Blood of Dragons

The keepers had come down to greet them. Wisely, most of them remained on the shore. Carson was on the dock, ready to catch a line as soon as it was thrown to him. Harrikin was with him, and, to Leftrin’s amazement, so was Sedric, looking more muscular and fit than when Leftrin had last seen him. Harrikin and Sedric were clad in bright clothing, as were the rest of the keepers; evidently the city had yielded up a bit of its treasure to them. His brow furrowed as he wondered how Alise felt about that.



The tethered logs of the dock moved with the current, rising and falling steadily. On the crumbling street behind the docks, the other keepers were massed. Much as he longed to scan that crowd for Alise’s face, he knew that his ship required all his attention just now. He kept his place on top of the deckhouse, bellowing course corrections as Tarman fought the seething current as they moved toward the dock and pushed steadily upstream until they were past it.



‘Drop anchor!’ Hennesey roared and Big Eider obeyed, deploying a kedge anchor first on the port side and then another on the starboard side of the barge. Chain and then line played out swiftly as the crew continued to fight the current. Then the anchors caught and the liveship curtseyed to the water as the lines took the ship’s weight. A moment later, there was a lurch as the port anchor dragged a short distance before lodging firmly on the bottom.



‘Even them out!’ Leftrin bellowed to Hennesey, but the mate was already in motion, assisting Big Eider in that very task. As the ship came into alignment, they began the careful process of paying out line to let the current carry them downstream to a position parallel to the docks.



Leftrin prayed there were no concealed pilings from the old dock hiding beneath the river’s rush. The space between Tarman and the dock narrowed and still the ship’s unseen legs and tail fought to gain a place alongside the dock and hold there. Plainly, Tarman did not trust the kedge anchors completely. It made the task of docking him more difficult, but Leftrin allowed the liveship to follow his own instincts. Finally, they were close enough for lines to be flung. Sedric caught the first one and quickly wrapped it around one of the few remaining stone supports from the fallen dock. Carson caught the next, and quickly wrapped it around a wooden upright. It groaned, swayed slightly and then held. Other lines were tossed, caught, and tied. As soon as Tarman was somewhat secured, longer lines were run out, past the dock and up onto dry land. With a fine disrespect for the city’s antiquity, one was tied off around an Elderling statue, while another was taken in through the window of a small stone structure and then out of the door before being made fast. It was a sloppy tie-up, as if an immense spider had trapped the liveship in a web. Leftrin waited, but the lines held. He breathed out.



‘It will do for now,’ he told Hennesey. ‘But I don’t like it and neither does Tarman. I want you or me on board at all times, and I don’t want the crew to go far. At least three hands on board at every moment. Once we get off-loaded, then we’ll head back across the river and beach Tarman there. Jaunting back and forth in the ship’s boats from the village to Kelsingra won’t be fun but at least he’ll be safe there.’



Hennesey nodded grimly.



‘Let’s unload right away, then,’ said Leftrin. ‘As soon as we see our passengers safely ashore. Get it started. I want a word with the ship.’



Hennesey jerked his head in a nod and was gone. In a moment, he was shouting the orders that would get the cargo moving onto the deck for off-loading. A chorus of greetings rose from the waiting crowd on shore. Leftrin gave a single wave as he made his way forward. He saw Hennesey leaning over the side, exchanging words with Carson. The big hunter could move with alacrity when he needed to, and as if by magic, the keepers were suddenly lining up like ants as they readied themselves to act as stevedores. Big Eider was personally assisting Malta across the deck and down onto the wobbly dock. She clutched her baby, refusing to surrender him to anyone, while Reyn followed closely behind her, looking anxious. Leftrin noticed that Hennesey was waiting to perform the same service for Tillamon. He folded his lips, and then decided that it was up to Reyn to intervene if he thought anything improper was going on. And perhaps not even Reyn, given that Tillamon was a woman grown.



He reached the foredeck and leaned on the wizardwood railing. ‘Ship. You going to talk to me?’



He felt the familiar thrumming of a liveship’s awareness. Tarman was eldest of the liveships, built long before anyone had any idea that wizardwood was anything other than finely grained and excellent-quality timber. He’d been built as a barge, with the traditional painted eyes for watching the river’s current, but no figurehead such as the other liveships boasted. While his ‘painted’ eyes had become ever more expressive over the years, he had no carved mouth with which to speak. Usually Leftrin shared his ship’s feelings on an intuitive level, or when Tarman intruded directly into his dreams. Only rarely did the captain have the sensation that the ship was speaking to him in actual words. He had always respected however little or much Tarman chose to share with him. Only rarely, when he felt there was a direct threat to his vessel, did he make such a request. Now he leaned on the railing and waited, hoping.