Dragon Keeper

‘You put it a bit crudely but—’

‘I accept,’ she said quickly. She held out her hand to him, thinking perhaps he would lift it to his lips and kiss it. Thinking, perhaps, he might even draw her into an embrace. Instead, he took it with a smile, shook it firmly as if they were two men sealing an agreement, and then turned it palm up. He set the treasured scroll into it. It was heavy, preserved by oil rubbed into it perhaps. The smell of its secrets rose to entice her. She hastily raised her other hand to cradle the precious thing. Hest was speaking, his deep voice rich with satisfaction.

‘With your permission, I will announce our nuptials at the Summer Ball. After, of course, I have begged your father’s leave.’

‘I scarcely think you will have to beg it,’ she murmured. She clasped the scroll to her breast as if it were her first born, and wondered what she had agreed to do.

The heels of Hest’s boots clacked sharply against each stone step as he descended from the entry of the Kincarrons’ modest manor house. Sedric straightened up from where he had been lounging against the tall red wheel of the pony trap. He brushed his brown hair back from his eyes and smiled as his tall friend approached. The broad grin on Hest’s face promised good tidings. The little horse lifted his head and whickered softly as Sedric greeted him with, ‘And so?’

‘Both so impatient, are you?’ Hest asked them affably as he approached.

‘Well, you were a bit longer than we thought you’d be,’ Sedric agreed as he clambered to the seat and took up the reins. ‘I thought it might mean things weren’t going so well. The signs lately have not been encouraging.’

Long-legged Hest easily mounted to the passenger side of the cramped vehicle and sat down with a sigh. ‘I hate this contraption. The top of the seat hits me just above the small of my back, and the wheels find every bump in the road. I’ll be grateful when Father lets me put the carriage back into service.’

Sedric clucked to the horse and he leaned into his harness. ‘I expect that won’t be soon. While the roads are so bad, this is a much more sensible mode of transport. We can thread our way around and through the blockages in the streets. Half of Gold Drive is blocked with stacked timber this week, and that’s because they’re rebuilding. There is still so much of Bingtown that needs to be demolished and hauled away before new structures can be erected. Half the shops in the Grand Market are still burned husks.’

‘And the summer only makes the reek of the burned-out buildings worse. I know. I tried to find an open tea shop there yesterday, and the stench drove me away. I know the pony trap is more sensible. Just as wedding Alise Kincarron is the sensible thing to do. I don’t have to like either one, only endure them. I tell you, Sedric, I’ve only been sensible for a few months now, and I’m already heartily sick of it.’ With a groan, Hest leaned his lanky frame back on the low-backed seat, then sat up with an exclamation of disgust and rubbed his back. ‘This is the most uncomfortable mode of transport ever invented. Why on earth did the Kincarrons build their manor so far from the centre of town?’

‘Possibly because it was the piece of land they were originally granted by the Satrap. It’s had one benefit for them. The raiders and the looters didn’t want to come out this far.’

‘Keeping an ugly house intact is small recompense for living in such a forsaken location. Didn’t they ever consider moving to a better part of town?’

‘I doubt they’ve had the financial option.’

‘Seems like poor planning. A few less daughters to dower and they’d have had a better estate for their sons.’

Sedric chose to ignore his friend’s complaint. He held the reins lightly in his browned hands, guiding the horse around a washed-out bit of the road. ‘So. Must I drag the details from you? How did your courting go? Have you divined why the lady has seemed to scorn such an eminently fine catch as yourself?’

‘It was as you surmised. It shocks me to admit this, but your penchant for knowing the gossip and peculiarities of Bingtown have paid off yet again. Alise would genuinely rather travel up the Rain Wild River and watch dragons hatch than accompany me to the ball. She herself admitted that her dragon fixation is a bit of an obsession; apparently she had resigned herself to being an old maid and deliberately chosen an eccentric pursuit to occupy her lonely days. And then I not only dashed her dreams of spinsterhood all to splinters, but spoiled her chance of watching dragons hatch by viciously begging that she accompany me to the ball. So. I’m a beast. Naturally, that devastates me.’

Sedric cast a glance over at his usually devil-may-care friend. Hest looked solemn. ‘So I will have to drag it out of you, won’t I? Did you salvage anything? Will she accompany you to the ball?’

‘Oh, she’ll do better than that.’ Hest stretched casually, and then turned and gave Sedric the full benefit of his perfect grin. His green eyes sparked in conspiratorial glee. ‘Your gift suggestion worked perfectly. One glimpse of it and she accepted my proposal. Asking her father for her hand will be a mere formality, as she herself noted. Congratulate me, my friend. I’m to be wed.’ As he made that final announcement, his voice flattened, his tone suddenly at odds with his words.

Sedric bit his lower lip for a moment, quelling his own dismay. Quietly, he offered, ‘Congratulations. I wish you both every happiness.’

Hest scowled at him. ‘Well, I don’t know about her, but I intend to be happy. Because I don’t intend that this should change any aspect of my life. And if she’s wise, she’ll choose to be happy, too. She won’t get a better offer. Oh, don’t give me that rebuking look, Sedric. You’re the one who suggested that the best way for me to make my family happy was to find a woman who wouldn’t expect much of me. You even suggested that Alise Kincarron would perfectly fill the requirement. I met her, I agreed with you, and now she’s to be mine. In time, she’ll grace my home, provide me with a fat baby to inherit my name and fortune, and guarantee to me that my father doesn’t choose my cousin as heir over me. All very practical and wise, and at a minimum of inconvenience to myself.’

‘But sad, nonetheless,’ Sedric said quietly.

‘Why sad? We’ll all be getting what we want.’

‘Not precisely,’ Sedric muttered. ‘And not honestly.’ He sighed again. ‘And Alise deserves better. She’s a good person. A kind person.’

‘You, my friend, are too prone to sentiment. And honesty is vastly over-rated. Why, if we imposed honesty on Bingtown in general, all the Traders would be paupers by next week.’

Sedric found he could not frame a reply to that. After a moment, Hest asked defensively, ‘Why did you put the idea in my head, if you didn’t intend me to act on it?’

Sedric gave a small shrug. He hadn’t, truly, expected that Hest would follow up on his cynical suggestion. That he had done so slightly undercut his admiration for the man. ‘It’s an old saying. If you want to be happy, marry an ugly woman and live with a grateful wife.’ Then he admitted uncomfortably, ‘I was in my cups when I made the suggestion to you and feeling a bit morose about my own situation. Alise isn’t a bad person. And she’s certainly not ugly. Just not, well, not beautiful. Not by Bingtown standards. But she’s kind. She used to come visit my sisters when we were younger. She was kind to me during a time when most girls treated me as if I had some sort of a disease.’

‘Oh, yes. I’d forgotten that spotty phase you went through,’ Hest needled him merrily. ‘She probably thought you’d keep your spots and they’d match her freckles.’ His green eyes danced mischievously.

Sedric resisted a smile. ‘My “spots” were more than a phase; they seemed to last a lifetime! So her kindness, her willingness to be my partner at cards or to sit beside me at the table when she stayed for luncheon was important to me. She was my friend then. Not that I know her well now; I don’t, just well enough to know that she was nice and had a good mind, if not a pretty face or a fortune.’ Sedric shook his head unhappily, and then pushed his unruly hair back from his eyes. ‘I would never wish ill on her. When I suggested she’d make you a fine, undemanding wife, I never thought you would actually propose to her.’

‘Oh, of course you did!’ Hest was heartless in his accusation. ‘You’ve been by my side for most of my courtship of her. And you’ve been instrumental to the whole plan! You picked her out, you even told me what gift, exactly, might warm her toward me. And I should let you know that you were precisely correct on that! I thought the whole game was lost, until I trotted out that scroll. Turned the whole situation around for me, it did.’

‘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 softlyvoiced 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.