“It was his blood. He says he will shape my change. He warned me that it doesn’t always work, and that he does not remember all of what a dragon should do to facilitate such a change. But he said the Elderlings did not just happen. Every Elderling who existed was once the companion of a dragon. Well, almost everyone. Sometimes humans started to change and even unguided, the changes didn’t kill them. They noticed it in the humans who tended the dragons while they were in their cases and the ones who were present at the hatchings. Some became beautiful and lived a long time, but most didn’t. But the ones the dragons chose as worthy and guided carefully, they became extraordinary and some lived for generations.”

She ran out of words for a moment.

“I don’t understand.”

“Art, Thymara. Elderlings were a form of art for the dragons of that time. They found humans they thought had potential and developed them. That was why they cherished them. Everyone cherishes what they create. Even dragons.”

“And my changes? I was born with the sort of changes one usually sees only in very old women. And since we left Trehaug, I’ve continued to change. The changes are progressing faster than they ever have before.”

“I’ve noticed. That’s why I asked Mercor if Sintara was changing you. He said he would ask her.”

“I asked her already,” Thymara admitted. “I suspected she had something to do with it. From something I heard Harrikin say. Is his dragon changing him, too?”

“Yes. And Sintara is changing you.”

A silence. Then Thymara admitted. “No. She said she wasn’t, and Mercor said that if she didn’t take charge of my changes, he would.”

“What?”

What was in that incredulous question from Sylve? A touch of jealousy? Disbelief?

Thymara seemed to hear it, too. Her reply was glum. “Don’t worry. He won’t. Sintara said she would never allow anyone to take over her keeper. I’m doomed to belong to her, even if she doesn’t want me. And doomed to change however I change, for better or worse.” She took a deep breath. “We’d better get moving. I can’t even see the other boats now.”

“You want me to paddle for a while?” Sedric offered.

“No. Thank you.” Quietly she added, “I think I just want to work for a while.”

Sedric cleared his throat, forced the difficult words out. “I’m changing, too.”

A silence. Then Sylve said delicately, “Yes, we noticed.”

He phrased his next statement a dozen ways before he found one that avoided the issue of blood and how he had tasted it. “Sometimes I’m afraid that Relpda doesn’t know how to control the changes.”

“I think we’re all a bit afraid of that,” Sylve commiserated. And he could think of no response.