Ship of Destiny (Liveship Traders, #3)

by Robin Hobb

She Who Remembers was doomed to recall every detail of that day with clarity. It was her entire function and the reason for her existence. She was a vessel for memories. Not just her own life, from the moment when she began forming in the egg, but the linked lives of those who had gone before her were nested inside her. From egg to serpent to cocoon to dragon to egg, all memory of her line was hers. Not every serpent was so gifted, or so burdened. Only a relative few were imprinted with the full record of their species, but only a few were needed.

If the divine is also female, and the female also divine, then she understands that woman is more than mother, more than daughter, more than wife. Those are the facets of a full life, but no single facet defines the jewel.’

The river, he saw, was a paler grey than usual. Sometimes, after large quakes, it ran white and acid for days and anyone out in a boat had best be mindful of his craft. When the river ran white, it ate wood swiftly.

She swivelled aside from them to let her forepaws drop to the wood beside them. ‘Now you will live,’ she asserted. ‘Now…we will…live,’ Reyn panted. Selden lay like a stunned rabbit.

‘The one you call Malta isn’t dead,’ the dragon interrupted sharply. ‘Stop this caterwauling and cease your emotional wallowing.’ ‘Not dead?’ Reyn exclaimed. His words were echoed by Selden. He seized his wailing mother and shook her. ‘Mama, listen, didn’t you hear what the dragon said? She said Malta is not dead. Stop crying, Malta isn’t dead.’ He turned a shining gaze on Tintaglia. ‘You can trust the dragon. When she carried me, I could feel her wisdom right through my skin!’

‘The dragon spoke!’ ‘Did you hear that?’ Some nodded in surprised agreement, while others demanded to know what their friends meant. ‘I heard nothing.’ ‘It snorted, that was all.’ Tintaglia’s silver eyes greyed with disgust. ‘Their minds are too small even to speak to mine. Humans!’

He had shamed her, before humans, using her own name. He had revealed her name to those others, who had no right to it.

‘Little human, I am a dragon. I am the last Lord of the Three Realms. If any of my kind remain anywhere, I must seek them out and aid them.

‘Long or short, if you worry about every step of a journey, you will divide it endlessly into pieces, any one of which may defeat you. Look only to the end.’ ‘I think that we will only succeed if we prepare ourselves,’ Althea objected. Paragon shook his head. ‘Teach yourself to believe you will succeed. If you say, when we find Kennit, we must be good fighters, then you have put it off until then. Be good fighters now. Be now what you must be to succeed at the end of your journey, and when the end comes, you will find it is just another beginning.’

‘No.’ He contradicted her flatly. ‘Now I sound like myself. The self I put aside and hid, the self I intended to be again someday, when I was ready. I have stopped intending. I am, now.’

‘Are you well?’ ‘No,’ Amber replied succinctly. She did not look at Althea, but Althea stared frankly at the carpenter’s profile. Even in the fading light, her skin looked papery and taut, making her features sharper. Amber’s colouring was always so odd that Althea could tell little from it, but tonight it reminded her of ageing parchment. She had bound her light brown hair back and covered it with a kerchief. Althea let the silence stretch out between them, until Amber added reluctantly, ‘But neither am I sick. I suffer a malady from time to time. Fever and weariness are all it brings. I shall be fine.’

Jek radiated vitality and health. The deckhand was long-boned, well muscled, and completely unselfconscious about her body. She did not bind her breasts at all, nor worry that her sailor’s trousers reached no farther than her knee. Her long blonde braid was tattering to straw from the wind and saltwater, but she cared not at all. She is, Althea thought uneasily, what I pretend to be: a woman who does not let her sex deter her from living as she pleases. It wasn’t fair. Jek had grown up in the Six Duchies, and claimed this equality as her birthright. Consequently, men usually ceded it to her. Althea still sometimes felt she needed someone’s permission simply to be herself. Men seemed to sense that in her. Nothing came easily. She felt the struggle was as constant as her breathing.

For too many, when they get their dream, they discover it is not what they wanted. Or the dream is bigger than their abilities, and all ends in bitterness.

‘And I’ll bet he does a fine job elsewhere also.’ Jek was a woman of appetites; it was not the first time Althea had heard her express interest in a man. Shipboard life and rules had pushed her into a period of abstinence that was at odds with her nature. Although she could not indulge her body, she let her mind run wild, and often insisted on sharing her ruminations with Althea and Amber.

She sat back on her heels, very still and silent for a moment. Then she laughed aloud, and said, “I’m a prophet. I’ve been sent to save the world.”’

‘Because we are not as stupid as humans, who forget everything that befell them before their individual births. The memory of my mother, and of my mother’s mother, and her mother’s mother’s mother are all mine. They were spun into strands from memory sand and the saliva of those who helped encase me in my cocoon. They were set aside for me, my heritage, for me to reclaim when I awoke as a dragon.

she had finished speaking. ‘That is because you are stupid,’ she snapped bitterly.

‘Does Wintrow have the right of it? Are you a leftover bit of a still-born dragon?’ An instant of silence, more telling than any words. ‘And if I am?’ the charm asked smoothly. ‘Do I not still bear your own face? Ask yourself this. Do you conceal the dragon, or does the dragon conceal you?’

‘Come, join your kin and lend strength to the weaker ones. Together, together, we journey, back to our beginnings and our endings. Gather, shore-born creatures of the sea, to return to the shores yet again. Bring your dreams of sky and wings; come to share the memories of our lives. Our time is come, our time is come.’

She Who Remembers waited for an answer. Nothing came. Yet, as she sank disconsolately beneath the waves once more, it seemed to her that the toxins that trailed elusively from the ship ahead of her took on more substance and flavour.

Lords of the Three Realms were dragonkind; they had ruled the sky, the sea and the earth below. None had been their equal in magnificence or intelligence. How could they all have disappeared?

The human city of Trehaug was built beside the sunken ruins of old Frengong of the Elderlings. The Elderlings had chosen that site for the city so that they might be close to the dragons’ cocooning grounds. Once, there had been a wide shallows there in the bend of the Serpent River. There the memory stone had shone as silvery-black sand on a gleaming beach. In long-ago autumns, serpents had wallowed out of the river onto the sheltered beaches there. With the aid of the adult dragons, the serpents had formed their cocoons of long strands of saliva mixed with the rich memory sand. Every autumn, the cocoons had littered the beach like immense seed pods awaiting the spring. Both dragons and Elderlings had guarded the hardened cases that protected the metamorphosing creatures all through the long winter. Summer light and heat would eventually come, to touch the cases and awaken the creatures inside.

There had been a time, her ancestors whispered in the back of her brain, when dragon essence mingled with the nature of men, and Elderlings emerged from that accidental blending. Tall and slender, dragon-eyed and golden-skinned, that ancient race had lived alongside dragons and gloried in the symbiosis.

He spotted Lavoy headed for the foredeck. Even more unnerving than the previous disorder was the small, orderly group of men around Lavoy. Composed mostly of the former slaves they had smuggled out of Bingtown, this group flanked the first mate as if they were his personal escort. They carried both bows and swords. They ranged themselves on the foredeck. Purpose was in Lavoy’s stride as he paced it. Brashen felt an irrational flash of anger. The way the men moved around Lavoy told all. This was Lavoy’s élite crew. They answered to him, not Brashen.

For the first time, Brashen clearly saw the black sigil on their red headscarves. It was a spread-winged bird. A raven? Kennit’s sign?

Stay safe. The words were like barbs set in Althea’s mind. Even as she moved through the routine tasks aimed at restoring order and calm to the deck, the words rankled bitterly in her soul. Despite all, Brashen still considered her a vulnerable female to be kept out of harm’s way. Stay safe, he had told her, and then he had taken her task for himself, jerking loose the grapple that had defied her lesser strength. Humiliating her by showing her that she was, despite all her efforts, unreliable. Incompetent. Clef had witnessed it all.

Then, ‘No!’ he shrieked. ‘Kennit never said that! He never said he always dreamed of having his own liveship. You lie! You lie!’ He shook the man back and forth. Althea heard the snapping of bones. The man screamed, and Paragon suddenly flung him away. His body cartwheeled in the bright sunlight, then bit into the flashing sea abruptly. There was a slap of flesh against water. Then he was gone. The chains on his ankles pulled what was left of him down. Althea stared dully at the spot where he had vanished. He had done it. Paragon had killed again. ‘Oh, ship,’ Brashen groaned deep beside her.

Longing devoured him. He could recall the intense satisfaction he had felt at consciously directing his body’s repair while he slept in the dragon. Awake and alive once more, he could not sink his consciousness deep enough to attain that control over himself. Could she teach him to find that mastery at will? His desire for that knowledge went far beyond freedom from pain and erasing his latest scars. Could she show him how to expel the tattoo’s ink from his face? Teach him to regenerate his lost finger as well? Once learned, could he use this skill for others? It would be the unlocking of a great mystery. All his life, Wintrow had loved knowledge, loved the pursuit of knowledge. She could not have chosen better bait to tempt him.

Guardians were guardian dragons. Were there dead dragons at the bottom of the sea? Then, as she stared, the vague shapes amidst the drifting silt suddenly took a new form. She saw. It was a Guardian, obviously a female. She sprawled on her side, one wing lifted, the other still buried in the muck. Three claws had broken off one raised forepaw. Part of her tail thrust up oddly beside her. The statue had been broken in a fall; that much was clear. But how had it come to be here, beneath the sea? It had used to stand above the city gates of Yruran. Then her eyes discovered a fallen column. And over there, that would have been that atrium that Desmolo the Eager had built, to house all the exotic plants his dragon friends had brought back to him from the four corners of the earth. And beyond it, the fallen dome of the Temple of Water. ‘The whole city is here,’ she trumpeted softly. Maulkin was suddenly in their midst. ‘A whole province is here,’

‘Yet Others’ Island, as you call it, seemed but little changed. So some of my world remains as it was. That is a puzzle to me, one I can only resolve when I return home.’

‘At least hear me out,’ he begged. The words rushed out of him. He wouldn’t consider how stupid they would sound to her, or that he could never call them back again. ‘You say you can’t perform your duties without my respect. Don’t you know the same is true for me? Damn it, a man has to see himself reflected somewhere to be sure he is real. I see myself in your face, in how your eyes follow me when I’m handling something well, in how you grin at me when I’ve done something stupid but managed to make it come out all right anyway. When you take that away from me, when…’ She just stood there, shocked and staring. His heart sank. His words came out as a plea. ‘Althea, I am so damn lonely. Worst is to know that whether we fail or succeed, I still lose you. Knowing that you are, every day, here on the same ship with me, and I cannot so much as share a meal with you, let alone touch your hand, is torment enough. When you will not look at me or speak to me…I can’t go on with this coldness between us. I can’t.’

Her traitor hand clutched the fabric and pulled him closer. He stumbled forwards and then his arms were around her, holding her so tightly she could scarcely breathe. For a time, they did not move. Then he sighed out suddenly as if a pain had eased in him. He spoke softly, ‘Oh, Althea. Why must it always be so complicated for us?’ His breath was warm against the top of her head as he kissed her hair gently. Suddenly, it all seemed very simple to her. When he bent to kiss her ear and the side of her neck, she turned her mouth to meet his and closed her eyes. Let it happen, then.

He broke the kiss. ‘Wait,’ he cautioned her. He took a breath. ‘Stop.’ He had come to his senses. She reeled with disappointment as he turned away from her. He walked to the door. With shaking hands, he bolted it. Returning, he caught up her hand. He kissed the palm of it, let it go and then stood silently, looking down on her. For an instant, she closed her eyes. He waited. She decided. She took his hands in both of hers and drew him gently towards his bed.

‘Shh.’ He clenched his hands into fists and held them tight to his chest. He would not scream. He would not. Amber was talking at him but he closed off his ears and tuned his other senses. This was not what he had thought it was. He had thought he understood humans and how they hurt one another, but this was different. This was something else. Something he could almost recall. Timidly, he shut the eyes he no longer had. He let his thoughts float, and felt ancient memories soar in him.

Selden was her last living child. That should have made her desperate to cherish him. She should have wanted him by her side every moment. Instead, it numbed her heart to him. Best not to love him too much. Like the others, he could be taken from her at any time.

Even after the Kendry had left the river behind, she had kept her nightly vigils on the deck. She could not trust the ship’s lookout to watch with a mother’s eyes.

After she had formally apologized to the Bingtown Council for the unfortunate loss of Satrap Cosgo and his Companion, she would ask for assistance for the Rain Wild Traders of Trehaug. The destruction of the ancient Elderling city was almost complete. With much careful work, parts of the city might eventually be reopened. In the meantime, the Trader families who had depended on the strange and wonderful objects unearthed in the city for their commerce were left abruptly destitute. Those families made up the backbone of Trehaug. Without the Elderling city to plunder, there was no economic reason for Trehaug to exist.

She believed this latest disaster might destroy the Rain Wild folk. Their population had dwindled in the last two generations. Rain Wild children were often stillborn, or died in the first few months. Even those who lived did not have as long a life span as ordinary folk. Reyn himself did not expect to live much beyond his thirtieth year. It was one reason the Rain Wild Traders often sought their mates among their Bingtown kin. Such matches were more likely to be fecund, and the resulting children stronger.

He had no eyes, he had no wings, but his soul was still a dragon’s soul.

She was the only one whose fear of him he could not feel. Sometimes he shared her emotions, but never her thoughts, and when he did catch a tinge of her feelings, he suspected it was because she allowed it. As a result, her words confused him more often than the others did. She was the only one who could possibly lie to him.

‘The night is beautiful,’ Amber said at last. ‘And we are beautiful in the night. There is a moon somewhere above us. It makes the fog gleam silver. Here and there, my eyes find bits of you. A row of silver droplets hung on a line stretched tight. Or the fog breaks for an instant, and the moon shines our way up the river. You move so smoothly and sweetly. Listen. There is the water against your bow, purring like a cat, and the wind shushes us along. The river is so narrow here, it is as if we knife through the forest, parting trees to let us pass. The same wind that pushes us stirs the leaves of the trees. It has been so long since I last heard the wind in the trees and smelled earth smells. It is like being in a silver dream on a magic ship.’ Paragon found himself smiling. ‘I am a magic ship.’ ‘I know. Oh, well do I know what a wonder you are. On a night such as this, moving swift and silent in the dark, I almost feel as if you could unfurl wings and lift us into the very sky itself. Do you not feel it, Paragon?’

‘But I’m not a boy any more. Now this just drives me mad. I want more than this, Althea. I don’t want suspense and quarrels and jealousy. I don’t want sneaking about and concealing what I feel. I want the comfort of knowing you are mine, and taking pride in everyone else recognizing that as well. I want you in my bed beside me, every night, and across the table from me in the morning. I want to know that years from now, if I stand on another deck somewhere, on another night, you will still be beside me.’

His voice also shook, though she knew he tried for levity. ‘I suppose that’s all right, as I haven’t really asked the question yet. But when all this is over, I shall.’ ‘When all this is over, I’ll have an answer for you.’ She made the promise, knowing she had no idea what that answer would be.

Bold and brash as his name he would be; he would assume a welcome and fellowship, and see where it got him.

The rain on his face, the drops glistening in his hair, his dark eyes and the simple nearness of him suddenly overwhelmed her. Something of her rush of emotion must have shown on her face, for his eyes widened. Heedless of who might see, she seized his wet hand. ‘I can’t explain it,’ she laughed up at him. For an instant, just looking at him was all she needed in the world. He squeezed her hand.

During those times, Paragon had discovered his unique ability. He could take away the pain and the nightmares and even the bad memories. Not completely, of course. To take all the memory away would have left the boy a fool. But he could absorb the pain just as he absorbed the blood from his beatings. He could dim the agony and soften the edges of Kennit’s recall. All that he could do for the boy. It demanded that he keep for himself all he took away from Kennit. The sharp humiliation and indignity, the stabbing pain and stunned bewilderment and the scorching hatred all became Paragon’s, to keep hidden forever deep inside him.

Someday, Kennit resolved, he would restore all that Igrot had broken and destroyed. He would make it as if the evil old pirate had never been. No one would even recall his name. Everything Igrot had ever dirtied would be hidden away or silenced. Even Kennit’s family liveship.

‘If he was Igrot’s ship, then where is Igrot’s star?’ another voice demanded. ‘He put that star on everything that belonged to him.’ The long-ago horror of the star being cut into his chest was eclipsed by the memory of a thousand inky needle-pricks jabbing the same emblem into his hip. He began to tremble. Every plank in his body shuddered. The calm waters of the lagoon shivered against him.

If they didn’t ask, he couldn’t tell. He could at least be that true to his word and his family.

Why could they remember the heat and the irritation of grit, but not the goal of the flight?