‘I have told you. There are no others!’ Leftrin tried to put thunder in his voice and failed. Kalo’s head was hovering over the ship, considering the bunched keepers as if he were selecting a ewe from a flock of terrified sheep. How clearly that ancient memory came to Sintara. Those had been good times, of easy feeding on the pasturelands outside Kelsingra. The sheep and cattle had been fattened for them, grained on oats that grew in abundance in the cultivated fields there. And higher up the slopes, in the surrounding hills and mountains, there had been goats, gamey and delicious. For a moment, her thoughts and life were abducted to that other time, to being a dragon that was tended and fed, not by one small human but by a city of Elderlings and the humans who served them.

In the context of those memories, she saw Kalo lower his head. She saw the keepers cringe, just as sheep had once cowered before a dragon. But he swept past them, to Leftrin’s crew and the hunters who stood on the roof of the deckhouse. With his muzzle, he nudged a boy, nearly sending him flying. ‘This one I will have.’

‘No,’ shouted Carson, but before the hunter could speak another word, the youngster shouted, ‘Yes!’ Davvie turned to Carson and spoke quickly and clearly. ‘I want to do this, Uncle.’ He glanced down at the gathered keepers, caught the eye of one of them and grinned. He turned back to Carson. ‘I’ll be Kalo’s keeper.’

‘Why is he choosing you, Davvie?’ Carson demanded.

The dragon responded before the boy could. ‘I’ve seen him walking among us. He hunts well. He doesn’t show fear. I’m taking him.’

‘It will be all right,’ Davvie responded. ‘You’ll see, Uncle. I think it’s the place in the world that I’ve been looking for. I’ll be with friends.’

‘You had rather stay with the dragons and your friends than go where I go?’

Davvie looked at him. ‘I know you, Uncle. You will stay with them, also.’

‘Then he can be my keeper!’ This announcement came from Spit. ‘If Kalo can claim a hunter as his own, then I can take one for myself as well. I take Carson the hunter as my keeper, to tend me and to be changed by me as I require. There, that’s done.’

‘Nothing is done!’ Leftrin roared again, and this time he did manage the thunder. ‘We are not your cattle!’

‘Leftrin. It will be all right.’

Sintara was surprised to hear Carson accede to Spit’s demand. Was it because of the boy? She watched as the hunter glanced once at the boy, but twice at the man at his side, Sedric. Now why was a keeper standing with the hunter? Why was he not with the rest of the keepers? It was a curious thing but not one that she felt she had to decipher. Humans were, after all, only humans. Their intellect was limited by the short span of their years. Perhaps that was why Carson was willing to serve Spit. It was almost certain the dragon would shape him as an Elderling. The man had changed quite a bit already and he was not as young as the other keepers. If Spit wished to have a servant for a reasonable number of years, he would have to change the man just to increase his life span.

Just as she would have to change Thymara. She swung her gaze to stare at her keeper. Yes. What was sensible for Spit was sensible for her as well. She would have to pay attention to the changes in the girl lest they become deadly. And if she was going to have her for longer than an ordinary human’s brief span, then she might as well make her attractive as well as useful. She examined her more closely than she had for days and was almost startled at what she noted. Well, that was unusual, especially for an unguided change. She searched her memories and found no precedents for such an unusual development. Well, the changes had begun; she could shape them but not undo them. The girl would live or not, as humans always did. Thymara was returning her gaze with the same diffidence that she felt for her. Almost that warmed her towards her. The human didn’t wish to cling and hide in her shadow. Good. She had no desire to be encumbered that way.

‘Mercor!’ Leftrin began, but the dragons paid him no attention. It was settled: whatever the human had to say was of little importance.

‘It’s time to leave,’ Mercor announced.

Sintara was not the only dragon who cast a longing glance at the warming place; but once the platform had sensed the dragons’ departure from it, it had ceased to create warmth. It was visible now only as an area of open water in the reed-choked slough. She lifted her head and scanned the area, trying to match it to her dragon-memories of Elderlings and their habitations. But if any of her ancestors had been here, she either did not recall it, or the area had changed so much that it no longer stirred the recollection. A small dread unfolded inside her. What if Kelsingra were equally changed? What if the marvellous city and the rich farmlands that surrounded it were no more?

Mercor seemed to sense her apprehension. ‘Water flows from somewhere and it always flows downhill. If we keep following the current, we will come to higher ground eventually. Somewhere in this world, there must be a place for dragons. We will find it.’

Kalo trumpeted loudly and set out. The other dragons fell in behind him and followed. None of them looked back to see if the barge would follow. It had to. It must.