Blood of Dragons - Страница 54

Leftrin spared a moment to shoot them a warning look, and then hastened toward Alise.

‘She looks very sick,’ Sylve suggested.

Leftrin broke into a run with Sedric and Sylve not far behind him. Up close, Alise looked more haggard than Leftrin had ever seen her. Her face was slack and heavy and his heart sank as he gathered her into his embrace. She sagged against him.

‘I found nothing.’ She spoke the words loud and clear but there was little life in her voice. She leaned into him and looked past his shoulder at Malta. Her voice had the quaver of an old, old woman. ‘My dear, I tried and I tried. Everywhere. I have spent the night listening to stone, touching anywhere that I thought they might have stored it. I feel I have lived a hundred lives since last I spoke to you. Many things I have learned, but of how pure Silver might be used to heal, of how to touch Silver and not die, I have found nothing.’

Alise swayed in Leftrin’s arms and he tightened his embrace to keep her from falling. ‘Alise, I thought you had gone apart to take some rest! How could you risk yourself so? We are not Elderlings, to fearlessly touch the stones!’

‘How could I not?’ she asked him faintly. ‘How could I not?’ She laughed brokenly. ‘The music, Leftrin. There was music, in one place, and dancing. I wanted to forget what I came for and just dance. Then I thought of you and I wished you were with me …’ Her voice trailed away.

He tipped her face up to look into her eyes. ‘Alise?’ he begged. ‘Alise?’ Her gaze shifted to meet his. She was still there. A bit of life came back into her face. Sedric hovered nearby, with Sylve at his side. He knew they wanted to help but he could not surrender her to them. He suddenly saw them as Elderlings, impossibly different from himself and the woman he held in his arms. He spoke hoarsely by her ear. ‘Why did you do it? It’s dangerous. You know it is! Regardless of what Rapskal may say or the others do, we know what memory-stone can do to us. Many of the Rain Wild folk have drowned in memories. Perhaps Elderlings can use such stones without threat, but we cannot. I know you wish to know all about the city, but touching the stone is something you must leave to the others. What could make you do such a foolish thing?’

‘It wasn’t for the city,’ she said. He felt her pull herself together. She stood on her own now, but chose not to leave the circle of his arms. ‘Leftrin. It’s about the baby, little Phron. And Bellin’s babies, never born. About—’ She paused and took a long breath, then plunged into it. ‘About your baby that I would want to bear some day. You heard what Mercor has told us. If we live near the dragons and the Elderlings, then we will change also. Skelly will change. Our children will continue to be born Changed, and for those of us not Elderlings with dragons, they will die young. As we will. If there is another way, we have to discover it, my dear. No matter the cost.’

Her words drenched and drowned him like a flash flood. He hugged her close to him, his mind whirling with possibilities that had never seemed quite real to him before. ‘I’ll clear the well,’ he promised her. ‘I’ll get that bucket up and out of the way. It’s as much as I can say for certain, but I’ll do it.’

‘It’s the missing piece,’ she said into his chest. ‘Of that I am certain. Silver is what is needed. You will be restoring full magic to the Elderlings.’

Now, there was a frightening thought. He looked around at the keepers, marking how they had drawn near to hear her words. All these youngsters with magic. What would they do with it? Use it wisely? He shook his head at such a foolish hope.

Malta had stood and Reyn had trailed her as she approached them. Her lips were chewed and chapped, her hair like straw. The babe in her arms mewed endlessly. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘For all the ways you have tried to help us, thank you.’ Leftrin did not doubt her sincerity, but pure weariness and unadulterated sorrow sucked the heart from her words. She might have been thanking Alise for a cup of tea instead of thanking her for risking her sanity.

Leftrin stepped back, holding Alise by the shoulders. ‘Bellin!’ he barked suddenly. ‘Take her down to the ship. Get a hot meal into her and see that she goes to sleep in my stateroom. I want her out of the city for a night at least.’ As Bellin approached, Leftrin looked at the well with new eyes. ‘I’ll clear it,’ he promised her again.

Alise muttered a protest, but did not resist as the deckhand took her arm and led her away. As they walked away from him, Leftrin heard Bellin’s husky words. ‘Oh, Alise. If only it can be. If only it can be.’

The ‘fishing’ consumed the rest of the day. The line was long and the ghost-light of the jewellery barely enough to see anything by. Sedric took a fruitless turn at the effort. A hundred times, a thousand times, the hook slid past the bucket’s handle without catching on it. Keepers and crewmen, all took turns. All failed. When Sylve finally hooked it, she gave a single whoop of excitement.

‘Keep it taut!’ Carson barked at her, but he grinned as he said it. Everyone gathered in a circle around her held their breaths. The Elderling girl grasped the line firmly, holding the tension while Carson slowly took up the slack on the other side of the pulley. ‘Got it,’ he told her, and very slowly she let go of the rope. She backed away from the well’s edge and then stood up, arching her back. Lecter came without asking to take up the line behind Carson. ‘Slow and steady,’ Carson told him, and he nodded.

All saw the strain as the two men pulled. The rope creaked, and Leftrin came to add his strength. ‘Stuck in the dried muck,’ Carson guessed breathlessly and Leftrin grunted in agreement. The rope creaked more loudly and then Sylve gave a small shriek as all three men abruptly stumbled back.

‘You’ve lost it!’ she cried. But she was wrong. The line swung slowly as it took the weight of the bucket in full.

‘Keep the tension on it,’ Carson advised them. ‘Go slow. We don’t know how strong the bail is on the bucket. Try not to let the bucket touch the wall; it might jar it loose. Then we’d have it all to do over again.’ Sedric watched the keepers trade their grips, hand over hand, as the ancient bucket slowly rose toward the surface.

The sun was toward the horizon when the flame jewels finally emerged and the handle of the bucket was seized with eager hands. ‘It’s plain damn luck that line held,’ Leftrin exclaimed as they lifted it over the lip and onto the ground. The keepers crowded round. It was, as Rapskal had speculated, large enough for a dragon to drink from, lovingly crafted from dark wood lined with beaten metal.

‘Silver!’ Tats had gasped.

Sedric stared at it, unable to speak. Carson came to rest a hand on his shoulder and stare with the others.

It was obvious the bucket had long rested at an angle at the bottom of the well. There was a slope of packed silt in the bottom of the bucket. Draining away from it and gathering itself into an uneven puddle on the bottom was Silver. Sedric stared at it, his breath caught in his chest. Yes. He understood now what Mercor had said about the stuff, that it was in the blood of dragons. For that was where he had seen it before.

The unwelcome memory burst into his mind. He had crouched in the darkness, full of greed and hope, and cut the dragon’s neck and caught the running blood. She had not been Relpda then, his gleaming copper queen. She had been a muddy brown animal dying on the riverbank, and his only thought had been that if he took her blood and sold it, he could buy himself a new life in a distant land with Hest. He had trapped her blood in a bottle and left her to her fate. But he remembered now how the dragon’s blood had swirled and drifted in the glass bottle, scarlet on silvery red, always moving before his eyes.

Yes. There was Silver in dragon’s blood, for he watched it now as it stirred and moved like a live thing seeking an escape. Such a shallow puddle to evoke such awe in all of them! It drew itself together in a perfect circle and stood up from the bottom of the old bucket like a bubble of oil on water. There it remained in stillness, and yet silver in every variant of that colour moved and swirled through it. ‘It’s beautiful,’ Thymara breathed. She stretched out a hand and Tats caught her by the wrist.

Malta and Reyn stood side by side. The babe fell suddenly silent.

‘It’s deadly,’ Tats reminded them all. The young keeper looked around at the circle of faces that hemmed the bucket and its contents. ‘What do we do with it?’

‘For now? Nothing,’ Leftrin declared sternly. He met Malta’s stare with one of his own. ‘We brought it up. There’s Silver down there, though this is scarce enough to wet a dragon’s tongue. What little we have here, we save until the dragons’ return, in hopes they can use it to save the baby. Do any disagree?’ His eyes roved the assembled keepers.

Sylve looked shocked as she said, ‘What else would we do with it? All of us want the young prince to live!’

Leftrin concealed his surprise. Prince. So they thought of the sickly child, and so they had risked all for him. He cleared his throat. ‘Well then. I say we take no more risks this evening, but set this aside and all of us go take some rest.’

She could feel the light fading from the day. Her last day? Probably. Pain lived in her, a fire that did not warm her. Some little scavenger, braver than most, tugged at her foot. Tintaglia twitched, a reflex that hurt now, and it scampered off into the rushes to wait. Not for long, she thought. Not for long.