A moment too late, he realized he should have given some response to that honest offering. Carson had already looked away from him. He gave a tiny shrug. “I know you’ve got someone waiting for you to come back. I think he was an idiot to let you go in the first place. And of course, I don’t forget the differences between us. I know what I am, and I got my place in the world. And most of the time, I’m pretty satisfied with my life.”

Sedric found his voice. “I wish I could say the same,” he offered, then knew it had come out wrong. “I mean, I wish I could say I’d found satisfaction in my life. I haven’t.” There had been moments of it, he thought. Time spent with Hest in some of the more exotic cities they’d visited, times of excellent wine and rare foods and the prospect of a long, merry evening in a finely appointed inn. Had that been satisfaction with his life, he suddenly wondered, or simply hedonistic satiation? Uncomfortably he sensed that Carson was right. The differences between them were extreme. He suddenly felt shamed but also a bit angry. So he liked things to be nice; so he enjoyed the fine things life could offer. That didn’t make him shallow. There was more to him than just enjoying what Hest’s money could buy him. Carson’s voice called him back to reality. His voice sounded resigned.

“It’s getting late. We should get some sleep. You can have the blanket.”

“There’s another blanket in the other boat,” he said.

“Other boat?” Carson asked him.

He’d relaxed too much. The truth had slipped out. Then he wondered how long he would have lied? Would he have kept his silence tomorrow, let them abandon supplies and gear that were even more precious now than when they had left Trehaug?

“It’s tied up on the other side of that big snag over there.” He tossed his head toward it, and then sat, guilty and silent, as Carson gracefully rose and crossed the mat of rocking logs and debris to look down on it. He stared at the firepot. He heard the big man thud gently down into the bottom of the boat. In a moment, his voice came through the dimness. “This is Greft’s boat and his gear. One thing about him, he’s good at taking care of what’s his. If I were you, I’d be careful with his stuff. He’s going to want it all back, and in good condition.”

A few moments later, Carson returned. The blanket was slung over his shoulder. He tossed it to Sedric, not hard but not softly either. Sedric caught it. It was still damp in places. He’d intended to spread it out to dry in the sun and forgotten.

“So,” Carson said, sitting down on the log again. “That’s Greft’s boat. And you didn’t tie the knots that are securing it. What’s the whole story? And why didn’t you tell it?” There was a chill in his voice, a cold spark of anger.

Sedric was suddenly too tired to dissemble. Too tired to be anything but honest. “I did tell you what happened to me. I saw this pack of logs here, and Relpda brought me here. Then I found out that Jess was already here. He’d been swept away, too, but he’d found a boat. And he’d got here before I did.”

“Jess is here?”

A simple question. If he answered it truthfully, how would Carson react? He looked at him wordlessly. No lie came to him and he didn’t dare tell the truth. He fingered the massive bruise on the side of his face as he tried to decide where to begin. Carson’s deep eyes were fixed on his. A furrow had begun to show between his brows, and his mouth was suspicious. Talk. Say something.

“He wanted to kill Relpda. Cut her up into parts, take the parts to Chalced and sell them.”

For a long moment, Carson was silent. Then he nodded slowly. “That sounds like something Jess was capable of doing. Sounds like what he was trying to get Greft to persuade the keepers to do. So what happened?”

“We fought. I hit him with the hatchet.”

“And I ate him.” There was satisfaction in Relpda’s quiet rumble.

The copper distracted Carson completely from what Sedric had said. His head swiveled to face her. “You ate him? You ate Jess?” He was incredulous.

“It’s what dragons do,” she replied defensively. Sedric’s own words, coming out of her mouth.

Sedric found himself justifying it. “Jess wanted me to help him trick her into keeping still while he killed her. I wouldn’t. So he stabbed her with a spear and then came after me. Carson, he was going to kill her and cut her up and sell her. And he didn’t care if he had to kill me first to do it.”

The hunter’s head swiveled back to regard Sedric skeptically. His eyes wandered over Sedric, his bruised face and battered condition, assigning new meaning to what he saw. Sedric felt his muscles tighten as he faced that gaze, fearing that soon it would turn to judgment and condemnation. Instead, he saw disbelief slowly become admiring amazement.