Robin Hobb - City of Dragons

“Should my lord die, my sorrow would be so great that only interment with you would bring me any peace, most gracious one.” The chancellor’s ingratiating words suddenly seemed a cruel mockery.

“Oh, be silent. Your flattery annoys me. What good is your empty loyalty? Where are the dragon parts that would save me? Bring me those and not your idle praise. Does no man here serve me willingly?” It demanded strength he could not spare, but this time his shout rang out. As his gaze swept them, not a one dared to meet his eyes. They cowered, and for a time, he let them recall their hostage sons, not glimpsed by any of them for many months. He let them wonder for several long moments if their heirs survived before he asked in a conversational tone, “Is there any word from the other force we sent, to follow the rumors that dragons were seen in the desert?”

The chancellor remained as he was, trapped in a frozen agony of conflicting orders.

Do you seethe within, Ellik? he wondered . Do you remember that once you rode at my stirrup as we charged into battle? Look at what the warlord and his sword arm have become: the doddering old man and the cringing servant. If you would but bring me what I need, all would be as it once was. Why do you fail me? Do you have ambitions of your own? Must I kill you?

He stared at his chancellor, but Ellik’s eyes remained cast down. When he judged that the man was close to breaking, he snapped at him, “Answer!”

Ellik lifted his eyes, and the Duke saw the fury contained behind his subservient gray gaze. They had ridden together too long, fought side by side too often for them to be completely successful at concealing their thoughts from each other. Ellik knew the Duke’s every ploy. Once he had played to them. But now his sword hand was becoming weary of these games. The chancellor took a deep breath. “As of yet, there has been no word, my lord. But the visits of the dragons to the water have been irregular, and we have ordered our force to remain where they are until they are successful.”

“Well. At least we have not had word of their failure, yet.”

“No, glorious one. There is still hope.”

“Hope. You, perhaps, hope. I demand . Chancellor, do you hope that your name will survive you?”

A terrible stillness seized the man. His Duke knew his most vulnerable spot. “Yes, lord.” His words were a whisper.

“And you, you have not only an heir-son but a second son as well?”

The Duke was gratified when the man’s voice shook. “I am so blessed, yes, gracious one.”

“Mmm.” The Duke of Chalced tried to clear his throat but coughed instead, the sound triggering a scuttling of servants. A fresh bowl of chilled water was offered, as was a steaming cup of tea. A clean white cloth awaited in the hands of another knee-walking servant, while yet another offered a glass of wine.

A tiny flick of his hand dismissed them all. He drew a rasping breath.

“Two sons, Chancellor. And so you hope. But I have no son. And my health fails for lack of one small thing. A simple remedy of dragon’s blood is all I have asked. Yet it has not been brought to me. I wonder: Is it right that you have so much hope that your name will remain loud in the world’s ear, while mine will be silenced for that lack? Surely not.”

Slowly the man grew smaller. Before his lord’s stare, he collapsed in on himself, his head falling to his bent knees, and then his whole body sinking down, conveying physically his wish to be beneath his duke’s notice.

The Duke of Chalced moved his mouth, a memory of a smile.

“For today, you may keep both your sons. Tomorrow? Tomorrow, we both hope for good news.”

“This way.”

Someone lifted the heavy flap of canvas that served as a door. A slice of light stabbed into the gloom but as swiftly vanished, to be replaced by yellow lamplight. The two-headed dog in the stall next to his whined and shifted. Selden wondered when the poor beast had last seen daylight, real daylight. The crippled creature had already been in residence when Selden had been acquired. For him, it had been months, perhaps as long as a year, since he had felt the sun’s touch. Daylight was the enemy of mystery. Daylight could reveal that half of the wonders and legends displayed in the tented bazaar’s shoddy stalls were either freaks or fakes. And daylight could reveal that even those with some claim to being genuine were in poor health.

Like him.

The lantern light came closer, the yellow glare making his eyes water. He turned his face away from it and closed his eyes. He didn’t get up. He knew the exact length of the chains attached to his ankles, and he had tried his strength against theirs when they had first brought him here. They had grown no weaker, but he had. He lay as he was and waited for the visitors to pass. But they halted in front of his stall.

“That’s him? I thought he would be big! He’s no bigger than an ordinary man.”

“He’s tall. You don’t notice it so much when he’s curled up like that.”

“I can hardly see him, back in that corner. Can we go in?”

“You don’t want to go inside the reach of his chain.”

Silence fell, and then the men spoke in low voices. Selden didn’t move. That they were discussing him didn’t interest him in the least. He’d lost the ability to feel embarrassed or even humiliated. He still missed clothing, badly, but mainly because he was cold. Sometimes, between shows, they would toss him a blanket, but as often as not they forgot. Few of those who tended him spoke his language, so begging for one did him no good. Slowly it came to his feverish brain that it was unusual that the two men discussing him were speaking a language he knew. Chalcedean. His father’s tongue, learned in a failed effort to impress his father. He did not move or give them any sign that he was aware of them, but began to listen more closely.

“Hey! Hey, you. Dragon boy! Stand up. Give the man a look at you.”

He could ignore them. Then, like as not, they would throw something at him to make him move. Or they would begin to turn the winch that tightened the chain on his ankle. He’d either have to walk to the back wall or be dragged there. His captors feared him and ignored his claims to be human. They always tightened his chain when they came in to rake out the straw that covered the floor of his stall. He sighed and uncoiled his body and came slowly to his feet.

One of the men gasped. “He is tall! Look at the length of his legs! Does he have a tail?”

“No. No tail. But he’s scaled all over. Glitters like diamonds if you take him out in the daylight.”

“So bring him out. Let me see him in the light.”

“No. He doesn’t like it.”

“Liar.” Selden spoke clearly. The lantern was blinding him, but he spoke to the second of the two shapes he could discern. “He doesn’t want you to see that I’m sick. He doesn’t want you to see that I’m breaking out in sores, that my ankle is ulcerated from this chain. Most of all, he doesn’t want you to see that I’m just as human as you are.”

“He talks!” The man sounded more impressed than dismayed.

“That he does. But you are wiser not to listen to anything he says. He is part dragon, and all know that a dragon can make a man believe anything.”

“I am not part dragon! I am a man, like you, changed by the favor of a dragon.” Selden tried to put force behind his shout, but he had no strength.

“You see how he lies. We do not answer him. To let him engage you in conversation is to fall to his wiles. Doubtless that was how his mother was seduced by a dragon.” The man cleared his throat. “So. You have seen him. My master is reluctant to sell him but says he will listen to your offer, since you have come so far.”