Blood of Dragons
Page 120

Reyall – a Very Happy Man
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Expectations
‘I wish we could take this discussion somewhere warm and speak of it calmly,’ Alise said quietly. She was sheltered in the angle of Leftrin’s arm, his cloak around her as well as her own. She knew her body was not cold, but the rising cold that she felt inside her was making her feel ill. She was still tired from her time in the stones; even with Leftrin holding her, she felt the lure of them tugging at her like small children begging for her attention. Too much was happening too fast. She felt shamed by the misery and uncertainty in the eyes of the captives and the abject resignation of the thin, scarred slaves filled her with horror. Alone, that would have been bad enough, but the keepers were quarrelling as if they were still the youngsters they had been when they left Trehaug. Kase, Boxter and Jerd were in favour of letting the dragons do whatever they wished with all the captives. They were the extreme. All of the others had taken up varying opinions as to what fate was deserved by the slaves, the Jamaillian traders, the Chalcedean dragon-hunters and the others. Rapskal had calmed somewhat. His earlier martial attitude had been completely at odds with all Alise knew of the young keeper. Thymara’s attitude toward Rapskal’s transformation had mirrored her own. She and Tats flanked him now, Tats with an arm across his shoulder and Thymara clasping his arm, as if their physical touch could keep him in this world and time.
Perhaps it could. She knew that she only slept deeply now when she could anchor her body to Leftrin’s warm back, only felt solidly in this world when, as now, she held his hand in both of hers. She regretted her sojourn among the memory-stones even as she knew that it had been necessary, and that she would one day attempt it again. The knowledge she sought was too important to all of them. She tightened her grip on Leftrin and struggled to keep her thoughts in this world and time.
She glanced away and her eyes met Carson’s. He shook his head slowly at her, mirroring her dismay. He had arrived late on the scene, come back from hunting with Davvie and his catch. She knew from Leftrin that he had been taking more time with his foster-nephew lately. Davvie and Lecter quarrelled often of late, and Carson had been blunt with them both, telling them that he thought they were choosing one another by default rather than based on a true attraction. She did not think his bald stating of the situation was very helpful to either of them, even if she secretly agreed with it.
Carson lifted his voice in a shout that silenced half a dozen angry and worried arguments among the keepers and stilled the anxious shouts of the prisoners. ‘Let’s round them up and take them to the baths. No matter how guilty they may be, they are still human, and even the dragons have said there are innocent men among them. So let us act as befits who we are, rather than who we think they might be. Take them to the baths, let them be clean and warm, and let us be comfortable as well while we discuss this.’
He had a way, Alise thought. Harrikin backed him with, ‘Carson’s right. They may be brutes but we are not.’ Kase and Boxter were already in motion as if they were sheepdogs given a command. The cousins moved in unison, flanking the prisoners and shouting at them to get up and follow the Elderling in forest green, since they were being taken to a judgment place. That was a bit more harsh than she would have phrased it, but it did get them up and moving.
Leftrin tugged at her arm. ‘Come, my love. Let’s get you a hot cup of tea and something to eat. I’ll wager you haven’t eaten yet today.’
‘I haven’t,’ she admitted. It was strange to sit down with him to their simple foods and humble settings when her mind still reeled with memories of elegant meals in elaborately staged venues. Scarlet wine would not fountain from a carved flower to fall into a chilled crystal goblet for her. Just hot tea with Leftrin. That was as she preferred it. Surely not all the Elderlings had lived that way, but the ones who considered themselves worthy of preserving their complete memories seemed to have pursued lives of utter luxury. Perhaps, she mused, she had been seeking information from the wrong stratum of society. Where, then, should she have looked?
‘Alise!’
Startled, she turned her head to see who had shouted her name. The voice was hoarse. She looked at her friends but found that the Elderlings around her were staring back over their shoulders at the weary prisoners who were trailing them. As she stared in consternation, a tall man flung back the hood of his cloak. ‘Alise!’ he cried, and his voice trembled with warmth now. ‘My darling, is it truly you? After all the days and all the hardship, I’ve found you at last! I’ve come to take you home!’