Page 259

The Rain Wild settlement of Trehaug was suspended in the trees along the banks of the Rain Wild River.

From one side of his home, he could look down on the rushing river.

From the other, he could look up through the trees to the old city.

A few lights still burned up there. The work on the excavation and exploration never really ceased.

When one was working in the deepest chambers, it made little difference if it was day or night outside.

It was eternal darkness within the hill.

Just as it was forever black inside the wizardwood coffin in the Crowned Rooster Chamber.

He once more considered telling his mother of these nightmares but he knew how she would react.

She would order the last wizardwood log to be split.

The immense soft body inside would be tumbled out onto the cold stone floor, and the precious wizardwood ‘log’ would be reduced to planks and timbers for a ship.

It was the only substance the Rain Wilders had ever discovered that seemed impervious to the acid water of the river.

Even the trees and bushes that lined the river only survived so long as their bark was intact.

The moment anything scored them, the river began to devour them.

As for the long legged silver birds that fed in the shallows, Reyn had seen even those with knotted sores on their legs.

Only wizardwood seemed to impart protection against the milky water of the Rain Wild River.

And the Khuprus family possessed the last and greatest log.

If he had his way, he would find a way to expose it to sunlight and see what emerged from it.

The log would likely be destroyed in the process.

One rotting old tapestry seemed to show such a hatching.

A flabby white creature reared its head from a soggy wreckage of wizardwood.

It gripped fragments in its jaws as if devouring the remnants of its prison.

Its eyes were savage, and the almost-human creatures witnessing it seemed to be stricken with awe or fear.

Sometimes, when he looked at it, he knew his idea was madness.

Why take a chance on freeing such a frightful being?

But it was the last one of its kind. The last real dragon.

He went back to his bed. He lay down and tried to find some thought that would let him rest but not sleep.

If he slept, the dragon dream would seize him and pull him down once more.

Wearily, he considered Malta. Sometimes when he thought of her, delight and anticipation filled him.

She was so lovely, so spirited, and so fresh.

In her wilfulness, he saw strength unrealized.

He knew what her family thought of her. It was not without reason.

She was stubborn and selfish and not a little spoiled.

She was the kind of woman who would fiercely defend herself.

Whatever she desired, she would pursue single-mindedly.

If he could win her loyalty to himself, then she would be perfect.

Like his mother, she would protect and guide her children, holding fast to wealth and power for them, long after Reyn himself was in his grave.

Others would say his wife was ruthless and amoral in defence of her family. But they would say it with envy.

If he could win her over to him. There was the rub.

When he had left Bingtown, he had been certain of his victory.

But she had not used the dream-box to contact him.

He had had one correctly worded note since he’d last seen her.

That was all. He rolled over disconsolately and closed his eyes. He drifted down to sleep and a dream.

‘Reyn. Reyn, you have to help me.’

‘I can’t,’ he groaned.

The darkness parted and Malta came towards him.

She was ethereally beautiful. Her white nightdress blew in an otherworldly wind.

Her dark hair flowed with the night, and her eyes were full of its mystery.

She walked alone in the perfect blackness.

He knew what that meant. She had come seeking him.

She had set no stage, composed no fantasy.

She had lain down to dream, thinking only of him.

‘Reyn?’ She called again. ‘Where are you? I need you.’

He composed himself, then entered the dream. ‘I’m here,’ he said softly, not wishing to startle her. She turned to him and her eyes swept up and down his dream self.

‘You were not veiled, last time,’ she protested.

He smiled to himself. He had chosen a realistic representation of himself, soberly clothed, veiled and gloved.

He suspected that the nightgown she wore was what she truly had on tonight.

He reminded himself of how young she was.

He would not take advantage of her. Perhaps she did not completely understand the power of the dream-box.

‘Last time, you brought many ideas to our dream. As did I. We let them mingle and lived what followed. Tonight, we bring only ourselves. And whatever else we wish.’ He lifted an arm, and swept it across the darkness.

A landscape unfurled in its wake. It was one of his favourite ancient tapestries.

Starkly black leafless trees offered globes of gleaming yellow fruit.

A silver path wound between the trees, then ran off to a fortress in the distance.

The floor of the forest was thickly mossed.

A fox with a rabbit in his jaws peered at them from a bramble.

A couple, too tall to be completely human, he with copper hair, her with gold, embraced in the foreground.

His body pressed hers against the black bole of a tree.

Reyn had visualized them as frozen in time, but the woman suddenly took a sighing breath and turned her head to accept the man’s kiss more deeply.

He smiled to himself. She learned to play so quickly, this Malta.

Or did she even know she had done it? She broke her eyes away from the ardent couple. She stepped closer to him and lowered her voice as if fearful of disturbing the phantoms. ‘Reyn, I need your help.’

He had thought that distressed plea had been a shadow of his earlier dragon dream. ‘What is wrong?’

She glanced over her shoulder at the ardent couple.

The man’s hand moved slowly to the throat of the woman’s robe.

Malta snatched her eyes away. He could feel her focus herself on him.

‘Everything that could be wrong is wrong. Pirates have captured our family ship. The pirate who has the ship has a reputation of killing all crewmembers on the prizes he takes. If my father still lives, we hope to ransom him. But we have little enough money as it is. If our creditors discover we have lost our liveship, they will not lend us more. More likely they will demand swifter repayment of what we already owe.’ Her eyes wandered unwillingly back to the man and woman.

Their love play was becoming more intimate. It seemed to distract and agitate her.

Congratulating himself on his self-control, Reyn took her unresisting hand. He willed another path through the forest. They walked slowly along it as he led her away from the amorous duo. ‘What do you want me to do?’

‘Kiss me.’ The voice was commanding.

The words were not Malta’s. They had come upon another couple, beneath another tree.

The young man gripped the woman by her shoulders masterfully.

He looked down into her proud, upturned face.

She gave him a look of icy disdain, but he lowered his mouth to hers.

Against his will, Reyn’s blood stirred. The woman struggled briefly, then clasped the back of the man’s head to hold his mouth against hers.

Reyn looked away, disturbed by the force of it.

He tugged Malta’s hand and they walked on.

‘What can you do?’ Malta asked.

He considered. He did not think that this was the sort of thing usually discussed in shared dreams. ‘Your mother should write to my mother. They are the ones who should discuss this, not us.’

He wondered what his mother’s reaction would be.

In coming to him for help, Malta seemed to have forgotten that the Khuprus family now held the note on the liveship.

Not only were they one of the creditors that Malta now feared, but the pirated ship had secured that debt.

It was a tangled situation. The magic of the liveships was to be carefully guarded, guaranteed by the purchaser never to fall into the hands of outsiders.

When he had persuaded his mother to buy the Vestrit note on the ship, her long-range view was that the ship would be given as a bridal gift to the Vestrit family.

He had expected his own children would eventually inherit it.

The complete loss of the ship would be a substantial financial blow to anyone.

He was sure his mother would be spurred to action, but he was not sure what action.

He had never been interested in the financial business of the family.

His mother and stepfather handled all that.

He was the explorer and scholar. He mined out the discoveries that they turned into coin.

What they did with that coin had not concerned him.

Now he wondered if he had any say in it.

Malta was outraged instantly. ‘Reyn, we are talking about my father. I cannot wait for my mother to talk to your mother. If he is to be rescued, we must act now.’

He felt emasculated. ‘Malta. I have no power to help you directly. I am a younger son, with three older siblings.’

She stamped her foot angrily. ‘I don’t believe you. If you care for me at all, you will help me.’

She sounded just like the dragon, he thought in sudden dismay.