That final doubt was more powerful than the first three certainties. He’d never been tempted to take the bait, though he had wondered if he might surrender to the duress. Now he knew he would not. The moment he’d heard the scandalized whispers of the dragon keepers over what Greft had proposed, he’d known who his traitor was. Not Greft; the youngster might claim to be educated and radical in his thinking, but Leftrin had seen his ilk before. The boy’s political ideas and “new” thoughts were skin-shallow. The keeper had only fallen in with an older man’s persuasive cant. And not Carson, he thought with relief. And there was that to be grateful for. It wasn’t an old friend he’d have to confront over this.
It was Jess. The hunter had come aboard at Cassarick, ostensibly hired by the Cassarick Rain Wild Traders’ Council to help provide for the dragons on their journey. Either the Council had no knowledge of Jess’s other employer or the corruption ran deeper than he wanted to think about. He couldn’t worry about that now. The hunter was his focus. Jess was the one who had seemed to be befriending Greft, talking with him at the campfire each night, offering to teach him to be better with his hunter’s tools. Leftrin had seen him building up the young man’s opinion of himself, involving him in sophisticated philosophical conversations and persuading him that Greft understood what his fellow keepers were too rural and naive to grasp. He was the one who had convinced the boy that leadership meant stepping forward to do the unthinkable for the “greater good” of those too tenderhearted to see the necessity. Jess had been reinforcing Greft’s belief that he was the leader of the dragon keepers. Not so likely, my friend, he thought. Leftrin had seen the faces of the other keepers when they had spoken of what Greft had proposed. One and all, they’d been shocked. Not even his no-necked sidekicks, Kase and Boxter, had followed him into that quicksand. They’d looked at each other, as bewildered as puppies. So he hadn’t talked it over with them previously.
Therefore, Leftrin knew the source of that toxic idea. Jess. Jess would have made it sound logical and pragmatic. Jess would have introduced the idea that a real leader would sometimes have to make hard decisions. True leaders sometimes had to do dangerous and distasteful, even immoral, things for the sake of those who followed them.
Such as carving up a dragon and selling the bits to a foreign power to line your own pockets.
And the young man had been gullible enough to listen to the wise old hunter and had put the idea out as his own. When it had fallen flat, only Greft had been touched with the ignominy of it. Jess was unscathed in his friendship with some of the other keepers, and much more aware now of how they felt about the idea of butchering dragons for profit. And that was a shame, for privately Leftrin thought that Greft had the potential to captain the group, once he’d had his share of hard knocks on the way up. He supposed that his misstep with the other keepers would be one of them. If the young man had grit, he’d learn from it and keep on going. If not, well, some sailors grew up to be captains and others never even rose to be mate.
Be that as it would be, Greft’s mishap had lifted the lantern high for Leftrin. He had suspected Jess before, but on that day, he’d known. When Leftrin had first confronted Jess privately and accused him of being the Chalcedean merchant’s man, Jess had not even flinched. He’d admitted it and promptly suggested that now that things were out in the open between them, their task would be much easier. Even now, Leftrin gritted his teeth to think of how the slimy bastard had smiled at him, suggesting that if he slowed the barge down and let the keepers and dragons and the other hunters range far ahead of him, it would be easy for them to pick off the last lagging dragon. “And once we’ve put the poor suffering creature down and butchered it up proper, we can turn right around and head back for the open water. No need to stop by Trehaug or Cassarick, or even to pass by them during daylight hours. We could just head for the coast with our cargo. Once we’re there, I’ve a special signal powder—puts up a bright red smoke from even a tiny fire. Your galley stove would do it. A ship comes right to meet us, and off we go to Chalced and money such as you and your crew can’t even imagine how to spend.”
“Me and my crew aren’t the only ones aboard the Tarman,” Leftrin had pointed out coldly to him.
“That hasn’t escaped my notice. But between the two of us, I think the woman fancies you. Take a forceful hand with her. Tell her you’re swooping her off to Chalced and the life of a princess. She’ll go. And the fancy lad who’s with her, all he wants to do is get back to civilization. I don’t think he’ll much care where you take him, as long as it isn’t the Rain Wilds. Or cut him in on the deal, if you want.” He’d grinned wider and added, “Or just be rid of him. It makes small difference to me.”