The Dragon Keeper
She suddenly felt a bit abashed by how she had spoken to him. “I was repeating exactly what Skymaw was saying,” she excused herself, and felt only slightly guilty for blaming her rudeness on the dragon.
“So, then. You could translate for me? If I wanted to talk to her, apologize—”
“No need for that. I mean, you can speak directly to her. She understands exactly what you say.”
“Yes, she did, and that is exactly how I was getting into trouble with her. But if Alise asks your dragon a question and your dragon answers, you could translate the answer for me? Quietly, off to one side, so we don’t disturb their conversation.”
“Of course. But so could Alise—I mean, the lady. So could any of the keepers.”
“But that would slow down Alise’s work. I was thinking that if someone would interpret for me as the dragon talks, I could get it all down. I’m a very fast writer. And I suppose any keeper could do it.” He glanced at Tats. “But seeing as how she is your dragon, I think you would be the logical choice.”
“Well then—would you?”
“Would I what? Just stand there while they’re talking, only tell you what the dragon is saying?”
“Exactly.” He hesitated, and then offered, “I could pay you, if you wish. For your time.”
“Well.” He seemed taken aback at the thought she couldn’t accept his money. “Would you ask her, then? I’d be indebted to you.”
“So, then, you’ll ask the dragon if I can be around her? And if you can interpret for me what she says?”
Thymara bent down and grasped her fishing spear to either side of her prey. She grunted slightly as she lifted the heavy fish. She nodded toward it as she answered him. “Let’s ask her right now. I think I have something here that might put her in the mood to say yes.”
Day the 6th of the Grain Moon
Year the 6th of the Independent Alliance of Traders
Kim to Detozi
Kim
Chapter Thirteen Suspicions
He awoke before dawn, cradled in a warm cocoon of contentment. Life was good. Leftrin lay still in the dark, enjoying it for a few long moments before letting his mind start enumerating the tasks of the day. Tarman was as still as he ever got, nosed up onto the mudbank. Sometimes it seemed to him that his ship grew more thoughtful when it was pulled up on the riverbank, as if he were dreaming of other days and times. He could hear and feel the gentle tug of the river’s backwater current on the aft end of the ship, but mostly all was still. It was quieter than when he anchored or tied up in the river, almost as if Tarman himself were dozing on the sunny bank.
The bedding smelled sweet, of the cologne that Alise Finbok wore, but also of Alise herself. He rolled his face into the pillow and breathed deeply of her scent. Then he grinned at his own foolishness. He was as infatuated as a beardless boy who had just discovered that women were wonderfully different from men. The giddiness that had passed him by as a youth now spun him delightfully, infecting every moment of his day. Thinking of her freckled, speckled face made him smile. Her hair, the color of a hummer’s breast, turned into tiny curls all around her brow when it escaped from her pins. The times she had reached out and taken his arm when something frightened or alarmed her always made him feel as if he were taller and stronger than he had ever been in his life.