were brief but cogent. Once, she had come upon Alise leaning on the railing, looking at the night sky. She’d paused by her and said, ‘We of the Rain Wilds do not have long lives. We have to seize our opportunities, or we have to recognize we cannot have them, and let them go by and seek out others. But a Rain Wild man cannot wait forever, unless he is willing to let his life go by him.’
She had not waited for a response from Alise. Bellin seemed to know when Alise needed time to think over what she had said. But tonight, her smile hinted that Alise was closer to a decision that she approved of. Alise took a breath and sighed it out. Was she?
Leftrin had produced the silky, clinging gown after her mishap in the river had left her skin so inflamed that she could scarcely bear the touch of cloth against it. Even two days after her dip in the river, she was still sore. The robe was of Elderling make; of that she was certain. It was a scintillant copper and reminded her more of a fine mesh than a woven garment. It whispered lightly against her skin when she moved, as if it would divulge the secrets of whatever Elderling princess had worn it in days long past remembering. It soothed the rash wherever it touched her skin. She had been astonished to discover that a simple river captain could possess such a treasure.
‘Trade goods,’ Leftrin had said dismissively. ‘I’d like you to keep it,’ he added gruffly, as if he did not know how to offer a gift. He’d blushed darkly at her effusive thanks, his skin reddening so that the scaling on his upper cheeks and along his brow stood out like silver mail. At one time, such a sight might have repulsed her. Now she had felt an erotic thrill as she imagined tracing that scaling with her fingertips. She had turned from him, heart thumping.
She smoothed the sleek copper fabric over her thighs. This was her second day of wearing it. It felt both cool and warm to her, soothing the myriad tiny blisters that her river immersion had inflicted on her skin. She knew the garment clung to her more closely than was seemly. Even staid Swarge had given her an admiring glance as she passed him on the deck. It had made her feel girlish and giddy. She was almost relieved that Sedric still kept to his bed. She was certain he would not approve of her wearing it.
The door banged as Leftrin came in from the deck. ‘Still writing? You amaze me, woman! I can’t hold a pen in my paw for more than half a dozen lines before feeling a cramp. What are you recording there?’
‘Oh, what a story! I’ve seen all the notes you take and the sketches you make of the river. You’re as much a documentarian as I am. As for what I’m writing, I’m filling in the detail on a conversation that I had with Ranculos last night. Without Sedric to help me, I’m forced to take my own notes as I go along and then fill in afterwards. Finally, finally, the dragons have begun to share some of their memories with me. Not many, and some are disjointed, but every bit of information is useful. It all adds up to a very exciting whole.’ She patted her leather-bound journal. It and her portfolio case had been new and gleaming when she left Bingtown. Now both looked battered and scarred, the leather darkening with scuffs. She smiled. They looked like an adventurer’s companions rather than the diary of a dotty matron.
‘So, read me a bit of what you’ve written, then,’ he requested. He moved efficiently about the small galley as he spoke. Lifting the heavy pot off the small cook-stove, he poured himself a cup of thick coffee before taking a seat across from her.
She suddenly felt as shy as a child. She did not want to read her scholarly embellished treatise aloud. She feared it would sound ponderous and vain. ‘Let me summarize it,’ she offered hastily. ‘Ranculos was speaking of the blisters on my hands and face. He told me that if they were scales, I would be truly lovely. I asked if that was because it would be more like dragon skin, and he told me “of course. For nothing can be lovelier than dragon skin”. And then he told me, well, he implied, that the more a human was around dragons, the greater the chance that she or he might begin the changes to become an Elderling. He hinted that in ancient times, a dragon could choose to hasten those changes for a worthy human. He did not say how. But from his words, I deduced that there were ordinary humans as well as Elderlings inhabiting the ancient cities. He admitted this was so, but said that humans had their own quarters on the outskirts of the city. Some of the farmers and tradesmen lived across the river, away from both dragons and Elderlings.’
‘And that’s important to know?’ he asked.
She smiled. ‘Every small fact I gather is important, Captain.’
He tapped her thick portfolio. ‘And what’s this then? I see you write in your journal all the time, but this you just seem to lug about.’
‘Oh, that’s my treasure, sir! It’s all my gleaned knowledge from my years of study. I’ve been very fortunate to have had access to a number of rare scrolls, tapestries and even maps from the Elderling era.’ She laughed as she made her announcement, fearful of sounding self-aggrandizing.
Leftrin raised his bushy eyebrows. It was ridiculously endearing. ‘And you’ve brought them all with you, in there?’
‘Oh, of course not! Many are too fragile, and all are too valuable to subject them to travel. No, these are only my copies and translations. And my notes, of course. My conjectures on what missing parts might have said, my tentative translations of unknown characters. All of that.’ She patted the bulging leather case affectionately.
‘May I see?’
She was surprised he’d ask. ‘Of course. Though I wonder if you’ll be able to read my chicken-track writing.’ She unbuckled the wide leather straps from the sturdy brass buckles and opened the portfolio. As always, it gave her a small thrill of pleasure to open it and see the thick stack of creamy pages. Leftrin leaned over her shoulder, looking curiously as she turned over leaf after leaf of transcription. His warm breath near her ear was a shivery distraction, one she treasured.
Here was her painstaking copy of the Trehaug Level Seven scroll. She had traced each Elderling character meticulously and reproduced, as well as she was able, the mysterious spidery drawings that had framed it. The next sheet, on excellent paper and in good black ink, was her copy of the Klimer translations of six Elderling scrolls. In red ink she had marked her own additions and corrections. In deep blue she had inserted notes and references to other scrolls.
‘It’s very detailed,’ her captain exclaimed with an awe that warmed her.
‘It is the work of years,’ she replied demurely. She turned a handful of pages to reveal her copy of an Elderling wall hanging. Decorative leaves, shells and fish framed an abstract work done in blues and greens. ‘This one, well, no one quite understands. Perhaps it was damaged or is unfinished in some way.’
His brows leapt again. ‘Well, it seems clear enough to me. It’s an anchorage chart for a river mouth.’ He touched it carefully, tracing it with a scaled forefinger. ‘See, here’s the best channel. It has different blues to show high and low tidelines. And this black might be the channel for deep-hulled ships. Or an indication of a strong current or tide-rip.’
She peered down at it, and then looked up at him in surprise. ‘Yes, I see it now. Do you recognize this place?’ Excitement coursed through her.
‘No. It’s nowhere I’ve ever been. But it’s a river chart, one that focuses all on water and ignores land details. On that, I’d wager.’
‘Will you sit with me and explain it?’ Alise invited him. ‘What might these wavy lines here be?’
He shook his head regretfully. ‘Not now, I’m afraid. I only came in for a quick cup of coffee and to be out of the wind and rain for a time. It’s getting dark outside but the dragons show no signs of settling for the night. I’d best be out there. Can’t have
