain Wilds I’ve begun to see myself a bit differently. To wish for different things than I did before.’ Her voice died away. Then she said suddenly, ‘If you wanted, Thymara, you could come to my cabin this evening. I could show you a different way to do your hair. And you’d have some privacy if you wished to take a bath, even if the tub is scarcely big enough to stand in.’

‘I know how to wash myself!’ Thymara retorted, stung.

‘I’m sorry,’ Alise said immediately. Her cheeks had gone very red. She blushed more scarlet than anyone Thymara had ever known. ‘My words were not … I didn’t express what I was trying to say. I saw you look at yourself, and thought how selfish I’ve been, to have privacy to bathe and dress while you and Sylve and Jerd have had to live rough and in the open among the boys and men. I didn’t mean—’

‘I know.’ Were they the hardest words Thymara had ever had to say? Probably not, but they were hard enough. She didn’t meet Alise’s eyes. She forced out other words. ‘I know you meant it kindly. My father often told me that I take offence too easily. That not everyone wants to insult me.’ Her throat was getting smaller and tighter. The pain of unsheddable tears was building at the inner corners of her eyes. From forcing words, suddenly she couldn’t stop them. ‘I don’t expect people to like me or be nice to me. It’s the opposite. I expect—’

‘You don’t have to explain,’ Alise said suddenly. ‘We’re more alike than you think we are.’ She gave a shaky laugh. ‘Sometimes, do you find reasons to disdain people you haven’t met yet, just so you can dislike them before they dislike you?’

‘Well of course,’ Thymara admitted, and the laughter they shared had a brittle edge. A bird flew up from the river’s edge, startling them both, and then their laughter became more natural, ending as they both drew breath.

Alise wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. ‘I wonder if this is what Sintara wanted me to learn from you. She strongly suggested this morning that I seek you out. Do you think she wanted us to discover that we are not so different?’ The woman’s voice was warm when she spoke of the dragon, but a chill went up Thymara’s back at her words.

‘No,’ she said quietly. She tried to form her thought carefully, so as not to hurt Alise’s feelings. She wasn’t sure, just yet, if she wanted to be as friendly as the Bingtown woman seemed inclined to be, but she didn’t want to put her on her guard again. ‘No, I think Sintara was manipulating you, well, us. A couple of days ago, she pushed me to do something, and well, it didn’t turn out nicely at all.’ She glanced at Alise, fearing what she’d see, but the Bingtown woman looked thoughtful, not affronted. ‘I think she may be trying to see just how much power she has over us. I’ve felt her glamour. Have you?’

‘Of course. It’s a part of her. I don’t know if a dragon can completely control the effect she has on humans. It’s her nature. Just as a human dominates a pet dog.’

‘I’m not her pet,’ Thymara retorted. Fear sharpened her words. Did Sintara dominate her more than she realized?

‘No. You’re not, and neither am I. Though I suspect she considers me more her pet than anything else. I think she respects you, because you can hunt. But she has told me, more than once, that I fail to assert myself as a female. I’m not sure why, but I think I disappoint her.’

‘She pushed me to go hunting his morning. I told her I preferred to fish.’

‘She told me to follow you when you hunted. I saw you here on the riverbank.’

Thymara was quiet. She lifted her fish spear again and walked slowly along the river’s edge, thinking. Was it betrayal? Then she spoke. ‘I know what she wanted you to see. The same thing I saw. I think she wanted you to know that Jerd and Greft have been mating.’

She waited for a response. When none came, she looked back at Alise. The Bingtown woman’s cheeks were pink again but she tried to speak calmly. ‘Well. I suppose that, living like this, with no privacy and little supervision, it is easy for a young girl to give in to a young man’s urging. They would not be the first to sample the dinner before the table is set. Do you know if they intend to marry?’

Thymara stared at her. She put her words together carefully. ‘Alise, people like me, like them, people who are already so heavily touched by the Rain Wilds, we are not allowed to marry. Or to mate. They are breaking one of the oldest rules of the Rain Wilds.’

‘It’s a law, then?’ Alise looked puzzled.

‘I … I don’t know if it’s a law. It’s a custom, it’s something everyone knows and does. If a baby is born and it’s already changed so much from pure human, then its parents don’t raise it. They “give it to the night”; they expose it and try again. Only for some of us, like me, well, my father took me back. He brought me home and kept me.’

‘There’s a fish there, a really big one. He’s in the shadow of that driftwood log. See him? He looks like he’s part of the shadow.’

Alise sounded excited. Thymara was jolted at the change of subject. On an impulse, she handed her spear to Alise. ‘You get him. You saw him first. Remember, don’t try to jab the fish. Stab it in like you want to stick it into the ground beyond the fish. Push hard.’

‘You should do it,’ Alise said as she took the spear. ‘I’ll miss. He’ll get away. And he’s a very big fish.’

‘Then he’s a good big target for your first try. Go on. Try it.’ Thymara stepped slowly back and away from the river.

Alise’s pale eyes widened. Her glance went from Thymara to the fish and back again. Then she took two deep shuddering breaths and then suddenly sprang at the fish, spear in hand. She landed with a splash and a shout in ankle-deep water as she stabbed the spear down with far more force than she needed to use. Thymara stared open-mouthed as the Bingtown woman used both hands to drive the spear in even deeper. Surely the fish was long gone? But no, Alise stood in the water, holding the spear tightly as a long, thick fish thrashed out its death throes.

When it finally stilled, she turned to Thymara and cried breathlessly, ‘I did it! I did it! I speared a fish! I killed it!’

‘Yes, you did. And you should get out of the water before you ruin your boots.’

‘I don’t care about them. I got a fish. Can I try again? Can I kill another?’

‘I suppose you can. Alise, let’s get the first one ashore, shall we?’

‘Don’t lose it! Don’t let it get away!’ This she cried as Thymara waded out and put a hand on the spear.

‘It won’t get away. It’s very dead. We have to pull the spear out of the ground so we can get the fish to shore. Don’t worry. We won’t lose it.’

‘I really did it, didn’t I? I killed a fish.’

‘You did.’

It took some effort to free the spear from the mud. The fish was bigger than Thymara had expected. It took both of them to drag it back to shore. It was an ugly creature, black and finely scaled with long teeth in its blunt face. When they flipped it up onto the shore, it had a brilliant scarlet belly. Thymara had never seen anything like it. ‘I’m not sure if this is something we can eat,’ she said hesitantly. ‘Sometimes animals that are brightly coloured are poisonous.’

‘We should ask Mercor. He’ll know. He remembers a great deal.’ Alise crouched down to examine her prize. She reached out a curious finger and then pulled it back. ‘It’s strange. All of the dragons seem to have different levels of recall. Sometimes I think Sintara refuses to answer my questions because she cannot. But with Mercor, I always feel like he knows things but won’t share them. When he talks to me, he talks about everything except dragons and Elderlings.’

‘I’m not sure we should touch it before we know.’ Thymara had remained crouched by the fish. Alise nodded. She rose, took up the spear and began prowling along the river’s edge. Her excitement was palpable.

‘Let’s see what else we can kill. Then we’ll ask Mercor about that one.’

Thymara stood up. She felt a bit naked without her spear. It was odd to be the one trailing after someone else who was hunting. She didn’t much like the feeling. She found herself talking, as if it would restore her sense of importance. ‘Mercor seems older than the other dragons, doesn’t he? Older and more tired.’

‘He does.’ Alise spoke quietly. She didn’t move as smoothly as Thymara did, but she was trying. Thymara realized that her tiptoeing and hunched stance was an exaggerated imitation of Thymara’s prowl. She couldn’t decide if she was flattered or insulted. ‘It’s because he remembers so much more than the others. I sometimes think that age is based more on what you’ve done and what you remember than how old you are. And I think Mercor remembers a lot, even about being a serpent.’

‘He always seems sad to me. And gentler, in a way that the other dragons are not gentle at all.’

Alise hunkered down on her heels, peering under a tangle of branches and fallen leaves. She sounded both intent and distracted as she replied. ‘I think he remembers more than the others. I had one good evening of talking to him. When he spoke to me, he was far more open and direct than any of the other dragons had been. Even so, he only spoke in generalities rather than of his specific ancestral memories. But he expressed things I’ve never heard the other dragons say.’ She extended the spear and tried to lift some of the weed mass out of her way. As she did so, a fish darted out. She lunged at it with a splash and a shout, but it was gone.

‘Next time, if you think a fish might be there, just stab down. If you move the water anywhere near a fish looking for it, it’s gone. Might as well risk a jab and maybe get something.’

‘Right.’ Alise expended an exasperated breath and continued to stalk down the shore.

Thymara followed. ‘Mercor said unusual things?’ she prompted Alise.

‘Oh. Yes he did. He spoke quite a bit about Kelsingra. He said it was a significant city for both dragons and Elderlings. There was a special kind of silvery water there that the dragons especially enjoyed. He couldn’t or wouldn’t explain that to me. But he said it was an important place because it was where the Elderlings and dragons came together and made agreements. The way he spoke, it gave me a different view of how Elderlings and dragons interacted. Almost like adjacent kingdoms making treaties and having accords. When I mentioned that to him, he said it was more like symbiosis.’

‘Symbiosis?’

‘They lived together in a way that benefited both. But more than benefited. He did not say it directly, but I think he believes that if Elderlings had survived, dragons would not have vanished from this world for as long as they did. I think he feels that restoring Elderlings will be key to the dragons continuing to survive in this world.’

‘Well, there is Malta and Reyn. And Selden.’

‘But none of them are here,’ Alise pointed out. She started to step into the water and halted. ‘Do you see that speckly place? Is that a shadow on the river bottom or a fish?’ She tilted her head the other way. ‘So the dragons now depend on their keepers for what Elderlings did for them, once upon a time.’ She cocked her head. ‘Hmm. I wonder if that was why they insisted on having keepers accompanying them, as well as the hunters? I’ve wondered about that. Why did they want so many keepers but were content with only three hunters? What could all of you do for them that the hunters didn’t do?’

‘Well, we groom them. And we pay a lot of attention to them. You know how much they love to be flattered.’ Thymara paused, thinking. Why had the dragons demanded keepers? She saw Alise’s intent stare. ‘If you think it might be a fish, jab it! If it’s only a shadow, no harm done. If it’s a fish, you’ll kill it.’

‘Very well.’ Alise took a deep breath.

‘Don’t scream this time. Or jump in the water. You don’t want to scare other nearby game or fish.’

Alise froze. ‘Did I scream last time?’

Thymara tried to laugh quietly. ‘Yes. And you jumped in the water. Just use the spear this time. Farther back. Pull your arm farther back. There. Now look at where you want to hit it and jab for it.’ I sound like my father, she realized abruptly. And just as suddenly discovered that she was enjoying teaching Alise.

Alise was a good student. She listened. She took her breath, focused on whatever she was seeing, and plunged the spear in. Thymara had not believed there was a fish there, but the spear went into something alive, for a very large patch of water suddenly erupted into furious thrashing. ‘Hold the spear firm, hold the spear firm!’ she shouted at Alise and then leapt forward to add her weight to the Bingtown woman’s. Whatever she had jabbed was large, and possibly not a fish at all. The thrust had pinned something to the river bottom. It was large and flat-bodied and had a lash-like tail that suddenly began snapping about below the water. ‘It might have barbs or a sting! Watch out!’ Thymara warned her. She thought Alise would let go her grip on the spear; instead she hung on doggedly.

‘Get … another spear … or something!’ Alise gasped.

For a moment, Thymara froze. Then she dashed off back to the boats. Tats’ was closest and his gear was inside it. He was sitting on the ground next to it, just waking up. ‘Borrowing your spear!’ she barked at him, and as he began to stir, she snatched it up and ran back with it.

‘It’s getting away!’ Alise was shouting as Thymara dashed back. Someone followed her. She glanced back, and saw Rapskal and Sylve coming at a run, with Captain Leftrin behind them. The camp had awakened while she and Alise were fishing. Heedless of the animal’s lashing tail, Alise had waded out into the water to lean more heavily on the spear. Thymara gritted her teeth and plunged in. She jabbed her spear into the murky water where she judged the main part of the fish’s body to be. It went deep into something muscular; the spear pole was all but snatched out of her hands by the creature’s furious reaction. It moved, dragging her and Alise into deeper water in its efforts to escape.

‘We’ll have to let it go!’ she gasped, but behind her Rapskal shouted, ‘No!’ and waded in with a will. Heedless of the tail that wildly lashed through the water, he proceeded to jab the thing half a dozen times with his own fish spear. Dark blood tendrilled through the murky water and the fish only re doubled its efforts.

‘Pull out my spear! Don’t let it carry it off!’ Thymara shouted at Alise. She was soaked to the waist and grimly clinging to the spear.

‘Nor mine!’ Tats shouted. ‘Thymara, that’s my last one!’

‘Out of the way!’ Sintara trumpeted, but gave no one time to obey her. The dragon lumbered into the water as Rapskal frantically tried to avoid her.

‘Thymara!’ Tats shouted, and then Sintara’s unfolding wing hit her. The water seemed to leap up and seize her; the spear was jerked from her hands. Then something large, flat and alive struck her, rasping fabric and skin from her left arm before propelling her into deeper water. She opened her mouth to shout a protest and silty water filled it. She blew it out, but had no air to replace it. She held her breath desperately. She had never learned to swim; she was a climber, made for the canopy, and she floundered in this foreign element that had seized her and was hurrying her along to somewhere.

Light broke over her face suddenly, but before she could take a breath, she sank again. Someone, she thought, had shouted something. Her eyes stung and her arm burned. Something seized her, engulfing her torso and squeezing. She beat at the scaly thing with her fists and her mouth burst open in an airless scream. It dragged her through the water and then out of it. A thought penetrated her mind. I have her! I have her!

Then she was hanging from Mercor’s jaws. She could feel his teeth through her clothes. He held her gingerly, but still they scratched her. Before she could react to being in a dragon’s mouth, he dropped her on the muddy river bank. A circle of shouting people closed around her as she gagged up river water and sand. It ran in gritty streams from her nose. She wiped at her face and someone pushed a blanket into her hands. She dried her face on a corner of it and blinked her eyes. Her vision was blurry, but it slowly cleared.

‘Are you all right? Are you all right?’ It was Tats, kneeling next to her, soaking wet, and asking the same question over and over.

‘It’s my fault! I didn’t want to let the fish go. Oh, Sa forgive me, it’s all my fault! Is she going to be all right? She’s bleeding! Oh, someone get some bandaging!’ Alise was pale, her red hair hanging in wet streamers down her face.

Rapskal was fussing over her, trying to hold her down. Thymara pushed him aside and sat up, to belch and spit out more sandy water. ‘Please, give me some space,’ she said. It was only when a shadow moved away that she became aware that a dragon had been standing over her also. She spat more grit out of her mouth. Her eyes were sore and tears could not come. She wiped at them lightly with her fingers and silt came away.

‘Tip your head back,’ Tats ordered her gruffly, and when she did, he poured clean water over her face. ‘Doing your arm now,’ he warned her, and the cool flow made her gasp as it eased the burning she’d been trying to ignore. She sneezed abruptly and water and mucus flew everywhere. She wiped her face with the blanket, earning a cry of ‘Hey, that’s my blanket!’ from Rapskal.

‘You can use mine,’ she said hoarsely. She suddenly realized she wasn’t dead or dying, only strangely humiliated by everyone’s attention. She struggled to get to her feet. When Tats helped her, she managed not to jerk her arm away from him, though she didn’t like to appear weak in front of everyone. An instant later, it was even worse when Alise enveloped her in a hug.

‘Oh, Thymara, I’m so sorry! I nearly killed you and all for a fish!’

She managed to disentangle herself from Alise. ‘What sort of a fish was it?’ she asked, trying to divert attention away from herself. Her abraded arm stung and her clothes were wet. She slung the blanket around her shoulders as Alise said, ‘Come and see. I’ve never seen anything like it.’

Neither had Thymara. In shape, it was like an inverted dinner plate, but a plate twice the size of Thymara’s blanket. It had two bulbous eyes on top of its body, and a long, whiplike tail with a series of barbs on the end. The top of it was speckled light and dark, like the river bottom, but its underside was white. It bore the wounds of spears in a dozen places, and gashes where Sintara had dragged it ashore. ‘Is it a fish?’ she asked incredulously.

‘Looks a bit like a ray; yes, a fish,’ Leftrin commented. ‘But I’ve never seen anything like this in the river, only in salt water. And I’ve never seen one this size.’

‘And it’s mine to eat,’ Sintara asserted. ‘But for me, it would have been lost.’

‘Your greed nearly killed me,’ Thymara said. She did not speak loudly but firmly. She was surprised she could say the words so calmly. ‘You knocked me into the river. I nearly drowned.’ She looked at the dragon and Sintara looked back. She sensed nothing from her, no sense of remorse, or justification. They’d come so far together. The dragon had grown stronger and larger and definitely more beautiful. But unlike the other dragons she had not grown closer to her keeper. A terrible regret welled up in her. Sintara grew more beautiful daily; she was, without doubt, the most glorious creature that Thymara had ever seen. She had dreamed of being companion to such a wonderful being, dreamed of basking in her reflected glory. She’d fed the dragon to the best of her ability, groomed her daily, doctored her when she thought she could help her and praised her and flattered her through every step of their day. She’d seen her grow in health and strength.

And today the dragon had nearly killed her. By carelessness, not temper. And did not express even a moment of regret. Her earlier question came back to her. Why had the dragons wanted keepers? The answer seemed clear to her now. To be their servants. Nothing more.

She had heard people speak of ‘heartbreak’. She had not known that it actually caused a pain in the chest, as if, indeed, her heart were torn. She looked at her dragon and struggled to find words. She could have said, ‘You are no longer my dragon and I am not your keeper.’ But she didn’t because it suddenly seemed as if that had never been true at all. She shook her head slowly at the beautiful sapphire creature and then turned aside from her. She looked round at the circle of gathered keepers and dragons. Alise was looking at her, her blue eyes wide. She was soaking wet; Captain Leftrin had put his coat around her shoulders. The Bingtown woman stared at her wordlessly, and Thymara knew that she alone grasped what she was feeling. That was unbearable. She turned and walked away. A stone-faced Tats stepped aside and let her pass.

She hadn’t gone a dozen steps before Sylve fell in beside her. Mercor moved slowly along beside her. The girl spoke quietly. ‘Mercor found you in the water and pulled you out.’

Thymara stopped. Mercor had been the dragon overshadowing her when she was recovering. Reflexively, she touched her ribs where his teeth had torn her clothes and scraped her skin. ‘Thank you,’ she said. She looked up into the golden dragon’s gently swirling eyes. ‘You saved my life.’ Sylve’s dragon had saved her after her own had shoved her into the water and left her there. She could not bear the contrast. She turned and walked away from both of them.

Alise could scarcely bear to watch Thymara go. Pain seemed to emanate from her in a cloud as she trudged away. She swung her gaze back to Sintara. But before she could find words to speak, the dragon suddenly threw up her head, wheeled around and stalked off, lashing her tail as she went. She opened her wings and gave them a violent shake, heedless that she spattered the gathered humans and dragons with water and sand.

One of the younger keepers spoke into the silence. ‘If she isn’t going to eat that, can Heeby have it? She’s pretty hungry. Well, she’s always hungry.’

‘Is it safe for any of the dragons to eat? Is it edible?’ Alise asked anxiously. ‘These fish look strange to me. I think we should be cautious of them.’

‘Those are fish from the Great Blue Lake. I know them of old. The one with the red belly is safe for dragons, but poisons humans. The flatfish, any may eat.’

Alise turned to Mercor’s voice. The golden dragon approached the gathered humans. He moved with ponderous grace and dignity. Perhaps he was not the largest of the dragons, but he was certainly the most imposing. She lifted her voice to address him. ‘The Great Blue Lake?’

‘It is a lake fed by several rivers, and the mother of what you call the Rain Wild River. It was a very large lake that swelled even larger during the rainy seasons. The fishing in it was excellent. These fish you have killed today would have been regarded as small in the days that I recall.’ His voice went distant as he reminisced. ‘The Elderlings fished in boats with brightly-coloured sails. Seen from above, it was a very pretty sight, the wide blue lake and the sails of the fishing vessels scattered across it. There were few permanent Elderling settlements near the lake’s shores, because the flooding was chronic, but wealthy Elderlings built homes on piers or brought houseboats down to the Great Blue Lake for the summers.’

‘How close was the Great Blue Lake to Kelsingra?’ She waited breathlessly for the answer.

‘As a dragon flies? Not far.’ There was humour in his voice. ‘It was no difficulty for us to cross the wide lake, and then we flew straight rather than follow the winding of the river. But I do not think you can look at these fish and say that we are close to the Great Blue Lake or Kelsingra. Fish do not stay in one place.’ He lifted his head and looked around as if surveying the day. ‘And neither should dragons. Our day is escaping us. It is time we all ate, and then left this place.’

With no more ado, he strolled over to the red-bellied fish, bent his head and matter-of-factly claimed it as his own. Several of the dragons moved in on the flatfish. Little red Heeby was the first to sink her teeth into it. The tenders moved back and allowed them room. None of them seemed inclined to want a share of the fish.

As they dispersed back to their abandoned bedding and cook-fires, Leftrin offered her his arm. Alise took it. ‘You should get out of those wet clothes as soon as you can. The river water is mild today, but the longer it’s against your skin the more likely you are to get a reaction to it.’

As if his words had prompted it, she became aware of how her collar itched against her neck and the waistband of her trousers rubbed her. ‘I think that would be a good idea.’

‘It would. Whatever possessed you to get involved in Thymara’s fishing anyway?’

She bristled at bit at the amusement in his voice. ‘I wanted to learn to do something useful,’ she said stiffly.

‘More useful than learning about the dragons?’ His tone was conciliatory, and that almost offended her more.

‘I think what I’m learning is important, but I’m not certain it’s useful to the expedition. If I had a more solid skill, such as providing food or—’

‘Don’t you think the knowledge you just got out of Mercor is useful? I’m not sure that any of us would have been able to provoke that information out of him.’

‘I’m not sure it’s that useful to know,’ Alise said. She tried to keep her edge, but Leftrin knew too well how to calm her. And his view of her conversation with the dragon intrigued her.

‘Well, Mercor is right in that fish don’t have to stay in one spot. They move. But you’re right in that we haven’t seen any of these kinds of fish before. So I’d guess that we’re closer to where they used to live than we were. If their ancestors came from a lake that used to be on the water system before one got to Kelsingra, then we’re still going in the right direction. There’s still hope of finding it. I’d begun to fear that we’d passed by where it used to be and there’d been no sign of it.’

She was flabbergasted. ‘I’d never even considered such a thing.’

‘Well, it’s been on my mind quite a bit of late. With your friend Sedric so sick and you so downhearted, I’d begun to ask myself if there was any point to going any further. Maybe it was a pointless expedition to nowhere. But I’m going to take those fish as a sign that we’re on the right track, and push on.’

‘For how much longer?’

He paused before he answered that. ‘Until we give up, I suppose,’ he said.

‘And what would determine that?’ The itching was starting to burn. She began to walk faster. He didn’t comment on it, but accommodated his stride to hers.

‘When it was clearly hopeless,’ he said in a low voice. ‘Until the river gets spread so shallow that not even Tarman can stay afloat. Or until the rains of winter come and make the water so deep and the current so strong that we can’t make any headway against it. That was what I told myself at first. To be honest with you, Alise, this has turned out very differently from what I expected. I thought we’d have dead and dying dragons by now, not to mention keepers that either got hurt, sick or ran off. We’ve had none of that. And I’ve come to like these youngsters more than I care to admit, and even to admire some of the dragons. That Mercor, for instance. He’s got courage and heart. He went right after Thymara, when I thought she was dead and gone for sure.’ He chuckled and shook his head. ‘Now she’s a tough one. No tears or whining. Just got up and shook it off. They’re all growing up as each day passes, keepers and dragons alike.’

‘In more ways than you might guess,’ she confirmed. She tugged her collar loose. ‘Leftrin, I’m going to run for the boat. My skin is starting to burn.’

‘What did you mean by what you just said?’ he called after her, but she didn’t reply. She darted away from him, easily outdistancing his more ponderous stride. ‘I’ll haul some clean water for you,’ he shouted after her, and she fled, skin burning, towards Tarman.

Sintara stalked away down the beach, away from the fish that she had rightfully brought to shore when the others were in danger of losing it. She hadn’t even had a bite of it. And it was all Thymara’s fault, for not getting out of the way when the dragon entered the water.

Humans were stupid in a way that Sintara found intolerable. What did the girl expect of her? That she was to be her coddling, enamoured pet? That she would endeavour to fill every gap in her gnat’s life? She should take a mate if she wished for that sort of companionship. She did not understand why humans longed for so much intense contact. Were their own thoughts never sufficient for them? Why did they look for others to fulfil their needs instead of simply taking care of themselves?

Thymara’s unhappiness was like a buzzing mosquito in her ear. Ever since her blood had spattered on Thymara’s face and lips, she’d been aware of the girl in a very uncomfortable way. It wasn’t her fault; she hadn’t intended to share her blood with her, or to create the awareness of one another that would always exist now. And it certainly had not been her decision to accelerate the changes that Thymara was undergoing. She had no desire to create an Elderling, let alone devote the thought and time that moulding one required. Let the others contemplate such an old-fashioned pastime. Humans were ridiculously short-lived. Even when a dragon modified one to extend its lifetime several times over, they still lived only a fraction of a dragon’s life. Why bother to create one and become attached to it when it was only going to die soon anyway?

Now Thymara had gone off on her own, to sulk. Or to grieve. Sometimes the distinction between the two seemed very insignificant to Sintara. There, now, the girl was crying, as if crying were a thing one did to fix something rather than a messy reaction that humans had to anything difficult. Sintara hated sharing Thymara’s sensation of painful tears and dribbling nose and sore throat. She wanted to snap at the girl, but she knew that would only make her wail more. So, with great restraint, she reached out to her gently.

Thymara. Please stop this nonsense. It only makes both of us uncomfortable.

Rejection. That was all she sensed from the girl. Not even a coherent thought, only a futile effort to push the dragon out of her thoughts. How dare she be so rude! As if Sintara had wanted to be aware of her at all!

The dragon found a sunny spot on the mud bank and stretched out. Stay out of my mind, she warned the girl, and resolutely turned her thoughts away from her. But she could not quite quench a small sense of desolation and sorrow.