Chapters (27)
- CAST OF CHARACTERS
- PROLOGUE
- CHAPTER ONE
- CHAPTER TWO
- CHAPTER THREE
- CHAPTER FOUR
- CHAPTER FIVE
- CHAPTER SIX
- CHAPTER SEVEN
- CHAPTER EIGHT
- CHAPTER NINE
- CHAPTER TEN
- CHAPTER ELEVEN
- CHAPTER TWELVE
- CHAPTER THIRTEEN
- CHAPTER FOURTEEN
- CHAPTER FIFTEEN
- CHAPTER SIXTEEN
- CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
- CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
- CHAPTER NINETEEN
- CHAPTER TWENTY
- About the Author
- ALSO BY ROBIN HOBB
- Credits
- Copyright
- About the Publisher
It took some effort to free the spear from the mud. The fish was bigger than Thymara had expected. It took both of them to drag it back to shore. It was an ugly creature, black and finely scaled with long teeth in its blunt face. When they flipped it up onto the shore, it had a brilliant scarlet belly. Thymara had never seen anything like it. “I’m not sure if this is something we can eat,” she said hesitantly. “Sometimes animals that are brightly colored are poisonous.”
“We should ask Mercor. He’ll know. He remembers a great deal.” Alise crouched down to examine her prize. She reached out a curious finger and then pulled it back. “It’s strange. All of the dragons seem to have different levels of recall. Sometimes I think Sintara refuses to answer my questions because she cannot. But with Mercor, I always feel like he knows things but won’t share them. When he talks to me, he talks about everything except dragons and Elderlings.”
“I’m not sure we should touch it before we know.” Thymara had remained crouched by the fish. Alise nodded. She rose, took up the spear, and began prowling along the river’s edge. Her excitement was palpable.
“Let’s see what else we can kill. Then we’ll ask Mercor about that one.”
Thymara stood up. She felt a bit naked without her spear. It was odd to be the one trailing after someone else who was hunting. She didn’t much like the feeling. She found herself talking, as if it would restore her sense of importance. “Mercor seems older than the other dragons, doesn’t he? Older and more tired.”
“He does.” Alise spoke quietly. She didn’t move as smoothly as Thymara did, but she was trying. Thymara realized that her tiptoeing and hunched stance was an exaggerated imitation of Thymara’s prowl. She couldn’t decide if she was flattered or insulted. “It’s because he remembers so much more than the others. I sometimes think that age is based more on what you’ve done and what you remember than how old you are. And I think Mercor remembers a lot, even about being a serpent.”
“He always seems sad to me. And gentler, in a way that the other dragons are not gentle at all.”