CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Decisions

For three days, their journey upriver had gone better than Leftrin could ever have hoped. Their start had been a bit rough, true, but things had smoothed out soon enough. The dragons had made their own first kill, and that had certainly wrought a change in the beasts. They were still dependent on what the hunters and their keepers killed for them, but now that the dragons knew that they could kill, they attempted to hunt every day. Their successes were uneven, but any food they caught and killed for themselves lessened the burden on their human companions. Their young keepers praised them lavishly for each kill, and the dragons basked in the adulation until they seemed likely to pop.

He leaned on Tarman's railing, listening to his ship and the river that caressed it. His rough hands cradled a heavy mug of morning tea. From the small sounds his keen ears picked up from Alise's compartment, he knew she was awake and dressing. He would not let his mind dwell on the details of that process. No sense in tormenting himself. Soon enough, he hoped, she would emerge. They were both early risers, and he cherished these dawn moments almost more than he enjoyed their evenings of companionable conversation. Evenings were wonderful, with food and laughter and music, but he always had to share her with the hunters and the ever-present Sedric. When Davvie played his pipes and Carson the harp, she had eyes only for the two hunters. Jess, much to Carson's chagrin, had proven himself to be every bit as good a hunter as Leftrin's old friend. He also, it seemed to Leftrin, had an eye for Alise. The fellow was a wonderful storyteller, for his dour expression concealed an ability to make himself the butt of every tale, and to win laughter from everyone, even sour Sedric. The evenings were made pleasant with song and story, but he had to share Alise's attention.

In the mornings he had her to himself, for his crew had already learned to avoid any but the most pressing of questions during those hours. He took a short breath, sighed and found himself smiling. Truth be told, he even enjoyed the anticipation of waiting for her.

Last night's campsite had not been as wet as the previous ones, and he'd felt no qualms about suggesting that the keepers could sleep ashore with their dragons. In some wild flood rage years ago the river had swept gravel and sand into a compact beach. Tall grass and young trees grew there, creating an unusually sunny woodland for the keepers and their dragons to enjoy. As the years passed, the trees would grow taller until this was just another part of the rain forest. Or, he thought to himself, the next storm flood might sweep it away completely. For now, he looked out on a grassy sward that was just slightly above the level of the river. The dragons sprawled there, sleeping heavily. Their keepers were scattered among them, rolled in their blue blankets. The remnants of last night's driftwood cook-fire sent a thin tendril of bluish smoke toward a deep blue sky. As of yet, none of them was stirring.

Both dragons and keepers had changed mightily in the short time he had known them. The keepers had stopped being a mismatched conglomeration and were starting to form a cohesive community. Most of the time they were exuberant, the boys brash and wild. They splashed one another, challenged each other, laughed and shouted as only boys teetering on the edge of manhood do. Even in the short time of their journey the boys were building muscle from the daily paddling. The girls were less noisy and exhibitionist about the changes they were going through, but the signs were there all the same. The boys vied for their attention, and sometimes the rivalries grew rough indeed. And the girls seemed, like the dragons, to bask in the boys' attention. They preened and flirted, albeit in very different ways.

Sylve was still little more than a child. She'd obviously set her heart on winning Tats' attention. She trailed behind him like a toy on a string. Yesterday, she'd braided flowers into her hair, as if their scarlet glory could hide her pink-scaled scalp. Leftrin gave the young man credit. He was kind to her, but kept her at a proper arm's length, as he should with a girl so young.

In contrast, Jerd seemed to hourly change her mind as to which young man she fancied. Greft courted her in a desultory way. Leftrin had watched him draw his boat alongside hers and endeavour to win her attention with conversation. But during the day's passage Jerd seemed focused not only on making good time to keep up with the dragons that preceded them, but in filling her small boat with as much fish as she could catch. She was dedicated to Veras, grooming her each evening until the small green dragon's gold stippling looked like a sparkling of nuggets on a dark green cloth. In the evenings, when the herders gathered around a riverbank fire, Jerd sat with the other girls and let the young men compete to see who could take the spot next to her. It made Leftrin smile to watch them, even as he wondered uneasily where it might lead.

He had never had much to do with folk born so heavily touched by the Rain Wilds. Most of them were given back to the forest on the day of their birth, for the Rain Wild Traders had long recognized that those who were born so deformed would either break their parents' hearts with their early deaths, or give rise to a second generation of deformed children who never survived. The Rain Wilds were a harsh place. It was better to let go of an infant immediately and try for a new pregnancy than to pour love and food into a child that would never live long enough to carry on the family line. The recent influx of the Tattooed Folk had brought fresh life to the Rain Wilds population, but for decades before that, their birth rates had only marginally exceeded their death rates.

Alise had still not appeared. On the riverbank, Lecter had arisen. Cloaked in his blanket, he'd wandered over to the coals of the fire and was feeding it the ends of last night's wood. A tiny flame leapt up and the boy crouched, holding out his hands to it. Warken came to join him, rubbing his eyes and scratching at his scaled neck. His skin had taken on a coppery glint over the last few days, as if he would complement his red dragon. He greeted Lecter warmly. Lecter said something that made Warken laugh, a hearty boy's laugh that came clearly to Leftrin's ears.

As Leftrin watched the youths who should have been discarded as infants, he almost doubted the wisdom of the old ways. They seemed vigorous enough, if strange to look upon. He wished them well, boys and girls alike, and yet he hoped he would not see romance blossom. Allowing such folk to breed would go against every Rain Wilds tradition. So far, he had seen no indication that any of the girls would allow such a  transgression.  He hoped  it would  remain so, even as he uneasily wondered if he had any responsibility to enforce the Rain Wilds rules against them mating. 'Well, Tarman, no one told me that was part of the contract. I know it's everyone's duty to honour the rules that keep us alive. But my grandpa used to tell me that everyone's job was nobody's job. So maybe I won't be blamed if I don't take that task on.'

There was no response from his ship. He hadn't expected one. The sun was warm and the river gentle here. Tarman seemed to be enjoying the brief respite as much as his captain was. Leftrin glanced again toward Alise's compartment. Patience. Patience. She was a lady, and a lady took her time readying herself every morning before she emerged to face the day. The effect was worth it.

He heard a sound behind him and turned to wish her good morning. The welcoming words died on his lips. Sedric, polished as ever, was pacing quietly over the deck toward him. Leftrin watched him come, caught between envy and loathing. Sedric's hair was impeccably combed, his shirt white, his trousers brushed and his boots clean. He was freshly shaven and a faint spicy scent rode the morning air. He was the worst sort of rival that a man could imagine. Not only was he immaculately groomed every day, his manners were impeccable. Compared to him, Leftrin felt swinish and ignorant. And hence the loathing he felt for him. Whenever they were both in Alise's presence, she must compare the two of them, and Leftrin must always be lacking in her gaze. That alone was enough reason to hate the man. But there was more.