The Rain Wild Chronicles: The Complete 4-Book Collection. Robin Hobb
Читать онлайн книгу.
exciting thing that had ever happened in her life.
She should have known her dreams would come to naught. As homes and businesses were rebuilt, as trade took on a new shape despite war and piracy, everyone else had tried desperately to make things go back as they were before. Everyone except Alise. Having glimpsed a possible future for herself, she had struggled wildly to escape from the suffocating destiny that sought to reclaim her.
Even when Hest Finbok had first begun to insinuate himself into her life, she had kept her focus on her dream. Her mother’s enthusiasm, her father’s quiet pride that the family’s wallflower had finally attracted not only a suitor but such a rare prize of a suitor had not distracted her from her plan. Let her mother flutter and her father beam. She knew Hest’s interest in her would come to nothing, and thus she had paid little mind to it. She was past pinning her hopes on such silly, girlish dreams.
The Traders’ Summer Ball was only two days away now. It would be the first event to be held in the newly rebuilt Traders’ Concourse. All of Bingtown was in a stir about it. Representatives and guests from the Tattooed and the Three Ships Folk would join the Bingtown Traders in commemorating the rejuvenation of their city. Despite the ongoing war, it was expected to be a celebration beyond anything Bingtown had ever experienced, the first time that the general population of Bingtown had been invited to the traditional event. Alise had given it little thought, for she had not expected to attend it. She had her ticket for her trip to the Rain Wilds. While other eligible women fluttered their fans and spun gaily on the dance floor, she would be in Cassarick, watching a new generation of dragons emerge from their cocoons.
But two weeks ago Hest Finbok had asked her father’s permission to escort her to the ball. Her father had given it. ‘And having given it, my girl, I can scarcely withdraw it! How could I imagine that you would want to go up the Rain Wild River to see some big lizards hatch rather than go to the Summer Ball on the arm of one of Bingtown’s most eligible bachelors?’ He had smiled proudly the day he had dashed her dream to pieces, so sure he had known what was truly in her heart. Her mother had said that she had never even imagined that her father should consult her on such a matter. Didn’t she trust her parents to do what was in her best interest?
If she had not been strangling on her dismay and disappointment, Alise might have given her father and her mother a response to that. Instead she had turned and fled the room. For days afterwards she had mourned the lost opportunity. Sulked, as her mother put it. It hadn’t deterred her mother from calling in seamstresses, and buying up every measure of rose silk and pink ribbon that remained in Bingtown. No expense would be spared for her dress. What did it matter that Alise’s dream had died in the egg, if they had theirs of finally marrying off their useless and eccentric second younger daughter? Even in this time of war and tightened budgets, they would spend feverishly in hopes of being not only rid of her but also gaining an important trade alliance. Alise had been sick with disappointment. Sulking, her mother called it. Was she finished with it?
Yes.
For an instant, she was surprised. Then she sighed and felt herself let go of something that she hadn’t even known she was clutching. She almost felt her spirit sink back to a level of ordinary expectations, back to accepting the quiet, restrained life of a proper Trader’s daughter who would become a Trader’s wife.
It was over, it was past, it was finished. Let it go. It wasn’t meant to be. She had turned her eyes to the window during her brief reverie. She had been staring sightlessly out at the little rose garden that was now in full blossom. It looked, she thought dully, just as it had every summer of her life. Nothing ever really changed. She forced the words out past the gravel in her throat. ‘I’m not sulking, Mother.’
‘I’m glad. For both of us.’ Her mother cleared her throat. ‘He’s a fine man, Alise. Even if he were not such a good catch, I’d still say that about him.’
‘Better than you expected for me. Better than I deserve.’
A pause of three heartbeats. Then her mother said brusquely, ‘Don’t make him wait, Alise.’ Her long skirts swished gently against the hardwood floor as she left the room.
She had not, Alise noticed, contradicted her. Alise was aware of it; her parents were aware of it, her siblings were aware of it. No one had ever spoken it aloud, until now. Hest Finbok was too good for her. It made no sense that the wealthy heir of a major Bingtown family would wish to wed the plain middle child of the Kincarron Traders. Alise felt strangely freed that her mother had not denied her words. And she was proud that she had spoken her words without resentment. A bit sad, she thought as she re-smudged her fingers by neatly restoring her charcoal to its little silver box. A bit sad that her mother had not even tried to claim she deserved such a fine man. Even if it was a lie, it seemed to her that a dutiful mother would have said it, just to be polite to her least attractive daughter.
Alise had tried to think of a way to explain her lack of interest in Hest to her mother. But she knew that if she said to her mother, ‘It’s too late. My girlhood dreams are dead, and I like the ones I have now better,’ her mother would have been horrified. But it was the truth. Like any young woman, she had once dreamed of roses and stolen kisses and a romantic suitor who would not care about the size of her dowry. Those dreams had died slowly, drowned in tears and humiliation. She had no desire to revive them.
A year past her emergence into society, with no suitors in sight, Alise had resigned herself to her fate and begun grooming herself for the role of maiden aunt. She played the harp, tatted excellent lace, was very good at puddings, and even had selected a suitably whimsical hobby. Long before Tintaglia had jolted her dreams, she’d become a student of dragon lore, with a strong secondary knowledge of Elderlings. If a scroll existed in Bingtown that dealt with either topic, Alise had found a way to read, buy or borrow it long enough to copy it. She believed she now had the most extensive library of information on the two ancient races that anyone in the town possessed, much of it painstakingly copied over in her own hand.
Along with that hard-earned knowledge, she had earned a reputation for eccentricity that not even a large dowry would have mitigated. In a middle daughter from a less affluent Trader family, it was an unforgivable flaw. She didn’t care. Her studies, begun on a whim, had seized her imagination. Her dragon knowledge was no longer an eccentric hobby; she was a scholar, a self-taught historian, collecting, organizing and comparing every scrap of information she could garner about dragons and the ancient Elderlings rumoured to have lived alongside the great beasts. So little was known of them and yet their history was woven through the ancient underground cities of the Rain Wilds and hence into the history of Bingtown. The oldest scrolls were antiquities from those cities, written in letters and a language that no one could read or speak. Many of the newer scrolls and writings were haphazard attempts at translations, and the worst ones were merely wild speculation. Those that were illustrated were often stained or tattered, or the inks and vellum had become food for vermin. One had to guess what had originally been there. But with her studies, Alise had begun to be able to do more than guess, and her careful cross referencing of surviving scrolls had yielded up to her a full score of words. She felt confident that with time, she could force all their secrets from the ancient writings. And time, she knew, was one thing an old maid had in abundance. Time to study and ponder, time to unlock all these tantalizing mysteries.
If only Hest Finbok had not stepped into her life! Five years her senior, the heir son of a Trader family that was very well to do, even by Bingtown standards, he was the answer to a dream. Unfortunately, the dream was her mother’s, not Alise’s. Her mother had near fainted with joy the first time Hest had asked Alise to dance. When, during the same evening, he had danced with her four more times, her mother had scarcely been able to contain her excitement. On the way home in the coach she had been unable to speak of anything else. ‘He is so handsome, and always so well dressed. Did you see the look on Trader Meldar’s face when Hest asked you to dance? For years, his wife has been throwing her daughters at him; I’ve heard she has asked Hest to dinner at her home as many as seven times in a month! The poor man. All know the Meldar girls are nervous as fleas. Can you imagine sitting at a table with all four of them at once? Twitchy as cats, the lot of them, their mother included. I believe he only goes there for the sake of the younger son. What was