Blood of Dragons - Страница 61

Then, as he watched in abhorrence, the weathered ship’s captain who had first dared to countermand the execution order put an arm around Alise and pulled her to his side. Did she struggle? No. She leaned into his familiarity, letting her head drop onto his shoulder. It was when she set her open hand to his chest that he realized with affront that she was intimate with the man. A common river-man, coarse and ignorant, was bedding the wife of one of Bingtown’s most eminent Traders? The insult was unthinkable, to him and to his family. He could not, would not take her back into his home and bed. Dirtied as she was, how could she bear him an heir worthy of the Finbok name? He would disown her and dissolve the marriage!

But not before he had asserted his right to half of her claim to the city. As his eyes roved over Kelsingra, the magnitude of that fortune stunned him. He almost laughed over his earlier fears. There were his ‘captors’, probably less than two dozen people. Why, their captives outnumbered them! He tried quickly to count the clustered keepers, to work out Alise’s approximate percentage of claim to the city, but they were milling and clustering tightly around the scarlet man who had condemned the Chalcedeans. One of them shouted something about judging the ‘foreigners’. Ridiculous. They had no authority! Tall they might be, but their scaled faces were still young, almost childish.

Even so, he had nothing to fear from their judgment. He had not done any physical harm to a dragon, nor could anyone ever prove he had intended to. As a Bingtown Trader, only the Bingtown Council could sit in judgment on him. These people might be dressed in Elderling clothing, but if they presumed to judge him, they’d soon have the Council and every Trader in Bingtown on their backs. Masquerade as they might, they were still citizens of the Rain Wilds and subject to its laws. They might detain him, might even demand ransom of his family, but eventually they would find that their little gaggle of misfits could not stand before the combined economic might of the Rain Wild and Bingtown Councils. If they thought they could ship treasure from here and live by their own rules, they’d be sadly surprised when they found the sole navigable waterway held against them. Young as they were and foolish, they probably had no idea of how things had always worked. Neither Bingtown nor Trehaug nor Cassarick would suffer their grip on the Elderling artefact trade to be loosened.

With every passing moment, Hest gained more confidence in his position. He was just on the point of stepping forth and demanding that his rights as a Bingtown Trader be recognized when four of the Chalcedeans attempted to escape. The response of the red dragon sent them scurrying back, and Hest quickly moved as far away from the culprits as he could. If the dragon decided to dispatch one or more of them, he did not want to be confused with them.

The tumult among the Kelsingra Elderlings was subsiding. A woman was weeping and holding onto the scarlet man while a stouter fellow had draped an arm across his shoulders. Some crisis had passed, it appeared, though he had no idea what it meant. In avoiding the Chalcedeans, he had moved to the outer fringe of the huddled captives. Most of them had fallen silent, though a few still wept or cursed quietly. The slaves had squatted down to passively await whatever fate would befall them now. Clearly this was not the first time that the course of their lives had changed without their consent.

His fears calmed, he coldly assessed his position. So his ‘wife’ had turned sailor’s whore. There was a lever he could use. If she had any sense of shame left at all, he might be able to persuade her to pretend she was dead and let him inherit all her share in return for his keeping silent about her sluttish behaviour. She could not possibly return to Bingtown after what she had done, not if she cared for her family at all. So, Alise was not a problem. He’d have all he wanted from her, and be able to return unencumbered by her.

He could see that others among the captives were likewise evaluating their positions. The two Jamaillian merchants were talking fast and low to one another, surely discussing what trade terms they could offer, and who would not only ransom them but send enough coin that they could buy priceless Elderling relics to take home with them. He saw them look over at the keepers, who had been joined by the ship’s crew and were in earnest discussion. Only the dragon was watching their captives now, but one dragon was an ample guard for all of them. What were the Jamaillians trying to discern? Probably the same thing that Trader Candral was puzzling about. Who was truly in charge here? Who would not only decide his fate, but be the person who would negotiate their future?

Hest ran his eyes over them, dismissing the sailors in their rough clothes, considering only those masquerading as Elderlings. His eyes snagged on one tall fellow, standing at the edge of the crowd. He was watching the street behind him, waiting for someone, and ignoring the lively discussion among the dragon keepers. Hest read him carefully. Of all of the Elderlings, he best maintained his bearing. Carefully attired in garments that complemented one another as well as his own colouring and in gleaming black boots, he had a born gentility to his posture. The wind tossed his cloak gently and moved his hair on his shoulders. A handsome fellow, lean and tall and well muscled, his scaling was coppery-brown over his own tanned skin. Hest felt a stirring of interest in him and smiled to himself. It would be a novelty to run his hands over smoothly scaled flesh. The tall man turned and said something to one of the others. From the depths of his hood, Hest stared at the copper Elderling.

Sedric.

But it could not be. The man would easily be of a height with Hest. Sedric had always been willowy and slight, forever boyish. This fellow was unmistakably a man, his shoulders wide and his chest deep. Then as a smile broke out on his face, he was unmistakably and forever Sedric, but a Sedric transformed by magic into an exotic and magnificent creature. Hest gazed at him, entranced. All Sedric’s flaws had been burnt away. Hest evaluated him, studying how he stood, watching and waiting. The almost-childish softness that had become an irritant to Hest over the last few years had been chiselled away, perhaps by hardship. However it had happened, it was gone, replaced by muscle and firmness. Here was someone who would yield to Hest, but not as easily as the old Sedric had. His pulse quickened at the thought. Sedric had become worthy again of his attention. And when Hest brought him back to Bingtown, what a sensation he would be in their circle!

With a dizzying lurch, Hest suddenly realized that Sedric had fulfilled his dream. Dragon parts or no, the share of the city that Hest could claim through his trollop wife and his employee was a staggering amount. His eyes roamed over the city above the docks, and his heart suddenly leapt to new ambitions and ideas. Any one of those mansions could be claimed as his. Here, truly, he could live however he wanted to live, away from the condemnation of Bingtown and family. Did he need to return to Bingtown and take up his life there, under his father’s watchful and disapproving eye? With the wealth he could rightfully claim, he could establish himself here, his friends could join him, and once trade was launched with other cities, he could travel wherever he wished. And Sedric had done it! He’d done it for both of them!

Sedric. He had been a half-schooled youngster when Hest had plucked him out of his dull and stunted life. Unsophisticated and naïve, everything about Hest had left Sedric wide-eyed with wonder. Hest had educated him in the ways that a young Trader’s son should live, taught him how to dress and ride and dine, to choose a wine or critique a play. And he supposed that along the way, he’d wakened his appetites and his ambition for a finer life than that for which his humble family had prepared him. Hest shook his head in wonder, not just at Sedric but at himself. They’d laugh about all this some day, how Hest had inadvertently set Sedric’s feet on the path that had won him a fortune. He looked at him with fondness and some pride. So many misunderstandings along the way, Sedric. So many missteps on your part. But nonetheless, here we are, and fortune smiles on me through you.

Hest took a moment to straighten his collar. He would step out from amongst the captives, stand proud as he threw his hood back and called Sedric’s name. He paused a moment to savour the amazement and joy he would kindle in Sedric’s eyes. Not to mention the awe and envy of the prisoners as he alone was greeted and welcomed by the gleaming bronze man.

He had stepped free of the others and lifted his hands to his hood when he heard someone call Sedric’s name. And there, coming down the street, a bow slung across his shoulder, was the man Sedric had been watching for. There was a youngster at his side carrying several dead birds. Hunters returning with their kills? He saw how the smile widened on Sedric’s face, a look both of welcome and relief. Sedric strode hastily to meet them as Hest watched in consternation. What could he possibly have to say to such a rough man?

He lost all interest in his own fate as he watched Sedric greet the two newcomers. He took a moment to speak to the youngster who displayed his grisly trophies with evident pride. Hest was shocked when Sedric actually took hold of one bird and hefted it approvingly before returning it to the lad. But then, as Sedric began explaining with obvious excitement all that was going on, the tall hunter put his arm around him and pulled him close. Sedric leaned on him for an instant in obvious affection. Then, in an open display of warmth, the tall hunter kept his arm around Sedric as they walked toward the others. It was impossible to miss the bond between the two of them. A wash of numbness spread up from Hest’s belly. Sedric had replaced him? Had forgotten him and set him aside for a handsome savage? The insult scored him with a thousand claws. Jealousy roiled through him, followed by cold hatred.