City of Dragons - Page 63/151

Hungry. His dragon pushed her complaint into his mind, driving away every other thought.

I know you are, my beauty. I’ll remedy that as soon as I can. Let me wake up a bit first.

Hungry all night. Hungry today. You sleep too much.

You are right, little queen. I will do better. Sometimes it was just easier to agree with Relpda than to argue with her. The little copper dragon was demanding, imperious, and as thoughtless as a child of anyone else’s needs.

She also worshipped him and depended on him as no creature ever had before. And he had fallen in love with the jealous, selfish, and spiteful little creature. “Little,” he said aloud as he buttoned his shirt and laughed at himself. Little only in comparison to the other dragons. Feeding her was becoming next to impossible. He was fortunate that Carson’s fish trap continued to supply a steady stream of fish. Without a daily morning ration of that, he knew that Relpda would have made his life miserable. As it was, he was feeling not just his own hunger pangs but hers, too.

He looked at the hearth. Hanging in the chimney, above the flames and in the smoke, were several sides of bright-red fish. The smoke both cooked and preserved the meat. It also added its own aromatic note to the various smells in the cottage. He was so tired of smelling things. He took his worn cloak from the hook by the door and gave it a shake before swinging it around his shoulders. Time to get the day started. Things to do. Haul water for washing and cooking. Feed his dragon, feed himself. But first he’d find out what it was that Carson was attempting to do. The tapping had become an uneven pounding.

He walked around the corner of the house to find Carson wrestling with a rough wooden frame. He had stretched a piece of leather over it, hooking it over pegs tapped into the sides. This “window” was what he was trying to force into the opening. As Sedric approached, the brittle leather split. “Damn the luck!” Carson cursed, and he threw frame and leather to one side.

Sedric stared at his partner as he directed a kick at the unsatisfactory construction. “Carson?” he asked hesitantly.

The word jerked the hunter’s attention to Sedric. A sudden flush suffused his face. “Not now, Sedric! Not now.” He turned and stalked off, leaving Sedric staring after him in astonishment. He’d never seen Carson so out of temper, let alone expressing it in such a childish way. It summoned unwanted memories of Hest. Except that Hest would have turned his anger on me, not stalked off to brood, he thought. Hest would have made it all my fault, for speaking to him.

He walked over to Carson’s abandoned project, picked up the frame, which was not much damaged by the kick, and regarded the stretched leather thoughtfully. He felt a pang of guilt as he recognized what it was. Leather scraped so thin that it still allowed light in but kept out wind and rain. Leather scraped of all hair and dried hard, so it would not smell as strongly. This was Carson’s response to Sedric’s complaint about the window coverings. Sedric scratched his stubbled chin, considering. He’d complained, with no thought that Carson would take the complaint as a criticism, or put so much thought and effort into trying to remedy things.

He was still holding the frame when he heard footsteps behind him. Carson took the window out of Sedric’s hands, saying gruffly, “It was supposed to just slide into place, so you’d wake up to light. But the opening is too far out of square. I wanted it to be a surprise for you, but it’s not going to work. I know how to do it, but I don’t have the right tools. I’m sorry.”

“No. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to complain so much.”

“You’re used to better. A lot better than this.”

There was no arguing with that statement. “But that’s not your fault, Carson. And when I complain, well, I’m just complaining. I don’t mean that it’s up to you to make things better. It’s just . . .”

“You’re not comfortable here. I know that. You’re used to better, Sedric. You deserve better, but I don’t know what I can do about that.”

Sedric choked back a laugh. “Carson, it’s not as if anyone else has an easier life than we do. When the boat comes in, things will be better.”

“Only a little bit. Sedric, I watch you. I see how tired you are of all this. And it worries me.”

“Why?”

Carson gave him an odd look. “Perhaps because I was there when you made a very sincere effort to take your own life. Perhaps because I worry that the next time you try it, I might not be there. And you might succeed.”

Sedric was shocked. “I’m a different person now! I’m stronger than that,” he objected. Carson’s words had stung him, yet he could not have said why. An instant later, he knew. “You think I’m weak,” he accused the hunter before he had known he would say the words.