both upriver and down, the area under the great trees is endless swamp, bog and slough. If there were a great city, our scouts would have found it long ago. I don’t know if it’s a mirage of riches that greed makes us seek, or exile for the dragons under the pretence of sending them to a refuge.’
Her father had become more and more outraged as he spoke. As he did when agitated, he had taken so many puffs on his pipe that Thymara felt she sat in a cloud of sweet tobacco smoke. When he fell silent at last, she turned her head to glance back at him. His eyes were faintly luminescent in the darkness. Her own, she knew, glowed a strong blue, yet another mark of her deformity. She held his gaze as she said quietly, ‘I think I’d like to go, Father.’
‘Don’t be silly, child! I doubt that any such place still exists. As for making a perilous trip upriver past any charts we have, in the company of hungry dragons and hired hunters and treasure seekers, well, there can be no good end to such an errand. Why would you want to go? Because of things your mother has said? Because no matter what she says about you or to you, I will always—’
‘I know, Father.’ She cut through his rising storm of words. As she spoke, she turned her head to look through the network of foliage at the lights of Trehaug. It was the only home, the only world she had ever known. ‘I know that I am always welcome in your home. I know that you love me. You must. You must have always loved me, to salvage my life when I was only a few hours old. I know that. But I think my mother is also right in another way. Perhaps it is time for me to go out and find a life of my own. I am not foolish, Father. I know this can end badly. But I also know I am a survivor. If it looks like the expedition is doomed, I’ll come back to you, and live out my life here as I always have. But I will have made at least an attempt at one adventure in my life.’ She cleared her throat and tried to speak lightly as she added, ‘And if the expedition to move the dragons is successful, if at the least we find a place for them, or if we are wildly successful and actually rediscover this fabled city, think what it could mean for us. For all the Rain Wilders.’
Her father finally spoke. ‘You don’t have to prove yourself, Thymara. I know your value. I’ve never doubted it. You don’t have to prove yourself to me, or your mother or anyone else.’
She smiled and again looked over her shoulder at him. ‘Perhaps not to anyone except myself, Father.’ She took a deep breath and spoke decisively. ‘I’m travelling down trunk tomorrow, to the Council Hall. I’m going to accept their offer.’
It seemed to take her father a long time to reply. When he spoke, his voice was deeper than usual and his smile seemed almost sickly. ‘Then I’ll go with you. To see you off, my dear.’
Day the 20th of the Hope Moon
Year the 6th of the Independent Alliance of Traders
From Detozi, Keeper of the Birds, Trehaug to Erek, Keeper of the Birds, Bingtown
In the sealed scroll case, a message from Trader Mojoin to Trader Pelz. Confidential. Deliver with all seals intact.
Erek,
I note with gratitude that the two cages of Jamaillian King Pigeons you shipped to us on the Goldendown have arrived safely and settled well into their new coop. The size of the adult birds is impressive and I can only hope that their carrying capacity and endurance will match their size. Thank you for sharing this new influx of breeding stock. I hope that Reyall continues to live up to your expectations for him and to make his family proud. His father will be calling upon him soon to meet the family of his Three Ships intended and see if the match is suitable. Please do not advise him of this. His father wishes to see him about his work when he is unaware of a family visit. Again, my thanks for the Kings.
Detozi
‘Because I want to go.’ She spoke each word crisply and precisely. ‘Because, five years ago, you promised me I could. The promise was given, in fact, on the same day that you gave me this scroll.’ Alise leaned across her over-sized desk to tap the glass-topped rosewood box lined with silk in which the scroll was displayed and protected. She refrained from handling it as much as possible. Even the necessary work of transcribing it had taken a toll. When she needed to, she consulted the careful copy she had made of the precious work.
‘I’ve scarcely returned home from my travel, my dear. Cannot I have a few days to think on this? Quite honestly, I will admit that I had forgotten I’d promised you such a trip. The Rain Wilds!’ He sounded amazed.
Hest’s words were not precisely accurate. He had returned from his latest trading expedition to Chalced yesterday afternoon. But Alise had learned, over the years of their marriage, that Hest’s return to Bingtown on any given day did not necessarily match his return to the home they shared. As he had so often told her, there were many matters to settle at the tariff docks, merchants to contact immediately to inform them of goods he had secured on his latest venture, and often the sales of those goods took place within hours of their touching the docks. Such transactions necessitated the wine and fine dinner and late-night conversation that smoothed the way for commerce in Bingtown. Yesterday, she had become aware that he had arrived back in town when his travelling trunks were brought up to the house, but when both luncheon and dinner had passed with no sign of him, she had not bothered to wait up. Yesterday had been the fifth anniversary of their wedding. She wondered if he remembered it with the same degree of regret that she did, and then had laughed aloud at the idea that Hest might remember their anniversary at all. That night, she had sought her own bed at her usual late hour, and as they did not share a chamber except on the occasions when he chose to visit hers, she had been unaware of his return home. At breakfast, the only evidence that the master of the house had returned was the presence of his favourite garlic sausages on the sideboard, and the large pot of tea that had joined her favoured coffee on the heavy silver service tray. Of Hest himself, there had been no sign.
At mid-morning, his secretary Sedric had visited her study, to ask if any vital invitations were still pending, and to inquire if any other important missives had arrived during the master’s absence. Sedric had spoken formally, but smiled as he did so, and after a moment his good nature and charm had forced her to return that courtesy. As annoyed as she was with Hest, she would not take it out on his secretary. Sedric had that effect on most people. Although he was only a couple of years younger than Hest and older than Alise, she could not help thinking of him as a boy. It wasn’t only that she’d known him since childhood when she and his sister Sophie had been close friends. Even though he was older than both of them, they had still treated him as if he were younger, for so he had always seemed to Alise. There was a gentleness to him that she’d never seen in other men. He’d always been willing to pause in his day and listen to their girlish concerns. Such attention from an older boy had been flattering.
He was, she reflected, still a favourite with her. His attentiveness and interest in her conversation at meals often eased the sting of Hest’s near-contempt for her thoughts. Not only his manner but his appearance was always charming. His head of gleaming brown curls was perpetually tousled in an artlessly perfect way. His eyes were always bright, never showing the effects of a late night spent accompanying his master to whatever gambling parlour or theatre Hest’s latest merchant partner favoured. No matter how short the notice, Sedric was always able to rise to the occasion, appearing impeccably clad and groomed and yet still retaining an easy manner that suggested it was effortless for him.
Alise
