Robin Hobb - Blood of Dragons

Alise broke in with, ‘We heard an extraordinary rumour that the new duchess was actually negotiating a truce between the Chalced States and the Six Duchies region of Shoaks.’

‘Preposterous,’ Althea said. ‘No one remembers a time when those two countries weren’t warring.’

‘So preposterous, it’s probably true,’ Brashen offered. All of them fell silent for a moment, considering the changes.

‘Selden,’ Althea abruptly said. She looked directly at Alise. ‘How is he? Really?’

Alise looked for a long moment at Leftrin, decided that they were owed honesty, and met Althea’s gaze. ‘You are his family. You need to know. He is scarred, and not just physically. The Duke was literally devouring him. Sucking the blood right out of his veins. The marks on his arms were still visible weeks after Tintaglia brought him back to Kelsingra. When first I saw him, I could not believe he was standing upright by himself; he was so thin and his face so drawn.’

Althea went pale. ‘We’d heard rumours. Sweet Sa. Little Selden. I think of him, and I see him always as a noisy little fellow of seven or eight. But we heard other rumours, ones that link him with the Duchess of Chalced? They made no sense to us!’

‘They were prisoners together,’ Alise confirmed. ‘And they seem to have formed an attachment. More than that, I don’t know, so I won’t gossip. Except to say that I know some have been critical that the dragons and Kelsingra have backed the young Duchess of Chalced in taking over rule of her country. They say we should have made Chalced completely subservient. But if not for the efforts of the Duchess Chassim, Selden would have died there. From what he tells us, her imprisonment was worse than his and for years longer. Given all she did for him, as an Elderling and as Tintaglia’s Singer, those who negotiated the terms felt that putting her in power would be the swiftest path to peace in the region.’

Brashen scratched his chin and then smiled at Althea. ‘Changing history seems to run in your family. First Wintrow and Malta, now Selden.’ He took a sip of his tea.

Paragon spoke up, his voice wry. ‘So fortunate for you that you married the sane, responsible female in the family.’

Brashen choked. Althea slapped him on the back, perhaps a trifle harder than she needed to. She spoke through his choking laughter. ‘But Selden is recovering?’

‘Quite remarkably, given all he endured, and not just at the hands of the Duke of Chalced. Tintaglia has hinted that some of his illness was simply due to his unsupervised growth. He was young when she Changed him, and away for quite a time, so not all was right inside his body—’

‘That is dragons’ business!’ Paragon interrupted indignantly.

‘That is family business. Selden is my nephew, Paragon, as well as Tintaglia’s Elderling. I have a right to know how he progresses, and therefore, so do you! And you should care as much as I do.’

The rebuke from Althea subdued the ship. Paragon’s face grew thoughtful. He lowered his voice. ‘Did not they think to treat him with Silver?’

Alise stared at him for a moment, shocked that he would speak such a secret aloud. Then she decided that if it was dragons’ business, then he had the right to know the whole of it. ‘The knowledge of how to do that is lost to us,’ Alise told him. ‘But his dragon oversees him daily. His outer injuries have healed. He walks among us, and eats well, and sings to Tintaglia once more. And I suspect that you will see him again, down this way. He desires to visit not only the Khuprus family in Trehaug, but also his mother in Bingtown. And eventually to return to Chalced and the Duchess.’

‘I would not allow that, were I Tintaglia,’ Paragon offered.

‘She was instrumental in keeping him alive when her father’s treatment of him would have otherwise killed him. It’s a very long story, Paragon. There is a great deal more than what I have told you.’

‘But tonight, you will return to tell it to us?’ the ship suggested.

Leftrin stood and walked to the side. Alise followed him. He looked down on the deck of his own ship. Hennesey looked up at him unhappily and gestured at the animals penned on the aft deck of the barge. Clef was grinning and describing something to a horrified Skelly. Boy-o sat on Tarman’s railings, swinging his heels and laughing. Leftrin glanced over at Alise. ‘We should get under way. But I think we can stay until morning.’

‘There has to be a better way to house these birds,’ Sedric complained. He ducked as one of the message birds took sudden unreasonable fear and leapt from its perch to flap crazily past his head. It alighted on one of the nesting boxes fastened to the wall.

The structure was one of the smaller, more dilapidated buildings near the river’s edge. Since it was already in poor condition, the keepers had decided that keeping pigeons in it could scarcely do it more harm. Carson scowled at the musty straw, thick with bird droppings, that floored the small house where they had confined their little flock of pigeons. ‘Or a better way to send messages between here and the rest of the world,’ he countered. ‘I think we were too hasty in asking for messenger birds. Especially since none of us know much about them.’ He squinted at the birds. ‘Which one just came in?’

‘They all look alike to me,’ Sedric replied. ‘But … this is the only one with a message tube tied to its leg. Come here, bird. I won’t hurt you. Come here.’

He moved slowly, his reaching hands framing the bird. It rocked from foot to foot on its perch but before it could decide to take flight, Sedric gently closed his hands on it. ‘There. Not so bad, is it? Not so terrible. No one wants to eat you. We just want the message tube.’ He held the struggling bird’s wings smooth to its body, offering it feet-first to Carson.

‘Just a moment, just a moment … this string is so fine. It’s hard to find … ah, there’s the end. And here we have it. You can let him go.’

Sedric held the bird a moment longer, soothing it and smoothing its feathers, before setting it back on its perch. The animal recovered almost immediately, and began greeting his mate with a cooing, bobbing dance. Sedric followed Carson outside into the sunlight.

‘Who’s it from? Leftrin? Are they delayed in Trehaug?’

‘I’m still trying to get it open. Wait a moment. The cap’s off but the little paper won’t come out. Here. You try.’ The hunter passed the small tube to the curious Sedric and smiled as he watched him eagerly tap and shake the tube until the edge of the paper showed.

Sedric coaxed out the tiny roll and opened it. His brows went up in surprise as he read, and then a furrow formed between them. He let the paper coil in his hands.

‘What is it? Bad news?’

Sedric rubbed his face. ‘No. Just a bit of a surprise for me. I recognized the handwriting. It’s a note from Wollom Courser. And it’s actually addressed to me. He’s an old friend from Bingtown. One of Hest’s circle.’

‘Oh?’ Carson’s voice was slightly cooler.

‘They’ve raised a substantial reward for anyone who can send them news of what’s become of Hest. Wollom adds his own plea. Evidently he thinks that perhaps Hest is hiding here with me, avoiding his old life and his family’s disgrace and living well in Kelsingra.’ His gaze met Carson’s.

The big man turned up an empty hand. ‘No one saw him again after that day. I don’t know, Sedric. I’ve wondered about it more than once, but I just don’t know what became of him. We left him there in the tower. You’ve said he wasn’t a hunter or a fisherman. No food has gone missing. No one, keeper or dragon, has seen him. We’ve told them that.’