'There may be a better use for his body,' he said, and waited. Thymara held her breath. What was he talking about? He looked around at all of them, daring himself to speak. 'There has been talk of offers for—'

'Dragon flesh belongs to dragons.' It was not a human who spoke. Despite his great size, the golden dragon could move quietly. He towered above them, his head lifted high to look down on Greft. The keepers were parting to let him advance as if they were reeds giving way to the river's flow. Mercor strode majestically past them. He looked, Thymara thought, magnificent. Since their journey had begun, he had put on weight and muscle. He was beginning to look the way a dragon was supposed to look. With the muscling, his legs looked more proportionate. His tail seemed to have grown. Only his broken-kite wings betrayed him. They were still too small and frail-looking to lift even a part of him.

He bent his long neck to sniff at the copper dragon's body. Then he swivelled his head to stare at Greft. 'She's not dead,' he told him coldly. 'It's a bit early to plan to sell her flesh.'

'She?' Tats asked in consternation.

'Sell her flesh?' Rapskal sounded horrified.

But Mercor didn't reply to either comment or the murmur of  words among the keepers thar followed them. He had lowered his head to sniff again at the copper. He nudged her hard. She did not respond. As the dragon slowly swung his head to study all the keepers, his scales flashed in the sun. His eyes, gleaming black, were unreadable to Thymara. 'Sylve. Stay beside me. The rest of you, go away. This does not concern you. It does not concern humans at all.'

Thymara could almost see the girl drawn to the dragon. His voice was compelling, deep as darkness and rich as cream. Sylve walked to him and leaned against him as if taking comfort and strength from him. She spoke shyly. 'May Tats and Thymara stay? They have helped me care for Copper.'

'And me,' Rapskal announced, reckless as ever. T should stay, too. I'm their friend.'

'Not now,' the dragon announced with finality. 'There is nothing for them to do here. You stay to be with me. I'll watch over this dragon.'

There was a subtle force to his words; Thymara felt not just dismissed but pushed, as if she were a child being ushered out of a sick room. Without deciding to do so, she turned and found herself walking away. T have to check on Skymaw,' she explained to Tats, as if to excuse her departure.

'I felt it, too,' he whispered.

'Sintara.' Behind her, Mercor spoke the name. A shiver ran down Thymara's spine, a sudden knowing she couldn't deny. His rich voice vibrated through her. 'The dragon you serve is named Sintara. I know her true name and I know she owes it to you. So have it.'

Thymara had halted in her tracks. Beside her, Tats paused, looking at her with a puzzled face. She felt as if her ears were blocked, her eyes dimmed. A storm raged somewhere, just beyond her senses. Sintara was not pleased with what Mercor had done, and she was letting him know it.

Mercor laughed humourlessly. 'You can't have it both ways, Sintara. The rest of us realized that right away. None of us have held back our names, save those poor souls who cannot remember that they have proper dragon names.'

Rash as always, Rapskal spoke into the pause. 'Does Heeby have a dragon name?'

To Thymara's surprise, the great gold dragon took the boy's query seriously. 'Heeby is now Heeby. She has made the name hers as you gave it to her. It remains to see if she will grow into it, or find herself limited by it.'

Thymara desperately wanted to ask about the injured silver dragon, but did not have the courage. Sometimes, she reflected, it might be easier to be Rapskal, without the sense to be frightened of anything.

Mercor had lowered his nose to the copper dragon. He gave her a nudge, then a stronger push. The copper didn't move. Mercor lifted his head and regarded the fallen dragon with his bright black eyes. 'We will have to remain here until she either rises or dies,' he announced. He looked around himself gravely and let his gaze stop on Greft. 'Leave her alone here. I will be back shortly.' Then, 'Come, Sylve,' he beckoned her, and strode off toward the water. His heavy clawed feet left deep tracks. Soon water would seep up to fill them.

Morning had come and grown strong. Alise could tell by the squares of sunlight that fell in her small chamber from the tiny windows set high in the wall. She tried again to muster her courage to leave her room, and once again sat down at her little desk instead. She had to go outside soon. She was hungry and thirsty and she needed to empty her chamber pot. Instead, she folded her arms on the desk in front of her and then rested her forehead on them. She stared into the small darkness her arms enclosed. 'What am I going to do?' she asked herself. No easy answer came to her. Outside, the deckhands would soon be casting loose and pushing the barge off the muddy bank. Doubtless by now the dragons had set out and their keepers in their flotilla of small boats would be following. Another day of travel up the river awaited her. Ahead of her were vistas of open river, tall trees and the slice of sky overhead that sometimes seemed like a different sort of river. Every day was a new adventure for her. There would be new flowers perfumed with unfamiliar fragrances, strange animals that came down to the river's edge or rose from its depths to leap glittering into the sunlight. Never had she imagined that the Rain Wilds would be so rich with life. When she had heard of the river and how it could sometimes run white with acid, she had expected the lands to either side of it to be deserted wastelands. On the contrary, she found herself encountering all sorts of trees, plants and animals that she had never imagined existed. The fish and creatures in the water that had adapted to its varying acidity astounded her. Of the birds alone, there were hundreds. And by sight or song, Leftrin seemed to know them all . . .

And again, her errant thoughts had circled back to him, to the very man who was at the root of her all problems.

No. That wasn't fair. She couldn't blame him. It was her own fault she was so taken with him. Oh, she knew he was infatuated with her; he was an honest soul. He hid nothing from her. His affection for her and interest in her were conveyed in every glance, in every word he spoke to her. An accidental touch of his hand against hers was like a leap of lightning from earth to sky. Feelings, physical sensations she had thought long vanished from her life, were awakening violently and rolling through her like ground-shaking thunder.

Last night, when he had been showing her how to refasten the bowline, she had feigned incompetence at the simple knot. It was a schoolgirl's trick, but the poor honest man had been completely deceived. He'd stood behind her, with her in the circle of his arms and taken her hands in his to guide them through the easy motions. Heat had flushed through her and her knees had actually trembled at his closeness. A wave of dizziness had washed through her; she had wanted to collapse to the deck and pull him down on top of her. She'd gone still in his loose embrace, praying to every god she'd ever heard of that he would know what she so hotly desired and act on it. This, this was what she was supposed to feel about the man she was joined to, and had never felt at all!

'Do you understand it now?' he'd asked her huskily. His hands on hers pulled the knot firm.

'I do,' she'd replied. 'I understand it completely now.' She hadn't been speaking of knots at all. She'd dared herself to take half a step backwards and press her body to his. She dared herself to turn in the circle of his arms and look up into his whiskery beloved face. Cowardice paralysed her. She could not even form words. For a time that was infinitely brief and forever, he stood there, enclosing her in a warm, safe place. All around her, the night sounds of the Rain Wilds made a soft music of water, bird and insect calls. She could smell him, a male musky smell, 'sweaty' as Sedric would have mocked it, but incredibly masculine and attractive to her. Enclosed by his embrace, she felt a part of his world. The deck under her feet, the railing of the ship, the night sky above her and the man at her back connected her to something big and wonderful, something that was untamed and yet home to her.