The Mad Ship (Liveship Traders, #2)

by Robin Hobb

A sour smile twisted Althea’s mouth. ‘No. I don’t want to be the wind in his sails.

You want a mate who will follow your dream. You don’t want to give up your own ambitions to make someone else’s life possible.’ ‘I suppose that’s true,’ Althea admitted reluctantly. An instant later she demanded, ‘Why is that so wrong?’ ‘It isn’t,’ Amber assured her. A moment later she added wickedly, ‘As long as you’re male.’

‘Don’t try to tell me that that is what love is, giving it all up for someone else!’ ‘But for some people, it is,’ Amber pointed out inexorably.

‘Love isn’t just about feeling sure of the other person, knowing what he would give up for you. It’s knowing with certainty what you are willing to surrender for his sake. Make no mistake; each partner gives up something. Individual dreams are surrendered for a shared one. In some marriages, one partner gives up almost everything she once thought she wanted. But it’s not always the woman who does so. Such sacrifice is not shameful. It’s love. If you think the man is worth it, it works.’

She was a woman, but he could talk to her, beyond complimenting her gown or comparing her eyes to stars. How rare was that?

‘Malta and Papa aren’t bad any more?’ a young voice wondered aloud. All heads turned to the boy in the doorway. ‘Oh, Selden!’ Keffria cried in weary dismay. She pulled herself up from her chair and went to her young son. She tried to hug him but he pulled stiffly free. ‘Mama, I’m not a baby!’ he cried in annoyance.

‘Half the evil in this world occurs while decent people stand by and do nothing wrong. It’s not enough to refrain from evil, Trell. People have to attempt to do right, even if they believe they cannot succeed.’

‘Everyone thinks that courage is about facing death without flinching. But almost anyone can do that. Almost anyone can hold their breath and not scream for as long as it takes to die. True courage is facing life without flinching. I don’t mean the times when the right path is hard, but glorious at the end. I’m talking about enduring the boredom, and the messiness, and the inconvenience of doing what is right.’

You’re not who he expected you to be; that doesn’t mean you aren’t somebody. Nor are you perfect. Stop using every mistake you make as an excuse to fail completely.’

‘I want to come out. Why won’t you help me?’ ‘I can’t. Please. Understand that I can’t, and stop pleading with me.’ The imprisoned dragon was contemptuous. ‘You won’t. You could, but you won’t. All it would take is sunlight. Open the shutters and let in the sunlight. I would do the rest.’

‘If you were truly my friend as you claim to be, you’d dig me out and free me. Please. I need to be free. Not just for my own sake, but for the sake of all my kind.’ Reyn shifted in his bed, rucking up the covers. He felt he was not truly asleep, nor was he dreaming; yet he was not awake either. The dragon vision had become an almost nightly torment now. When he slept, the dragon looked into him, at him, and through him with great copper eyes the size of cartwheels. Her eyes spun, the colours whirling all about the great elliptical pupils. He could not look away from them, nor could he break free of the dream and wake up. She was imprisoned in her wizardwood cocoon and he was imprisoned in her.

‘Starvation does not know patience. Madness does not know patience. They are inexorable. Reyn, Reyn. Why can’t I make you understand what you are doing with your cruelty? You are killing us all, for all times. Let me out! Let me out!’

He once more considered telling his mother of these nightmares but he knew how she would react. She would order the last wizardwood log to be split. The immense soft body inside would be tumbled out onto the cold stone floor, and the precious wizardwood ‘log’ would be reduced to planks and timbers for a ship. It was the only substance the Rain Wilders had ever discovered that seemed impervious to the acid water of the river.

I meant that sound.’ ‘Sound?’ he asked uneasily. ‘Like scrabbling and scratching. Don’t you hear it?’ He heard it all the time. Waking and sleeping, the sound of the dragon’s claws working feebly against its tomb haunted him. ‘You can hear it, too?’ He was astounded. He had learned to ignore what he had always been told was his imagination.

‘A long time ago, something happened. We’re not sure what. Somehow, an entire city was buried under a heavy layer of earth. It was so long ago that trees have grown in the earth above it. The dragon is in a chamber deep within the buried city.

Sa’Adar announced, ‘You can’t command what I do. You can’t make me your slave.’ Kennit glanced back at him. He gave him a small smile. ‘Perhaps not. However, I can make you dead. It’s an interesting choice, don’t you think?’

He felt quite patriarchal as he said this. It occurred to him that eventually he could select others to come and live here. It could become his secret kingdom within a kingdom.

His mouth twisted wryly. ‘You make it hard for me to wish you success, for if you win all you desire, I lose you.’ At the dawn of her frown, he laughed aloud. ‘But you know I do. Nevertheless, if you do not succeed…well, I will be waiting for you. With Ophelia.’

‘Althea.’ She turned to the bereft tone of his voice. Grag suddenly looked very boyish and young. He met her eyes bravely and did not try to hide his pain. ‘The offer stands. I’ll wait until you come back. Be my wife. I don’t care what you’ve done. I love you.’ She searched for true words she could say to him. ‘You have a kind heart, Grag Tenira,’ she said at last. ‘Fare well.’

He easily overcame her efforts to push him away. She was like a spitting kitten in his hand. He raped her, not savagely, but matter of factly. The discovery of her virginity made him exclaim in surprise, and curse in his own language. Then he went on with his own pleasure.

Now that they had actually caught up with him, even Maulkin seemed daunted by their task. In bulk, the silver creature far surpassed any of the serpents. In length, he was the equal of even Kelaro.

‘Speak to us!’ Maulkin commanded him. ‘Just one word. Just your name and we will let you go. Reach for it, reach back for it. You have it. We know you do. We can smell the thickness of your memories.’ He battered wildly at the prophet. His mouth gaped and stretched with his sounds, but no sense came out of him. Then he suddenly went still. His eyes, small and brown, went wide. His mouth gaped once, twice. Then he suddenly relaxed in Maulkin’s grasp. Shreever lidded her eyes. The silver-grey creature was dead. They had killed him, to no good end.

‘I was Draquius. I am no more. I am a dead thing, speaking with the mouth of memories.’

‘It was the time of the change. We had swum far up the river, to where the memory silt was fine and thick. We had spun our cocoons, encasing ourselves in thread woven of memory. Our parents laved us with the silt of memories, gave us our names and their memories to share. They watched us, our old friends. They celebrated our time of change, under the blue skies. They cheered as we wallowed from the river to the sunny banks, to let the light and the heat dry our cases while we transformed ourselves. Layer upon layer of memories and silt they wrapped us in. It was a season of joy. Our parents filled the skies with their colours and songs. We would rest through the time of cold, to awaken and emerge when the days turned hot and long.’ He closed his small eyes, as if pained. He clung to Maulkin as if he were part of his own tangle. ‘Then the whole world went wrong. The earth shook and split. The very mountains were shattered and oozed hot red blood. The sun dimmed; even within our cases, we felt it fade. Hot winds blew over us, and we heard the cries of our friends as it snatched the breath from our lungs. Yet even as they fell, gasping, they did not forsake us. They dragged us into shelter, many lives ago. They could not save many of us, but they tried. I give them that, they tried. It was only for a time, they promised. Only until the dust stopped raining down, only until the skies shone blue again. Only until the earth stopped quaking. But it did not stop. The earth tremble...

After a very long time, another people came. They were like and not like those who had sought to save us. We called out to them joyously, sure they had come at last to deliver us from the darkness. But they would not hear us. They brushed our airy voices away, dismissing us as less than dreams. Then they killed us.’

Tools bit into my cocoon, splitting it open while it was still thick and heavy, strong with my memories. Then…’ He became perplexed. ‘They threw my soul out onto the cold stone. It died there. But the memories remained, trapped in the layers of the cocoon. They sawed me into planks and from them created a new body. They made me anew in their own image, gouging away until they had shaped me a face and head and body such as they wear. And they drenched me in their own memories, until one day I awoke as someone else. Ringsgold they named me, and so I became. A liveship. A slave.’

As she took it in, memories dawned bright in her mind. It was as if she swam from clouded water to clear. Faded images of another time came to mind and glowed bright with colour and detail. She lidded her eyes in ecstasy and dreamed of wind under her wings.

‘There are a lot of unfamiliar words in here. What I have deciphered is both exciting and frustrating. There seems to be references to another city, substantially upriver of us.’ He scratched at a scaly patch on his cheek. ‘If I am interpreting it correctly, it would be way to the back of beyond. Almost to what some call the Mountain Kingdom. If such a city existed and we could locate it…well. It might represent the greatest find since Trehaug was founded here.’

You are to stay out of the Crowned Rooster Chamber. That log has entirely too much power over you.’ ‘It’s not a log. She’s a dragon. She should be freed.’ Jani and Bendir did not try to hide the look they exchanged. Bendir spoke almost angrily. ‘I should have cut up that damn thing a long time ago, when I first suspected you were susceptible to it. But the time wasn’t right. It’s the last log of wizardwood, and the biggest. The ship we build from it will be the last liveship…unless you are right about this other city of yours. Perhaps we might find more wizardwood there.’

‘There is no dragon,’ Bendir spoke slowly, with great finality. ‘Whatever was in there died long ago. It was probably mad before it died. All that is left of it are its memories. It is no more alive than liveships are truly alive. The planks absorb memories, and retain them. That is all. If it weren’t true, we wouldn’t be able to cut up a log and allow Bingtowners to store fresh memories in them. Anyone who talks to a liveship is really talking to himself, mingled with the family memories stored in the wood. That is all. When you talk to that log, you hear your own thoughts, as interpreted by the mad memories of some poor creature that died long before we even discovered this city.’

‘You could cut my beard off,’ he suddenly exclaimed. ‘What?’ She came to her feet in alarm a single fluid motion, like a bird lifting in flight. ‘Paragon, what are you saying?’ ‘You could cut my beard off, and shape it, and peg it back onto me as a new face. I’d be able to see again.’

Working on Ophelia was…difficult for me. She said she had a sense of wrongness about her hands. What I sensed was something subtler. Something closer to sacrilege.’

Amber breathed out some words in a different language. Paragon had no idea whether she prayed or cursed.

‘Of all the goodly herbs known, this is the queen. A tea brewed from fresh leaves is best for a closed head…’ She stopped abruptly and closed the book carefully. When Wintrow glanced up at her face in confusion, he saw her eyes were closed as well. As he watched, tears leaked out from under her lashes. ‘You can read,’ he confirmed for her. He stood very still, afraid to say more. It had been a very arduous journey to this place.

‘You shine,’ he said quietly. ‘Even when I first saw you. Even when I knew you hated me. There is something about you, Etta. Something in you that cannot be quenched, by hardship or ill treatment. Your soul gleams like silver beneath a patina of hard use. He is right to love you. Any man would love you.’ Her eyes widened at his words. She turned aside from him, and unbelievably, a blush touched her wind-burnt cheeks. ‘I am Kennit’s,’ she reminded him. She spoke the words proudly. ‘I know,’ Wintrow said. Very softly, only to himself, he added, ‘I envy the man.’

‘What I want to tell you is that you have done all that you can. Be content with it. You have a wild young heart; right now, it is like a caged bird that batters itself against the bars. To struggle harder will only hurt you more. Wait. Be patient. Your time will come to fly. And when it does, you must be strong, not bloodied and weary.’ Amber’s eyes went suddenly wider. ‘Beware of one who would claim your wings for her own. Beware of one who would make you doubt your own strength. Your discontent is founded in your destiny, Malta. A small life will never satisfy you.’

‘Too late for her,’ he whispered. Malta did not know if he spoke to her or about her. ‘Too late for her. Wide wings hang above her. She crouches like a mouse in the owl’s falling shadow. Her little heart beats to bursting. See how she trembles. But it is too late. Too late. She sees her. Know me as well!’ He threw back his head. The laughter roared from him. ‘I was a king!’ He was incredulous in his triumph. ‘I was lord of the three dominions. But you have made me this. A shell, a toy, a slave!’ Perhaps lightning struck her from the still-blue sky. She fell into a roaring black gulf. She tumbled, soundless, through endless black space. Then from nowhere, a flash of gold appeared. It was too large a shape for her to see it all. In an instant, it loomed too close to her to be seen. Great talons seized her, wrapping around her chest and waist. They squeezed the air from her. She clawed at them, but they were armoured in scales like metal. She could not pry them loose to let herself breathe. Nor did she want to fall to her death if they let go of her. Choose a death, a dragon whispered. That’s all you have left, pretty little one. The choice of your death. No! She is mine, mine! Let her go! Prey belongs to he who seizes it first!

You are dead. I have still a chance at life. I will not see it snatched from me! Iridescent silver clashed suddenly with gold. Mountains collided and fought for possession of her. The talons clenched, cutting her in two. I shall kill her before I let you take her!

there was no room for her to exist in their world. She was going to blink out like a dying spark. Someone spoke for her. ‘Malta is real. Malta exists. Malta is here.’ As if she were being wound up like a ball of yarn, the layers of herself were gradually restored to her. Someone held her against the maelstrom of forces that tried to shred her apart. It was like being cupped in warm hands. She curled tighter into herself, holding on. Finally, she spoke for herself. ‘I am Malta.’

‘I fly again!’ It was a triumphant challenge to the world. Paragon’s sails swelled with wind and he began to move under his own power.

‘May Sa speed you,’ Malta whispered. Keffria heard her daughter’s voice break on the words. ‘May Sa speed you, and bring you safely home again,’ she herself said aloud. The breeze seemed to blow her prayer away.

As she leaned on the railing of the small balcony, the whole house trembled gently. Again. She stood straight and backed away from the edge and into her room. The earth had shivered almost daily since her arrival here, but the local folk seemed to pay it no mind.

‘That means that we have plenty of time to eat, bathe, and dress, Reyn. No woman in my family can be ready to do anything in less than half a watch.’

How he wished his beloved wife had survived to see this triumph. The thought of Dorill put a brief shadow across his victory. She and the boys had been claimed years ago, when the Rain Wilders brought the Blood Plague down the river.

Davad smiled to himself as he considered the final capstone to his evening’s plans. Lovely as Kekki and Serilla were, they were drab compared to Malta Vestrit. They were fine as Companions, as advisers and intellectuals. But tonight it was Davad’s intention to introduce the Satrap to his future consort. He was so certain the young man would be smitten with Malta that he could already almost imagine the festivities for their wedding.

Her mother shook her head. ‘I am sorry for you. It is hard to see you come of age in such troubled times. I feel you are being cheated of all the things we dreamed you would do. But there is nothing I can do to change it.’

will have left your mark on how they live their lives. I have decided that that is what you are all about, Kennit. Control. What do you believe, pirate? That if you get enough control, you can go back and control the past? Make it all un-happen? Put your father’s precise plan back to work, bring his little paradise back to life? The blood will always be there, Kennit. Like a smear of ink on a perfect plan, the blood sinks in and stains. No matter what you do, when you walk into that house, you will always smell the blood and hear the screams.’

another attracted me? Such as Wintrow, you mean?’ She laughed a rich throaty chuckle. ‘Wintrow?’ ‘He is closer to your age than I am. His body is sweet and young, scarcely scarred and possessed, I might add, of two legs. Why would not you find him more desirable?’

‘It is one of the cornerstones of Sa’s teachings. That destiny is not reserved for a few chosen ones. Each man has a destiny. Recognizing it and fulfilling it are the purpose of a man’s life.’

For a long instant, she and the serpent stared at one another, eye to eye. Its scales were the green of new spring foliage, with immense eyes as yellow as dandelions. Each individual scale overlapped two others in a precise pattern that begged the eye to follow it. The largest scales on its back were bigger than her hand, while around the eyes its scales were tinier than grains of wheat. For a moment, the beauty of the immense animal transfixed her.