The Dragon Keeper (trwc-1) by Robin Hobb

Author:Robin Hobb [Hobb, Robin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: sf_fantasy
Published: 2009-10-24T04:00:00+00:00

Thymara sat on bare earth and stared at the flames of the cook-fire. 'Did any of us think we'd be doing this, a month ago? Preparing to meet dragons and escort them up the river? Or even imagine this, sitting around a fire down here on the ground?' she asked of her new circle of friends.

'Not me,' muttered Tats, always at her side. Several of the others laughed in assent. Greft, seated to her right, just shook his head. His dark ringlets danced, as did the fleshy growths that fringed his jaw. When he had first joined their group, he'd been veiled. No one had commented. It wasn't uncommon for heavily-touched men or women of the Rain Wilds to prefer a veil, especially if they were in the lower levels of Trehaug and might encounter the shocked gapes of someone strange to the city. When, on his second night with the dragon keepers, he'd finally appeared among them unveiled, even Thymara had stared. Greft was more heavily marked than anyone she'd ever seen. At twenty, he had more wattles and growths than she seen even on the oldest folk of the Rain Wilds. The nails of his hands and feet were smooth but iridescent and they curved like claws. His eyes were an unnatural blue and at night they unmistakably glowed. Every part of his exposed skin was heavily scaled. His mouth was lipless and his tongue was blue. He moved with quiet competence, and his maturity and steadiness were attractive to her. In contrast to the boys in the group, he seemed reliable and more thoughtful.

Tonight Greft was just as quiet as the rest of them. Anticipation warred with nervousness. Another day's travel and they'd finally meet the dragons.

The committee had provided them with sturdy canoes, well sealed against the river's acid wash. They'd given them two guides, a man and woman who always cooked, ate and slept separately from their charges. So far, food had been provided for them, and some few of the keepers had even found time to try their skills at hunting or scouting for fruit and mushrooms along their journey's path. But they had discovered that their blankets were barely warm enough for sleeping on the ground, and that the mosquitoes and stinging gnats were just as thick at river level as they'd always been told. They'd learned that down here under the trees, nights were darker, starless and longer than any they'd known in the treetops. They'd already learned to conserve potable water and to gather fresh rainfall at every opportunity. They'd exchanged names and stories.

And somehow, in the few days that they'd been together, they'd become close.

Now Thymara looked around at the circle of faces gleaming in the firelight and wondered at her good fortune. She'd never imagined that there would be so many people who would call her by her name, take food from her hands without flinching at her claws, and speak openly of what it was to be so deformed by the Rain Wilds that not even one's siblings could look at one easily.

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