Robin Hobb - Blood of Dragons

Tats hesitated, looked at Thymara and clasped her hand tightly for a moment before he let go of it. ‘I can’t let you go alone, my friend. I’ll go with you.’

The dragon doors to the baths swung open and Kalo sauntered out. He looked fresh from the baths, but a strand of gut still dangled from the side of his mouth. Thymara reflected that for all their superior claims, not one of the dragons could groom well without a keeper’s aid.

‘Davvie!’ the immense blue-black dragon bellowed. ‘Davvie, fetch harness for me. We fly tomorrow at dawn.’

Davvie stepped forward, eluding Carson’s reaching hand. His eyes were wide but he did not seem altogether unwilling as he objected, ‘Kalo, we cannot be ready that fast. There are weapons to repair, and so much to learn.’

The dragon snorted disdainfully. ‘Begin now and you will be ready when I summon you. Those who come with us will learn on the way. IceFyre has drunk from the Silver. He is recovering swiftly. Once he has hunted and eaten, we will take vengeance to the Duke of Chalced. I fly with him. Ready yourself or do not, as you please. This is dragons’ business. We fly at dawn.’

Davvie stared at him. ‘I thought you were going hunting after you bathed …’ he objected weakly.

‘I am fed well enough for now. To the armoury and quickly. I wish to be first to make a choice of the colours there.’ With a fine disregard for his keeper, Kalo strode away.

Sintara watched the others as IceFyre drank from the Silver well. Tintaglia eyed the black dragon speculatively, as if measuring him against the other males. He was definitely larger than the others but she knew that was not the best criterion in selecting a mate. She lifted her eyes and looked back toward the baths, watching for Kalo. Sintara copied the older female and compared him to Sestican and then looked at Mercor. High summer was the time for mating, but it was never too soon to assess one’s choices.

IceFyre lifted his head at last. His muzzle dripped Silver in languid drops. He stepped away from the well, stretched and then sprawled out on the paving stones. He curled his head and his tail toward the centre of his body, and was abruptly asleep. Mercor advanced a step toward him and sniffed the air around him. ‘He was sickened but he will recover, and quickly,’ the golden dragon announced.

He looked around at the others. Sintara tried to remember the last time they had all gathered in a group. Even when they had been on the other side of the river, they had seldom convened. Cassarick, she thought. Back in the days before we were true dragons. When we were caught at the edge of the river, living in mud, feeding on carrion. Then Mercor had rallied them and together they had concocted the plan that would persuade the humans to help them find Kelsingra. They had thought they were lying when they hinted at a storehouse of Elderling wealth in Kelsingra. Little had they realized that, to humans, the whole city was a vast treasure.

She thought of the days and distance they had travelled, the changes they had undergone. They had made their keepers into Elderlings, learned to feed themselves, to fly and to hunt. They had become dragons. And tomorrow?

‘We go to battle against humans,’ Mercor said gravely. ‘Truly, there is no choice.’ He looked at Tintaglia. ‘You have done this before?’

She gazed at him oddly. ‘I have, and in my own life. But dragons have all done this before and more than once. You have no memories of this?’

Sintara kept silent. She possessed no such memories. Mercor was thoughtful for a time, his eyes whirling as if he spun his way back through years and lives. ‘A few,’ he conceded. ‘But our memories are incomplete. We were too short a time in our cases, and you were but one dragon spread among many serpents when you helped us to spin them. You did what you could, but we are not dragons as you and IceFyre are. And our Elderlings are not as you recall them. They are newly made, and still discovering the memories of those who went before them. They will not know how to fight, or how to aid us in fighting.’ He looked at her gravely and asked, ‘How dangerous is it to make war on humans? To ourselves and to our keepers?’

The large blue queen looked astonished that he would ask such a question. ‘We cannot worry about that!’ she snapped. ‘Humans have risen against us. You saw my wounds! I nearly died of them. IceFyre was poisoned, but even before that, humans had attacked him, with nets and spears. They do not fear us as they should, and while they do not fear, they do not respect us. I have travelled far and had much to do with humans. Some cannot understand us at all when we try to speak to them; they think us dumb beasts, no different from a lion or a wolf. Or a cow, awaiting slaughter. Others are so overwhelmed at the sight of us that they are idiotic in their worship. You have been fortunate in the ones they chose to send with you when you left Cassarick. The changes they had already undergone seem to have readied them to be fit companions to you.

‘But of the humans you will encounter where we must go? They are nothing like the humans you have known. They will try to kill you. They will not greet you or speak to you first. They will feel no wonder, but only the awe that is based on terror. Fear will motivate them and killing you is all they will think of. And you can be killed by them. Do not think of them as puny or stupid. They are sly and treacherous, and they will kill you if they can.’ Her gaze raked over the assembled dragons as if they opposed her. Her own words were enflaming her anger.

‘You can stay here and hide from them. But the longer you wait before you make them recall their proper place in the world, the more resistance they will give you when you find you must defend yourselves. They will discover the places that we must use, the nesting beach, and the clay banks that we must use to spin our cases to change from serpent to dragon. They will find them and they will fortify them against us. Do you want to wait until you have to fight for them? Wait until they come in and devastate our nests and the unhatched young?’ Her colours had brightened and Sintara could see her poison glands working.

Mercor spoke his question calmly. ‘Our keepers. Our Elderlings. If we take them into battle with us, the other humans will try to kill them, also?’

Tintaglia looked amazed at the stupidity of Mercor’s question. ‘Of course they will! And they will most likely shoot first at them. Your Elderlings will be more vulnerable to their weapons, too, as well as to our own venom. Our attack must be coordinated. One dragon attacking a city can do as it pleases. But when we fly to war together, then we must consider the wind, and what targets we wish to destroy, and how to keep venom from drifting onto another dragon or his Elderling. So. If you bear your keepers into battle, you must have a care for them, if you wish them to survive.’ She paused as if thinking. ‘But they are useful to have in a battle. If you are caught on the ground, they will fight alongside you. When your eyes are fixed on one enemy, they can spy another one behind you and give warning. They can only slay one at a time, but they are useful.’ She paused and then added, ‘Sometimes it is kinder to take them with you than to leave them alone. If you do not return, they will mourn and then die anyway.’ She walked forward to the Silver well. As she bent her head to drink, she added, ‘It is a decision all dragons must make.’

‘They fly at dawn,’ Leftrin told her. He and Alise were leaning on Tarman’s rail, drinking tea and looking across the ever-restless river. ‘And I think we should leave tomorrow, too.’

She looked at him in astonishment. ‘Tomorrow?’

He nodded. ‘My dear, Reyn has sent his last bird, but news such as this cannot depend on those little wings. Nor do I think it was well trained, for when he set it free, it seemed to fly off randomly. No. When the dragons take flight, Tarman must leave as well. The dragons all say it is dragon business, but Chalced may very well view it as a strike by Bingtown and the Rain Wilds. We need to get to Cassarick and warn them, so they can send on word from there. The Traders must be given the chance to prepare for whatever may come.’