Blood of Dragons

He had sought a rented room only for the privacy it would afford him for his meeting. The Chalcedean villain back in Bingtown had emphasized, over and over, that he must be more than discreet in these meetings and that the ‘message’ must be delivered in private. The process for setting up the meeting had certainly been ridiculous in the number of steps it required, for it had involved leaving a written message at an inn in Trehaug, waiting for a response and then obediently visiting a certain lift operator in the same city to ask for a recommendation for a room here in Cassarick. He had assumed the fellow would have had the sense to pick a decent place. Instead, he had been directed here. His only piece of good fortune had been that, by great coincidence, the impervious boat was also moving to Cassarick on the same day. He had not had to completely vacate his cabin there.

He set down his modest pack and watched Redding lower his larger case to the floor. His travelling companion straightened up with a martyred groan. ‘Well. Here we are. Now what? Are you ready to share a bit more with me about this mysterious trading partner of yours and the reason for his need for absolute confidentiality?’

It had not suited Hest to betray too much of his mission to Redding. He had explained their journey as a trading trip with the unfortunate extra mission of resolving the situation of his vanished wife. He had not mentioned Sedric’s name; Redding was irrationally jealous of the man. There was no sense in provoking him with it right now; he’d save it until such an outburst would be more amusing and to his advantage. Jealousy truly spurred Redding’s efforts to be entertaining.

Of the Chalcedean blackguard, he had said nothing, and let Redding assume that all their furtive messages and odd contacts had to do with extremely valuable Elderling merchandise. The mystery had excited Redding and it had been enjoyable to thwart his efforts at questioning him. Nor had Hest mentioned the possibility that, if his mission succeeded perfectly, he’d be establishing a rather large claim to Kelsingra. No sense in stimulating the little man’s greed too much. He’d reveal all at the proper moment, creating a tale of Trader cleverness that Redding would bark and bray all over Bingtown.

Since Hest had arrived in the Rain Wilds every bit of news he had heard had convinced him that such a Kelsingra claim would mean wealth beyond imagining. Trehaug had been buzzing with second-hand rumours about Leftrin’s visit and precipitous departure. There were rumours that the expedition had formed an alliance with the Khuprus family; certainly the captain of the Tarman had freely relied on their credit to restock his ship. Leftrin had flung accusations of treason and broken contracts, and then fled Cassarick without his money. That made no sense. Unless, of course, there was so much money to be made from another trip up the river that his pay from the Council no longer mattered to him. Now there was a thought.

Most of the small vessels that had tried to follow the Tarman had since returned, but the one ship, twin to the one that Hest had travelled on, had not come back. Sunk in the river or still in pursuit, he wondered. If that ship could follow and survive the trip, then so could the vessel he had come on. He wondered how much it would cost him to hire it for a journey to Kelsingra. In Bingtown, the captain had been surly and secretive, as if he did not even want to sell Hest passage to Trehaug. Hest had had to bundle Redding aboard at the last minute when the captain was so eager to leave that Hest could push the issue of an extra passenger through. The captain might not be open to a trip farther up the river. But the captain of a ship was often not the owner. Perhaps the owners would be bold enough to speculate, perhaps to make the voyage for an offer of one tenth of whatever share in the city it ultimately gained for Hest?

So far he had not mentioned his possible claim to anyone. Only two Traders had dared to ask him if his visit to the Rain Wilds was in connection with his vanished wife. He’d stared them down. No sense in saying anything to anyone that might prompt them to come sniffing after the fortune that was rightfully his. Then he pushed that consideration from his mind. Much as he longed to distract himself from the business at hand, he knew he must finish it first before pursuing his own interest. Finish it and be done with the damned Chalcedean.