The walls of the world had retreated. For as far as he could see from Tarman’s deck, they were in an immense slough filled with water plants. Even from the roof of the deckhouse, he gained no vantage or sense of it ever ending. Perhaps this had once been a river system or a lake. Now he wondered if it were not a wide drainage for distant hills, a place of water that was scarcely deeper than a man was tall. Like a flat plate, he thought. He tried not to wonder what might happen when the rains began in earnest. If a deluge started and the water began to rise, there was nowhere for the dragons to retreat. He shook the useless worry from his head, certain that Mercor was aware of it. Daily he led them on, to Kelsingra or death. They’d find out which when they reached there.
He scanned the wide circle of horizon and saw nothing promising. He had never felt he was such a tiny spark of life floating on a twig as he did now. The sky overhead was wide and gray with high clouds. He missed the shady riverbanks he’d known all his life. The light seemed relentless during the day, and on a clear night, the blanket of stars overhead reduced him to insignificance.
Somewhere in the distance a hunting bird, hawk or eagle, screamed a long, lonesome cry. Tats’s dragon roused and lifted her head from where she dozed. She made a questioning sound, but when no response came, she once more tucked her head under her wing. The dragons stood in a huddle, like a flock of exhausted waterfowl, heads tucked to their breasts or resting on the back of an adjacent dragon. It could not have been relaxing sleep for them. They slept on their feet like sailors kept on watch too long. He pitied them but could do nothing for them.
Insects had become more plentiful, but at least on this river, bats abounded by night; and during the day, tiny darting swallows feasted on the mosquitoes and gnats. There was still no lack of stinging, buzzing insects, but watching them be devoured in turn gave him satisfaction.
Habit made him take his pipe out of his coat pocket. He looked at it, turning it in his hands, and then put it away. Not even a shred of tobacco remained anywhere on the boat. It wasn’t the only supply that was exhausted. The sugar was gone, as was the coffee. The tea that remained was more powder than leaf. There were two more casks of ship’s bread. When that was gone, their dependence on what they could hunt and gather as they traveled would be absolute. He scowled and then resolutely shook off his gathering worries.