Robin Hobb - Blood of Dragons

Malta sat on a crate that Reyn had carried there for her, her baby in her arms. Her eyes were fixed on the crumbled wall that surrounded the well. Her Elderling robes gleamed in the sun, and a golden scarf swathed her head. Spring sunlight glittered on the fine scaling of her perfect features. ‘Dignity,’ he thought as he looked at her. Dignity, no matter what. Reyn stood beside her, tall and grave, and the three together were like a sculpture of royalty.

Or misery, when one looked at their faces. The child was crying, a thin breathless wailing that made Leftrin want to cover his ears or run away. Neither parent seemed to hear it any more. Malta did not rock Phron or murmur comforting words. She endured, as did her mate. They waited in a silence beyond words, their desperate hope as thin and sharp as a knife blade. The well would yield Silver and somehow one of the dragons could tell them how to use it to heal the baby. The child wailed on and on, a sound that peeled calm from Leftrin’s mind. Soon, it will stop. He will be exhausted , he thought to himself. Or dead , was the darker thought that came to him. The child was so emaciated now that he did not want to look at him. Scales were slipping from his greyish skin; his small tuft of pale hair was dry and bristly on his head. Leftrin knew that if the well yielded Silver, the parents would risk touching him with it. They had no other course. For a long moment, he tried to imagine what they must feel, but could not. Or perhaps dared not.

‘Leftrin.’

She spoke his name breathlessly, and the weakness in her voice jerked his eyes to her. Alise appeared at the bend of a narrow street, walking slowly toward them as if the weight of her Elderling cloak were almost too heavy to bear. ‘What is wrong with her?’ Tats muttered, and Harrikin quietly replied, ‘She looks drunk. Or drugged.’

Leftrin spared a moment to shoot them a warning look, and then hastened toward Alise.

‘She looks very sick,’ Sylve suggested.

Leftrin broke into a run with Sedric and Sylve not far behind him. Up close, Alise looked more haggard than Leftrin had ever seen her. Her face was slack and heavy and his heart sank as he gathered her into his embrace. She sagged against him.

‘I found nothing.’ She spoke the words loud and clear but there was little life in her voice. She leaned into him and looked past his shoulder at Malta. Her voice had the quaver of an old, old woman. ‘My dear, I tried and I tried. Everywhere. I have spent the night listening to stone, touching anywhere that I thought they might have stored it. I feel I have lived a hundred lives since last I spoke to you. Many things I have learned, but of how pure Silver might be used to heal, of how to touch Silver and not die, I have found nothing.’

Alise swayed in Leftrin’s arms and he tightened his embrace to keep her from falling. ‘Alise, I thought you had gone apart to take some rest! How could you risk yourself so? We are not Elderlings, to fearlessly touch the stones!’

‘How could I not?’ she asked him faintly. ‘How could I not?’ She laughed brokenly. ‘The music, Leftrin. There was music, in one place, and dancing. I wanted to forget what I came for and just dance. Then I thought of you and I wished you were with me …’ Her voice trailed away.

He tipped her face up to look into her eyes. ‘Alise?’ he begged. ‘Alise?’ Her gaze shifted to meet his. She was still there. A bit of life came back into her face. Sedric hovered nearby, with Sylve at his side. He knew they wanted to help but he could not surrender her to them. He suddenly saw them as Elderlings, impossibly different from himself and the woman he held in his arms. He spoke hoarsely by her ear. ‘Why did you do it? It’s dangerous. You know it is! Regardless of what Rapskal may say or the others do, we know what memory-stone can do to us. Many of the Rain Wild folk have drowned in memories. Perhaps Elderlings can use such stones without threat, but we cannot. I know you wish to know all about the city, but touching the stone is something you must leave to the others. What could make you do such a foolish thing?’

‘It wasn’t for the city,’ she said. He felt her pull herself together. She stood on her own now, but chose not to leave the circle of his arms. ‘Leftrin. It’s about the baby, little Phron. And Bellin’s babies, never born. About—’ She paused and took a long breath, then plunged into it. ‘About your baby that I would want to bear some day. You heard what Mercor has told us. If we live near the dragons and the Elderlings, then we will change also. Skelly will change. Our children will continue to be born Changed, and for those of us not Elderlings with dragons, they will die young. As we will. If there is another way, we have to discover it, my dear. No matter the cost.’

Her words drenched and drowned him like a flash flood. He hugged her close to him, his mind whirling with possibilities that had never seemed quite real to him before. ‘I’ll clear the well,’ he promised her. ‘I’ll get that bucket up and out of the way. It’s as much as I can say for certain, but I’ll do it.’

‘It’s the missing piece,’ she said into his chest. ‘Of that I am certain. Silver is what is needed. You will be restoring full magic to the Elderlings.’

Now, there was a frightening thought. He looked around at the keepers, marking how they had drawn near to hear her words. All these youngsters with magic. What would they do with it? Use it wisely? He shook his head at such a foolish hope.

Malta had stood and Reyn had trailed her as she approached them. Her lips were chewed and chapped, her hair like straw. The babe in her arms mewed endlessly. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘For all the ways you have tried to help us, thank you.’ Leftrin did not doubt her sincerity, but pure weariness and unadulterated sorrow sucked the heart from her words. She might have been thanking Alise for a cup of tea instead of thanking her for risking her sanity.

Leftrin stepped back, holding Alise by the shoulders. ‘Bellin!’ he barked suddenly. ‘Take her down to the ship. Get a hot meal into her and see that she goes to sleep in my stateroom. I want her out of the city for a night at least.’ As Bellin approached, Leftrin looked at the well with new eyes. ‘I’ll clear it,’ he promised her again.

Alise muttered a protest, but did not resist as the deckhand took her arm and led her away. As they walked away from him, Leftrin heard Bellin’s husky words. ‘Oh, Alise. If only it can be. If only it can be.’

The ‘fishing’ consumed the rest of the day. The line was long and the ghost-light of the jewellery barely enough to see anything by. Sedric took a fruitless turn at the effort. A hundred times, a thousand times, the hook slid past the bucket’s handle without catching on it. Keepers and crewmen, all took turns. All failed. When Sylve finally hooked it, she gave a single whoop of excitement.

‘Keep it taut!’ Carson barked at her, but he grinned as he said it. Everyone gathered in a circle around her held their breaths. The Elderling girl grasped the line firmly, holding the tension while Carson slowly took up the slack on the other side of the pulley. ‘Got it,’ he told her, and very slowly she let go of the rope. She backed away from the well’s edge and then stood up, arching her back. Lecter came without asking to take up the line behind Carson. ‘Slow and steady,’ Carson told him, and he nodded.

All saw the strain as the two men pulled. The rope creaked, and Leftrin came to add his strength. ‘Stuck in the dried muck,’ Carson guessed breathlessly and Leftrin grunted in agreement. The rope creaked more loudly and then Sylve gave a small shriek as all three men abruptly stumbled back.