Carson cleared his throat. “I thought you couldn’t talk to the dragons. Couldn’t understand what they said at all.”

Sedric didn’t have a planned answer to that. He ventured close to the truth. “That changed when I began to be around them more. And after she rescued me, after she carried me here, well, we began to understand each other better.” There. True enough and an easy explanation to remember. The best sort of lie. He stared off across the flat surface of the river.

“You don’t talk much, do you?” Carson observed.

“Not much to say,” Sedric replied guardedly. Then his manners caught up with him. “Except thank you.” He forced himself to turn and meet Carson’s sincere eyes. “Thanks for searching for us. I had no idea what I was going to do next. I couldn’t get up a tree to find fruit, and I’ve never been a hunter or a fisherman.” More formally he added, “I am in your debt.” Among Traders, those words were more than a nicety. They acknowledged a genuine obligation.

“Oh, you looked like you were managing well enough,” Carson replied generously. “But usually a man in your situation would be full of his tale, how the wave hit you and what you did…” He let his words trail away hopefully.

Sedric looked off into the darkness. Tell as much of the truth as he could. That would be safe. “I don’t remember the wave hitting. I’d gone ashore to—to stretch my legs. When I came around, Relpda had hold of me and was keeping my head above water. Of course, she was swimming downriver with me, and I had quite a time persuading her that we needed to head for what used to be the shore. I was afraid she’d be exhausted before we got here. But we made it.”

“Yes. We did.” The dragon spoke around a mouthful of meat. She was pleased with herself. Pleased to hear Sedric tell of how she had saved him.

“I’m not surprised you don’t recall everything. Looks like you took a hard knock to the head.”

Sedric lifted a hand to his swollen face. “That I did,” he said quietly. And he tried to let the conversation die. It was almost pleasant to be still in the night next to the flickering fire in the pot. He was still hungry and he ached all over, but at least he didn’t have to wonder how he was going to survive the next day. Carson would take care of him, would get him back to the Tarman. His smelly little cabin beckoned him now, a haven from open water and starvation. There would be clean clothing there, and hot water and a razor. Cooked food in the galley. Simple things that he suddenly valued. That wasn’t very admirable, he thought. Earlier in the day, he’d been able to take care of himself and a dragon. Yesterday, he’d been capable of killing to stay alive. But now he was ready to abandon all pretense of being competent in this world and let someone else do all the worrying and the thinking.

No wonder Hest had been able to discard him so easily.

Planning to smuggle dragon parts to Chalced was the closest he’d had to a personal plan of action in years. And look how well that had turned out! Almost as well as his previous suggestion that Hest marry Alise. Such happiness that had brought to all three of them. When had he let go of his own life? When had he become a bit of driftwood caught in Hest’s current, tossed and turned and shaped by him and then, eventually, washed up here with the other debris? Idly he watched Carson add a piece of twisted white wood to the pot. Yes. That was him. Fuel for another man’s flames.

Carson sighed suddenly. He seemed disappointed but game to forge ahead. “Well. Here’s our plan for tomorrow, then. I’d like to get up as early as we can see and head back upriver to the Tarman. Captain Leftrin and I agreed that I wouldn’t go more than a day’s paddle downriver, but I’ll admit that I covered a lot more distance than I thought I would. I may have to paddle hard to get back to him before sunset tomorrow. Think your dragon will be ready to travel by then?”

His dragon. Was she his dragon now?

Just thinking that question turned her awareness toward him.

Yes. You are my keeper. And I’ll be ready to journey tomorrow. On to Kelsingra!

“On to Kelsingra,” he affirmed quietly. “We’ll be ready to travel.”

Carson grinned. The smile and the firelight transformed the man’s face. He was not, Sedric suddenly realized, that much older than he was. “Kelsingra,” Carson agreed. “The end of the rainbow.”

“You don’t believe we’ll get there?”

The hunter shrugged his shoulders. “Who cares? It will make a better tale if we do. But I’ve gone on longer expeditions than this with far humbler goals. This one called to me for a lot of reasons. Get Davvie out and about and away from danger. But I think I’m along for the same reason Leftrin is. A man wants to do something that leaves a mark. If we find that city, or even if we just find the place that it used to be, we’ll have set the Rain Wilds and Bingtown on their ear. How often does a fellow get a chance to do something like that? At the very least, we’ve expanded the map. Every night, Swarge sits down and does his sketches and entries, and Captain Leftrin adds his notes. Jess was keeping a log of his own. I’ve put in a bit or two about the game we caught and what sorts of trees and riverside we found. All that information will go into the records and be stored at the Rain Wild Traders’ Concourse. Years from now, when someone wants to anchor up for the night, they’ll be doing it on the basis of what we’ve told them. Our names will be remembered. The Tarman Expedition to Kelsingra. Something like that. That’s something, you know. That’s something to be part of.”