The Dragon Keeper
“Well, at least he’s eating now,” Thymara commented as they walked away from him toward the fire. The smell of the roasting meat was making her mouth water. She was suddenly extremely hungry and very tired.
“You don’t think he’s going to survive, do you?” Tats accused her.
“I don’t know. I don’t know about any of the dragons.”
“My Mercor is going to live,” Sylve declared earnestly. “He’s come too far and through too much to die on the journey.”
“I hope you’re right,” Thymara agreed comfortingly.
“I know I am,” Sylve insisted. “He told me so.”
“I wish my dragon talked to me like that,” Thymara said enviously.
Before Sylve could respond, Rapskal appeared out of the darkness. His face shone with grease, and a thick slab of meat was in his hands. “I brought this for you, Thymara. You have to try this! It’s so good!”
“We’re coming,” Tats assured him.
“Captain Leftrin says we all get to sleep on his deck tonight, too!” Rapskal told them. “Dry bed, hot food—what could make this night better?”
At the circle around the fire, music as sudden and bright as sparks suddenly burst up into the night.
Day the 2nd of the Prayer Moon
Year the 6th of the Independent Alliance of Traders
From Erek, Keeper of the Birds, Bingtown
To Detozi, Keeper of the Birds, Trehaug
Detozi,
Apologies for any difficulties you’ve experienced recently. Am sending a hundredweight sack of the yellow peas. Keep them from damp, as once wet, they spoil quickly. Always feed them dry to your birds. In the same shipment, I am sending two well-fledged youngsters, both of Kingsly’s line, a male and a female.
Erek
Chapter Seventeen Decisions
For three days, their journey upriver had gone better than Leftrin could ever have hoped. Their start had been a bit rough, true, but things had smoothed out soon enough. The dragons had made their own first kill, and that had certainly wrought a change in the beasts. They were still dependent on what the hunters and their keepers killed for them, but now that the dragons knew that they could kill, they attempted to hunt every day. Their successes were uneven, but any food they caught and killed for themselves lessened the burden on their human companions. Their young keepers praised them lavishly for each kill, and the dragons basked in the adulation.
He leaned on Tarman’s railing, listening to his ship and the river that caressed it. His rough hands cradled a heavy mug of morning tea. From the small sounds his keen ears picked up from Alise’s compartment, he knew she was awake and dressing. He would not let his mind dwell on the details of that process. No sense in tormenting himself. Soon enough, he hoped, she would emerge. They were both early risers, and he cherished these dawn moments almost more than he enjoyed their evenings of companionable conversation. Evenings were wonderful, with food and laughter and music, but he always had to share her with the hunters and the ever-present Sedric. When Bellin played her pipes and Carson the harp, Alise had eyes only for the two of them. Jess, much to Carson’s chagrin, had proven himself to be every bit as good a hunter as Leftrin’s old friend. He also, it seemed to Leftrin, had an eye for Alise. The fellow was a wonderful storyteller, for his dour expression concealed an ability to make himself the butt of every tale, and to win laughter from everyone, even sour Sedric. The evenings were made pleasant with song and story, but he had to share Alise’s attention.
In the mornings he had her to himself, for his crew had already learned to avoid any but the most pressing of questions during those hours. He took a short breath, sighed, and found himself smiling. Truth be told, he even enjoyed the anticipation of waiting for her.
Last night’s campsite had not been as wet as the previous ones, and he’d felt no qualms about suggesting that the keepers could sleep ashore with their dragons. In some wild flood rage years ago the river had swept gravel and sand into a compact beach. Tall grass and young trees grew there, creating an unusually sunny woodland for the keepers and their dragons to enjoy. As the years passed, the trees would grow taller until this was just another part of the rain forest. Or, he thought, the next storm flood might sweep it away completely. For now, he looked out on a grassy sward that was just slightly above the level of the river. The dragons sprawled there, sleeping heavily. Their keepers were scattered among them, rolled in their blue blankets. The remnants of last night’s driftwood cook fire sent a thin tendril of bluish smoke toward a deep blue sky. As of yet, none of them was stirring.