‘Get up here. Now.’ The Chalcedean barked the order as if it had been Hest’s idea to stay below decks after the sun was up.

He had awakened from his chill and cramped sleep as soon as the locker was opened. Even so, it was hard to move quickly. Hest was still blinking at the light as he emerged onto the deck. Early morning, he estimated, and for a blessing, it was not raining at the moment. He looked about hastily, trying to gauge the situation quickly. The boat was moving slowly upriver, the rowers steady at their oars. The other impervious boat was following them. He stared at the other craft for a moment, wondering if they followed under duress or if they were allied now.

The Chalcedean had no patience with his curiosity. ‘Not there!’ He cuffed Hest, then pointed ahead of them, and Hest’s jaw dropped at what he saw. Ahead of them was a low spit of grassy mud projecting into the river. Amid the rushes, the dragon was curled like a huge blue cat, asleep and glittering in the wan afternoon light. The Chalcedean spoke in a low voice. ‘We are going to kill it. But we need to know everything you know about dragons. Does it have a vulnerable spot? If it awakens before we manage a quick kill, how will it respond to our attack?’

Hest shook his head. ‘I don’t know. I’ve never tried to kill a dragon! Look at the size of that animal. You’d have to be mad to attack it!’ The assassin gave him a dangerous look and Hest reconsidered his tack. What did he know? Only what he had heard. He cleared his throat and spoke more calmly. ‘When the Chalcedeans invaded Bingtown, a dragon helped us fight them off. A blue one, like that one but much smaller. She was able to spit acid, sometimes as a mist that rained down on ranks of men and sometimes in a spray aimed at one man. She also used her wings and her tail to lash at the ships and the warriors. She had clawed feet, too. But what I am telling you is what I was told. I never actually saw her fighting. I wasn’t in that part of the city.’ He hadn’t been in Bingtown at all for those weeks, in truth, but had fled with his mother to their country house. The marauders had never penetrated that far inland.

‘Useless!’ The Chalcedean dismissed him, turning away to speak to another of his party. They conversed in Chalcedean, and they were either unaware that Hest was a fluent speaker of that tongue or did not care if he overheard them.

‘We will put in here, downriver of it, and approach on foot. The creature is far larger than expected, from what our spies have told us of the Rain Wild dragons. We have two archers, and they must go first. Aim for an eye and perhaps we will kill it as it sleeps. If it awakes, then send in everyone else with pikes.’

The other man shook his head. ‘Lord Dargen, it is too dangerous. When we captured the other vessel, as you commanded, we lost men we could not afford to lose. We are already spread too thin manning both vessels. If you take most of our men off both ships to attack the dragon and the attack fails, there will not be enough of us left to man one ship. We will all die here.’

The assassin – Lord Dargen – stared at his companion as if he were stupid. ‘This is why we came. To kill a dragon, to butcher it, and to return to Chalced as swiftly as we may.’ He shook his head, and then smiled. ‘We may all die here, or we may all die somewhere else, or all our families may die while we are here thinking of ways to save our own lives. It is done. We are marching toward death as soon as we are born. The only hope a man has is that his family line will remain, that his sons will go forward to father more sons, and that his name will be remembered by them. If I do not soon bring to the Duke’s feet that which he desires, all futures will be lost to me. So, I risk my life today, in the hopes that my memory will go on forever if I succeed. Put in to shore. I myself will lead the men.’ He jerked his head at Hest. ‘Put my servant back in his den. He is useless and I do not want him underfoot.’

The man seized Hest by the arm and jostled him along. As he was shoved unceremoniously and without benefit of ladder below decks, Hest knew that he was receiving the treatment the man longed to inflict on Lord Dargen himself.

‘Lord Dargen,’ he muttered as he stood up. ‘Now I have his name! A thread I can follow to deliver vengeance to his door.’ He spoke the words aloud, but in the cold wooden space they sounded as hollow as a child’s threats against the father who has sent him to his room. He folded himself into the corner, his arms wrapped around his knees, and tried not to think what would become of him if the dragon attacked the ship. He’d be helpless, trapped like a rat in the bilge as the ship went down. Cold water. He never imagined he’d die drowning in cold water.