With a table rag, she wiped the shards of glass off the planks and into the waste bucket that held the guts and feathers of the birds she’d cleaned. Then, from her trouser pocket, she took the locket.
“You kept it?” He was stunned.
“I did. I didn’t know why. Perhaps to remind me of how stupid I had been.” She glanced at him from under lowered lashes. “But perhaps you need the reminder even more than I do.”
She opened the locket, and Hest peered out at both of them, his supercilious smile no longer handsome at all, only mocking. She lifted the tiny bundle of silk-secured black hair and set it aside as she had earlier set aside the guts she’d pulled out of the dead birds. Then she picked up the knife she’d used to disjoint the fowls, slid it under Hest’s portrait and popped the little image free. She carefully placed the copper-edged scale inside the locket case and snapped it shut. ALWAYS said the small case. She held it up on its chain. “Always,” she said to Sedric, holding it out.
After a brief hesitation, he took it from her. For a moment, he held the trinket in his hand. Then he looped the chain over his neck and slid the locket inside his shirt. “Always,” he agreed.
She rose so he wouldn’t see her eyes filling up. Could it be that simple to be done with the old and finally begin clean with the new? She lifted the lid off the kettle and gave the soup a stir. It was barely simmering. She’d have to ask the keepers to go out and bring her back anything that might burn if they wanted cooked food tonight. She opened the front of the little stove and scowled at the dying coals. “We need fuel,” she said, to be saying anything.
“Here’s something we can burn,” Sedric said and flipped the tiny portrait into the fire. She hadn’t seen him pick it up and look at it. It landed in the fire, and a single flame flared up briefly before the image curled and blackened. “And here’s something else.” The lock of Hest’s black hair landed on the dying coals and singed. Smoke rose from it and she hastily slammed the door of the stove.
“Oh, that stinks!” she exclaimed.
Sedric sniffed. “He does, doesn’t he?”
She covered her mouth and nose, and then she laughed around her hand. To her surprise, Sedric joined her, and suddenly they were both laughing together as they had not in Sa knew how long. Then somehow, he was crying instead, and her arms were around him, and she found she was crying, too. “It’s going to be all right,” she managed to say to him. “It’s going to be all right. I’ve got you, my friend. We’ll be fine.”
AFTER SYLVE HAD left the room, Thymara had spent some time alone in the darkness crying. It was stupid and useless. She’d done it anyway. And when she was sure that all her tears had been used, that all of her sorrow had been converted to anger, she left the little room and went in search of Sintara.
She went to the bow rail and located the dragons. They were not far from the barge. Some of them were lying down next to one another, each one’s chin cradled on the next dragon’s back. It looked sociable and peaceful, but she knew the truth. It was the only way the dragons could rest their legs and sleep without their heads dipping into the water. Sintara was not sleeping. She was moving slowly through a reed bed, peering down into the water. Probably hoping for a frog or a fish. Or anything made of meat. The recent rainfall had washed the dragons clean. The afternoon sun had broken through the overcast and glittered on Sintara. Despite her anger, Thymara could not help but see the beauty of her dragon.
Light ran and shivered along her blue scales. When she moved her head, there was grace and danger in every ripple of muscle. Despite her size, despite the fact that she was not a creature made for the water, she edged through it soundlessly. Beautiful death-dealer, she thought, and the now-familiar sensation of the dragon’s effortless glamour washed through her. She was the loveliest creature Thymara had ever seen.
Thymara groped frantically and then angrily for her sense of self. Yes. Sintara was the most beautiful creature in the world. And the most thoughtless, selfish, and cruel! She shook herself free of the dragon’s charm, seized Tarman’s railing, and clambered over it.
The keeper boats were tethered to Tarman’s ladder. She didn’t bother with any of them. The Tarman was aground, and here the water varied from waist- to knee-deep. Just enough water to make everyone perfectly miserable, she told herself, and jumped down into it. Her feet sank more deeply into silt than she’d expected and she knew a moment’s panic. But the water was not even waist-deep, and she used the instant of fear to fuel her anger. She wasn’t going to cry or whine. Not this time. Maybe not ever again.
