Dragon Haven. Robin Hobb

that he would find himself in such a precarious position. Until he could deal with Jess in a way that solved his problem permanently, he couldn’t allow Alise to do anything that might make her more of a weapon to be used against him.

      ‘Feels like the current is getting tricky. I need a word with Swarge,’ he lied. It would take him out of the galley and away from her so she couldn’t ask the questions that Jess had stirred up. And it would give him a chance to make sure that Jess had actually left the barge and gone hunting.

      As he set her gently away from him, she looked up at him with utter bewilderment. ‘Leftrin, I—’

      ‘I won’t be gone long,’ he promised, and turned away from her.

      ‘But—’ he heard her say, and then he closed the door gently on her words and hurried aft. Out of sight of the galley windows, he halted and walked to the railing. He didn’t need to talk to Swarge or anyone else. He didn’t want any of his crew to know what a situation he’d put them all in. Damn Jess and his sly threats, and damn that Chalcedean merchant and damn the wood carvers who couldn’t keep their mouths shut. And damn himself for getting them all into this mess. When he had first found the wizardwood, he had known it could bring him trouble. Why hadn’t he left it alone? Or spoken of it to the dragons and the Council and let them worry about it? He knew it was now forbidden for anyone to take it and make use of it. But he had. Because he loved his ship.

      He felt a thrum of anxiety through Tarman’s railing. He gripped the wood soothingly and spoke aloud but softly to the liveship. ‘No. I regret nothing. It was no less than you deserved. I took what you needed and I don’t really care if anyone else can understand or excuse that. I just wish it hadn’t brought trouble down on us. That’s all. But I’ll find a way to solve it. You can count on that.’

      As if to confirm both gratitude and loyalty, he felt the ship pick up speed. Back on the tiller, he heard Swarge chortle and mutter, ‘Well, what’s the hurry now?’ as the polemen picked up their pace to match the ship’s. Leftrin took his hands from the railing and leaned back against the deckhouse, hands in pockets, to give his crew room to work. He said nothing to any of them, and they knew better than to speak to the captain when he stood thus, deep in thought. He had a problem. He’d settle it without help from any of them. That was what captains did.

      He dug his pipe out of one pocket and his tobacco out of the other, and then stuffed them both back as he realized he couldn’t go back into the galley to light it. He sighed. He was a trader in the tradition of the Rain Wild Traders. Profit was all-important. But so was loyalty. And humanity. The Chalcedeans had approached him with a scheme that could make him a wealthy man. As long as he was willing to betray the Rain Wilds and butcher a sentient creature as if it were an animal, he could have a fortune. They’d made their offer in the guise of a threat; such a typically Chalcedean way to invite a man to do business. First there had been the ‘grain merchant’, bullying his way aboard the Tarman at the mouth of the Rain Wild River. Sinad Arich had spoken as plainly as a Chalcedean could. The Duke of Chalced was holding his family hostage; the merchant would do whatever he had to do to obtain dragon parts for the ailing old man.

      Leftrin had thought he’d seen the last of the man when he set him ashore in Trehaug, thought that the threat to himself and his ship was over. But it wasn’t. Once a Chalcedean had a hold on you, he never let go. Back in Cassarick, right before they left, someone had come on board and left a tiny scroll outside his door. The clandestine note told him to expect a collaborator on board his ship. If he complied with their agent, they’d pay him well. If he didn’t, they’d betray what he had done with the wizardwood. That would ruin him, as a man, as a ship owner, as a Trader. He was not sure if it would lower him in Alise’s esteem.

      That final doubt was more powerful than the first two certainties. He’d never been tempted to take the bait, though he had wondered if he might surrender to the duress. Now he knew he would not. The moment he’d heard the scandalized whispers of the dragon keepers over what Greft had proposed, he’d known who his traitor was. Not Greft; the youngster might claim to be educated and radical in his thinking, but Leftrin had seen his ilk before. The boy’s political ideas and ‘new’ thoughts were skin-shallow. The keeper had only fallen in with an older man’s persuasive cant. And not Carson, he thought with relief. And there was that to be grateful for. It wasn’t an old friend he’d have to confront over this.

      It was Jess. The hunter had come aboard at Cassarick, ostensibly hired by the Cassarick Rain Wild Council to help provide for the dragons on their journey. Either the Council had no knowledge of Jess’ other employer or the corruption ran deeper than he wanted to think about. He couldn’t worry about that now. The hunter was his focus. Jess was the one who had seemed to be befriending Greft, talking with him at the campfire each night, offering to teach him to be better with his hunter’s tools. Leftrin had seen him building up the young man’s opinion of himself, involving him in sophisticated philosophical conversations and persuading him that Greft understood what his fellow keepers were too rural and naïve to grasp. He was the one who had convinced the boy that leadership meant stepping forward to do the unthinkable for the ‘greater good’ of those too tender-hearted to see the necessity. Jess had been reinforcing Greft’s belief that he was the leader of the dragon keepers. Not so likely, my friend, he thought. He’d seen the faces of the other keepers when they had spoken of what Greft had proposed. One and all, they’d been shocked. Not even his no-necked sidekicks, Kase and Boxter, had followed him into that quicksand. They’d looked at one another, as bewildered as puppies. So he hadn’t talked it over with them previously.

      Therefore, Leftrin knew the source of that toxic idea. Jess. Jess would have made it sound logical and pragmatic. Jess would have introduced the idea that a real leader would sometimes have to make hard decisions. True leaders sometimes had to do dangerous and distasteful, even immoral things for the sake of those who followed them.

      Such as carving up a dragon and selling the bits to a foreign power to line your own pockets.

      And the young man had been gullible enough to listen to the wise old hunter, and had put the idea out as his own. When it had fallen flat, only Greft had been touched with the ignominy of it. Jess was unscathed in his friendship with some of the other keepers, and much more aware now of how they felt about the idea of butchering dragons for profit. And that was a shame, for privately Leftrin thought that Greft had the potential to captain the group, once he’d had his share of hard knocks on the way up. He supposed that his misstep with the other keepers would be one of them. If the young man had grit, he’d learn from it and keep on going. If not, well, some sailors grew up to be captains and others never even rose to be mate.

      Be that as it would be, Greft’s mishap had lifted the lantern high for Leftrin. He had suspected Jess before, but on that day, he’d known. When Leftrin had first confronted Jess privately and accused him of being the Chalcedean merchant’s man, Jess had not even flinched. He’d admitted it and promptly suggested that now that things were out in the open between them, their task would be much easier. Even now, Leftrin gritted his teeth to think of how the slimy bastard had smiled at him, suggesting that if he slowed the barge down and let the keepers and dragons and the other hunters range far ahead of him, it would be easy for them to pick off the last lagging dragon. ‘And once we’ve put the poor suffering creature down and butchered it up proper, we can turn right around and head back for the open water. No need to stop by Trehaug or Cassarick, or even to pass by them during daylight hours. We could just head for the coast with our cargo. Once we’re there, I’ve a special signal powder, puts up a bright red smoke from even a tiny fire. Your galley stove would do it. A ship comes right to meet us, and off we go to Chalced and money such as you and your crew can’t even imagine how to spend.’

      ‘Me and my crew aren’t the only ones aboard Tarman,’ Leftrin had pointed out coldly to him.

      ‘That hasn’t escaped my notice. But between the two of us, I think the woman fancies you. Take a forceful hand with her. Tell her you’re swooping her off to Chalced and the life of a princess. She’ll go. And the fancy lad that’s with her, all he wants to do is get back to civilization. I don’t think he’ll much care where you take him, as long as it isn’t the Rain Wilds. Or cut him in