Page 459

Throughout the roofless Concourse, torches were being kindled.

Their brightness seemed only to make the night sky darker.

Cold was settling over the gathered folk.

Breath showed in the light of the torches and people moved closer to one another, taking comfort in body warmth.

The night sky began to draw the warmth of the brief day away, but no one thought of leaving.

Bargaining was the blood of Bingtown, and this was far too important a deal not to witness its birth.

Outside, a man’s raised voice was conveying the negotiations to the folk waiting there.

Jani knit her scaled brows. ‘We shall have to build a second city, near this “upper hatching ground” you speak of. That will take time.’

‘Time we do not have,’ the dragon declared impatiently. ‘It is of the essence that this work begin as soon as possible, before other serpents perish.’

Jani shrugged helplessly. ‘If haste is necessary, then even more workers will be needed. We may need to bring them from as far as Jamaillia. They must be paid. Where is the money to come from?’

‘Money? Paid?’ the dragon demanded, becoming incensed.

Dujia suddenly claimed the floor. She stepped to the edge of the dais, to stand beside Jani.

‘There is no need to go to Jamaillia for workers. My people are here. The Tattooed were brought here to work, and paid nothing at all. Some of us will be willing to go up the river and do this work, not for money, but for a chance. A chance for homes and futures of our own. Give us, to begin with, food and shelter. We will work to make our own fortunes.’

Jani turned to confront her. A terrible hope gleamed in the Rain Wild woman’s face.

She spoke clearly and slowly, laying out the terms of a bargain.

‘To come to the Rain Wild, you must become of the Rain Wild. You cannot hold yourselves back from us.’ She stared deep into Dujia’s eyes, but the Tattooed woman did not glance away from Jani’s Rain Wild scales and gently glowing eyes.

Jani smiled at her. Then her eyes suddenly roved over the assembled people.

She seemed to see the Tattooed in a new way.

‘Your children would have to take husbands and wives among us. Your grandchildren would be Rain Wilders. There is no leaving, once you have come to the Rain Wilds. You cannot remain a separate people, with separate ways. It is not an easy life. Many will die. Do you understand what you are offering?’

Dujia cleared her throat. When Jani glanced back at her, she met her look squarely. ‘You say we must become of the Rain Wild. Rain Wild Traders are what you call yourselves. That is what we would become? Traders? With the rights of Traders?’

‘Those who marry Rain Wild Traders always become Rain Wild Traders. Mingle your families with ours, and yours become ours.’

‘Our homes would be our own? Whatever we acquired, it would be ours?’

‘Of course.’

Dujia looked out over the assembled folk.

Her eyes sought out the Tattooed groups.

‘This is what you told me you wanted. Homes and possessions that you could pass on to your children. To be on an equal footing with your neighbours. The Rain Wilders offer us this. They warn us fairly of hardships to come. I have spoken for you, but each of you must decide.’

From somewhere amongst the Tattooed, a voice called a question. ‘And if we don’t want to go to the Rain Wilds? What then?’

Serilla stepped forwards.

‘I speak with the authority of the Satrapy. Henceforth, there shall be no slaves in Bingtown. Tattooed are Tattooed; no more nor less than that. It would violate the original charter of the Bingtown Traders for me to elevate the Tattooed to an equal standing with the Traders. I cannot do that. But I can decree that henceforth, in conformity with the original laws of Bingtown, the Satrapy of Jamaillia will not recognize slavery or the claims of slave-owners in Bingtown.’ She let her voice drop dramatically. ‘Tattooed ones, you are free.’

‘We always were!’ someone called out from the crowd, spoiling the moment for the Companion.

Mingsley made a final bid to save his people’s labour force. ‘But indentured servants, surely, are another matter?’

He was shouted down, not just by the crowd but by a roar from the dragon.

‘Enough. Solve these petty issues on your own time. I care not how you colour your skins or name yourselves, so long as the work is done.’ She looked at Jani Khuprus.

‘You can draw on Bingtown for engineers and planners. You have a labour force. I myself will soar forth tomorrow, to free the Kendry and find the other liveships and send them to you. I pledge I will keep the waters between Trehaug and Bingtown cleared of enemy ships while you do this work. Surely, all is now in agreement.’

The sky was black. The dragon was a gleaming entity of silver and blue.

Her head swayed gently over them as she awaited their assent.

The flickering torchlight caressed her wondrous form.

Ronica felt as if she were in a tale of enchantment, witness to a great miracle.

The petty problems that remained suddenly seemed unworthy of discussion.

Had not Tintaglia pointed out that they were creatures of brief life?

Surely, it could matter little what happened in such a tiny flicker of time as they occupied.

Serving Tintaglia in restoring dragons to the world would be a way to ensure their lives had some impact on the greater world.

A sigh of agreement ran through the crowd. Ronica moved her own head in a slow nod.

‘Malta,’ Keffria said quietly beside her. The word disturbed Ronica. It had grown so quiet within the Concourse that the sound was like a pebble dropped in a still pool. A few heads turned towards them. Her daughter took a deep breath and spoke the name louder. ‘Malta.’

The dragon turned to regard them, and her eyes were not pleased. ‘What is it?’ she demanded.

Keffria stepped towards the dragon, aggression in her stride.

‘Malta!’ she shouted the name. ‘Malta was my daughter. I am told you lured her to her death. And now, by some wicked magery, my son, my last child, stands before you and praises you. All my people murmur and smile at sight of you, like babies entranced with a shiny dangle.’

As Keffria spoke, Ronica felt a strange agitation. How dare she speak so to this glorious and benevolent creature, the creature who had rescued all of Bingtown – the creature responsible for Malta’s death. Ronica felt an instant of disorientation as if she woke from a deep sleep.

‘But Mother –’ Selden began pleadingly, taking her arm. Keffria set her son firmly aside, out of harm’s way, and spoke on. Her rising anger at how the dragon manipulated the crowd had cracked her frozen heart. Fury poured out with her pain.

‘I do not succumb to your glamour. I do contemplate how I could take revenge on you. If it is so unthinkable that I will not worship the one who let my daughter die, then you had best slay me now. Breathe on me and melt the flesh from my bones. It will be worth it if it opens my son’s eyes to you, and the eyes of those others willing to grovel before you.

’ She spat her final words. Her eyes swept the gathered folk.

‘You refused to heed the words of Reyn Khuprus. Watch now, and see what this creature truly is.’

The dragon drew back her head. The faint luminescence of the creature’s silver eyes made them pale stars.

Her great jaws opened wide, but Keffria had finally found her courage.

Selden stood, stricken by horror, eyes darting from his mother to the dragon.

It cut her that he seemed unable to choose, but she stood her ground.

All the other folk crowded back and away from Keffria as the dragon drew breath.

Then, pushing her way forwards, her mother stepped to her side.

Ronica took her arm. Together they stared defiantly up at the creature that had taken Malta’s life and Selden’s heart.

Keffria found her voice again. ‘Give me back my children! Or give me my death!’ From somewhere, Reyn Khuprus hurtled into them, jostling them all aside.

Keffria staggered to her knees and Ronica went down beside her.

She heard Jani Khuprus’ cry of horror from the dais.

The young Rain Wilder stood alone where they had been.

‘Run!’ he ordered them, then spun to face the dragon, his scaled face contorted with fury.

‘Tintaglia!’ he roared. ‘Stop!’ A sword was bared in his hand.

For a wonder, the dragon froze. Her jaws still gaped. A single drop of liquid formed on one of her myriad teeth. When it dripped to the stone floor of the Concourse, the stone sizzled and gave way to it.

But Reyn had not stopped her. Selden had.

He had stepped quietly forwards, to crane his neck up at Tintaglia.

His words and manner healed Keffria’s heart.

‘Please, don’t hurt them!’ the boy begged shrilly, his courtier’s manners fled.

‘Please, dragon, they are my family, as dear to me as yours are to you. All we want is to have my sister back. Mighty as you are, can’t you give that to us? Can’t you bring her back?’

Reyn seized Selden by his shoulders, thrust him towards his mother.

Keffria caught hold of him in numbed silence.

Her son, truly hers still, no matter how scales lined his face.

She held him tight to her, and felt her mother’s grip on her arm tighten.

The Vestrits stood together, no matter what else might come.