“Yes. At Paragon’s request, I went. And also because I wished to visit my niece, Malta.”
“Malta Khuprus? The Elderling queen?”
Althea smiled more broadly. “So some name her, though she is not queen of anything. It was a fancy of the Jamaillian Satrap to title Reyn and her as the King and Queen of the Elderlings. In reality, they are both of Trader stock, just as you and I are, and not royalty at all.”
“But they are Elderlings!”
Althea started to shake her head, and then shrugged instead. “So Tintaglia the dragon called them. And they have both physically changed over the years to resemble, more and more, the images of Elderlings that we’ve seen unearthed from the ancient Rain Wild cities. But Malta was born just as human as I am, and Reyn, though marked as many of the Rain Wild Traders are, was not extraordinarily different. That’s no longer the case, of course. Our family has watched both of them, and Selden Vestrit, my nephew, change substantially since they encountered Tintaglia. It’s my thought that exposure to the dragon was what started their changes. All three have grown taller. Malta is remarkably tall for a woman of my family now. And more beautiful in a way that has nothing to do with human beauty. When she goes uncloaked and unveiled, she reminds me of a jeweled statue come to life. Tintaglia has told them that they may enjoy much longer life spans than ordinary humans. But for all of that, Malta is still Malta.” Althea sounded as if she almost regretted that fact. Quietly she added, “And I think she and Reyn would trade away all their Elderling glory for one healthy baby.”
“But the dragons?” Sedric interrupted to demand. “Are they really so deformed and mentally deficient? Is it possible that we have come all this way on a useless quest?”
Alise felt doubly annoyed that he had interrupted Althea’s revelations about the only living Elderlings and that he sounded so hopeful her expedition would come to nothing. Althea folded her hands on the edge of the table and considered her rough brown knuckles before she spoke.
“They are not like Tintaglia,” she said quietly. “None of them can fly. We started up the river escorting one hundred and twentynine serpents. Fewer than half successfully cocooned and hatched. And now there are left, what? Fewer than seventeen when last I heard.” She glanced up and met Alise’s desperate gaze. For a moment, sympathy shone in her eyes. “I wish it had been otherwise, if only for Paragon’s sake. It was tremendously important to him that the serpents reach their cocooning grounds. Despite what he said to you, I believe the heart of a dragon still resides in this ship. He longed to restore his kind to the skies; it would have given great meaning to his own fate.
“But the creatures I saw when I visited Cassarick were pathetic, malformed things. It is telling that Tintaglia seems to have completely abandoned them. Dragons do not pity the weak, but let them meet their fates. The Rain Wild folk who live closest to them are rapidly losing all sympathy for them. They are unruly and dangerous, intelligent but unreasonable. But perhaps being unreasonable is the only rational response to leading such miserable lives. They have neither respect nor gratitude for humans. They have yet to attack a human, though I’ve heard rumors that they’ve chased a few. And devoured at least one corpse in the midst of the family funeral. I don’t know what’s to become of them, other than gradual decline and death.” She paused, sighed, and said, “I think Paragon has decided they are not dragons because that is less painful for him. He can do nothing to help them. So, by separating himself from them, perhaps his shame for them is a bit less. I really think there is nothing any of us can do for them.”
Alise sat very still and silent for three breaths. Then she said quietly, “Little of this has been heard in Bingtown.”
Althea smiled, a secret shared between fellow Traders. She poured fragrant tea into the cups. Captain Trell came to the table to accept his cup but immediately returned with it to his post by the window and his watch on the river. “Our Rain Wild brethren have always kept their own affairs quiet. And for generations, those of Bingtown stock have been trained not to gossip about them. It still seems strange to me that the outside world now knows that they exist and wish to visit their cities. For so long we kept them secret, to protect them.”
Alise looked directly at Althea and suddenly felt grateful for the woman’s bluntness. “Do you think I will be able to speak with the dragons at all? Learn anything from them?”
Althea shifted in her chair. From the corner of her eye, Alise glimpsed Captain Trell regretfully shaking his head. “I don’t think so,” she said. “From what I saw of them, they are fixated on the basics of life. The only talk I heard from them were demands for food. And complaints about their condition. From what little I know of Tintaglia, I would say that dragons do not deem humans worthy of thoughtful conversation. And the hatchlings at Cassarick disdain us as completely as if they were full-grown and powerful dragons. Combine that with the bitterness they feel . . .” She gave a shrug of her shoulders. “I do not think they will confide their ancestral memories to you. If they have any.”
