But his current anger was different. It was cold. In the days after he’d ordered Sedric to accompany Alise on her expedition, Hest had been formal and chill with Sedric. He’d smiled at him each morning as he handed him a long list of tasks. He treated him in an absolutely correct, master-to-servant fashion. Every evening, he listened to Sedric report how his tasks had gone. He didn’t seem to care that he’d given Sedric the responsibility for Alise’s journey. He’d expected him to fulfill his regular chores as well.

Thus Sedric had been the one to arrange passage for Hest and Wollom Courser and Jaff Secudus on a ship bound for the Pirate Isles. At the last minute, with great deliberation and a cruel smile, he’d had Sedric write an invitation to Redding Cope as well. The joyous acceptance had arrived less than an hour after the post was sent. Hest had had Sedric read it aloud to him, and then had pleasantly commented how enjoyable a companion Redding Cope was, so affable and full of enthusiasm for any new adventure.

The next afternoon, they had departed. Cope had waved a cheerful farewell to Sedric as the ship slowly moved away from the dock. This was Hest’s first venture at making trading contacts in the formerly dangerous Pirate Isles. It was also a journey that he and Sedric had been discussing for nearly a year. Hest well knew how Sedric had anticipated such a trip. And he’d not only chosen other companions for it, he’d also directed Sedric to book his passage on a ship that offered its passengers every comfort that a civilized man could cherish. While Sedric listened to men snore and fart in the darkness around him, Hest and his friends were probably sipping good port in a softly lit card parlor on the southbound ship. Sedric shifted uncomfortably and scratched the back of his neck. Then he worried that the tickling had been a bedbug. Or a louse. He felt his neck, but his fingers encountered nothing. Then he surprised himself by yawning.

Well, he was exhausted. Alise had seen to that. He’d packed all their possessions hastily, arranged porters, and then they had all but run from the Paragon to the Tarman. He’d barely glimpsed the fabled treetop city of Trehaug, let alone had time to wander through any of its bazaars. Trehaug was the prime city in all the Cursed Shores for a Trader to find Elderling goods at a reasonable price, and he’d had to race past it without even a glance because Alise feared she wouldn’t get to see her smelly, deformed dragons.

He yawned again in the darkness and resolutely closed his eyes. He would get what sleep he could in such foul conditions, and try to face the morrow with good graces. If all went well, he’d be with Alise when she wangled an invitation to visit the dragons and attempted to speak with them. She’d as much as said that she’d want him with her, to transcribe conversations and make notes and even to help with the sketches she planned to do. He’d be right there, among them, helping her collect her information. If fortune favored him, that wouldn’t be all he’d be collecting. He hugged himself in the dark, and then gingerly pulled the blanket over himself. Nights were chill on the river, he decided, even in summer. Nights were as cold as Hest himself. But he’d show Hest. He’d show him that he didn’t plan to live his life as only Hest’s secretary. He’d show him that Sedric Meldar could do some bartering of his own, that he did have ambitions and dreams of his own. He’d show them all.

THYMARA SAT ON bare earth and stared at the flames of the cook fire. “Did any of us think we’d be doing this, a month ago? Preparing to meet dragons and escort them up the river? Or even imagine this, sitting around a fire down here on the ground?” she asked of her new circle of friends.

“Not me,” muttered Tats, always at her side. Several of the others laughed in assent. Greft, seated to her right, just shook his head. His dark ringlets danced, as did the fleshy growths that fringed his jaw. When he had first joined their group, he’d been veiled. No one had commented. It wasn’t uncommon for heavily touched men or women of the Rain Wilds to prefer a veil, especially if they were in the lower levels of Trehaug and might encounter the shocked gapes of someone strange to the city. When, on his second night with the dragon keepers, he’d finally appeared among them unveiled, even Thymara had stared. Greft was more heavily marked than anyone she’d ever seen. In his midtwenties, he had more wattles and growths than she’d seen even on the oldest folk of the Rain Wilds. The nails of his hands and feet were smooth but iridescent, and they curved like claws. His eyes were an unnatural blue and at night they unmistakably glowed. Every part of his exposed skin was heavily scaled. His mouth was nearly lipless and his tongue was blue. He moved with quiet competence, and his maturity and steadiness were attractive to her. In contrast to the boys in the group, he seemed reliable and more thoughtful.