Blood of Dragons - Робин Хобб

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bay. The largest of the three, he rounded on his pursuers. There were only three of them now, for the rest of the pack were engrossed in the creature they’d already pulled down. The immense deer shook his head, menacing them with the memory of his antlers, and then stood tall, waiting. As the first wolf slunk in, the deer spun and kicked out with his hind legs, scoring a hit on the first wolf, but a second rushed in, to get under him and then turn his ravening jaws up to his belly. The deer hopped awkwardly, but could not break the wolf’s grip, and as he struggled to get away, the last wolf sprang for his throat. By then, the first wolf was on his feet again. Thymara was astonished when he sprang from the ground, landed on the deer’s back and then darted his head in to bite right behind his prey’s head. The great deer staggered another two steps, and then folded onto its front knees. He died silently, trying to walk away even as his hindquarters collapsed. As he fell over, Tats let out a pent breath.

      Thymara realized she still had hold of his hand. ‘We should get out of here,’ she said in a low voice. ‘If they turn around, there’s nothing between them and us. And no place for us to run where they can’t run faster.’

      Tats didn’t take his eyes off the scene before him. ‘They’ll gorge themselves and they won’t be interested in us.’ He suddenly snapped his gaze skyward. ‘If they get a chance,’ he added.

      Sintara fell on them like a blue thunderbolt, striking the thick huddle of wolves tearing at the first deer they had downed. The weight of her impact sent carcass and wolves sliding across the bridge deck to fetch up against the stone wall. She rode them, her rear talons set firmly in the carcass, her front claws tearing at the wolves as they went. By the time they slammed into the wall, she had closed her jaws on a wolf and lifted it aloft. Others, yelping in pain, sprawled in a trail behind her. None of them would hunt again.

      A fraction of a breath behind her, Fente hit the other deer and the three wolves that had killed it. Her strike was not as fortuitous. One wolf went spinning off the end of the bridge, and her impact sent the carcass flying after him. The second died in a screaming yelp while the third, ki-yi-ing in fright, fled back the way they had come.

      ‘Tats!’ Thymara shrieked the warning as the creature galloped toward them, but in one motion he swept her behind him with one arm while brandishing his bow like a staff. As the animal came on, it grew impossibly large, until she abruptly realized it truly was that big. If it had stood on its hind legs, it would have been taller than Tats. Jaws wide, tongue hanging red, it raced directly at them. Thymara sucked in a breath to scream, but then held it as the terrified wolf suddenly veered past them and scrabbled up the steep slope, to disappear in the brush.

      Belatedly, she realized she had a tight grip on the back of Tats’s tunic. She released it as he turned and put his arms around her. For a time they held one another, both shaking. She lifted her face and looked over his shoulder. ‘It’s gone,’ she said stupidly.

      ‘I know,’ he replied, but he didn’t let her go. After a time, he said quietly, ‘I’m sorry that I slept with Jerd. Sorry in a lot of ways, but mostly that it hurt you. That it made it harder for us to …’ He let his words trail away.

      She took a breath. She knew what he wanted to hear and what she couldn’t say. She wasn’t sorry she had been with Rapskal. She didn’t think it had been a mistake. She wished she had considered the decision more coolly but she found she could not tell Tats she was sorry for having done it. She found other words. ‘What you and Jerd did had nothing to do with me, at the time. At first I was angry about it because of how I found out, and how stupid I felt. Then I was angry because of how Jerd made me feel. But that’s not something you could have controlled or—’

      ‘Of course! We’ve been so stupid!’

      She stepped away from him to look up at his face, affronted. But he wasn’t looking at her, but past her, at the truncated bridge. She tried to see what had startled him. Sintara was still there, feeding on deer and wolf carcasses. Fente was gone, as was the sole dead wolf that had been the only fruit of her strike. She’d probably gulped it down and taken flight. As she watched, Fente came suddenly into view, rising up from beyond the tattered end of the bridge. The slender green dragon beat her wings steadily, rising as she flew across the river. Halfway across, she banked her wings sharply and flew upstream, gaining altitude as she went.

      ‘Why are we stupid?’ Thymara demanded, dreading his answer.

      He took her by surprise when he exclaimed, ‘This is what the dragons have needed all along. A launching platform. I bet that half of them could fly across the river today if they launched from here. At the very least, they’d get close enough that even after they hit the water, they could wade out on the other side. They can all fly a bit now. If they could get across, soak in the waters, chances are that they could re-launch from that end of the bridge, and have a better chance of flight. And hunting.’

      She thought carefully about it, measuring the bridge ends with her eyes and thinking over what she’d seen the dragons do. ‘It would work,’ she agreed.

      ‘I know!’ He seized her in his arms, lifted her up against his chest and whirled her around. As he set her down, he kissed her, a sudden hard kiss that mashed her lips against her teeth and sent a bolt of heat through her body. Then, before she could react or respond to his kiss, he set her down and stooped to pick up the bow he had dropped when he embraced her. ‘Let’s go. News like this is more important than meat.’

      She closed her mouth. The abruptness of the kiss and Tats’s assumption that something had just changed between them took her breath away. She should have pushed him away. She should run after him, throw her arms around him and kiss him properly. Her hammering heart jolted a hundred questions loose to rattle in her brain, but suddenly she didn’t want to ask any of them. Let it be, for now. She drew a long breath and willed stillness into herself. Let her have time to think before either of them said anything more to one another. She chose casual words.

      ‘You’re right, we should go,’ she agreed, but lingered a moment, watching Sintara feed. The blue queen had grown, as had her appetite. She braced a clawed forefoot on the deer, bent her head and tore a hindquarter free of the carcass. As she tipped her head back to swallow, her gleaming glance snagged on Thymara. For a moment she looked at her, maw full of meat. Then she began the arduous process of getting the leg down her gullet. Her sharp back teeth sheared flesh and crushed bone until she tossed the mangled section into the air and caught it again. She tipped her head back to swallow.

      ‘Sintara,’ Thymara whispered into the still winter air. She felt the briefest touch of acknowledgement. Then she turned to where Tats waited and they started back for the village.

      ‘This is not what you promised me.’ The finely dressed man rounded angrily on the fellow who held the chain fastened to Selden’s wrist manacles. The wind off the water tugged at the rich man’s heavy cloak and stirred his thinning hair. ‘I can’t present this to the Duke. A scrawny, coughing freak! You promised me a dragon-man. You said it would be the offspring of a woman and a dragon!’

      The other man stared at him, his pale-blue eyes cold with fury. Selden returned his appraisal dully, trying to rouse his own interest. He had been jerked from a sleep that had been more like a stupor, dragged from below decks up two steep ladders, across a ship’s deck and down onto a splintery dock. They’d allowed him to keep his filthy blanket only because he’d snatched it close as they woke him and no one had wanted to touch him to take it away. He didn’t blame them. He knew he stank. His skin was stiff with salt sweat long dried. His hair hung past his shoulders in matted locks. He was hungry, thirsty and cold. And now he was being sold, like a dirty, shaggy monkey brought back from the hot lands.

      All around him on the docks, cargo was being unloaded and deals were being struck. He smelled coffee from somewhere, and raised voices shouting in Chalcedean besieged his ears. None of it was so different from the Bingtown docks when a ship came in. There was the same sense of urgency as cargo was hoisted from the deck to the docks, to be trundled away on barrows to warehouses. Or sold, on the spot, to eager buyers.

      His buyer did not look all that eager. Displeasure was writ large on his face. He still stood straight but years

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