more affronted. ‘I don’t think that you have the right to tell me what to do at all,’ he told the girl.
But Alise spoke over his words. ‘Skymaw? That’s her name?’
‘It’s what I call her,’ the girl amended. She seemed embarrassed to have to admit it. ‘She told me that a dragon’s true name is a thing to be earned, not given.’
‘I understand completely,’ Alise replied. ‘The true name of a dragon is a very special thing to know. No dragon tells her true name lightly.’ She treated the dragon’s keeper as if she were a charming child who had interrupted an important adult conversation. The ‘child’ did not enjoy that, Sedric noted.
Alise turned back to the hulking reptile. The creature had ventured so close that it now towered over them. Her eyes were like burnished copper, glittering in the sunlight. Her gaze was fixed steadily on him. Alise spoke to the creature. ‘Great and gracious one, your true name is an honour that I hope one day to win. But in the meantime, I am pleased to give you mine. I am Alise Kincarron Finbok.’ And she actually curtsied to the creature, bobbing down almost into the mud.
‘I have come all the way from Bingtown to see you, and to hear you speak. I hope that we shall have long conversations, and that I shall be able to learn a great deal about you and the wisdom of your kind. Long has it been since humanity was favoured with the company of dragons. What little we knew of your kind has, I fear, been forgotten. I would like to remedy that lack.’ She gestured toward Sedric. ‘I brought him with me, to be our scribe and record any wisdom you wished to share with me. I am sorry that he cannot hear you, for I am certain that if he could, he would quickly perceive both your intelligence and your wisdom.’
The dragon rumbled again. The young keeper looked at Sedric and said, ‘Skymaw says that even if you could understand her words, she thinks it likely you would be unable to comprehend either her intelligence or wisdom, for plainly you lack both.’
Her ‘translation’ was obviously intended to insult. The girl’s eyes, silvery-grey, darted toward Alise when she spoke. If Alise was aware of her animosity, she ignored it. Instead Alise turned to him and said quietly but firmly, ‘I’ll see you when I return to the ship, Sedric. If you don’t mind, would you leave your lap-desk with me? I may try to write down some of what we discuss.’
‘Of course,’ he said, and managed to keep the bitterness and the resentment from his voice. Long ago, he thought to himself, he’d had to learn to speak civilly even after Hest had publicly flayed him with words. It was not so hard. All he had to do was discard every bit of his pride. He’d never thought that he would have to employ that talent with Alise. He thrust the lap-desk at her, and as she took it was almost pleased to see her surprise at how heavy it was. Let her deal with carrying it about, he thought vengefully to himself. Let her see the sort of work he’d been willing to do for her. Perhaps she might appreciate him a bit more. He turned away from her.
Then, with a sudden lurch of heart, he realized there were things inside that lap-desk that he emphatically did not wish to share with Alise. He turned hastily back to her. ‘The entire secretarial desk will be too heavy for you to use easily. Perhaps I could just leave you some blank paper, and a pen and ink?’
She looked startled at this sudden kindness and he suddenly knew that she knew he’d intended to be rude when he’d burdened her with the whole desk. She looked pathetically grateful as he took it from her and opened it. The raised lid kept her from peering inside, but she didn’t seem to have any curiosity about it. As he rummaged inside it for the required items, she said quietly, ‘Thank you for your understanding, Sedric. I know this must be hard for you, to come so far on such a great adventure, and then to find that fortune has excluded you from the best part of it. I want you to know that I think no less of you; such a lack could afflict anyone.’
‘It’s fine, Alise,’ he said, and tried not to sound brusque. She thought his feelings were hurt because he couldn’t communicate with the animal. And she felt sorry for him. The thought almost made him smile and his heart softened toward her. How many years had he felt sorry for her? It was odd to be on the receiving end of her pity. Odd, and strangely touching that she’d care if his feelings were hurt.
‘I’ve plenty of work to do back on the boat. I trust you’ll be back for the evening meal?’
‘Oh, likely much before then. I shan’t stand here in the dark and quiz her, I assure you. Today I’ll be happy if we just get to know each other well enough to be comfortable. Thank you. I’ll try not to waste your ink.’
‘You’re welcome. Really you are. I’ll see you later.’
Thymara watched the exchange between the well-dressed man and the Bingtown woman and wondered. They seemed very familiar with each other; she wondered if they were married. She was reminded of her parents, and how they had always seemed connected and yet distant to each other. These two seemed to get along about as well as her parents did.
She already disliked both of them. The man because he had no respect for Skymaw and was too stupid to understand her, and the woman, because she had seen the dragon and now she coveted her. And she would probably win the dragon, for she seemed to know how to charm her. Couldn’t Skymaw see that the Bingtown woman was just trying to flatter her with her flowery phrases and overdone courtesy? She would have thought that the dragon would be angered by such a blatant attempt to win favour with her. Instead, Skymaw seemed delighted with the extravagant compliments the woman showered on her. She fawned on her, openly begging for more.
And in turn, the woman seemed completely infatuated with the dragon. From the first moment they had seen one another, Thymara had almost felt the mutual draw between them. It irritated her.
No. It was more than irritation. It made her seethe with jealousy, she admitted, because it excluded her. She was supposed to be Skymaw’s keeper, not this ridiculous city woman. This Alise would not be able to feed the dragon or tend her. Would this woman with her soft body and pale skin walk beside the dragon as they wended their way upriver through the shallows and the encroaching forest? Would she kill to feed the dragon, would she perform the tedious grooming that Skymaw so obviously needed? She thought not! Thymara had spent most of the day scrubbing at Skymaw’s hide until every scale gleamed. She’d dug caked mud out of her claws and claw-sheaths, picked a legion of nasty little blood-sucking beetles from the edges of the dragon’s eyes and nostrils, and even cleared an area of reeking fresh dragon dung so that Skymaw could stretch out for her grooming without becoming soiled again.
But the moment this Bingtown woman threw her a compliment or two, the dragon focused entirely on her as if Thymara had never existed. Would the woman have thought her so ‘gleamingly beautiful’ if she’d seen the dragon five hours ago? Not likely. The dragon was using all Thymara’s hard work to attract a better keeper for herself. She’d soon find she’d make a poor choice.
Just like Tats.
The thought ambushed her and she felt the sudden sting of tears behind her eyes. She pushed all thoughts of Tats and Jerd aside. That night when Tats had left the fireside and Jerd had followed, she’d thought nothing of it. Tats, she thought, had needed time to be alone. But then, when they came back to the fire together, it was obvious to Thymara that he had been anything but alone. He seemed completely recovered from his exchange of comments with Greft. Jerd had been laughing at something he said. At the fire’s edge, they’d sat down side by side. She’d overheard Jerd quizzing him about his life, asking the sort of personal questions that Thymara had always avoided for fear of Tats thinking she was too nosy. Jerd had asked them, smiling and tipping her head to look up into his face, and Tats had replied in his deep soft voice. She’d sat by the fire and Rapskal supplied an unwelcome distraction as he pelted her with his speculations
