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‘No. He is all dead.’ There was absolutely no regret in the man’s voice.

Hest gasped unevenly and stepped back until his hands met the woven wall. His knees shook and there was a roaring in his ears. Redding was dead. Redding, a man he had known his whole life, his on-and-off partner for bed-play since they had discovered their mutual interest; Redding, who had breakfasted with him this morning. Redding had died here in sudden violence. It was incomprehensible. He stared and his eyes gathered the moment and burned it into his mind. Redding sprawled belly-down on the pallet, his face turned toward him. The uneven light from the hearth danced over the outline of his open mouth and staring eyes. He looked mildly startled, not dead. Hest waited for him to laugh suddenly and sit up. Then the long moment for it to be some bizarre prank concocted between the Chalcedean and his friend passed. Dead. Redding was dead, right there, on a grubby pallet in a tiny Rain Wilds hut.

Suddenly it seemed extremely possible that the same fate could befall him. He found his voice. His words came out hoarsely. ‘Why did you do this? I was obeying you. I did all you asked me.’

‘Almost. But not quite. I told you that you were to come alone. You disobeyed. See what you caused?’ The Chalcedean’s tone was the mild rebuke of a schoolmaster with a pupil who had failed a lesson. ‘But not all was lost. You and your merchant friend lured them out for me.’

‘So, you are finished with me? I can go?’ Hope surged in him. Get away from this. Flee. Get back to Bingtown as swiftly as possible. Redding was dead. Dead!

‘Of course not. Hest Finbok, fix this in your mind. It is a simple idea. Your man Sedric said he would get us dragon parts. We have not yet received what was promised. Your part is over when you fulfil his agreement, which in reality is your agreement, as he was your servant and speaking on your behalf.’ The assassin lifted his hands and let them fall. ‘What is so difficult for you to understand about this?’

‘But I did all you asked. I can’t make dragon parts just appear! If I don’t have them, I don’t have them! What do you want? What else can I give you? Money?’

The Chalcedean advanced on him. The scar on his face was not as livid as it had been but he seemed more haggard, both hair and beard gone ragged. ‘What do I want?’ He put his face close to Hest’s and his hazel eyes lit with fury. ‘What I do not want is my son’s hand delivered to me in a jewelled box. I want to take back to my Duke the flesh and blood and organs of a dragon so that he will return to me my flesh and blood that he holds hostage. I want him to reward me richly and then forget that he ever saw me or my family. So that I and my family can live in safety to the end of my days. Money will not buy that, Bingtowner. Only dragon’s flesh.’

‘I don’t know how to get that. Don’t you think that if I could give you that, I would have done so by now?’ Hest’s voice shook. His entire body was shaking. Not fear, but something deeper than fear rattled him. He clenched his teeth to keep them from chattering.

‘Be quiet. You are useless but you are the only tool I have. I have done here what could be done with these wretched fools. Sinad Arich and Begasti Cored had failed; I was almost sure of that when I was sent to see what delayed them. So, I have removed them from my path. I have also removed your Redding; you chose poorly when you selected him as your hands. He vomited when Arich opened his gift. When I entered the room, he very nearly fainted. Then he screamed like a woman when I killed Arich. This is the sort of man you choose as a companion?’

‘I knew him all our lives,’ Hest heard himself say. He spoke numbly, scarcely able to comprehend that Redding was no more. Redding clambering up on a table to offer a toast. Redding trying on cloaks at their favourite tailor’s shop. Redding, one eyebrow lifted as he leaned close to share an absolutely scandalous bit of gossip. Redding on his knees, lips wet, teasing Hest. Redding on his belly, eyes going dull. All their lives, and now Redding’s life was ended. No more Redding. ‘I have no idea how to get dragon parts for you,’ he said flatly.

‘I’m not surprised,’ the Chalcedean replied. ‘But you’ll find out.’

‘How? What are you talking about? What can I possibly do?’

The Chalcedean shook his head wearily. ‘Did you think I didn’t ask questions about you? Do you think I don’t know all about your wife? And your connections here as the future Trader for your family? I brought you here to use you, to find out all that can be discovered of the dragons and your dear little woman. When we know, we will follow them—’

‘No boat will carry us up the river!’ Hest dared to interrupt.

The Chalcedean barked out a laugh. ‘Actually, it was all arranged before we departed from Bingtown. Did you think it all a coincidence that one of the new “impervious” boats should happen to be departing at such an auspicious time for you? That it had but one cabin left for a passenger? Fool.’

‘Then … you were on the same ship as we were?’

‘Of course. But enough of the obvious. We have still a task here tonight, and that is to make things less obvious before we sleep.’

‘Less obvious?’

‘You have bodies to dispose of. First, you must strip them of all clothing, the better to destroy their identities.’ The Chalcedean paused thoughtfully. ‘And it would be better if their faces were not easily recognized by anyone.’ He drew out one of his nasty little knives as he crouched by Arich’s body. ‘You can be stripping him while I take care of this one’s face.’ He did not turn as he added, ‘And we must be quick. This is but the first of our tasks tonight. Hest Finbok has some letters to write, notes offering a very profitable association with his family, but one of the most confidential nature. That, I think, will draw our hidden friends out of their lairs and to the edge of the precipice. Just where we want them.’

...

Day the 26th of the Fish Moon

Year the 7th of the Independent Alliance of Traders


From Ronica Vestrit of the Vestrit Traders, Bingtown

To Whatever Incompetent Bird Keeper is accepting messages in Cassarick


The patron requests this be posted in the Bird Keepers’ Guild Hall


Once might be an accident. Twice might be coincidence. Four times is deliberate spying. You have been tampering with all messages sent to me from Cassarick. Messages sent to me from Malta Vestrit Khuprus have been received with seals damaged or missing, as well as a very recent message sent from Jani Khuprus. It is obvious to us that you are targeting messages moving between the Khuprus and Vestrit Trader families.

It is also obvious that you think us both stupid and ignorant of how the Guild employs birds and bird keepers. You will note that this message reaches you attached to the leg of one of the birds from your cote, birds you are personally responsible for. Although the Guild has refused to name you by name, I know that they now know who is responsible for at least some of the tampering. I have filed a complaint against you specifically, citing the leg-band marks of the birds that have arrived bearing damaged messages for me.

Your days as a bird keeper are numbered. You are a disgrace to the Rain Wild Traders and to the family that bore you. Shame upon you for betraying your oaths of confidentiality and loyalty. Trade cannot prosper where there is spying and deception. People like you do damage to us all.

CHAPTER SIX
Dragon Blood

‘He looks sick,’ the Duke objected.

Chancellor Ellik lowered his eyes silently, humiliated that his duke would publicly disparage the gift he had brought, but he would bow his head and accept it. He had no choice in that, and it pleased the Duke to keep him aware of that.

The private audience room was warm, possibly stifling to some of those in attendance. The Duke had lost so much flesh that he felt cold all the time, even on a fine spring day. Fires crackled in both the large hearths, the stone floors were thickly carpeted and the walls draped with tapestries. Soft, warm robes swaddled the Duke’s thin body. Still, he felt chilled, though sweat stood on the faces of the six guardsmen who attended him. The only others in the room were his Chancellor and the creature he had dragged in with him.

The chained dragon-man, the Elderling that stood before him, did not sweat. He was thin, with sunken eyes and lank hair. Ellik had allowed him only a loincloth, doubtless the better to show off his scaled flesh. A pity it also showed his ribs and how the knobs of his elbows and knees stood out. A bandage was bound to one of his shoulders. Not at all the glorious being that the Duke had anticipated.

‘I am sick.’

The creature’s voice startled him. It was not just that he could speak; his voice was stronger than the Duke would have expected it to be, given his condition. Moreover, he spoke in Chalcedean. It was accented but clear enough.

The Elderling coughed as if to illustrate that he spoke the truth, the light sort of throat-clearing one did when afraid that coughing hard enough to clear the mucus would hurt more than it was worth. The Duke was familiar with that sort of cough. The creature drew the back of one slender blue-scaled hand across his mouth, sighed and then lifted his eyes to meet the Duke’s stare. When he let his hands drop back to his sides, the chains on his wrists rattled. His eyes were human, in this light, but when he had first been brought into the chamber his gaze had seemed lambent like a cat’s, gleaming blue in the candlelight.

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