Blood of Dragons - Страница 93

‘That is dragons’ business!’ Paragon interrupted indignantly.

‘That is family business. Selden is my nephew, Paragon, as well as Tintaglia’s Elderling. I have a right to know how he progresses, and therefore, so do you! And you should care as much as I do.’

The rebuke from Althea subdued the ship. Paragon’s face grew thoughtful. He lowered his voice. ‘Did not they think to treat him with Silver?’

Alise stared at him for a moment, shocked that he would speak such a secret aloud. Then she decided that if it was dragons’ business, then he had the right to know the whole of it. ‘The knowledge of how to do that is lost to us,’ Alise told him. ‘But his dragon oversees him daily. His outer injuries have healed. He walks among us, and eats well, and sings to Tintaglia once more. And I suspect that you will see him again, down this way. He desires to visit not only the Khuprus family in Trehaug, but also his mother in Bingtown. And eventually to return to Chalced and the Duchess.’

‘I would not allow that, were I Tintaglia,’ Paragon offered.

‘She was instrumental in keeping him alive when her father’s treatment of him would have otherwise killed him. It’s a very long story, Paragon. There is a great deal more than what I have told you.’

‘But tonight, you will return to tell it to us?’ the ship suggested.

Leftrin stood and walked to the side. Alise followed him. He looked down on the deck of his own ship. Hennesey looked up at him unhappily and gestured at the animals penned on the aft deck of the barge. Clef was grinning and describing something to a horrified Skelly. Boy-o sat on Tarman’s railings, swinging his heels and laughing. Leftrin glanced over at Alise. ‘We should get under way. But I think we can stay until morning.’

‘There has to be a better way to house these birds,’ Sedric complained. He ducked as one of the message birds took sudden unreasonable fear and leapt from its perch to flap crazily past his head. It alighted on one of the nesting boxes fastened to the wall.

The structure was one of the smaller, more dilapidated buildings near the river’s edge. Since it was already in poor condition, the keepers had decided that keeping pigeons in it could scarcely do it more harm. Carson scowled at the musty straw, thick with bird droppings, that floored the small house where they had confined their little flock of pigeons. ‘Or a better way to send messages between here and the rest of the world,’ he countered. ‘I think we were too hasty in asking for messenger birds. Especially since none of us know much about them.’ He squinted at the birds. ‘Which one just came in?’

‘They all look alike to me,’ Sedric replied. ‘But … this is the only one with a message tube tied to its leg. Come here, bird. I won’t hurt you. Come here.’

He moved slowly, his reaching hands framing the bird. It rocked from foot to foot on its perch but before it could decide to take flight, Sedric gently closed his hands on it. ‘There. Not so bad, is it? Not so terrible. No one wants to eat you. We just want the message tube.’ He held the struggling bird’s wings smooth to its body, offering it feet-first to Carson.

‘Just a moment, just a moment … this string is so fine. It’s hard to find … ah, there’s the end. And here we have it. You can let him go.’

Sedric held the bird a moment longer, soothing it and smoothing its feathers, before setting it back on its perch. The animal recovered almost immediately, and began greeting his mate with a cooing, bobbing dance. Sedric followed Carson outside into the sunlight.

‘Who’s it from? Leftrin? Are they delayed in Trehaug?’

‘I’m still trying to get it open. Wait a moment. The cap’s off but the little paper won’t come out. Here. You try.’ The hunter passed the small tube to the curious Sedric and smiled as he watched him eagerly tap and shake the tube until the edge of the paper showed.

Sedric coaxed out the tiny roll and opened it. His brows went up in surprise as he read, and then a furrow formed between them. He let the paper coil in his hands.

‘What is it? Bad news?’

Sedric rubbed his face. ‘No. Just a bit of a surprise for me. I recognized the handwriting. It’s a note from Wollom Courser. And it’s actually addressed to me. He’s an old friend from Bingtown. One of Hest’s circle.’

‘Oh?’ Carson’s voice was slightly cooler.

‘They’ve raised a substantial reward for anyone who can send them news of what’s become of Hest. Wollom adds his own plea. Evidently he thinks that perhaps Hest is hiding here with me, avoiding his old life and his family’s disgrace and living well in Kelsingra.’ His gaze met Carson’s.

The big man turned up an empty hand. ‘No one saw him again after that day. I don’t know, Sedric. I’ve wondered about it more than once, but I just don’t know what became of him. We left him there in the tower. You’ve said he wasn’t a hunter or a fisherman. No food has gone missing. No one, keeper or dragon, has seen him. We’ve told them that.’

Sedric’s hand closed on the paper, crumpling it. ‘You don’t know what became of him. And I don’t care.’ He tossed the message to the ground and the wind off the river gave it a small push. Carson looked at it for a moment, and then put his arm across Sedric’s shoulder.

‘The pigeons are all right for now,’ he said. ‘But what we should give some thought to is where we want to house the chickens.’ The summer sunlight glinted on the two Elderlings as they turned away from the river and walked up into Kelsingra.

‘What do you think is beyond the foothills?’

‘More foothills.’ Tats panted. ‘Then mountains.’

They had paused to catch their breath and drink from their water-skin. The day was warm. Summer was growing strong. Thymara had freed her wings from her tunic and held them half-open to cool herself. Tats and Thymara had been climbing steadily since morning. They both carried their bows, but Thymara was more interested in exploration than hunting today. She turned and looked down over the green-flanked hills to the city below them. Most of it remained still and uninhabited, but there was activity down near the docks. The crew of the White Serpent had taken her out on the river. The oars moved evenly as the ship moved against the current. The wind carried the faint shouts of Rachard as he called the stroke-beat to them. The former slave was the teacher now, and seemed to be adapting well to his new role.

‘Look.’ Thymara pointed in a different direction. ‘Sedric’s trees. The ones he and Carson dug up and moved to the big pots on the Square of the Dragons? You can actually see the leaves on them from here. They almost look like trees now instead of sticks.’

A dragon trumpet, a taunting challenge, turned Thymara’s eyes to the clear blue sky above. ‘Again?’ she groaned aloud.

‘Apparently,’ Tats said with vast approval. He swivelled his head. ‘Where is he?’

Tintaglia was overhead. As they watched, she spiralled upward, ever higher. She trumpeted again, and they heard it answered from the east. They both turned to watch Kalo coming. This was not the leisurely circling of a dragon seeking game, nor the diving fall of a dragon strike. His long powerful wings drove him forward and upward. He looked black against the blue of the sky, except that each down-stroke briefly bared the silver tips of his wings. His long tail snaked and lashed behind him as he flew.

Tintaglia was a glittering blue set of wings in the sky. She hung, circling effortlessly. Her mocking call reached them clearly.

Tats scanned the rest of the sky. ‘I don’t see IceFyre this time.’

‘That last battle was pretty savage. Alise told me that from what she learned when she first studied dragons from scrolls and records, the males seldom did serious injury to one another in mating battles.’

‘I don’t think Kalo read the same scrolls she did. I think that after their last clash, IceFyre conceded. Probably went off to kill something big, eat it and sleep it off.’ Tats nodded to himself. ‘The better dragon won. I’m glad Kalo got a mate.’

Thymara corked the water-skin. ‘Let’s follow that cleft up to the cliffs. I want to look at them and see how hard they’d be to climb.’

Tats stood staring upward. Kalo’s deep frustrated roars were answering Tintaglia’s clear trumpeting. ‘Don’t you want to watch?’ he teased her.

‘Thank you, but half a dozen times was enough. Can’t they be done with it for the day?’

‘I think they’re enjoying it. Wait. What’s that?’

Something had caught his attention in a different quadrant of the sky. Thymara strained her eyes. ‘Sintara. But what’s she doing?’

The younger blue queen was moving faster than Thymara had ever seen her fly. Arrow straight she flew. Then as golden Mercor crested the ridge behind them, Thymara heard Sintara utter the same challenging trumpet that she had first heard from Tintaglia. Scarlet Baliper and orange Dortean suddenly rose from the forested hillside. ‘Oh, this should be good,’ Tats exclaimed and sat down. He flopped back in the meadow grass and stared at the rivals as they closed in on Sintara. ‘Baliper might have a chance against Mercor,’ he speculated. ‘They’re about of a size, but I think Mercor is cleverer. Dortean? I don’t think so.’

As if the dragons had heard him, Mercor suddenly looped in his flight and turned on the hapless Dortean. The orange male fled but could not evade the golden. Mercor chased him as he fled, and as Dortean neared the ground, Mercor dived on him. Dortean no longer had the altitude for evasion. He crashed into the trees, sending a large flock of starlings into mad flight. Mercor narrowly avoided following his rival into arboreal disaster. Wings beating strongly, he pulled up just above the treetops and skimmed over them. The branches waved wildly in his wake.