City of Dragons

“So I would assume,” Redding replied merrily. “So I thought to myself, if Tintaglia returns to Trehaug and asks what has become of the hatched dragons, well! That could lead to some very interesting times for the Rain Wilders, couldn’t it?”

“Indeed.”

What would it mean? The fury of a dragon unleashed on a treetop city? Perhaps. While he was in the city? Hest’s focus changed suddenly. He had seen the aftermath of a dragon’s fury, had seen stone furrowed from the acid spray of venom, seen men’s bodies reduced to liquefied flesh inside pitted armor. At that time, Tintaglia had been incensed with the Chalcedean fleet and invaders. But if she turned on Trehaug, there was nowhere to flee, no structure sturdy enough to provide shelter.

“Redding. How long ago was Tintaglia seen? And in which direction was she flying?”

And might the Duke of Chalced find a way to get his dragon parts closer to home?

“Oh, well!” Redding shook his head in mock dismay. “So much you want me to glean from an overheard sentence or two. I tried to get a bit more out of them. I bid them good day and said, ‘I couldn’t help but overhear that your cousin had seen a dragon.’ And before I could ask anything more, they turned and went back into their cabin. So rude! But I think we’ve little to fear. Think how long it would take for the news to travel to reach this fellow; much slower than a dragon could fly. So I’m sure if she were coming directly here, she’d be here by now. If she’s coming at all.”

“All the speculation I’d heard was that she was dead. It’s been so long since either dragon was seen, and she seemed to have simply abandoned the younger dragons.”

“So the rumors of her death were wrong, weren’t they?” Redding speared one of the little sausages. “At least, if this fellow’s cousin was telling the truth. Dear Hest, it was only a snippet of gossip. Don’t let it trouble you when there are other, more urgent matters to consider.” Redding smiled at him and with the tip of his tongue licked the sausage suggestively.

“How many more days to Kelsingra?”

Reyn’s question was urgent. But it had been urgent the first time he had asked it, and every time since, and Leftrin was becoming weary of trying to answer it. He forced himself to keep his voice reasonable. “I can’t give you a specific answer. I’ve told you that. We’re traveling against the current now. It’s hard work, especially with all the rain we’ve had. It swells the river, puts more debris in the water, and makes it harder for us to stay to the shallows where the current is calmer.”

“But Tarman-” Reyn began stubbornly.

Leftrin cut him off. “Is a liveship. With some special abilities. That doesn’t mean that traveling upriver in winter is effortless, or that we can push on day and night. When the rains are relentless and the water rises, it’s harder for us to move upriver. So I can’t tell you when we’re going to get there.”

“And the boats that are following us?”

Leftrin gave a small shrug. “Nothing I can do about them, friend. The river doesn’t belong to me. All rivermen are free to go where they will.”

“But if they follow us to Kelsingra?”

“Then they do. What would you have me do, Reyn? Attack them?”

“No! But we can travel by night and they cannot. Cannot we outdistance them that way?”

“Tarman is strong, but even he must rest sometimes.” Leftrin spoke plainly now, more plainly than he liked. “Someone is paying those men well to track us. They were upriver and waiting. I suspect that when we were first sighted coming back down the river, someone let a bird fly. Those little boats were lying in wait for us, and even though it’s hazardous for them to travel by night, they can, especially for the kind of money they are being offered. All we can hope is that they weary before we reach Kelsingra. But even if they lose sight of us, there will remain signs that some could follow. Every time we tie up for the night, we leave traces of our presence, and on our first passage when we had the dragons with us, we left lots of evidence of where we stopped. Most of it was obscured by the flood. But not all. If they are as desperate to find us as we are to get your son to the dragons, then follow us they will. Unless you think we have time to play games with them, lead them astray or whatever.”

“No.” Reyn answered quickly as Leftrin had known he would. “We have no time for delays. But after what Malta told us, I fear for what their intentions are. Someone was willing to kill her and our baby just to pass their flesh off as dragon meat. If they are that desperate, who knows what else they are capable of doing?” He looked back at the small boats. “We may not have the time or the inclination to attack them. But that may be their purpose in following us.”

“Well.” Leftrin walked to the railing and looked back the way they had come. An arm’s length away from him, Swarge was on the tiller, studiously ignoring his captain’s conversation as he guided Tarman with slow sweeps. Past Swarge, Leftrin glimpsed three small boats, all keeping a distance from the Tarman and one another as they rounded the last bend of the river. The men in them were paddling diligently. Leftrin felt a bit sorry for them. Their vessels were little more than open boats, vulnerable to the elements, offering no comfort or safety for the men who manned them. They could move more swiftly than his ponderous barge, and even when Tarman had pressed on all night, the spy boats had caught up with them before noon of the next day.

“They handle their craft like experienced rivermen. Maybe they don’t have anything to do with Chalcedeans and slaughtering dragons for meat and blood. Maybe they’re just paid by some other Traders who think they can make a quick grab for whatever we’ve found before the Council sends out its own expedition.”

Reyn turned to him. For an instant, he looked startled, then the look faded. “Yes. Of course. It’s more likely they are seeking treasure than hunting my wife and child. The Council will smell profit and send out its own ship as soon as it can. And it’s very possible that those who follow are employed by other Traders. The rumor that Kelsingra had been uncovered swept through the city like a fire.”

“Uncovered,” Leftrin said with amusement. “They’re expecting a city to dig out of the mud. They think they’ll be excavating. Wait until they see it. They won’t be able to grasp it. Nor will they be able to get to it, unless they risk their lives to do so. Even if they are able to follow us all the way there, they’ll be short or out of provisions before we get there. And if they are bold enough to cross the river to the city side, they’ll find much to fill their eyes but nothing to fill their bellies. So let them exhaust themselves following us. Either they’ll give up and turn back, or tough it out and have to turn to us for help once they arrive.”

While he had being speaking, a fine rain had begun to fall. He turned to Reyn with a grin. “I don’t see the need to deal with them until I have to. Especially when the Rain Wilds just may solve them for me.”

Reyn followed Leftrin’s gaze, but he didn’t smile. Instead, he pointed. “What’s that? I haven’t seen that vessel before.”

Leftrin peered through the thickening rain. The falling drops mottled the river’s face with rings and made a shushing sound. It also acted as a curtain between him and the vessel that had just rounded the bend behind them. He peered at it in disbelief. It was a larger craft, narrow and low-roofed. The hull was black, the house bright blue with gold trim. Banks of oars rose and fell in unison. It looked to be shallow draught and to be making better speed than the smaller boats. As he watched, it passed the last boat and moved up on the second one. “Can’t be!” he exclaimed.

“What is it?” Reyn leaned over the side to stare back.

“It’s that damn impervious ship.” Swarge answered his question. “She was tied up to the dock when we got to Cassarick.”

“We’ve heard the rumors for months now,” Reyn agreed grimly. “None of the liveship families like it. A Jamaillian has developed a new coating for boats, one that he claimed will withstand the acids of the Rain Wild River. He offered to send several of the new ships up the river, to prove that their hulls were impervious and to demonstrate the sort of speed they could make with cargo or passengers. A consortium of Bingtown Traders was said to be interested investors, but there were darker rumors that the Jamaillian didn’t care who he sold to as long as they could meet his price. I’d heard one was due to visit Trehaug, but I didn’t pay much attention. Too much else on my mind.” He looked at Swarge for confirmation. “She was tied up at Cassarick when we were there?”

The tillerman shrugged a big shoulder. “When we first arrived. Then she left for Trehaug, and I thought she’d go all the way back to Bingtown. Looks like someone sent a bird and hired her to follow us.”

Leftrin eyed the boat with dismay. She had good lines for a river barge, and her crew appeared strong and disciplined. “And there might be more of them?”

“Almost certainly. There are some, even among the Traders, who say that liveships have strangled trade on the river. The Bingtown and Rain Wild Councils gave permission for the impervious boats to make the attempt. The