the table. I had no idea what Amber sought. They had been generous with us beyond my wildest hopes. I wondered what more she could seek. Amber spoke in a soft, low voice. ‘I ask for dragon-Silver. Not a great amount. Only as much as would fill these two vials.’ From a pocket in her skirt she produced two glass containers, each with tight-fitting stoppers.
‘No.’ Reyn responded firmly, without hesitation or apology.
Amber spoke on as if she had not heard him. ‘The Skill, as we call the magic that Prince FitzChivalry used to heal your children, is based in Silver. We do not know exactly how the two are related but they are. The magic of Kelsingra comes from the Silver trapped in the stone. The memories of the people who lived here, the lights that gleam from the buildings, the pools that warm the water, all of it comes from—’
‘No. We cannot.’ King Reyn spoke with finality. ‘The Silver is not ours to give. It is the treasure of the dragons.’ He shook his head. ‘Even if we were to say yes, the dragons would not allow you to take it. It would be disastrous for you and for us. We cannot give you Silver.’
I saw Rapskal shift as if he would speak. The angry glints in his eyes said that he was affronted by her request. I needed to distance us from it. I spoke hastily. ‘There is one other request I would make, one that might be easier for you to grant. One that could, perhaps, benefit Kelsingra as well as the Six Duchies.’
I paused. ‘You may ask it,’ Queen Malta decided. It was difficult to read her fantastically scaled countenance, but I thought that she too strove to move past the awkwardness.
‘I would like to send a message to King Dutiful of the Six Duchies, to tell him that we have arrived safely here, and that you have offered to aid us on the next step of our journey. If I write out a letter for him, is there a way you can convey it for us?’
‘Easily done,’ Reyn replied, visibly relieved at the simplicity of my request. ‘If you can write small, a bird can carry such a message to Bingtown. Bingtown has many merchants who exchange birds with Buckkeep Town. I will guarantee that it will reach your king. Eventually. The winds of spring can slow our birds sometimes, but they are hardy creatures.’
‘I would greatly appreciate this,’ I responded. I hesitated, and then plunged on. Chade would have forbidden it, but Kettricken would have required it. ‘King Reyn and Queen Malta, in my land, in my king’s court, there are others who share my Skill-magic. Some are far more adept in the healing arts than I am.’ I looked around. ‘There are folk here who asked that I help them. I dare not. The magic of the Silver runs strongly in Kelsingra, too strong for me to control. I would never have chosen to be so …’ I fumbled for a word. Violent? Unrestrained? ‘… hasty in my healing of the children. A better healer than I could have been gentler. A full Skill-coterie with better control of the magic could help not just Elderling children but any folk who were born …’
They were staring at me. ‘Born different,’ I said, my voice falling lower. They looked terrified. Or stunned. Had I offended? The changes the dragons’ presence had wrought in some of them were too obvious to ignore. But perhaps speaking of such was considered offensive.
Thymara spoke. She was seated nearby but she lifted her voice and her words carried clearly. ‘Those born Changed could be … healed of it?’
Under the table, Amber gripped my leg in warning. I didn’t need it. I would not promise what I was not certain was possible. ‘Some could,’ I said. ‘I think.’
Thymara lifted her hands. I thought she would cover her face, but her cupped hands halted where she could stare at her fingers. She had black claws instead of nails. She tapped them against one another pensively.
The silence in the room shimmered with possibilities. Queen Malta spoke. ‘As soon as you can compose your letter …’ Her voice choked and tailed off.
Harrikin spoke suddenly. ‘Prince FitzChivalry has offered us something that has been unimaginable.’ He looked around the table at his fellows. ‘Perhaps we should be equally generous. We have always accepted that we were bound by the strictures of Bingtown and the Rain Wilds; that we could only do trade in Elderling goods in those markets. Perhaps it is time to discard that notion.’
Malta looked shocked. Reyn spoke slowly. ‘You suggest a break with a tradition that dates to the very founding of the Rain Wilds settlements. Many of us feel we owe the Rain Wild Traders little loyalty and the Bingtown Traders even less. On magical goods, we must confer. But for other trade, I see no reason we must be bound.’
Slow nods met his words.
King Reyn turned back to us. ‘Ancient maps in the city show that once roads connected Kelsingra to the Mountain Kingdom. Perhaps it is time for us to renew those thoroughfares, and truly become the traders we name ourselves.’
‘The Six Duchies have many trade goods. Sheep and wool, grain we grow in plenty, cattle and leather, and iron also we have to trade.’ I smiled to cover my doubts. Would Dutiful honour my impromptu negotiating?
‘Grain in plenty. Now there is something we could all celebrate. Within the month, we will dispatch a trade delegation to Buckkeep! Shall we raise a toast to opening our borders?’
More than one toast was raised that evening. Perseverance’s cheeks were flushed with wine when I saw Lant and Spark exchange a look. Spark put a hand to his shoulder and steered him out of the festivities with dignity if not with the steadiest of gait. A short time later, I pleaded fatigue and Amber retreated with me, leaving Lant to represent the Six Duchies for the rest of that evening.
As we made our slow ascent, she said quietly, ‘Within King Reyn’s own family there are people severely changed by the Rain Wilds in difficult ways. His sister …’
I knew what she was asking, ‘Even for his sister, I do not dare—’
‘No. I was merely telling you of her. She is in Trehaug now, visiting her family. Even if you were willing to take the risk, you could not. But if there are Six Duchies healers who could help the Rain Wilders, the Six Duchies could gain powerful allies.’
I sat up until dawn creating my letter to King Dutiful. I composed my words fully expecting that several people would read them before they reached him, if they ever did. I was circumspect, saying only that we had reached Kelsingra and secured passage to Jamaillia. I asked him to arrange passage home for Lant, Per and Spark and told him that he might expect an ambassador from the Dragon Traders with a trade proposal. I added that it was imperative that Skillmistress Nettle be present for all negotiations.
I wanted to say more. I dared not. I rolled my missive tightly, dipped it in wax, and pushed it into the small cylinder that would attach to a pigeon’s leg. I wished I could Skill a warning to Nettle. These dragon-keepers claimed to be Elderlings and heirs to this city and all its wonders. How would they respond if they knew of Aslevjal and the battered treasures there? Would they attempt to claim them or offer to pool their knowledge of that magic with ours? Chade would have seen a rivalry, Kettricken a natural alliance. Dutiful and Nettle? I did not know what they would see. I wondered if my use of the Skill here had been the pebble that would trigger an avalanche of war, or become the first tiny block in building a shared legacy of magic. It was agonizing to say so little, and to know that it might be days before I could even attempt to reach out with the Skill.
The exact day of the Tarman’s arrival was uncertain, for the river ran higher and swifter with the melting of distant snows.
We each dealt with that waiting in our own way. The need to keep my Skill-walls tight and be ever-vigilant against the
