Blood of Dragons

Hest scowled, making the sailor grin as he added, ‘See, it’s our city, so we get to make the rules. And we decided that none of you are going to go walking about on your own. So. Here you’ll stay, unless one of us thinks it’s a good idea to take you for a stroll. Somehow I doubt that will happen. So relax. You’re not suffering. You’re warm, you got food. You can go take another bath if you want. That’s fine. You can go up to the tower and look out of the window. That’s allowed. But you’re not leaving this building alone until we load you up on the boat to take you downriver. That’s one thing everyone agreed on.’ He shrugged. ‘Find someone willing to trust you, and you can take a walk outside with him. Some of the others have. But you don’t get to go anywhere alone.’

‘You’re not an Elderling. What right do you have to the city? What right do you have to a vote on what becomes of us?’ Hest raised his voice, hoping that some of the others might take up his cause. No one did. The Jamaillian merchants had begged paper and ink from Alise, and were attempting to draw up some sort of a trade agreement, as if they could just bypass Bingtown’s and Trehaug’s Traders’ Councils. Fools. Trader Candral continued to stare morosely into the distance. He’d already written his confession and handed it over to the river captain. He was probably imagining what would become of him when he returned to Cassarick. His face was still bruised from the drubbing the sailors and Traders had given him on the journey here. The rowing slaves seemed to be enjoying idleness, warmth and food. The Chalcedeans were watching the altercation but seemed unwilling to be associated with his cause. Cowards. No allies there at all.

‘Some might say I’ve no right to a vote here,’ the sailor conceded. ‘Except that everyone else from the Expedition agreed that I did. So I cast my vote along with the others. You might be a bit nicer to me. I voted that we shouldn’t let the dragons eat any of you. Might start a real bad habit, was my thought. Though when I’m dead, I’ve decided, it’s fine with me if they eat me, and remember everything I’ve ever seen or done. Spit’s the one I’d choose to eat me. That mean little devil is full of spite and vinegar. I’m betting he’ll outlive all those other bigger dragons.’

Hest shook his head in disgust and turned away. There were two doors out of the gathering hall, and they’d put a guard on each of them. Earlier today, one had been a skinny girl with pink scaling and blonde hair. He’d tried to charm her into letting him take a stroll around the square, just to stretch his legs. She looked at him and replied not a word. When he’d tried to just walk past her, she hadn’t blocked him. She’d only said, ‘My dragon is the large gold one sleeping in the sun on the steps.’ Hest hadn’t challenged her after that.

‘Glad to see you. Boring way to waste the first nice day we’ve had!’ The sailor’s words weren’t for him. The youngster who came to take the sailor’s place nodded. ‘Wind off the hills today, Hennesey. You can smell spring in the air.’ His words were cheery but his tone was dispirited. The sailor slapped him on the shoulder as he walked by him.

‘Davvie, lad, it will all come right. Sometimes you just have to wait a while for the right one to come along.’ He did a ridiculous little sideways skip and added blithely, ‘Finally happened for me!’

‘Right,’ the lad said, and sat down on the bench the sailor had just vacated. The new guard heaved a sigh and his shoulders settled into a slump. He was not as heavily scaled as the others. Cobalt outlined his brows and went in a stripe down his nose. His Elderling cloak was scarlet, as were his boots. His tunic and close-fitting leggings were black. The weave was so fine it was imperceptible. Hest had never seen the like. This mere lad wore a fortune on his back. Did he know it? Would he part with any of it?

Hest studied him for a moment, and then looked at the other new guard at the far door. There were two of them, actually, sitting on a bench together with the ease of long familiarity. Both were orange-scaled Elderlings, dressed all in gleaming black. One took a dice cup and dice from his pocket. The other one nodded. The game began.

Hest ventured closer to his morose gaoler. ‘Nice day outside?’

Davvie looked at Hest suspiciously for a moment, and then responded. ‘Nice enough. Weather’s changing. Lots of good news for us.’

Hest cocked his head at the young man and ventured a sympathetic smile. ‘You don’t look as if the good news did much for you.’

‘It’s not going to help me with my problem,’ he said. He looked away from Hest.

‘Too bad.’ Hest seated himself on the other end of the guard’s bench. The boy turned and glared at him. Yes, boy, he decided, though it was hard to read age through his scaling.

‘I know who you are.’ He stated it flatly.

‘Do you really?’ This was intriguing.