She blinked rain from her lashes and grinned. Her family had expected that Skelly would be his heir. On the strength of that expectation, they had negotiated a profitable betrothal for her, one that she was most anxious to break now that she had met Alum and become infatuated with the quiet dragon keeper. Leftrin did not know if he and Alise would ever have a child to take over ownership of Tarman, but even if they did not, the possibility of an heir displacing her changed Skelly’s fortune completely. She was hoping the boy’s family would decline the betrothal now that her future was uncertain. Leftrin doubted that her parents would be as pleased at the prospect as she was. He didn’t want her to break the news to them alone. That he would speak for her obviously pleased her as she asked, “Is my uncle offering that service or my captain?”

“Don’t get sassy with me, sailor!”

“Sir, yes, regardless of who’s asking.” She grinned insouciantly at him. “I’d like that best myself, if we did it together. And they’d expect me to stay aboard until you reported to the Council. If any of them drop by to visit me here before you get back, I’ll say nothing and tell them the story has to come from you.”

“Good, lass! Now I want no one else to come aboard Tarman while I’m gone. Crew family, that’s okay. Tell them little, and bid them keep what they do hear to themselves. They’ll understand. But no merchants, no Council members, and I’ll tell Hennesey no whores. He can leave the ship for that if he must, but he can’t bring any guests back with him. Not right now.” Leftrin scratched at his wet cheek. His scaling had increased lately, and it itched constantly. Damn dragons. Probably their fault. “I’ll be giving the rest of the crew shore time, but either Swarge or Hennesey must be on board at all times. Bellin, I’ll take your list to the ship’s chandlery and have it filled and sent down. As soon as I’ve wrung our wages out of the Council, I’ll pay off the merchants and send the rest of the money here. Big Eider will go see his mother, as he always does. And you’ll stay aboard and wait until I have time to take you to visit your parents.”

“Yes, sir.”

The rest of his crew, their docking tasks completed, had drifted closer to them. They were weary and haggard, rain drenched and triumphant. He raised his voice to be heard over the rattling of the rain on Tarman’s decks. “I’m counting on all of you to trust me to strike our best deal. Mum’s the word on where we’ve been and what we’ve seen until after I finish our negotiation. Got that?”

Swarge ran a big hand through his hair, pushing the lank strands back from his face. “It’s all agreed to, Cap. You told us before and we haven’t forgotten. Nothing for you to worry about here. Good luck.”

“Squeeze those bastards dry,” Hennesey suggested, and Big Eider’s broad face cracked wide in a grin of agreement.

The others were nodding. Leftrin nodded back, and he felt their confidence in him as both armor and liability. There was a lot depending on him this time, much more than merely getting their pay for a journey accomplished. The councils were notoriously tightfisted, he thought as he returned to his stateroom. His grin looked like a snarl; he’d always wrung his contract money out of them before, and he’d do it this time, too. The signed document that had sent him and his ship on the expedition up the river was already snugly stowed in a waterproofed tube. He hefted it approvingly. They’d live up to their terms of the bargain; they wouldn’t like it, but he’d hold them to their written words, and they’d pay out the coin they’d never expected to spend.

Malta Khuprus sat before her mirror, drawing her comb through the gleaming gold streaks in her softly curling hair. Then she twisted it and slowly began to pin it into place. As her hands worked, almost by themselves, she stared at her reflection in the glass. When would the changes stop? Ever since she’d first come to the Rain Wilds, her body had been changing. Now the gold in her hair was literally gold, not the glossy blond that some folks called gold. The nails of her fingers were crimson. The rosy skin of her face was as finely scaled as a little tree lizard’s belly and as soft. The scarlet “crown” above her brow gleamed.

Her scaling was edged in red; the creamy skin of her childhood still shone through the nearly translucent scales on her cheeks, but her brows were layered rows of ruby scales now. She turned her head, watching the light move over her face, and then sighed.

“Are you well?” Reyn crossed the small room they had rented, covering the distance between them in two strides. He laid his hands on her shoulders and stooped to look at her.