The Dragon Keeper

  Leftrin just stared at him.

  “You know it’s the right thing to do,” Sedric urged him quietly, and then added, like a twist of the knife, “For Alise’s sake. ”

  A long wailing cry of anguish from the shore rose to crack the sky.

  “HE WAS BETTER last night!” Sylve insisted. Red-tinged tears were streaming down her cheeks. Thymara winced at the sight of them, knowing well how much such tears hurt. Perhaps the fear of that pain was the only thing keeping her own eyes dry. She knelt by the little copper dragon. He had eaten last night, the first really large meal he’d taken since they’d fed him the elk meat a couple of nights ago. But unlike the other dragons, who had put on flesh and gained muscle since their trek began, the copper one had remained thin. His belly still bulged from what he had eaten last night, but Thymara could have counted his ribs. At the top of his shoulders and along his spine, some of his scales looked as if they were slipping loose from his hide.

  Tats stood up from examining the dragon’s muzzle. He put a comforting arm across Sylve’s shoulders. “He’s not dead,” he told her, laying her fear to rest. But in the next breath, he took that comfort from her. “But I think he will be dead before the day is out. It’s not your fault!” he added hastily as a Sylve drew in a sobbing breath. “I think you just came into his life too late. Sylve, he didn’t have much of a chance from the start. Look how disproportionate his legs are to the rest of him! And I caught him eating rocks and mud the other night. I think he has worms in his gut; look how swollen his belly is while the rest of him is skinny. Parasites will do that to an animal. ”

  Sylve made a choking noise. She shrugged off Tats’s touch and walked away from the group. Other keepers were coming to join them, forming a circle around the downed dragon. Thymara bit her lips tight to keep from speaking. Some callous part of her wanted to ask Tats where Jerd was. After all, she was the one who had volunteered to help him with this dragon. Sylve had promised to help with the silver, but the soft-hearted girl had ended up involved with both failing dragons. And if this copper died, it would devastate her.

  “What’s wrong with him?” Lecter asked as he hurried up.

  “Parasites,” Rapskal responded wisely. “Eating him up from the inside, so he gets no good from his food. ”

  Thymara was a bit surprised by the coherency of his remark. Rapskal saw her looking at him and came to stand beside her. “What are we going to do?” he asked her, as if it were up to her.

  “I don’t know,” she said quietly. “What can we do?”

  “I think we should make the best of it, and go on,” Greft said. His voice was not loud, but his words carried to everyone. Thymara glared at him. She still had not forgiven him for the elk. She hadn’t raised a public fuss about it, but she had avoided speaking to him or Kase or Boxter. She watched them, watched how Greft assumed leadership and tended to push the other keepers around, but hadn’t said anything openly. Now she lifted her head and squared her shoulders, preparing to take him on.

  Sylve abruptly turned back to face them all. Her tears had stopped, but they’d left red tracks down her face. “The best of it?” she said thickly. “What is that supposed to mean? What can be ‘best’ about this?”

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  Silence thick as a blanket had fallen over the gathering. Sylve stood, her shoulders lifted and her small fists knotted. All waited to hear what Greft would say. For the first time since Thymara had met him, she saw him hesitant. He surveyed his listeners. It was strange to see his human tongue dart out to lick his narrow scaled lips. What was he looking for? Thymara wondered. Acceptance of his leadership? Willingness to follow him as he made “new rules” for them?

  “He’s going to die,” he said quietly. Thymara saw a scream gather on Sylve’s face; she held it in.

  “And when he dies, his body shouldn’t go to waste. ”

  “’Course not,” Rapskal, breaking the silence that the others held by tacit consent. His matter-of-fact boyish voice in contrast to Greft’s controlled and mature speech made him sound foolish as he voiced what everyone else was thinking. “The dragons will eat him to get his memories. And for food. Everyone knows that. ” Rapskal looked around at the other keepers, nodding and smiling. Slowly the smile faded from his face; he seemed puzzled at their stillness. Thymara concentrated her attention on Greft again; he had an exasperated look on his face, as if what Rapskal proposed should seem obviously foolish to all of them. But when he spoke, there was a note of caution to his words, as if he hoped someone else would speak for him.

  “There may be a better use for his body,” he said, and waited. Thymara held her breath. What was he talking about? He looked around at all of them, daring himself to speak. “There has been talk of offers for—”

  “Dragon flesh belongs to dragons. ” It was not a human who spoke. Despite his great size, the golden dragon could move quietly. He towered above them, his head lifted high to look down on Greft. The keepers were parting to let him advance as if they were reeds giving way to the river’s flow. Mercor strode majestically past them. He looked, Thymara thought, magnificent. Since their journey had begun, he had put on weight and muscle. He was beginning to look the way a dragon was supposed to look. With the muscling, his legs looked more proportionate. His tail seemed to have grown. Only his broken-kite wings betrayed him. They were still too small and frail-looking to lift even a part of him.

  He bent his long neck to sniff at the copper dragon’s body. Then he swiveled his head to stare at Greft. “She’s not dead,” he told him coldly. “It’s a bit early to plan to sell her flesh. ”

  “She?” Tats asked in consternation.

  “Sell her flesh?” Rapskal sounded horrified.

  But Mercor didn’t reply to either comment or the murmur of words among the keepers that followed them. He had lowered his head to sniff again at the copper. He nudged her hard. She did not respond. As the dragon slowly swung his head to study all the keepers, his scales flashed in the sun. His eyes, gleaming black, were unreadable to Thymara. “Sylve. Stay beside me. The rest of you, go away. This does not concern you. It does not concern humans at all. ”

  Thymara could almost see the girl drawn to the dragon. His voice was compelling, deep as darkness and rich as cream. Sylve walked to him and leaned against him as if taking comfort and strength from him. She spoke shyly. “May Tats and Thymara stay? They have helped me care for Copper. ”

  “And me,” Rapskal announced, reckless as ever. “I should stay, too. I’m their friend. ”

  “Not now,” the dragon announced with finality. “There is nothing for them to do here. You stay to be with me. I’ll watch over this dragon. ”

  There was a subtle force to his words; Thymara felt not just dismissed but pushed, as if she were a child being ushered out of a sickroom. Without deciding to do so, she turned and found herself walking away. “I have to check on Skymaw,” she explained to Tats, as if to excuse her departure.

  “I felt it, too,” he whispered.

  “Sintara. ” Behind her, Mercor spoke the name. A shiver ran down Thymara’s spine, a sudden knowing she couldn’t deny. His rich voice vibrated through her. “The dragon you serve is named Sintara. I know her true name, and I know she owes it to you. So have it. ”

  Thymara had halted in her tracks. Beside her, Tats paused, looking at her with a puzzled face. She felt as if her ears were blocked, her eyes dimmed. A storm raged somewhere, just beyond her senses. Sintara was not pleased with what Mercor had done, and she was letting him know it.

  Mercor laughed humorlessly. “You can’t have it both ways, Sintara. The rest of us realized that right away. None of us has held back our names, save those poor souls who cannot remember that they have proper dragon names. ”

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  Rash as always, Rapskal spoke into the pause. “Does Heeby have a dragon name?”

  To Thymara’s surprise, the g
reat gold dragon took the boy’s query seriously. “Heeby is now Heeby. She had made the name hers as you gave it to her. It remains to see if she will grow into it, or find herself limited by it. ”

  Thymara desperately wanted to ask about the injured silver dragon, but did not have the courage. Sometimes, she reflected, it might be easier to be Rapskal, without the sense to be frightened of anything.

  Mercor had lowered his nose to the copper dragon. He gave her a nudge, then a stronger push. The copper didn’t move. Mercor lifted his head and regarded the fallen dragon with his bright black eyes. “We will have to remain here until she either rises or dies,” he announced. He looked around himself gravely and let his gaze stop on Greft. “Leave her alone here. I will be back shortly. ” Then, “Come, Sylve,” he beckoned her and strode off toward the water. His heavy clawed feet left deep tracks. Soon water would seep up to fill them.

  MORNING HAD COME and grown strong. Alise could tell by the squares of sunlight that fell in her small chamber from the tiny windows set high in the wall. She tried again to muster her courage to leave her room, and once again sat down at her little desk instead. She had to go outside soon. She was hungry and thirsty and she needed to empty her chamber pot. Instead, she folded her arms on the desk in front of her and then rested her forehead on them. She stared into the small darkness her arms enclosed. “What am I going to do?” she asked herself.

  No easy answer came to her. Outside, the deckhands would soon be casting loose and pushing the barge off the muddy bank. Doubtless by now the dragons had set out and their keepers in their flotilla of small boats would be following. Another day of travel up the river awaited her. Ahead of her were vistas of open river, tall trees, and the slice of sky overhead that sometimes seemed like a different sort of river. Every day was a new adventure for her. There would be new flowers perfumed with unfamiliar fragrances, strange animals that came down to the river’s edge or rose from its depths to leap glittering into the sunlight. Never had she imagined that the Rain Wilds would be so rich with life. When she had heard of the river and how it could sometimes run white with acid, she had expected the lands to either side of it to be deserted wastelands. To the contrary, she found herself encountering all sorts of trees, plants, and animals that she had never imagined existed. The fish and creatures in the water that had adapted to its varying acidity astounded her. Of the birds alone, there were hundreds. And by sight or song, Leftrin seemed to know them all . . .

  And again, her errant thoughts had circled back to him, to the very man who was at the root of all her problems.

  No. That wasn’t fair. She couldn’t blame him. It was her own fault she was so taken with him. Oh, she knew he was infatuated with her; he was an honest soul. He hid nothing from her. His affection for her and interest in her were conveyed in every glance, in every word he spoke to her. An accidental touch of his hand against hers was like a leap of lightning from earth to sky. Feelings, physical sensations she had thought long vanished from her life, were awakening violently and rolling through her like groundshaking thunder.

  Last night, when he had been showing her how to refasten the bowline, she had feigned incompetence at the simple knot. It was a schoolgirl’s trick, but the poor, honest man had been completely deceived. He’d stood behind her, with her in the circle of his arms and taken her hands in his to guide them through the easy motions. Heat had flushed through her, and her knees had actually trembled at his closeness. A wave of dizziness had washed through her; she had wanted to collapse to the deck and pull him down on top of her. She’d gone still in his loose embrace, praying to every god she’d ever heard of that he would know what she so hotly desired and act on it. This, this was what she was supposed to feel about the man she was joined to, and had never felt at all!

  “Do you understand it now?” he’d asked her huskily. His hands on hers pulled the knot firm.

  “I do,” she’d replied. “I understand it completely now. ” She hadn’t been speaking of knots at all. She’d dared herself to take half a step backward and press her body to his. She dared herself to turn in the circle of his arms and look up into his whiskery beloved face. Cowardice paralyzed her. She could not even form words. For a time that was infinitely brief and forever, he stood there, enclosing her in a warm, safe place. All around her, the night sounds of the Rain Wilds made a soft music of water and bird and insect calls. She could smell him, a male musky smell, “sweaty” as Sedric would have mocked it, but incredibly masculine and attractive to her. Enclosed by his embrace, she felt a part of his world. The deck under her feet, the railing of the ship, the night sky above her, and the man at her back connected her to something big and wonderful, something that was untamed and yet home to her.

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  Then he had dropped his arms and stepped back from her. The night was warm and muggy, the insects chirred and buzzed, and she heard the night call of a gnat-chaser. But it had all seemed separate from her then. Last night, as now, she knew herself for the mousy, scholarly little Bingtown woman that she undoubtedly was. She’d sold herself to Hest, prostituted out her ability to bear a child for the security and position that he had offered. She’d made the deal and signed on it. A Trader was only as good as his word, so the saying went. She’d given her word. What was it worth?

  Even if she took it back now, even if she broke it faithlessly, she’d still be a mousy, little Bingtown woman, not what she longed to be. She could scarcely bear to consider what she longed to be, not only because it was so far beyond her but because it seemed such a childishly extravagant dream. In the dark circle of her arms, she closed her eyes and thought of Althea, wife to the captain of the Paragon. She’d seen that woman dashing about the deck barefoot, wearing loose trousers like a man. She’d seen her standing up by her ship’s figurehead, the wind stirring her hair and a smile curving her lips as she exchanged some jest with the ship’s boy. And then Captain Trell had bounded up the short ladder to the foredeck to join them there. She and the captain had moved without even looking at each other, like a needle drawn to a magnet, their arms lifting as if they were the halves of the god Sa becoming whole again. She’d thought her heart would break with envy.

  What would it be like, she wondered, to have a man who had to embrace you when he saw you, even if you’d just risen from a shared bed a few hours earlier? She tried to imagine herself as free as that Althea woman, running barefoot on the decks of the Tarman. Could she ever lean on a railing in a way that said she completely owned and trusted the ship? She thought of Leftrin and tried to see him dispassionately. He was uncouth and unschooled. He told jokes at the table, and she’d seen him laugh so hard that the tea spewed from his mouth, at a coarse jest from one of his sailors. He didn’t shave every day, nor wash as often as a gentleman should. The elbows of his shirts and the knees of his trousers were scuffed with work. The short nails of his wide hands were broken and rough. Where Hest was tall and lean and elegant, Leftrin was perhaps an inch taller than she was, wide shouldered and thick bodied. Her female friends in Bingtown would turn aside if a man like that spoke to them on the street.

  Then she thought of his gray eyes, gray as the river he loved, and her heart melted. She thought of the ruddy tops of his unshaven cheeks, and how his lips seemed redder and fuller than Hest’s sophisticated smile. She longed to kiss that mouth, and to feel those calloused hands clasp her close. She missed sleeping in his bunk, missed the smell of him in the room and on the bedding. She wanted him as she’d never wanted anything or anyone before. At the thought of him, her body warmed even as tears filled her eyes.

  She sat up straight and dashed the useless water from her eyes. “Take what you can have, for the short time you can have it,” she counseled herself sternly. She wondered briefly why the ship hadn’t left the beach yet. She dried her eyes more thoroughly, smoothed her wayward hair, and then stepped to the door. She would not break her word to Hest. They had made an agreement to be fa
ithful to each other. She would honor it.

  The brightness of full day was dazzling after the dimness of her room. She came out onto the deck and was surprised to see Sedric standing at the railing with Leftrin. They were both staring toward the shore. “I’m going to see what’s going on,” Leftrin announced and headed toward the bow. Alise hurried over to join Sedric.

  “What is the matter?” she asked him.

  “I don’t know. Some sort of ruckus among the keepers. The captain has gone to see what it is about. How are you this morning, Alise?”

  “Well enough, thank you. ” On the shore, voices were raised in alarm. She saw some of the young keepers running. Sleepy dragons were lifting their heads and turning them toward the disturbance. “I think I’d best go see what that is about,” she said, excusing herself. She started down the deck after Leftrin. He hadn’t seen her arrive. As she watched, he climbed over the bow railing and started down the rope ladder to the shore.

  “I think it would be better if you didn’t,” Sedric suggested strongly.

  She halted reluctantly and turned back to face him. She studied his face for a moment and then asked him, “Is something wrong?”

  His gaze met hers, studying her face. “I’m not sure,” he said quietly. “I hope there isn’t. ” He glanced away from her, and for a moment they shared an uncomfortable silence. On the shore, the keepers seemed to be gathering around the small copper dragon. She knew he hadn’t been well lately and felt a sudden clutch of fear. “You don’t have to protect me, Sedric. If the dragon has died, he has died. I know the others will eat him. And, believe it or not, I feel that I need to witness that. There will be parts of dragon behavior that men will find distasteful, but that doesn’t mean that I should avoid learning about them. ”