Dragon Haven (55 page)

“Well. Sometimes asking someone to do something is harder than doing it myself,” she observed stiffly. She looked at him and desperately tried to see her old friend. A dozen times, she’d forgiven him. And a dozen times, she’d awakened in the night or looked up from some task to realize that she was gritting her teeth as she relived some incident from the past, now colored with the knowledge that Sedric had given her.

She now believed she knew which of her friends and acquaintances had been aware of Hest’s true preferences. And which ones had not only known about Hest but about his relationship with Sedric. It all seemed so obvious now. The chance remarks that had once been mystifying were now barbed. The social slights now made sense. She remembered Trader Feldon chok
ing on his wine when his young wife had sympathetically asked Alise about her efforts to get pregnant. She had thought he was embarrassed. Now she was certain he’d been trying to drown a chuckle at the prospect of her bedding Hest. The memory and her new interpretation of it blasted into her mind as she looked at Sedric. He’d been at that dinner party, seated on Hest’s left.

As she looked at him, he seemed to feel the same chill she did. He pinched his lips together for a moment, and then shook his head, denying something. “Alise, I need to talk to you,” he repeated.

She sighed. “I’m here.” She set down her pencil.

Sedric’s nose twitched as he looked at the stiff little bodies. She heard a shushing noise; rain was falling, peppering the face of the surrounding waters. Sedric stepped to the galley door and shut it firmly. Then he sat down at the table across from her and set a worn canvas bag on the table. He folded his hands together and then announced, “When I’m finished, you’re going to think even less of me than you do now. But you’ll also have every explanation that is owed to you for the ways I’ve behaved. And it will be done. I’ll have nothing else left to apologize for, no more dirty secrets that I’ll have to dread you discovering some day.”

She clasped her own hands. “That’s not a reassuring way to begin a conversation.” Dread was already rising inside her.

“No. It’s not. Here it is, Alise. When Hest told me I had to accompany you here, I was furious. And hurt, because he was doing it to punish me for taking your part. I’d insisted it was only fair that you be allowed to travel up the Rain Wild River. I reminded him, once too often, that he had agreed to it as part of your marriage agreement.” He paused very slightly, but she gave him no sign that this swayed her in any way. “When I knew it was inevitable that I must go with you to see your ‘damned dragons,’ I recalled a Chalcedean merchant who had approached Hest and me months before. He very cautiously approached the idea that Hest might have connections to Rain Wild Traders who might be able to procure dragon parts.” He glanced up at her and met her eyes. “You know that since the Duke of
Chalced began to age and fail, he has sought for remedies to prolong his life and restore his health.”

She replied quietly. “I know all about his offers to buy such things.”

He looked down again. “I contacted the merchant. I told him where I was going. He supplied me with what he thought I would need. Specimen bottles and preservatives. A list of the most desirable parts.” He lifted his chin suddenly and said stubbornly, “I accompanied you on this expedition determined to harvest those parts. With them, I intended to make my fortune, and then to persuade Hest to leave you and come away with me.”

She sat very still, waiting for the rest of it.

“What I accused Leftrin of planning, I actually did. I used you to get close to the dragons. I took scales and blood, even small pieces of flesh from when Thymara cleaned the wound on the copper dragon. I hid them in my room.” As he spoke, he reached into the canvas bag. One at a time, he took out several small glass bottles and set them on the table. One had a tinge of red stain down it. “I intended to take them back to Bingtown, to meet up with the Chalcedean merchant, and make a fortune.”

He stopped there.

After a moment, she realized he was waiting for her. She took up one of the empty bottles and turned it in her hands. “What did you do with them?”

“Greft stole them from me. When he fled with the boat. They’re gone forever, now.” He gestured at the glass vials. She suppressed a shudder and set the one in her hand back on the table with a small
clink.

“Why are you telling me this now?”

He paused, then said unwillingly, “Carson. He said I needed to finish old things before I could start something new. This is part of that.”

“You’re finishing with me.”

“No. No, that’s not it at all. I don’t want to lose you, Alise. I know that it’s probably not possible, but somehow I’d like to go back to being the sort of friend I once was to you. Being that person from my side, if you see what I mean, even if you
can’t feel about me as you once did. Somehow I went from being your friend to someone who could participate in deceiving you, could even exploit you just to get close to the dragons. I don’t want to be that person anymore. Telling you is a way of destroying him. Telling you about someone like him is something the old Sedric would have done, back when he was really your friend.”

“You mean before Hest got to him. Before Hest got to either of us.” She lifted a hand and rubbed her brow. It gave her a moment to cover her eyes, a brief time of being alone with her own thoughts. It wasn’t really fair to blame it all on Hest. Was it? She and Sedric had gone their own ways before he came along and joined their lives again in such a bizarre fashion. She tried to remember how she had once thought of Sedric. In those years when their lives had taken separate paths, she’d recalled him fondly and smiled over her girlhood infatuation with him. Whenever she chanced to see him, in the market or visiting mutual friends, she’d always felt a leap of pleasure at the sight of him and always greeted him warmly.

His presence, she slowly realized, had been the only pleasant part of her marriage to Hest. She tried to imagine the past few years without him. What if she had been marooned in her marriage to Hest without Sedric’s presence in the house, without his thoughtfulness and conversation at meals? He had, she recalled, been Hest’s adviser in the gifts chosen for her, in her access to the scrolls and books that had made her life tolerable. In some ways, they had been two animals in the same trap. If he had some responsibility for her falling into Hest’s power, he at least had done what he could to ameliorate her misery.

And he had helped to win this journey for her. At what must have seemed a terrible price to him.

It had been a chain of events that led to her finding Leftrin. That led to her finding both love and a life.

With a fingertip, she touched the red-stained bottle. Then she frowned, leaned forward, and picked up the one next to it. It was slightly larger than the others. Something winked at her from inside it. She held it up to the light from the galley window
and peered at it. She shook it. It didn’t move, but there was no mistaking what it was.

Then, with a strength that surprised him, she smashed it on the edge of the galley table. Shards of glass went flying, and Sedric instinctively put up his hands to shield his face. “Sorry,” she muttered, shocked at her own impulsiveness. With cautious fingers, she separated the shattered glass until the bottle bottom was revealed. Carefully she plucked out the single small copper-edged scale that had remained stuck inside the bottle. She held it to the light. It was almost transparent.

“A scale,” he said.

“Yes.”

With a table rag, she wiped the shards of glass off the planks and into the waste bucket that held the guts and feathers of the birds she’d cleaned. Then, from her trouser pocket, she took the locket.

“You kept it?” He was stunned.

“I did. I didn’t know why. Perhaps to remind me of how stupid I had been.” She glanced at him from under lowered lashes. “But perhaps you need the reminder even more than I do.”

She opened the locket, and Hest peered out at both of them, his supercilious smile no longer handsome at all, only mocking. She lifted the tiny bundle of silk-secured black hair and set it aside as she had earlier set aside the guts she’d pulled out of the dead birds. Then she picked up the knife she’d used to disjoint the fowls, slid it under Hest’s portrait and popped the little image free. She carefully placed the copper-edged scale inside the locket case and snapped it shut. A
LWAYS
said the small case. She held it up on its chain. “Always,” she said to Sedric, holding it out.

After a brief hesitation, he took it from her. For a moment, he held the trinket in his hand. Then he looped the chain over his neck and slid the locket inside his shirt. “Always,” he agreed.

She rose so he wouldn’t see her eyes filling up. Could it be that simple to be done with the old and finally begin clean with the new? She lifted the lid off the kettle and gave the soup a stir.
It was barely simmering. She’d have to ask the keepers to go out and bring her back anything that might burn if they wanted cooked food tonight. She opened the front of the little stove and scowled at the dying coals. “We need fuel,” she said, to be saying anything.

“Here’s something we can burn,” Sedric said and flipped the tiny portrait into the fire. She hadn’t seen him pick it up and look at it. It landed in the fire, and a single flame flared up briefly before the image curled and blackened. “And here’s something else.” The lock of Hest’s black hair landed on the dying coals and singed. Smoke rose from it and she hastily slammed the door of the stove.

“Oh, that stinks!” she exclaimed.

Sedric sniffed. “He does, doesn’t he?”

She covered her mouth and nose, and then she laughed around her hand. To her surprise, Sedric joined her, and suddenly they were both laughing together as they had not in Sa knew how long. Then somehow, he was crying instead, and her arms were around him, and she found she was crying, too. “It’s going to be all right,” she managed to say to him. “It’s going to be all right. I’ve got you, my friend. We’ll be fine.”

A
FTER
S
YLVE HAD
left the room, Thymara had spent some time alone in the darkness crying. It was stupid and useless. She’d done it anyway. And when she was sure that all her tears had been used, that all of her sorrow had been converted to anger, she left the little room and went in search of Sintara.

She went to the bow rail and located the dragons. They were not far from the barge. Some of them were lying down next to one another, each one’s chin cradled on the next dragon’s back. It looked sociable and peaceful, but she knew the truth. It was the only way the dragons could rest their legs and sleep without their heads dipping into the water. Sintara was not sleeping. She was moving slowly through a reed bed, peering down into the water. Probably hoping for a frog or a fish. Or anything made of meat. The recent rainfall had washed the dragons clean. The
afternoon sun had broken through the overcast and glittered on Sintara. Despite her anger, Thymara could not help but see the beauty of her dragon.

Light ran and shivered along her blue scales. When she moved her head, there was grace and danger in every ripple of muscle. Despite her size, despite the fact that she was not a creature made for the water, she edged through it soundlessly.
Beautiful death-dealer,
she thought, and the now-familiar sensation of the dragon’s effortless glamour washed through her. She was the loveliest creature Thymara had ever seen.

Thymara groped frantically and then angrily for her sense of self. Yes. Sintara was the most beautiful creature in the world. And the most thoughtless, selfish, and cruel! She shook herself free of the dragon’s charm, seized Tarman’s railing, and clambered over it.

The keeper boats were tethered to Tarman’s ladder. She didn’t bother with any of them. The
Tarman
was aground, and here the water varied from waist- to knee-deep.
Just enough water to make everyone perfectly miserable,
she told herself, and jumped down into it. Her feet sank more deeply into silt than she’d expected and she knew a moment’s panic. But the water was not even waist-deep, and she used the instant of fear to fuel her anger. She wasn’t going to cry or whine. Not this time. Maybe not ever again.

She looked around, saw that Sintara was still hunting, and made her purposeful way toward her. When she reached the reed bed, she pushed her way through it, not caring how she splashed or that she was most likely ruining what little hunting there was for the hungry dragon. Had Sintara ever thought about what she was ruining for Thymara? She doubted it. She doubted that Sintara had ever considered what any of her actions might mean to Thymara or any other human.

“Stop being so noisy!” the dragon hissed at her as she drew nearer.

Deliberately Thymara splashed through the water until she stood directly in front of the incensed dragon. Sintara drew her head up to her full height, looked down on the girl, and slightly
opened her wings. “What is wrong with you? There is little enough hunting here, and you have chased away every fish or frog in this reed bed!”

“You are what is wrong with me! What have you done to me?”

“I? I’ve done nothing to you!”

“Then what is this? What is this change in me?” Thymara stripped off her shirt angrily and presented her back to Sintara.

“Those. Oh. They’re not finished.”

“What is not finished? Sylve said it looked like I had fingers growing in gashes inside my back!”

“Fingers!” The dragon trumpeted her amusement. “Fingers? No. Wings. Here, let me see.”

Thymara was too shocked to move. Wings. Wings. The word was suddenly nonsense. It meant nothing to her. Wings. Wings on her back. “But I’m a human,” she said stupidly. She could feel the dragon’s breath on her bared skin.

“You are, for now. But when you have finished changing, you’ll be an Elderling. With wings. The first one ever, if my recollections are correct. They are still not mature, but…can you move them? Have you tried to move them at all?”

“Move them? I didn’t even know I had them!” She had cried herself out earlier; shed every tear she had over her sorrow at her disfigurement. What had it meant to her earlier this afternoon? That she was a freak and a monster. That she would never dare bare her body to any man; no, not before any person at all. Fingers growing on her back. But they weren’t fingers. They were wings. And the stupid dragon who had caused them to grow there without even asking her was now wondering if she could
move
them.