Authors: Robin Hobb
“She’s gone to her quarters. We launch soon. You’d better round up your gear if you want it to go ashore with you.” Leftrin kept his voice flat.
The Bingtown man stopped and stared at him. He didn’t quite grind his teeth, but he clenched them for a moment. “I won’t be going ashore,” he grated. He turned away from Leftrin and said meaningfully over his shoulder, “I wouldn’t leave Alise alone on this barge.”
With you,
Leftrin mentally added to his words, and fought to keep from grinning.
That slimy little bugger wanted to say he wouldn’t leave Alise alone with me, but he didn’t quite have the spine
. Aloud, he said, “She’d scarcely be alone, you know. She’d come to no harm with us.”
Sedric glanced back at him. “She’s my responsibility,” he said flatly. Then he opened the door of his small cabin and vanished inside it, shutting it nearly as firmly as Alise had done. Leftrin tried to push aside his disappointment.
“Doesn’t bark too loud for a watchdog,” Carson observed slyly. When Leftrin scowled at him, he only grinned wider and added, “I don’t think he has his heart in what he’s guarding. Appears to me he might have other things on his mind.”
“Get your gear off my deck. I don’t have time for you now. I got a boat to get back in the water.”
“Indeed you do,” Carson agreed. “Indeed you do.”
IT WAS STUFFY in the cabin and dim. Alise sat on the floor and stared up at the rough ceiling. Lighting a candle was too much trouble, and climbing into her hammock too much of a challenge. The little room that had earlier felt cozy and boldly quaint now seemed like a child’s treehouse. And she felt like a child, hiding from discipline that must sooner or later descend on her.
Why had she defied Sedric? Where did those bursts of audacious bravery come from, and why did she keep yielding to them when she knew she could not back up her threats? She’d go without him. Oh, of course she would! Off, up the river, on a ship full of sailors and other rough folk, headed no one knew where. And when she came back, what then? Then Leftrin would discover that Hest would not cover the debts she had run up while defying her chaperone, and even if she’d gained any knowledge, she’d be disgraced in Bingtown and Trehaug. She would no longer have any home to go to. She thought of what Hest would probably do to her study and her papers when he discovered she’d run away. He’d destroy them. She knew how spiteful he could be. He’d sell the valuable old scrolls, probably in Chalced. And he’d burn her translations. No, she suddenly thought bitterly. He’d auction them along with the scrolls. No matter how angry Hest might be, he never passed up the opportunity to make a profit.
She clenched her teeth in frustration, and tears stung her eyes. She wondered if he would find out then how valuable her studies and notes were. Or would some collector just acquire her treasures and hide them away in his library, unaware of what he had? Worse, would someone else claim her work as his own? Use what she had painstakingly learned of Elderlings and dragons for his own profit?
The thought was unbearable. She couldn’t let her work come to such an end. She couldn’t ruin her life in such a headstrong, childish way. She had to go home. That was all there was to it.
The thought strangled her, and for a time she gave way to wild weeping. She cried as she had not cried in years, letting the deep sobs rise and choke her as they passed through her. The world rocked with her anguish. When finally the fury passed, she felt as if she’d been the victim of a terrible physical mishap, a hard fall or a beating. Sweat had plastered the hair to her head, and her nose was running. Her head spun with dizziness. In the darkness she rose, her body aching. She groped around until she found one of her shirts in the wardrobe, pulled it out, and wiped her face on it, not caring how she soiled it. What did it matter anymore? What did anything matter? She wiped her face again on a dry spot and then sullenly threw the shirt to the floor. She heaved a great sigh. The tears were gone, used up with as little result as they ever had. It was time to surrender.
There was a timid knock at her door. Her hands flew to her face. Reflexively she patted her cheeks and smoothed her hair. She must not be seen like this. She cleared her throat and attempted to sound sleepy. “Who’s there?”
“It’s Sedric. Alise, may I have a word with you?”
“No. Not now.” The refusal was out of her mouth before she thought about it. Her deep sadness blazed up and was suddenly heedless fury again. Another wave of vertigo swept over her. She put out a hand and steadied herself on the desk she would never use. For a time, a frozen silence held outside the door. Then Sedric’s voice came again, stiffly correct.
“Alise, I’m afraid I must insist. I’m opening the door now.”
“Don’t!” she warned him, but he did, pulling it open to admit a slice of afternoon light into the small room. Instinctively she moved beyond its reach and half turned her face away from it. “What do you want?” she demanded, and in the next breath, “I’m packing my clothing back in my wardrobe,” she lied. “I’ll be ready to leave soon.”
He was merciless. He pulled the door open wide. She stooped to pick up the blouse from the floor, contriving to turn her back to him. As she did so, she lost her balance and nearly fell. In two steps he was inside the room, catching her arm and holding her up. She clung to him gratefully, both hands on his arm as she looked over his shoulder. “I’m dizzy,” she admitted breathlessly.
“It’s just the movement of the barge on the river,” he said. In the same moment, she realized that the barge was in motion again. Behind him, she saw the stately parade of immense tree trunks as the ship moved upriver. Her vertigo was suddenly the gentle shifting of the floor under her feet. It passed.
“We’re under way,” she said in wonder. She found herself clutching his arm and staring over his shoulder at the passing riverbank. She could not quite believe it. She had defied him, and she had won. The barge was carrying her upriver.
“Yes. We are.” His response was curt.
“I’m sorry,” she said, and then wondered at her words. She wasn’t sorry, not at all, and yet she could not keep herself from apologizing. When had it become so ingrained in her to apologize whenever she wanted something for herself?
“That makes two of us,” Sedric responded. He took a deep breath, and she was suddenly aware of how close she was standing to him. It was almost an embrace. She could smell him, the spicy scent he wore, the soap he used. She was surprised that she recognized those scents. They brought Hest sharply to mind, and she stepped back. She suddenly wondered if the two men used the same perfumed oils. She frowned, thinking about that.
His voice was deep and regretful as he interrupted her thoughts with, “Alise, this is mad. We’ve just embarked on a journey with no fixed destination, into territory that has never been successfully mapped. We’ll be gone for weeks, if not months! How can you do this? How can you just walk away from your entire life?”
A stillness welled up in her and then a joy as dizzying as the gentle rocking of the barge spun her. He was right. She’d left it all behind. After a moment, she found her voice. “Walk away from my life, Sedric? I’d run away from what you think is my life if I could. The hours sitting at my desk, scratching away with a pen, living a life based on things that happened centuries ago. Dining alone. Going to bed alone.”
Her harshness seemed to shock him. “You don’t have to dine alone,” he said awkwardly.
Her mouth was dry with bitterness. “I suppose I don’t have to go to bed alone, either. Yet, when one weds, one expects one’s husband to be her companion for those things. When Hest asked me to marry him, I foolishly thought that I wouldn’t have to worry about loneliness again. I thought he would be there, with me.”
“Hest is with you when he can be.” Sedric sounded uncertain, probably because he knew he was lying. “He’s a Trader, Alise. You know that means he must travel. If he doesn’t travel, he can’t find the special goods that bring in the prices that allow him to provide you with the life you have.”
“You don’t understand, Sedric.” She cut off the spiral of words that she had heard so many times from Hest in the early years of her marriage. The tightening noose of words that inevitably proved how selfish she was to resent being left home alone, night after night, week after week. “It isn’t that he’s away so much. I don’t mind that anymore. I don’t pine after him. Do you know what I hate now, Sedric? I hate that I’m glad when he’s gone. Not because I like to be alone; I’ve learned a great tolerance for it. I’m very good at it, actually. I don’t think of him when he’s gone. I don’t wonder who he might be with or how he treats her.” She halted abruptly. She’d made a promise to Hest, never to accuse him of lying again, never to pelt him with such suspicions. Sedric had been there and knew of the promise. She pressed her lips tightly closed.
Her words had made him uncomfortable. She felt him shift slightly, as if he wished to move away from her but didn’t know how to untangle himself gracefully. With a leap of certainty, she knew her suspicions were well founded. Hest did have someone else now, and Sedric knew about her. Knew about her and felt guilty for shielding Hest. She suddenly decided to free him from that guilt. “Don’t worry about it, Sedric. I promised I’d never ask again, and I won’t. I don’t wonder anymore if other women in Bingtown know how little he cares for our bed. If they like him, they are welcome to him. I’m tired of his hard words, his hard heart, and his hard hands.”
She felt his muscles stiffen. “Hard hands?” he said in a strangled voice. “Does he— Alise, he hasn’t . . . Has Hest ever struck you?” He sounded horrified.
“No,” she admitted in a low voice. “No, he has never struck me. But there are many ways for a man to be hardhanded with a woman that do not involve striking her.” She thought of how he would take her arm and grip it when he wished to leave an evening’s entertainment and she had not responded immediately to his polite suggestions that it was time for them to go home. She thought of how he sometimes took things from her, not snatching them but removing them from her grip as if she were an errant child. She refused to think of his hands on her shoulders or upper arms, gripping so tight that sometimes she had bruises, as if she might flee him even though she had never shown any resistance to his attempts to impregnate her.
Sedric cleared his throat and moved away from her. “I’ve known Hest a long time,” he said stiffly. “He’s not a bad person, Alise. He’s just—” He halted and she saw him searching for a word.
“He’s just Hest,” she finished for him. “He’s a hard man. Hardhanded. Hard-hearted. He doesn’t strike me. He doesn’t have to. He has a hard, cruel mouth when he’s crossed. He can humiliate me with a glance. He can pound me with words and smile while he’s doing it, as if he doesn’t realize what he’s doing. But he does. I’m ready to admit that to myself now. He does know just exactly how much he hurts me and how often.”
She turned away from his shocked gaze but kept her eyes on the moving riverbank. “I’m not sorry,” she finally said. “I’m not sorry I defied you and I’m not sorry that we’re headed up the river. I know it’s foolish and dangerous. I’m scared. I’m scared of going and I’m scared of what I’ll have to face when I return home. But I’m not sorry to be doing it. I’m not walking away from my life, Sedric. I’m running toward the chance to have a little bit of a life of my own, for a little time.
“I
am
sorry to drag you along, Sedric. I know it’s not the sort of thing you’d choose to do. I wish Hest hadn’t inflicted me on you. But I’ll admit that I’m glad you came back to the barge and you’re here. If I’m going to do a foolish thing like this, I can’t think of a better companion to have along with me.”
She sensed him fumbling for some sort of a reply. She had told him things that had made him uncomfortable, things he probably should never have heard about his employer. She tried to regret it and couldn’t. She only hoped it would not sever whatever it was between them. Almost she hoped that he would gather her into his arms and hold her, even if it was only for a moment, as a friend. She tried to recall the last time anyone had embraced her with affection. She recalled her mother’s quick hug of farewell. When had a man held her?
Never.
He took her hands in both of his, giving them a gentle squeeze before he released them. Then he made an awkward attempt at levity as he stepped clear of her touch. “Well, I suppose that should be a comfort to me. But it’s not.”
His words were harsh, but the rueful smile she looked up to see was not. It faded quickly from his face however, as if he did not have the strength to sustain it there. He shook his head at her and then said, “I’d best go get things settled in my room. It looks as if I may be living there longer than I thought.”
HE LEFT HER as quickly as he decently could and walked briskly back to his compartment, trying not to appear to be fleeing from her. Even though he was.
He shut the door of the tiny room behind him. Earlier, he had opened the ventilation slots in the upper wall. He refused to think of them as windows. They were too high and too narrow to provide any sort of a view. But they did let in a flow of air, even if it was tinged with the river smell, and admitted a murky light in his room. A reflection of the river rippled on the ceiling of the small cabin. He sat down on his trunk and stared at the closed door. His case with its precious cargo was on the floor. A fortune in dragon parts, and he was headed upriver with them. Away from all profit, and away from every reason he had for dreaming of making a profit. He hoped the salt and the vinegar would preserve the tattered flesh. They represented his last, best chance for an honest life. He lowered his face into his hands and retreated into stillness.
Hest. Oh, Hest. What have we done to her? What cruelty have I been a party to?
Hest’s hard hands.
He didn’t want to think about it yet he could not stop himself from thinking about it. He didn’t want to envision Hest’s hands on Alise. He knew that Hest must be with her, that he must do his best to father a child with her. He’d chosen never to think of the mechanics of that, never to wonder if Hest was tender and passionate with her. He didn’t want to know, didn’t want his feelings stirred about such things. What would it matter? It had nothing to do with Hest and him.