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Startled by the stranger’s voice, Thymara jerked her head to look at him. He had come to lean on the railing by Tats. She had seen him earlier, when she had been waiting to go in for her interview. He was plainly Rain Wilder born, and marked almost as heavily as she was. Despite that, he was handsome in a strange and feral way. His eyes were the palest blue she had ever seen on a man, his hair thick and gleaming black. His black toe-claws clicked on the wood as he tapped a foot impatiently, jittering with nerves. ‘It’s going to be great!’ he assured Tats, grinning widely. He stuck out his hand. ‘I’m Rapskal.’
‘They call me Tats,’ Tats said, shaking his hand, and for the first time Thymara realized that probably wasn’t his given name, but something he’d been called since he was small. The stranger was grinning at her now, and holding a hand out to her father, who took it, saying, ‘My name is Jerup. This is my daughter, Thymara.’
Rapskal shook her father’s hand vigorously, and then asked gracelessly, ‘So are you going with the dragons, or only her? You look a bit old to be part of this group if you don’t mind my saying so. A bit old, and not near strange enough!’ He laughed heartily at his own rough jest. Behind him, Tats scowled.
Her father kept his aplomb. ‘I won’t be going. Only Thymara. But like you, I’ve noticed that most of those going are heavily marked by the Rain Wilds.’
‘Yes, that you could say!’ Rapskal agreed cheerfully. ‘Either they think it makes us tougher, or they’re hoping the dragons and river will do what our parents didn’t do when we were born.’ He swung his gaze to Tats. ‘Except for you, of course. You don’t even look Rain Wilds. Why are you going?’ Rapskal seemed to excel at asking questions so directly that they seemed rude.
Tats straightened up, standing half a head taller than the other boy. ‘Because it pays well. And I like dragons, and I’d like to have a bit of an adventure. And there’s nothing keeping me in Trehaug.’
The boy nodded cheerily, the light scaling on his cheeks flashing as his lips parted in a smile. His teeth were good, a little too large for his mouth. They showed white in his constant grin. He looked, Thymara thought, like a boy on the verge of a sudden growth spurt. ‘Yes, yes! That’s me, too. Exactly.’ He leaned over the railing, spat noisily, and then straightened. ‘Nothing for me in Trehaug for a long time now,’ he added, and for the first time he looked less than optimistic. But an instant later, the light came back into his pale blue eyes and he declared, ‘I just got to build something better for myself. That’s all. What’s past is past. So I’m going to get me a dragon and be best friends with him. We’re going to fly together and hunt together and always, always be friends and never angry at each other. That’s what I want.’
He nodded vigorously at his own fantasy. Tats looked incredulous. Thymara kept her mouth shut, horrified not by his wild dreams but how closely they paralleled her own yearnings. Flying with a dragon, as the Elderlings of old did. How foolish those fancies seemed when he spoke them aloud!
Rapskal didn’t notice the strained silence. His eyes sparked suddenly with a new interest. ‘Look over there! I’ll bet that they’re looking for us. Time to go get our supply packs. And then down to the dragons! Come on!’
He didn’t pause to see if they were following, but darted off to join the group forming about an officious-looking Trader in a yellow robe with a fat scroll in his hand. He was reading off names and handing out chits.
‘That Rapskal makes me tired just watching him,’ Tats said quietly.
‘Reminds me of a darter lizard; never still for more than a minute,’ Thymara agreed. She stared after the stranger, wondering if he were more intriguing or annoying. A strange mixture, she decided. She took a deep breath and added, ‘But he’s right. I think we’d best go find out what we’re supposed to do now.’ She didn’t glance at her father as she crossed the deck. She had the oddest feeling of division; she couldn’t decide if she wished he would say goodbye now and leave her to whatever came next, or if she wanted him by her side through this process. All of the others seemed to be alone. No parent watched over Tats or Rapskal, and she saw only one other adult lurking at the edge of the clustered youths. For youths they were, for the most part. One or two of the Rain Wilders showing a contract and picking up a chit looked to be in their twenties, but just as many looked to be only fourteen or fifteen.
‘Some of them are just children,’ her father complained. He had followed at her heels.
‘And Rapskal was right. All of us are heavily marked. Except for Tats.’ She did glance at her father now. ‘And that explains why most of us are young,’ she said simply. Neither she nor her father needed to be reminded that those who were heavily marked from a young age seldom lived long into their thirties.
Her father caught her wrist. ‘Like lambs to the slaughter,’ he said quietly, and she wondered at his strange words and how tightly he held on to her. Then he added, ‘Thymara, you don’t have to do this. Stay home. I know that your mother makes things difficult for you, but I—’
She cut him off before he could say anything more. ‘Papa, I do have to do this! I signed a contract. What do we always say? A Trader is only as good as his word. And I’ve done more than just given my word, I’ve signed my name to it.’ She thought of her dreams of a dragon bonding with her. She would not speak those. Rapskal’s extravagant fancy still echoed in her mind. She took a deeper breath and added pragmatically, ‘And we both know that I do need to do this. Just so I can say that I stepped up and did something with my life. I love being your daughter, but that can’t be all I ever am. I need to—’ She groped for words. ‘I need to measure myself against the world. Prove that I can stand up to it and be something.’
‘You’re already something,’ he insisted, but the strength had gone out of his argument. When she put her hand over his, he released his grip on her wrist. She stopped where she was. Tats, ahead of them, looked back curiously. She shook her head at him slightly and he moved on.
‘We should say goodbye here,’ she said suddenly.
‘I can’t.’ Her father seemed horrified at the idea.
‘Papa, I have to go. And this is a good time for us to part. I know you’ll worry about me. I know I’ll miss you. But let’s part now, at the beginning of my adventure. Tell me “good luck” and let me go.’
‘But—’ he said, and then suddenly he hugged her tight. He whispered hoarsely into her ear, ‘Go on then, Thymara. Go on, and measure yourself. It won’t prove anything to me because I already know your measure, and I’ve never doubted you. But go find out what you have to find out. And then come back to me. Please. Don’t let this be the last time I see you.’
‘Papa, don’t be silly. Of course I’ll come back,’ she said, but at his words a prickle of dread had run up her spine. No, I won’t. The thought was so strong that she couldn’t voice it. So she hugged him tightly and then, as he released her, she pushed her small pouch of money into his hand. ‘You keep this safe for me, until I come back,’ she told him. Then, before he could react to that, she turned and darted from his embrace. She wouldn’t need the money on their expedition. And perhaps, if she never came back, it would be helpful to him. Let him hold it now, and think it meant a promise to return.
‘Good luck!’ he called after her, and ‘Thanks!’ she called back. She saw Tats look at her father in surprise. He turned as if he, too, would go back to say his farewells, but at that moment, the man with the scroll demanded of him, ‘Do you want your chit or not? You won’t get your supply pack without it!’
‘Of course I want it,’ Tats declared, all but snatching it out of his hand.
The man shook his head at him. ‘You’re a fool,’ he said quietly. ‘Look around you, boy. You don’t belong with these others.’
‘You don’t know where I belong,’ Tats told him fiercely. Then he looked past Thymara and asked,