The Rain Wild Chronicles: The Complete 4-Book Collection. Robin Hobb. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: Robin Hobb
Издательство: HarperCollins
Серия:
Жанр произведения: Героическая фантастика
Год издания: 0
isbn: 9780008113735
Скачать книгу
are like no other traders I have ever known. Every trader I know is always eager to discover whatever advantage his fellow has. Gold is sometimes offered for such secrets. And when gold does not buy the desired item, well, I have heard tales of violence done.’

      ‘Neither gold nor violence will buy what you seek from me.’

      Sinad shook his head. ‘You mistake me. I will not go into whether it was gold or violence, but I will tell you that the exchange has already been made, and all that I need to know about you and your ship, I know. Let us speak plainly. The High Duke of Chalced is not a young man. With every year, nay, with almost every week, that passes some new ailment frets him. Some of the most experienced and respected healers in all of Chalced have attempted to treat him. Many have died for their failures. So, perhaps, it is expediency that now makes so many of them say that his only hope for improved health and long life will come from medicines made from dragon parts. They are so apologetic to him that they do not have the required ingredients. They promise him that as soon as the required ingredients are procured, they will concoct the elixirs that will restore his youth, beauty and vigour.’ The merchant sighed. He turned his gaze to the cabin’s small window and stared off into the distance. ‘And thus, his anger and frustration passes over his healers and settles instead on the trading families of Chalced. Why, he demands, can they not procure what he needs? Are they traitors? Do they desire his death? At first, he offered us gold for our efforts. And when gold did not suffice, he turned to that always effective coin: blood.’ His gaze came back to Leftrin. ‘Do you understand what I am telling you? Do you understand that, no matter how much you may despise Chalcedeans, they, too, love their families? Cherish their elderly parents and tender young sons? Understand, my friend, that I will do whatever I must to protect my family.’

      Desperation vied with cold ruthlessness in the Chalcedean’s eyes. This was a dangerous man. He had come, empty-handed, to Leftrin’s vessel, but the Rain Wilds Trader now perceived he had not come without weapons. Leftrin cleared his throat and said, ‘We will now set a reasonable price for the grain, and then I think our trading will be done.’

      Sinad smiled at him. ‘The price of my grain, trading partner, is my passage up the river and that you speak well of me to your fellows. If you cannot procure what I need, then you will see that I am introduced to those who can.

      ‘And in return, I will give you my grain and my silence about your secrets. Now what could be a better trade than that?’

      Breakfast had been delicious and perfectly prepared. The generous remains of a meal intended for three still graced the white-clothed table. The serving dishes were covered now in what would be a vain attempt to keep the food at serving temperature. Alise sat alone at the table. Her dishes had already been efficiently and swiftly cleared away. She lifted the teapot and poured herself another cup of tea and waited.

      She felt like a spider crouched at the edge of her web, waiting for the fly to blunder into her trap. She never lingered over meals. Hest knew that. She suspected it was why he was so frequently late to the table when he was home. She hoped that if she sat here long enough, he’d come in to eat and she’d finally have the chance to confront him.

      He deliberately avoided her these days, not just at table but anywhere that they might be alone. She did not agonize about it. She was glad enough to be left to eat in peace, and even gladder when he did not disturb her in her bed at night. Unfortunately, that had not been the case last night. Hest had stridden into her room in the small hours of the morning, shutting the door with a firm thump that had wakened her from a sound sleep. He’d smelled of strong tobacco and expensive wine. He’d taken off his robe, tossed it across the foot of the bed, and then clambered in beside her. In the dark room, she saw him only as a deeper shadow.

      ‘Come here,’ he’d said, as if commanding a dog. She’d stayed where she was, on the edge of the bed.

      ‘I was sound asleep,’ she’d protested.

      ‘And now you’re not, and we’re both here, so let’s make a fine fat baby to make my father’s heart rejoice, shall we?’ His tone was bitter. ‘One is all we need, darling Alise. So cooperate with me. This won’t take long, and then you can go back to sleep. And wake up in the morning and spend the day giving my money to scroll-dealers.’

      It had all fallen into place. He’d been to see his father, and been chided yet again for his lack of an heir. And yesterday Alise had bought not one but two rather expensive old scrolls. Both were from the Spice Islands. She couldn’t read a word of either of them, but the illustrations looked as if they were intended to depict Elderlings. It made sense to her; if the Elderlings had occupied the Cursed Shores in ancient days, they would have had trading partners and those trading partners might have made some written record of their dealings. Lately she had turned her efforts to seeking out such old records. The Spice Island scrolls had been her first real find. Even she had blanched at the cost of them. But she’d had to have them, and so she had paid.

      And tonight she would pay again, both for their childless state and for daring to expand her research library. If she had not stayed up so late poring over her latest acquisitions, she might have simply accommodated him. But she was tired and suddenly very weary of how he treated this portion of their married life.

      She said something she’d never said before. ‘No. Perhaps tomorrow night.’

      He’d stared at her. In the darkness she’d felt the anger of his gaze. ‘That’s not your decision,’ he said bluntly.

      ‘It’s not your sole decision either,’ she’d retorted and started to leave the bed.

      ‘Tonight, it is,’ he said. With no warning, he lunged across the bed, seized her by the arm and dragged her back. With the length of his body, he pinned her down.

      She struggled briefly but as he dug his fingers into her upper arms and held her down, it was quickly apparent that she could not escape him. ‘Let me go!’ she whisper-shrieked at him.

      ‘In a moment,’ he replied tightly. And a moment later, ‘If you don’t struggle, I won’t hurt you.’

      He lied. Even after she had acquiesced, her head turned to one side, her eyes fixed on the wall, he’d held her arms tightly and thrust hard against her. It hurt. The pain and the humiliation made it seem as if it took him forever to accomplish his task. She didn’t weep. When he rolled away from her and then sat up on the edge of her bed, she was dry-eyed and silent.

      He sat in the quiet dark for a time, and then she felt him stand and heard the whisper of fabric as he donned his robe again. ‘If we are fortunate, neither of us will have to go through that again,’ he said dryly. What had stayed with her the rest of the night was that she had never heard him sound more sincere. He’d left her bed and her room.

      Unable to sleep, she’d spent the rest of the night thinking about him and their sham of a marriage. He’d seldom been so rough with her. Sex with Hest was usually perfunctory and efficient. He entered her room, announced his intention, mated with her and left. In the four years they’d been together, he’d never slept in her bed. He had never kissed her with passion, never touched any part of her body with interest.

      She’d made humiliating efforts to please him. She’d anointed herself with perfumes and acquired and discarded various forms of nightdress. She had even tried to instigate romance with him, coming to his study late one evening and attempting to embrace him. He had not thrust her aside. He’d risen from his chair, told her that he was quite busy just now, and walked her to the door of the room, and shut her out of it. She’d fled, weeping, to her room.

      Later that month, when he’d come to her bed, she had shamed herself again. She’d embraced him when he mounted her, and strained to kiss him. He’d held his face away from her. Nonetheless, her hungry body had tried to take whatever pleasure it could from his touch. He hadn’t responded to her willingness. When he had finished, he had rolled away from her, ignoring her attempt to hold him. ‘Alise. Please. In the future, don’t embarrass us both,’ he’d said quietly before he shut the door behind him.

      Even now, her face reddened as she recalled her failed