Rain Wilds Chronicles (173 page)

She closed her mouth. The abruptness of the kiss and Tats's assumption that something had just changed between them took her breath away. She should have pushed him away. She should run after him, throw her arms around him, and kiss him properly. Her hammering heart jolted a hundred questions loose to rattle in her brain, but suddenly she didn't want to ask any of them. Let it be, for now. She drew a long breath and willed stillness into herself. Let her have time to think before either of them said anything more to each other. She chose casual words.

“You're right, we should go,” she agreed, but she lingered a moment, watching Sintara feed. The blue queen had grown, as had her appetite. She braced a clawed forefoot on the deer, bent her head, and tore a hindquarter free of the carcass. As she tipped her head back to swallow, her gleaming glance snagged on Thymara. For a moment she looked at her, maw full of meat. Then she began the arduous process of getting the leg down her gullet. Her sharp back teeth sheared flesh and crushed bone until she tossed the mangled section into the air and caught it again. She tipped her head back to swallow.

“Sintara,” Thymara whispered into the still winter air. She felt the briefest touch of acknowledgment. Then she turned to where Tats waited and they started back for the village.

“T
his is NOT what you promised me.” The finely dressed man rounded angrily on the fellow who held the chain fastened to Selden's wrist manacles. The wind off the water tugged at the rich man's heavy cloak and stirred his thinning hair. “I can't present
this
to the Duke. A scrawny, coughing freak! You promised me a dragon man. You said it would be the offspring of a woman and a dragon!”

The other man stared at him, his pale blue eyes cold with fury. Selden returned his appraisal dully, trying to rouse his own interest. He had been jerked from a sleep that had been more like a stupor, dragged from belowdecks up two steep ladders, across a ship's deck, and down onto a splintery dock. They'd allowed him to keep his filthy blanket only because he'd snatched it close as they woke him and no one had wanted to touch him to take it away. He didn't blame them. He knew he stank. His skin was stiff with salt sweat long dried. His hair hung past his shoulders in matted locks. He was hungry, thirsty, and cold. And now he was being sold, like a dirty, shaggy monkey brought back from the hot lands.

All around him on the docks, cargo was being unloaded and deals were being struck. He smelled coffee from somewhere, and raised voices shouting in Chalcedean besieged his ears. None of it was so different from the Bingtown docks when a ship came in. There was the same sense of urgency as cargo was hoisted from the deck to the docks, to be trundled away on barrows to warehouses. Or sold, on the spot, to eager buyers.

His buyer did not look all that eager. Displeasure was writ large on his face. He still stood straight, but years had begun to sag the flesh on his bones. Perhaps he had been a warrior once, but his muscles had long turned lax and his belly was now heavy with fat. There were rings on his fingers and a massy silver chain around his neck. Once perhaps his power had been in his body; now he wore it in the richness of his garb and his absolute certainty that no one wished to displease him.

Certainly the man selling Selden to him agreed with that. He hunched as he spoke, lowering his head and eyes and near begging for approval.

“He is! He's a real dragon man, just as I promised. Didn't you get what I sent to you, the sample of his flesh? You must have seen the scales on it. Just look!” The man turned and abruptly snatched away the blanket that had been Selden's sole garment. The blustery wind roared its mirth and blasted Selden's flesh. “There, you see? See? He's scaled from head to toe. And look at those feet and hands! You ever see hands like that on a man? He's real, I promise you, lord. We're just off the ship, Chancellor Ellik. It was a long journey here. He needs to be washed and fed up a bit, yes, but once he's healthy again, you'll see he's all you want and more!”

Chancellor Ellik ran his eyes over Selden as if he were buying a hog for slaughter. “I see he's cut and bruised from head to toe. Scarcely the condition in which I expect to find a very expensive purchase.”

“He brought that on himself,” the merchant objected. “He's bad tempered. Attacked his keeper twice. The second time, the man had to give him a beating he'd remember, or risk being attacked every time he came to feed him. He can be vicious. But that's the dragon in him, right? An ordinary man would have known there was no point starting a fight when he was chained to a staple. So there's yet another proof for you. He's half dragon.”

“I'm not,” Selden croaked. He was having trouble standing. The ground was solid under his feet; he knew that, and yet the sensation of rising and falling persisted. He'd lived too long in the hold of a ship. The gray light of early morning seemed very bright to him, and the day very chilly. He remembered attacking his keeper, and why he'd done it. He'd hoped to force the man to kill him. He hadn't succeeded, and the man who had beaten him had taken great satisfaction in causing him as much pain as he could without doing deadly damage. For two days, he'd scarcely been able to move.

Selden made a lunge, snatched his blanket back, and clutched it to his chest. The merchant fell back from him with a small cry. Selden moved as far from him as his chains would allow. He wanted to put the blanket back around his shoulders but feared he would fall over if he tried. So weak now. So sick. He stared at the men who controlled him, trying to force his weary brain to focus his thoughts. He was in no condition to challenge either of them. To which would he rather belong? He made a choice and changed what he had been about to say. He tried to clear his throat and then croaked out his words. “I'm not myself right now. I need food, and warm clothes and sleep.” He tried to find common ground, to wake some sympathy from either man. “My father was no dragon. He was from Chalced, and your countryman. He was a ship's captain. His name was Kyle Haven. He came from a fishing town, from Shalport.” He looked around, hoping desperately as he asked, “Is this Shalport? Are we in Shalport? Someone here will recall him. I've been told I look like him.”

Glints of anger lit in the rich man's eyes. “He talks? You didn't warn me of this!”

The merchant licked his lips. Plainly, he had not expected this to be a problem. He spoke quickly, his voice rising in a whine. “He is a dragon man, my lord. He speaks and walks as a man, but his body is that of a dragon. And he lies like a dragon, as all know that dragons are full of lies and deception.”

“The body of a dragon!” Disdain filled the chancellor's voice and eyes as he evaluated Selden. “A lizard perhaps. A starved snake.”

Selden debated speaking again and chose silence. Best not to anger the man. And best to save what strength he had for whatever might come next. He had decided he stood a better chance of survival if he were sold to the courtier than he did if he remained with the merchant. Who knew where the man might try to sell him next or to whom? This was Chalced and he was considered a slave. He'd already experienced how harsh the life of a slave could be. Already known the indignity and pain of being something that someone owned, a body to be sold. The sordid memory burst in his mind like an abscess leaking pus. He pushed it aside and clung instead to the emotion it brought.

He clutched at his anger, fearing it was giving way to resignation.
I will not die here,
he promised himself. He reached deep into the core of his being, willing strength into his muscles. He forced himself to stand straighter, willed his shivering to cease. He blinked his rheumy eyes clear and fixed his stare on the rich man. Chancellor Ellik. A man of influence, then. He let his fury burn in his gaze.
Buy me.
He did not speak the words aloud but arrowed the thought at the man. Stillness grew in him.

“I will.” Chancellor Ellik replied as if Selden had spoken his words aloud, and for one wild moment, he dared to hope he yet had some power over his life.

But then the chancellor turned his gaze on the merchant. “I will honor our bargain. If a word such as
honor
can be applied to such deception as you have practiced against me! I will buy your ‘dragon man.' But for half the agreed price. And you should count yourself fortunate to get that.”

Selden more felt than saw the repressed hatred in the merchant's lowered eyes. But the man's response was mild. He thrust the end of Selden's chain toward the chancellor. “Of course, my lord. The slave is yours.”

Chancellor Ellik made no move to take it. He glanced over his shoulder, and a serving man stepped forward. He was muscled and lean, dressed in clean, well-made clothes. A house servant, then. His distaste for his task showed plain on his face. The chancellor didn't care. He barked out his order. “Take him to my quarters. See that he is made presentable.”

The servant scowled and gave a sharp jerk on the chain. “Come, slave.” He spoke to Selden in the Common Tongue, then turned and walked briskly away, not even looking back to see how Selden lurched and hopped to keep up with him.

And once again, his fate changed hands.

Day the 25th of the Fish Moon

Year the 7th of the Independent Alliance of Traders

From Reyall, Acting Keeper of the Birds, Bingtown

To Detozi, Keeper of the Birds, Trehaug

 

Enclosed, an offer of a reward for any new information regarding the fate of either Sedric Meldar or Alise Kincarron Finbok, members of the
Tarman
expedition. Please duplicate the enclosed message of a reward and post widely in Trehaug, Cassarick, and the lesser Rain Wild settlements.

To Detozi, Keeper of the Birds, a brief greeting from her nephew and an explanation of this new packaging for messages. I will write this directive on an outer envelope of fabric, and afterward stitch it shut and dip it all in wax. Within is a tube of hollowed bone, sealed with wax, and within that an innermost tube of metal. The Guild leadership insists this will not overburden the birds, but I and many other keepers have reservations, especially concerning the smaller birds. Clearly something must be done to restore confidence in the privacy of messages sent and received, but this seems to me a measure that will punish the birds rather than root out any corrupt keepers. Could you and Erek add your voices to the opinions given on these new message holders?

C
HAPTER
F
OUR

Opening Negotiations

W
ho knew that a room this dismal could smell even worse than it looks,” Redding observed with cheerless sarcasm.

“Do be silent,” Hest told him, and pushed past him into the small room. It swayed alarmingly under his tread as he entered. It was not an inn room: Cassarick had no proper inns, only brothels, taverns where one might pay extra to sleep on a bench for the night, and accommodations like this, rooms the size of a birdcage rented out by working families as a secondary source of income. The woman who had taken their money was some sort of a tailor. She had assured them that they were most fortunate to find any lodgings this late in the day. Hest had tried not to snarl at her as she had taken the exorbitant sum and then sent her young son to escort them to the small, unlocked chamber that dangled in the wind several branches away from her own.

Redding had clung to the ridiculous piece of knotted line that pretended to be a handrail as they negotiated the narrowing branch to their lodgings. Hest had not. He would far rather have plunged to his death in the forested depths below than make such a timid spectacle of himself. Redding, however, had no such reservations. He had whined and gibbered with tittering fear every step of the way along the rain-wet bridge until Hest had been sorely tempted to simply push him off the branch and move past him.

Now he looked around the room and then grunted. It would have to do. The bed was small, the pottery hearth unswept, and he doubted that the bedding had been laundered since the last guest had used the pallet in the corner. It mattered little to him. He had a fine traditional inn room waiting for him back in Trehaug. He intended to conclude the Chalcedean's business here as quickly as possible, and then he had no doubt he could bribe some riverman to give him passage back to Trehaug tonight. Once there, he could begin his own business, that of tracking down his errant wife. True, she had left from Cassarick, but he saw no reason not to conduct his search for her from a comfortable room in Trehaug. After all, that was what runners were for, to be sent to ask questions and take messages to unpleasant places.

He gritted his teeth as he abruptly realized that was how the Chalcedean was using him; he was his runner, sent to an unpleasant place to deliver a nasty message. Well. Get it over with. Only then could he get back to his own life.

He had sought a rented room only for the privacy it would afford him for his meeting. The Chalcedean villain back in Bingtown had emphasized, over and over, that he must be more than discreet in these meetings and that the “message” must be delivered in private. The process for setting up the meeting had certainly been ridiculous in the number of steps it required, for it had involved leaving a written message at an inn in Trehaug, waiting for a response, and then obediently visiting a certain lift operator in the same city to ask for a recommendation for a room here in Cassarick. He had assumed the fellow would have had the sense to pick a decent place. Instead, he had been directed here. His only piece of good fortune had been that, by great coincidence, the impervious boat was also moving to Cassarick on the same day. He had not had to completely vacate his cabin there.

He set down his modest pack and watched Redding lower his larger case to the floor. His traveling companion straightened up with a martyred groan. “Well. Here we are. Now what? Are you ready to share a bit more with me about this mysterious trading partner of yours and the reason for his need for absolute confidentiality?”

It had not suited Hest to betray too much of his mission to Redding. He had explained their journey as a trading trip with the unfortunate extra mission of resolving the situation of his vanished wife. He had not mentioned Sedric's name; Redding was irrationally jealous of the man. There was no sense in provoking him with it right now; he'd save it until such an outburst would be more amusing and to his advantage. Jealousy truly spurred Redding's efforts to be entertaining.

Of the Chalcedean blackguard, he had said nothing, letting Redding assume that all their furtive messages and odd contacts had to do with extremely valuable Elderling merchandise. The mystery had excited Redding, and it had been enjoyable to thwart his efforts at questioning him. Nor had Hest mentioned the possibility that, if his mission succeeded perfectly, he'd be establishing a rather large claim to Kelsingra. No sense in stimulating the little man's greed too much. He'd reveal all at the proper moment, creating a tale of Trader cleverness that Redding would bark and bray all over Bingtown.

Since Hest had arrived in the Rain Wilds every bit of news he had heard had convinced him that such a Kelsingra claim would mean wealth beyond imagining. Trehaug had been buzzing with secondhand rumors about Leftrin's visit and precipitous departure. There were rumors that the expedition had formed an alliance with the Khuprus family; certainly the captain of the
Tarman
had freely relied on their credit to restock his ship. Leftrin had flung accusations of treason and broken contracts and then fled Cassarick without his money. That made no sense. Unless, of course, there was so much money to be made from another trip up the river that his pay from the Council no longer mattered to him. Now there was a thought.

Most of the small vessels that had tried to follow the
Tarman
had since returned, but one ship, twin to the one that Hest had traveled on, had not come back. Sunk in the river or still in pursuit, he wondered. If that ship could follow and survive the trip, then so could the vessel he had come on. He wondered how much it would cost him to hire it for a journey to Kelsingra. In Bingtown, the captain had been surly and secretive as if he did not even want to sell Hest passage to Trehaug. Hest had had to bundle Redding aboard at the last minute when the captain was so eager to leave that Hest could push the issue of an extra passenger through. The captain might not be open to a trip farther up the river. But the captain of a ship was often not the owner. Perhaps the owners would be bold enough to speculate, perhaps to make the voyage for an offer of one-tenth of whatever share in the city it ultimately gained for Hest?

So far he had not mentioned his possible claim to anyone. Only two Traders had dared to ask him if his visit to the Rain Wilds was in connection with his vanished wife. He'd stared them down. No sense in saying anything to anyone that might prompt them to come sniffing after the fortune that was rightfully his. Then he pushed that consideration from his mind. Much as he longed to distract himself from the business at hand, he knew he must finish it first before pursuing his own interest. Finish it and be done with the damned Chalcedean.

So, “Now we wait,” he announced, gingerly taking a seat in the only chair in the room, a contraption woven of dried vines. A rather flat cushion was the only protection for his bottom, and the drape of canvas on the back added little or no comfort. But at least he could rest his legs after the interminable stairs. Redding looked around the room in vain and then, with a groan, squatted on the low bedstead, his knees jutting up uncomfortably. He crossed his arms on them and leaned forward, looking grumpy.

“Wait for what?”

“Well, I should have said that
I
wait. I'm afraid that my first meeting must be conducted in an extremely confidential manner. If all goes well, then soon I will receive a visit from a fellow responding to the note you left with Innkeeper Drost at the Frog and Oar Tavern in Trehaug. I will deliver certain items to him. In the meanwhile, you, dear fellow, should go out and amuse yourself for a time. When my business is concluded, I'll ask our landlady to send her boy for you.”

Redding sat up straighter, and glints of dismay came into his eyes. “Amuse myself? In this monkey village? Where, I ask you? It's getting dark, these tree branches they call paths are becoming slippery, and you want me to go out and wander about on my own? How will you send a boy for me when you won't know where I am? Hest, really, this is too much! We've come on this ridiculous journey together, and up to now, I've done it all your way, climbing through trees, dropping off secret notes in filthy taverns, and even toting that box for you as if I were some kind of treetop donkey! I am hungry, wet through, chilled to the bone, and you want me to go back out in this foul weather?” He lunged to his feet and attempted to pace the small room angrily. He looked more like a dog turning round and round before settling to sleep. His movements made the room sway. He halted, looking dizzy and angry. Hest watched his fury build to the popping point.

“I don't think your business is ‘confidential.' I think you don't trust me. I am not going to be your lapdog the way Sedric was, dependent on you for everything, never making a move on my own! If you want my company, Hest, you'll have to respect me. I came on this jaunt with the aim of acquiring Rain Wild goods, as an independent trader. I brought my own funds for that purpose. I had thought that as we had become such good friends, I could avail myself of some of your business contacts as well. Not to compete with you or bid against you for anything you wanted, but only to make small investments of my own, in items you found unworthy of your time. And now that I am here and have come all this way and served you like a runner-boy, you intend to dismiss me as if I were some sort of brainless lackey or servant. Well, it won't do, Hest Finbok. It won't do at all.”

The chair was very uncomfortable. And he was as chilled and weary as Redding. Sedric would have had the good sense not to pick a quarrel with him at a time like this. Hest regarded the pink-cheeked man with his lower lip jutting like a petulant child, puffing away like a pug-nosed dog, and, at that moment, seriously considered abandoning him there in Cassarick. Let him see just how well he managed as an “independent trader.”

Then a far more appealing plan occurred to him.

“You're right, Redding.” At this concession, the man looked so startled that Hest was hard put to keep from laughing. But he put a serious expression on his face and continued, “Let me show my confidence in you quite clearly. I'm going to put you in charge of this meeting, and leave you to it. The men you will meet today represent some powerful trading interests. You may be a bit surprised to discover they are from Chalced—”

“Chalcedean traders? Here in the Rain Wilds?” Redding was indeed shocked.

Hest raised his brows. “Well, certainly you know that I've made trading trips to Chalced, so you must know I've contacts there. And three Chalcedean trading houses have established offices in Bingtown since the end of our hostilities with them. Indeed, I've heard several members of the Bingtown Traders' Council say that they believed establishing trade relations with Chalced may be our best path to a lasting peace with them. When economic goals and benefits align, countries seldom go to war.”

Hest spoke smoothly. Redding's brow was wrinkled, but he was nodding. Hest made the leap, trusting that Redding would accept whatever he said now. “So it should be no surprise to you that some Chalcedean trading concerns have been making efforts to establish connections here in the Rain Wilds. There are, of course, backward elements that frown on such things. That is our reason for keeping the negotiations absolutely confidential. One of the individuals, Begasti Cored, you may recognize. He had made several journeys to Bingtown, before transferring his operation here to Cassarick. The other fellow, Sinad Arich, I have not met before. But he comes to me, of course, with the best credentials and references. I, that is
we,
have been entrusted with messages from home for both these gentlemen. Gifts, as it were, in the form of two small boxes inside the very case you have handled so conscientiously for me since we left Bingtown.” Hest leaned forward and lowered his voice. “These gifts and the message that accompanies them come from someone very close to power in Chalced. Begasti Cored will perhaps be expecting me, though in the past Sedric was his contact. And the message we must deliver has to do with goods that Sedric promised to deliver to him. And has not, of course. So you see how delicate a position we are in, do you not? We must deliver the message and the gift, and encourage our Chalcedean counterparts to contact Sedric, if indeed they have any means of doing so, and impress on him the utmost importance of delivering his promised goods quickly.”

Hest took in a deep breath through his nostrils and then confided to Redding, “I fear Sedric's failure to keep his end of the bargain has reflected very badly on me. A large part of my willingness to undergo the rigors of this journey was due to my need to retrieve my reputation! One of the things I need to request from Begasti Cored is a signed statement that his agreement was solely with Sedric, and not with me. And if he has the original document, well, having him surrender that to us would be even better.”

Hest's thoughts were racing as he marveled at the brilliance of his inspiration. Redding would do the dirty work for him. Having Redding ask Cored for such a statement might free Hest from the Chalcedean's attention. And if there were any repercussions from meeting with Chalcedeans in Rain Wild territory, they would fall on Redding, not him. If need be, he could disavow any knowledge of the transaction. After all, it had been Redding who had taken the message to the tavern. Let him finish the errand, and leave Hest well clear of any later accusations of treason.