The Dragon Keeper (Rain Wild Chronicles #1)

The Dragon Keeper (Rain Wild Chronicles #1) Page 26

“How sad,” she managed to say in an appropriate voice. “I knew there were such high hopes when rumors of a second buried city first surfaced.”

He nodded, his dark head bent over the buckles of the satchel. She watched his fingers work the strap through the metal and at last pull it free. “They did find one room with scrolls and such in it. The lower half of the room had silted in; I understand they are making efforts to salvage what they can of the scrolls that were buried, but the river water can be acid. However, there was one tall case in there, and six of the scrolls on the upper shelves were behind glass, in tubes made perhaps from horn and tightly stoppered. They were not perfectly preserved, but they did survive. Two seem to be plans for a ship. One has many illustrations of plants. Two others are possibly plans for a building. And the last one is here. For you.”

She could not speak. He had taken from the satchel a fat horn cylinder and she found herself wondering what sort of a beast had furnished such an immense and gleaming black horn. With a twist, he freed a wooden stopper from it, and then coaxed forth the contents. The scroll he drew out was pale tan, a thick roll of fine parchment wrapped around a dowel of polished black wood. The edges looked a bit frayed, but there were no outward signs of water damage or insect attacks or mildew. He offered it to her. She lifted her hands and then let them fall back in her lap. Her voice quavered when she spoke. “What . . . what does it concern?”

“No one is exactly sure. But there are illustrations of an Elderling woman with black hair and golden eyes. And a dragon with similar coloring.”

“She was a queen,” Alise breathed. “I don’t know how to translate her name. But images of a crowned woman with dark hair and golden eyes occur in four of the scrolls I’ve studied. And in one, she is shown being carried in a sort of basket by a black dragon. He flew with her in the basket.”

“Extraordinary,” Hest muttered. He sat very still, holding the scroll out to her. Alise discovered that her hands were gripping each other tightly. After a moment he said, “Don’t you want to look at it?”

She drew a ragged breath. “I know how much a scroll like that is worth; I know how much you must have paid for it.” She swallowed. “I can’t accept such an expensive gift. It’s not . . . that is . . .”

“It wouldn’t be proper. Unless we were engaged.” His voice had gone very deep. Was it a plea or a taunt?

“I don’t understand why you court me!” she burst out suddenly. “I’m not pretty. My family is not wealthy or powerful. My dowry is pitiful. I’m not even young. I’m past twenty! And you, you have everything, you are handsome, wealthy, intelligent, charming . . . why are you doing this? Why do you court me?”

He had drawn back from her a little bit, but he didn’t seem flustered. On the contrary, a small smile bent his mouth.

“Do you think this is funny? Is it some sort of joke, some wager, perhaps?” she demanded wildly.

At those words, the smile fled his face. He rose abruptly, the scroll still clasped in his hand. “Alise, that is . . . beyond insult! That you could accuse me of such a thing! Is that what you truly think of me?”

“I don’t know what to think of you!” she responded. Her heart was beating somewhere in her throat. “I don’t know why you asked me to dance that first time. I don’t know why you court me. I fear it can only end in disappointment and . . . and humiliation when you finally realize I am unsuitable and walk away from me. I had become accustomed to the idea that I would never wed. I had found a new purpose for my life. And now I fear that I will lose both my resignation to my spinsterhood and my opportunity to be something besides a withered old maid in the back rooms of my brother’s house.”

Hest slowly sank back into his seat. He held the precious scroll loosely in his hands as if he had forgotten it, or at least forgotten how valuable an object it was. She tried not to stare at it. When he spoke, his words came slowly. “Again, Alise, you make me see I have been unfair to you. Truly, you are no ordinary woman.” He paused and it seemed to Alise that it was a century before he spoke again. “I could lie to you now. I could flatter you with sweet words and pretend to be infatuated with you. But I perceive now that you would soon see through such a ruse, and would disdain me all the more for attempting it.” He pressed his lips together for a long moment before he spoke again.

“Alise, you say you are not young. Neither am I. I am five years older than you are. I am, as you bluntly say, wealthy. The war has greatly affected our fortune, to be sure, as it has the fortune of every Bingtown Trader. And yet, as our trading has been diverse as are our holdings, we have been less damaged than many. I trust that we shall weather this war and emerge as a powerful family in the new Bingtown. And when my father dies, I will be the Trader for my family. I have been blessed, or sometimes I think, cursed, with a pleasing appearance. I have schooled myself to a charming manner, for we know that honey sweetens a bargain more than vinegar. I appear a social, convivial man, for that best suits the business I must do. Yet I do not think you will be surprised if I tell you that there is another Hest, a private and restrained one who, like you, enjoys being left in peace to pursue his own interests.