You will help provide for your dragon or dragons by hunting or fishing. And you will remain at the dragons’ new location until they have established themselves there and are self-sufficient, or otherwise no longer need you.’
She spoke her next words coolly. ‘So if my dragon or dragons die, I’m free to return home.’
Mojoin sat up straight. ‘That isn’t the sort of attitude we’re looking for! We expect you to do all in your power to uphold the contract the Traders signed with the dragon Tintaglia. Your task is to help your dragon or dragons find a better area in which to live, and to become more self-sufficient.’ He shifted slightly in his seat and added, almost reluctantly, ‘It’s no secret that we are hoping the dragons can lead you to this Elderling city they claim to recall. Kelsingra.’
She bit back other words and questions to ask, ‘Is there a specific location that we are journeying toward? Has anyone scouted it out, so that we might know how long we should expect to travel?’
Mojoin’s mouth worked as if he’d tasted something foul and wished he could spit it out. When he spoke, his words were evasive. ‘The dragons themselves seem to have some inherited memories of where it might be. They will be your best guides in finding an appropriate place where they can establish themselves. While the ancient city may be your eventual destination, it’s entirely possible that you will discover a different area better suited to the dragons.’
‘I see,’ she responded curtly. And she did. Her father had been right. This was not an emigration, but an exile. A banishment of both the annoying dragons and an assortment of misfits from the population.
‘You see? Excellent!’ Trader Mojoin’s response was instant and relieved. ‘Then we are in accord.’ He picked up a seal from the table beside him and stamped the papers. ‘Once you sign, you are officially hired. When you leave this chamber, you will be given your supply pack and taken down to meet the dragons. You will receive half your wages in advance. You should make your farewells to your family quickly, for you depart as soon as is possible.’ He pushed a paper across the table to her. ‘Can you write? Can you sign this?’
She didn’t dignify that with an answer. She took up the waiting pen and wrote her name carefully. Then she stood up straight. ‘That’s all, then? You’re finished with me?’
‘That we are,’ one of the other men said in a soft voice. Someone else made a noise that might have been an uncomfortable chuckle. She pretended not to notice but inclined her head and stepped forward to receive her stamped copy of the agreement. She was surprised to find that her hands were shaking. It took her a moment to master turning the heavy knob on the large wooden door of the chamber, and then she pushed it too hard and nearly fell out into the antechamber. She caught her balance and then completed her humiliation by shutting the door so firmly that it slammed. The other applicants awaiting their turns looked at her with mild surprise and some disapproval.
‘Good luck,’ she muttered to them, avoiding meeting their gazes, and hurried out of the room. The doors to the outside were even larger and heavier, but this time she was prepared for them. She managed to get through them and out into the air. Even so, it was not the relief she had hoped for. This far down the trunks, so close to the earth and the river, the air seemed thicker and more full of smells. The light was dimmer, too, and she felt as if she could not open her eyes wide enough to see clearly. She spotted her father waiting for her at the edge of the large wooden deck that surrounded the concourse. She hurried toward him, grasping her contract. At more than arm’s length, waiting for her but obviously not with her father, stood Tats.
She spoke in a voice intended to reach them both. ‘I got it. They stamped it. I’ll be part of the expedition to resettle the dragons.’
Tats grinned at her, and as their eyes met, he waved his own rolled contract at her. Her father had been leaning with his back to the old-fashioned railing that surrounded the deck. He stood up as she approached and smiled. But her father’s voice was grave as he said quietly, ‘Congratulations. I know you wanted this. I hope it will be what you think it will be.’
‘I know it will!’ Tats burst out, and her father gave him a look. He hadn’t been pleased to see Tats when they arrived, and although he had greeted him politely enough, it had been without the usual warmth he showed the boy. Thymara suspected that her mother had said something to her father about Tats’ earlier visit, and had probably added significance to her report that simply didn’t exist. Thymara tried to mend the gulf by moving so that she leaned on the railing between them, linking all three of them into a group. She put her back to the Traders’ Concourse and looked out over the river and the swampy land that edged it. It felt odd to be so close to the ground. Behind her, she heard the Concourse door open and shut again. A boy’s voice proclaimed, ‘I’m signed up!’ The members of the committee were not taking long to grant their approval stamps. She wondered if they would refuse anyone. She doubted it.
‘It’s hard to know what it will be, Father. But I know it will be me moving out and standing on my own, and beginning a life that belongs to me. That has to be good, no matter how difficult it is.’
‘As for me, I can’t wait to go see the dragons! They told me that as soon as they’ve signed up the rest of the group, we’ll be heading down there!’
Startled by the stranger’s voice, Thymara jerked her head to look at him. He had come to lean on the railing by Tats. She had seen him earlier, when she had been waiting to go in for her interview. He was plainly Rain Wilder born, and marked almost as heavily as she was. Despite that, he was handsome in a strange and feral way. His eyes were the palest blue she had ever seen on a man, his hair thick and gleaming black. His black toe-claws clicked on the wood as he tapped a foot impatiently, jittering with nerves. ‘It’s going to be great!’ he assured Tats, grinning widely. He stuck out his hand. ‘I’m Rapskal.’
‘They call me Tats,’ Tats said, shaking his hand, and for the first time Thymara realized that probably wasn’t his given name, but something he’d been called since he was small. The stranger was grinning at her now, and holding a hand out to her father, who took it, saying, ‘My name is Jerup. This is my daughter, Thymara.’
Rapskal shook her father’s hand vigorously, and then asked gracelessly, ‘So are you going with the dragons, or only her? You look a bit old to be part of this group if you don’t mind my saying so. A bit old, and not near strange enough!’ He laughed heartily at his own rough jest. Behind him, Tats scowled.
Her father kept his aplomb. ‘I won’t be going. Only Thymara. But like you, I’ve noticed that most of those going are heavily marked by the Rain Wilds.’
‘Yes, that you could say!’ Rapskal agreed cheerfully. ‘Either they think it makes us tougher, or they’re hoping the dragons and river will do what our parents didn’t do when we were born.’ He swung his gaze to Tats. ‘Except for you, of course. You don’t even look Rain Wilds. Why are you going?’ Rapskal seemed to excel at asking questions so directly that they seemed rude.
Tats straightened up, standing half a head taller than the other boy. ‘Because it pays well. And I like dragons, and I’d like to have a bit of an adventure. And there’s nothing keeping me in Trehaug.’
The boy nodded cheerily, the light scaling on his cheeks flashing as his lips parted in a smile. His teeth were good, a little too large for his mouth. They showed white in his constant grin. He looked, Thymara thought, like a boy on the verge of a sudden growth spurt. ‘Yes, yes! That’s me, too. Exactly.’ He leaned over the railing, spat noisily, and then straightened. ‘Nothing for me in Trehaug for a long time now,’ he added, and for the first time he looked less than optimistic. But an instant later, the light came back into his pale blue eyes and he declared,
