for Sedric to do the same.
Sedric copied him, grunting as he hefted his own bundle onto his shoulder. He managed to remain upright only after taking two staggering steps to catch his balance. ‘Sa’s breath, it’s heavy!’
‘Yes it is.’ Carson grinned at him. ‘It’s twice what you could carry a month ago. Proud of you. Let’s go.’
Proud of him.
‘I’m proud of myself,’ Sedric muttered, and fell into step behind him.
Day the 7th of the Hope Moon
Year the 7th of the Independent Alliance of Traders
From Detozi, Keeper of the Birds, Trehaug to Reyall, Acting Keeper of the Birds, Bingtown
Dear nephew, greetings and good wishes to you.
Erek and I both counsel you to keep your temper in this matter. Do not let Kim provoke you to anger or to accusations we cannot prove. This is not the first time we have had unpleasant correspondence with him. I still believe that he rose to his post by bribery but as that would indicate he has friends on the Cassarick Council who confirmed his promotion, taking a complaint there may get us no results.
I still know a number of his journeymen, for they began their apprenticeships here with me in Trehaug. I will make a few quiet enquiries among them. In the meantime, you have been wise to pass the message on to your masters and defer the handling of it to them. Until your Master status is confirmed, it is difficult for you to speak to Kim as an equal. Both Erek and I question the wisdom that assigned this difficult question to you.
For now, you have done all that can be expected of you in your position. Erek and I continue to have the highest confidence in your bird-handling abilities.
In kinder news, the two speckled swift birds that you sent to us as a wedding gift have selected mates here and begun to breed. I look forward to shipping some of their youngsters to you soon, so that we may time their return flights. I have great enthusiasm for this project.
Erek and I are still discussing which of us will relocate permanently; it is a difficult question for us. At our ages, we desire to be wed quickly and quietly, but neither of our families seemed so inclined. Pity us!
With affection and respect,
Aunt Detozi
CHAPTER THREE
Pathways
Thymara had lived all her life in the Rain Wilds, but she had never experienced rain like this. In her childhood in Trehaug and Cassarick, the immense trees that populated the banks of the Rain Wild River had spread their many layers of canopy and shade over those tree-house cities. The driving rains of winter had been thwarted and diverted by the infinitude of leaves between her and the sky. Of course, they had blocked the direct sunlight as well, but Thymara had felt differently about that. If she wanted sunlight, she could climb for it. She could not recall that she had ever wished to feel the full onslaught of a rain storm.
Here, she had no choice. The meadow that edged the river was not like the shadowy undergrowth of the Rain Wilds. Thick grasses grew hip- to shoulder-deep. Rather than being swampy, the earth was firm under her feet, and salted with rocks, a bewildering array of hard chunks of different textures and colours. She often wondered where they all came from and how they had come to be here. Today the wind swept across the naked lands and slapped the unimpeded rain into her face and down her collar. Her worn clothes, weakened by too-frequent contact with the acidic waters of the Rain Wild River, were no protection. Limp and soaked, they clung to her skin. And she could look forward to being cold and wet all day. She rubbed her red, chilled hands together. It was hard enough to hunt well with the battered assortment of gear she had left. Numbed hands only made it harder.
She heard Tats coming before he called to her: the wet grass slapping against his legs and his hard breathing as he ran up behind her. She did not turn to him until he breathlessly called to her, ‘Going hunting? Want some help?’
‘Why not? I could use someone to carry my kill back to the dragons.’ She didn’t mention what they both knew: that Carson didn’t like any of them hunting alone. He claimed to have seen signs of big predators, ones that might be large enough to attack a human. ‘Large game usually attracts large predators,’ he had said. ‘When you hunt, take a partner.’ It was not so much that Carson had authority over them as that he had experience.
Tats grinned at her, his teeth white in his finely-scaled face. ‘Oh. So you don’t think I’m capable of bringing down meat that you’d have to help me drag back?’
She grinned back. ‘You’re a good enough hunter, Tats. But we both know I’m better.’
‘You were born to it. Your father taught you from the time you could teeter along a tree branch. I think I’m pretty good, for someone who came to it later.’ He fell into step beside her. It was a bit awkward on the narrow trail. He bumped elbows with her as they walked, but he neither moved ahead of her nor fell back. As they entered the eaves of the forest, the meadow grasses grew shallower and then gave way to a layer of leaf mould and low-growing bushes. The trees cut the wind, for which Thymara was grateful. She bobbed her head in acceptance of Tats’s compliment.
‘You’re a lot better than when we left Trehaug. And I think you may adapt to this ground hunting faster than I will. This place is so different from home.’
‘Home,’ he said, and she could not tell if the word was bitter or sweet to him. ‘I think this is home now,’ he added, startling her.
She gave him a sideways glance as they continued to push forward through the brush. ‘Home? Forever?’
He thrust out his arm toward her and pushed up his sleeve, baring his scaled flesh. ‘I can’t imagine going back to Trehaug. Not like this. You?’
She didn’t need to flex her wings, nor look at the thick black claws she’d had since birth. ‘If acceptance means home, then Trehaug was never home for me.’
She pushed regrets and thoughts of Trehaug aside. It was time to hunt. Sintara was hungry. Today Thymara wanted to find a game trail, a fresh one they hadn’t hunted before. Until they struck one, it would be hard going. They were both breathing hard, but Tats was less winded than he would have been when they first left Trehaug. Life on the Tarman expedition had muscled and hardened all of them, she thought approvingly. And all of the keepers had grown, the boys achieving growth spurts that were almost alarming. Tats was taller now and his shoulders broader. His dragon was changing him, too. He alone of the keepers had been fully human in appearance when they had left Trehaug. Offspring of the freed slave population that had immigrated to Trehaug during the war with Chalced, his slavery as an infant had been clearly marked on his face with his former owner’s tattoo. A spider web had been flung across his left cheek, while a small running horse had been inked beside his nose. Those had changed as his dragon had begun to scale him. The tattoos were stylized designs now, scales rather than ink under skin. His dark hair and dark eyes remained the same as they had always been, but she suspected that some of his height was due to his transformation to Elderling rather than being natural growth. His fingernails gleamed as green as Fente, his ill-tempered little queen dragon. When the light struck his skin, it woke green highlights
