Then he had dropped his arms and stepped back from her. The night was warm and muggy, the insects chirred and buzzed, and she heard the night call of a gnat-chaser. But it had all seemed separate from her then. Last night, as now, she knew herself for the mousy, scholarly little Bingtown woman that she undoubtedly was. She’d sold herself to Hest, prostituted out her ability to bear a child for the security and position that he had offered. She’d made the deal and signed on it. A Trader was only as good as his word, so the saying went. She’d given her word. What was it worth?
Even if she took it back now, even if she broke it faithlessly, she’d still be a mousy, little Bingtown woman, not what she longed to be. She could scarcely bear to consider what she longed to be, not only because it was so far beyond her but because it seemed such a childishly extravagant dream. In the dark circle of her arms, she closed her eyes and thought of Althea, wife to the captain of the Paragon. She’d seen that woman dashing about the deck barefoot, wearing loose trousers like a man. She’d seen her standing up by her ship’s figurehead, the wind stirring her hair and a smile curving her lips as she exchanged some jest with the ship’s boy. And then Captain Trell had bounded up the short ladder to the foredeck to join them there. She and the captain had moved without even looking at each other, like a needle drawn to a magnet, their arms lifting as if they were the halves of the god Sa becoming whole again. She’d thought her heart would break with envy.
What would it be like, she wondered, to have a man who had to embrace you when he saw you, even if you’d just risen from a shared bed a few hours earlier? She tried to imagine herself as free as that Althea woman, running barefoot on the decks of the Tarman. Could she ever lean on a railing in a way that said she completely owned and trusted the ship? She thought of Leftrin and tried to see him dispassionately. He was uncouth and unschooled. He told jokes at the table, and she’d seen him laugh so hard that the tea spewed from his mouth, at a coarse jest from one of his sailors. He didn’t shave every day, nor wash as often as a gentleman should. The elbows of his shirts and the knees of his trousers were scuffed with work. The short nails of his wide hands were broken and rough. Where Hest was tall and lean and elegant, Leftrin was perhaps an inch taller than she was, wide shouldered and thick bodied. Her female friends in Bingtown would turn aside if a man like that spoke to them on the street.
Then she thought of his gray eyes, gray as the river he loved, and her heart melted. She thought of the ruddy tops of his unshaven cheeks, and how his lips seemed redder and fuller than Hest’s sophisticated smile. She longed to kiss that mouth, and to feel those calloused hands clasp her close. She missed sleeping in his bunk, missed the smell of him in the room and on the bedding. She wanted him as she’d never wanted anything or anyone before. At the thought of him, her body warmed even as tears filled her eyes.
She sat up straight and dashed the useless water from her eyes. “Take what you can have, for the short time you can have it,” she counseled herself sternly. She wondered briefly why the ship hadn’t left the beach yet. She dried her eyes more thoroughly, smoothed her wayward hair, and then stepped to the door. She would not break her word to Hest. They had made an agreement to be faithful to each other. She would honor it.
The brightness of full day was dazzling after the dimness of her room. She came out onto the deck and was surprised to see Sedric standing at the railing with Leftrin. They were both staring toward the shore. “I’m going to see what’s going on,” Leftrin announced and headed toward the bow. Alise hurried over to join Sedric.
“What is the matter?” she asked him.
“I don’t know. Some sort of ruckus among the keepers. The captain has gone to see what it is about. How are you this morning, Alise?”
“Well enough, thank you.” On the shore, voices were raised in alarm. She saw some of the young keepers running. Sleepy dragons were lifting their heads and turning them toward the disturbance. “I think I’d best go see what that is about,” she said, excusing herself. She started down the deck after Leftrin. He hadn’t seen her arrive. As she watched, he climbed over the bow railing and started down the rope ladder to the shore.
“I think it would be better if you didn’t,” Sedric suggested strongly.
She halted reluctantly and turned back to face him. She studied his face for a moment and then asked him, “Is something wrong?”
His gaze met hers, studying her face. “I’m not sure,” he said quietly. “I hope there isn’t.” He glanced away from her, and for a moment they shared an uncomfortable silence. On the shore, the keepers seemed to be gathering around the small copper dragon. She knew he hadn’t been well lately and felt a sudden clutch of fear. “You don’t have to protect me, Sedric. If the dragon has died, he has died. I know the others will eat him. And, believe it or not, I feel that I need to witness that. There will be parts of dragon behavior that men will find distasteful, but that doesn’t mean that I should avoid learning about them.”
