The Rain Wild Chronicles: The Complete 4-Book Collection. Robin Hobb
Читать онлайн книгу.
of the rest of the world were blown away by the storm’s breath.
Shortly before dawn, Hest had left him at the end of the carriageway to his family home. He’d limped home in muddied and torn garments, his hair wild, his mouth bruised. He’d slept as late as his father would allow him. Later that day, standing before his father in his study, he told a long lie about drunkenness and a tumble down a creek bank in the dark and a long walk home. He’d ached in every muscle and his lips had been puffy and swollen. For three agonizing days, he’d moved quietly about his father’s house. Mostly he kept to his room, seething with shame whenever he wasn’t staring into the darkness and reliving every moment. Regret and lust warred in him.
On the morning of the fourth day, Hest’s written invitation to a riding party had arrived. The large dove-grey envelope with his name written on it in a bold hand contained a note in Hest’s hand on a lighter piece of grey paper. His father had been astonished and pleased that he’d made such a socially uplifting connection. His mother had been sent scampering to be sure his jacket and breeches were presentable. His father had loaned him his horse, the only respectable mount the family had. Just before Sedric had left, his father had warned him not to be the first to depart from the gathering, and urged him to linger if Hest seemed congenial to the idea.
Hest had, indeed, been congenial to the idea of him lingering. Sedric had been the only other member of the ‘riding party’ and they’d gone only as far as a small, deserted farmstead owned by Hest’s family. All the rooms in the rickety little house had been dusty and unkempt, save for a lushly-appointed bedchamber and a sidebar well stocked with spirits.
In the weeks that followed, he’d quickly learned that all Hest’s ‘riding parties’ had little to do with horses. For a time, Hest became his entire world. Light, colours and sound all seemed more brilliant in his presence. Hest plunged him into a world of temptation and satiation, stripped him of fears and inhibitions, and taught him new hungers to replace the half-formed longings he’d never dared to confront. Sedric found himself smiling fondly as he recalled those days. There had been dinners together, and then evenings out with Hest’s friends. Hest’s friends – now there had been an education for him! Wealthy Traders, some young, some older, some single, some married, but all of them committed to a life that included the greatest pleasures that money could buy for them. He’d been astonished at their self-indulgence and scandalized at their headlong pursuit of all manner of pleasures. When he’d expressed his reservations about them to Hest, the other man had laughed. ‘We’re Traders, Sedric, born and bred. We make our livings by discovering what other men want most and getting the best prices for it. So of course we discover what is most desirable, and want it for ourselves. And with the money we make, we acquire it. That’s the whole point of all that we do: to make money, and then use it. What is wrong with that? Why do we work so hard if not to enjoy ourselves with what we earn?’
He’d had no answer to that.
Hest had re-made Sedric, telling him how to comb his hair, what colours to wear and what cut of jacket and where to buy his boots. When Sedric’s modest budget could not keep pace with Hest’s tastes, Hest had first gifted him with the required clothing, and then, when Sedric’s father had looked askance at such largesse, Hest had eventually invented employment for him that required Sedric to live with him. Hest had transformed Sedric’s life; no, he had transformed Sedric himself. He had not only learned the pleasures of fine wine and a well-prepared joint of meat, but had come to expect such things at table. A badly-cut jacket was not to be tolerated. And now what would become of him? If upon his return, he discovered that Hest had replaced him, what then? Sedric closed his eyes tight and tried to imagine life without Hest. Life without Hest’s fortune and life style, yes, that he could imagine. But life without Hest’s touch?
The barge wallowed unevenly in the current. Sedric let himself become aware of the boat. The crew were at their sweeps. Possibly they had put up the sail if the wind was favourable. The barge and how it moved was a mystery to him; it seemed impossible that such a large object could be rowed up a river, and yet they were moving steadily along.
As Sedric must.
He would not give up. He’d take Alise’s stubbornness for an example and build on it. She intended to be remorseless about seizing this opportunity for herself. Well, so could he. Let Hest wonder where they were and why they did not return as scheduled. It would do the man good to have some doubt and discomfort in his life. And Sedric didn’t doubt that Hest’s life would be much less comfortable without a wife and a secretary to manage any unpleasant detail he wished to avoid.
As for his own ambitions, well, those could be better fulfilled, too. If he was forced to keep company with the dragon keepers and their charges, he would find opportunities to collect more merchandise. He sat up slowly and then moved to the floor. At the base of his wardrobe trunk, there was a concealed drawer. Hest had had the trunk made especially, so that exceptionally valuable merchandise and their cash would travel safely. He never would have imagined the use to which Sedric now put it.
He pulled it open and peered at the two glass containers he had filled today. In the dim light he could not tell much about them. In the drawer awaited other glass and pottery containers, some empty, some with preservative fluids and salts already in them. He had planned this meticulously from the first moment that he had realized he could turn Hest’s punishment of him to his own advantage.
There was even a neatly lettered checklist of the various specimens he hoped to acquire and estimates of their worth. Blood. Teeth. Nails. Scales. Liver. Spleen. Heart. He thought of how queasy he’d felt watching the girl cut the tissue from the dragon’s wound. He’d have to get over that. If one of the animals was injured or died, he’d have to find a way to be close to it quickly. His banishment might prove the foundation of his fortune.
He stored his specimens carefully away and shut the drawer. No regrets, he told himself again. No regrets and no hesitation.
Sintara had followed the other dragons down to the banks of the river, and waded right in behind them. Mercor led them. She was surprised that all of the dragons seemed to accept his leadership, but especially Kalo. Hadn’t he been claiming the role by virtue of his size only hours ago? The excitement that had infected them seemed strong enough to inspire them all to action. For now.
They walked all morning in the shallows at the edge of the river. Here the current was gentler and the water offered less resistance. She would have preferred to stay on the shore, but the thick vegetation of the Rain Wild Forest came right to the river’s edge and sometimes ventured into the water in the form of straggling roots or fallen trees. For the most part, the dragons were large enough and strong enough to push past such impediments, but in mid-afternoon, they had to wade out into deeper water to go around one immense snag that projected into the river.
The trunk of the tree was immense, so large that she couldn’t even see over it. The acid waters of the river were already devouring the fallen giant, but going around it still meant wading out so deep that the water tried to lift her off her feet. That was a disconcerting feeling. The first time it happened, she paddled and floundered, splashing wildly. One of the smaller green dragons, Fente, shrilly trumpeted her distress. The current caught her and for a moment she flailed wildly before successfully passing the fallen tree. She hastened for the shallows in a panicky gallop. When she resumed her steady plodding up the river, her breath still came in loud snorts. Sintara was glad she was taller and stronger than Fente. The river had not lifted her. Dragons could swim, but only by necessity.
She thought about swimming, and sluggish memories stirred. One was of a terrifying accident; a cliff’s edge had given way and a dragon had fallen into a deep cold fjord. She had had to swim, and the steep cliffs that surrounded the fjord had defied her attempts to clamber out. By the time she had found a place wide enough to emerge from the water, she had been so chilled that she had barely been able to open her wings and flap them dry before flying away.
There were other memories of being underwater, and with a mental hitch and jerk, she connected them with Kelsingra. She pondered that for a moment, trying to put the pieces together. There had been the city on the bank, a beautiful city that sparkled in the sun, and before it, the wide deep river. The current’s press