Page 452

TINTAGLIA’S BARGAIN

R EYN TOOK A deep, gasping breath of air and opened his eyes to darkness.

He’d dreamed of the dragon, trapped in her coffin.

The dream still had the power to make his heart thunder and his body break into a sweat.

He lay still, panting and cursing the creature and the memories she had left him.

He should try to go back to sleep. It would be his watch soon, and he would regret the sleep he had lost to the nightmare.

He held his breath and listened to Grag’s deep snore and Selden’s lighter breathing.

He turned restlessly, trying to find a more comfortable place in the sweaty sheets.

He was grateful to have a bed to himself; many others were sharing.

For the past few days, the Tenira household had been swollen with other folk so that it now encompassed a cross-section of Bingtown’s population.

The fledgling alliance of Old and New Traders, slaves and Three Ships folk had nearly died hatching.

The same group that had gathered at the Tenira table, with the addition of several New Trader representatives, had boldly arrived at the Restart mansion and demanded entrance.

Their spies had already watched the remaining heads of the Bingtown Council enter.

A number of Roed’s more rabid followers had assembled as well; Reyn had wondered if they were not plunging their heads into a noose.

But Serilla had appeared calm as she came to the entrance.

Roed Caern stood glowering just behind her left shoulder.

Despite his scowls and muttered complaints, the Companion had graciously invited them all to enter and join in an ‘informal discussion of Bingtown’s situation’.

But as they had gathered uneasily at the bargaining table, trumpets and alarm bells had sounded in the city below.

Reyn had feared treachery as they rushed outside.

A rooftop sentry had shouted that a flotilla of Chalcedean ships was approaching Bingtown harbour.

Roed Caern had drawn a blade, shouting that the New Traders had invaded this meeting in the hopes of dispatching all of Bingtown’s rightful leadership at once while their Chalcedean allies made their attack.

Like rabid dogs, he and his followers had flown at the New Trader emissaries.

Knives that all had promised not to bring were suddenly flourished.

The first bloodshed of the current Chalcedean attack had been spilled there on Restart’s doorstep.

To their credit, the heads of the Traders’ Council had opposed Roed and kept him and his men from massacring the Three Ships, Tattooed and New Trader delegates.

The meeting dispersed as folk fled Roed’s madness and scrambled to protect their own houses and families from the invaders. That had been three days ago.

The Chalcedeans had arrived, thick as grunion spawning on a beach.

Sailing ships and oared galleys took over the harbour and spilled warriors onto the beaches and wharves.

Their might had overwhelmed the disorganized Bingtown folk, and they had captured the Kendry.

A prize crew sailed him out of the harbour.

The ship had gone unwillingly, wallowing and fighting as small boats manned by Chalcedean sailors towed him out.

Beyond that, Reyn had no knowledge of the fate of the ship or its crew.

He wondered if they could force Kendry to take them up the river to Trehaug.

Had they kept his family crew alive to use as hostages against the liveship?

The Chalcedeans now held the harbour and the surrounding buildings clutching the heart of Bingtown in their greedy hands.

Every day, they pushed farther inland, systematically looting and then destroying what they could not carry off.

Reyn had never seen such destruction. Certain key structures, warehouses for storing their plunder, defensible buildings of stone, they left intact.

But all the rest, they laid waste. Old Trader, New Trader, fisherman, peddler, whore or slave: it mattered not to the Chalcedeans.

They killed and stole without discrimination.

The long row of Three Ships dwellings had all been burned, their little fishing vessels destroyed and the people killed or driven away to take refuge with their neighbours.

The Chalcedeans showed no interest in negotiating.

There could be no surrender. Captives were put into chains and held in one of the sailing ships, to be carried off to new lives as slaves in Chalced.

If the invaders had ever had allies among the Bingtown folk, they betrayed them. No one was immune to their destruction.

‘They plan to stay.’ Grag’s deep voice was soft but clear. ‘After they’ve killed or enslaved everyone in Bingtown, the Chalcedeans will settle here, and Bingtown Bay will be just another part of Chalced.’

‘Did I wake you, tossing about?’ Reyn asked quietly.

‘Not really. I can’t find true sleep. I’m so tired of the waiting.

I know that we needed to organize our resistance, but it has been hard to watch all the destruction in the meantime.

Now that the day is finally here, each moment drags, and yet I wish we had more time to prepare.

I wish Mother and the girls would flee to the mountains.

Perhaps they could hide there until all this is over. ’

‘Over in what way?’ Reyn asked sourly. ‘I know we must have heart for this foray, but I cannot believe we will succeed. If we drive them from our beaches, they will simply retreat to their ships and then launch another attack. While they control the harbour, they control Bingtown. Without trade, how can we survive?’

‘I don’t know. There has to be some hope,’ Grag insisted stubbornly. ‘At least this mess has brought us together. The whole population now has to see that we will survive only if we stand together.’

Reyn tried to sound positive but failed. ‘There is hope, but it is faint. If our liveships returned and boxed them into the harbour, I think all Bingtown would rally then. If we had a way to catch them between the beach and the harbour mouth, we could kill them all.’

Worry crept into Grag’s voice. ‘I wish we knew where our ships are, or at least how many still float. I suspect that the Chalcedeans lured our ships away. They ran and we chased them, possibly out to where a much greater force could destroy us. How could we have been so stupid?’

‘We are merchants, not warriors,’ Reyn replied. ‘Our greatest strength is also our greatest weakness. All we know how to do is negotiate, and our enemies are not interested in that.’

Grag made a sound between a sigh and a groan. ‘I should have been on board Ophelia that day. I should have gone with them. It is agony to wait and hope, not knowing what has become of my father and our ship.’

Reyn was quiet. He was too aware of how the knife-edge of uncertainty could score a man’s soul.

He would not insult Grag by saying that he knew what he was feeling.

Every man’s pain was personalized. Instead, he offered, ‘We’re both awake.

We may as well get up. Let’s go talk in the kitchen, so we don’t wake Selden. ’

‘Selden is awake,’ the boy said quietly. He sat up. ‘I’ve decided. I’m going with you today. I’m going to fight.’

‘No.’ Reyn forbade it quickly, then tempered his words. ‘I don’t think that is wise, Selden. Your position is unusual. You may be the last heir to your family name. You should not risk your life.’

‘The risk would be if I cowered here and did nothing,’ Selden returned bitterly. ‘Reyn. Please. When I am with my mother and my grandmother, they mean well, but they make me… young. How am I to learn to be a man, if I am never among men? I need to go with you today.’

‘Selden, if you go with us, you may not grow up to be a man,’ Grag cautioned him. ‘Stay here. Protect your mother and grandmother. That is where you can best serve Bingtown. And it is your duty.’

‘Don’t patronize me,’ the boy returned sharply.

‘If the fighting reaches this house, we will all be slaughtered, because by the time it gets here, you will all be dead. I’m going with you.

I know that you think that I’ll be in your way, someone you have to protect.

But it won’t be like that. I promise you. ’

Grag took a breath to object, but Reyn interrupted them both. ‘Let’s go down to the kitchen and discuss it there. I could use some coffee.’

‘You won’t get it,’ Grag told him grumpily. Reyn saw his effort to change his mood. ‘But there is tea, still.’

They were not the only restless ones. The kitchen fire had been poked to life and a large kettle of porridge was already simmering.

Not only Grag’s mother and sister, but also the Vestrit women moved restlessly about the big room in mimicry of cooking.

There was not enough work to busy them. A low mutter of voices came from the dining hall.

As food was prepared, trays were borne off to the table.

Ekke Kelter was there as well. She offered Grag Tenira a warm smile with the cup of tea she poured for him, then seated herself across the kitchen table from him and said matter-of-factly, ‘The arsonists have already gone. They wanted to be certain they’d be in position before the attack. ’