begun to rebuild, and life had begun a hesitant return to routine. She knew she should have been grateful that her familyâs home had escaped burning, and that their holdings, several farms that grew mostly root crops, were now producing food that was greatly in demand.
But the truth was, she wasnât. Oh, not that she wished to be living in a half-burned hovel or sleeping in a ditch. No. But for a few frightening, exhilarating weeks, she had thought she might escape from her role as the third daughter in a lesser Bingtown family. The night Tintaglia had landed outside the burned shell of the Tradersâ Concourse and struck her bargain with the Traders, offering her protection of their city in exchange for the Tradersâ pledge to aid the serpents and the young dragons when they hatched, Aliseâs heart had soared. She had been there. She had stood, shawl clutched about her shoulders, shivering in the dark, and listened to the dragonâs words. She had seen the great creatureâs gleaming hide, her spinning eyes, and yes, she had fallen under the spell of Tintagliaâs voice and glamour. She had fallen gladly. She loved the dragon and all that she stood for. Alise could think of no higher calling than to spend the rest of her life chronicling the history of dragons and Elderlings. She would combine what she knew of their history with her recording of their glorious return to the world. On that night, in that moment, Alise had suddenly perceived she had a place and a mission in the world. In that time of flames and strife, anything had seemed possible, even that someday the dragonTintaglia would look at her and address her directly and, perhaps, even thank her for dedicating herself to such a work.
Even in the weeks that followed, as Bingtown pieced itself back together and struggled to find a new normalcy, Alise had continued to believe that the horizons of her life had widened. The Tattooed, the freed slaves, had begun to mingle with the Three Ships folk and with the Traders as all united to rebuild Bingtownâs economy and physical structures. Peopleâeven womenâhad left their usual safe orbits and pitched in, doing whatever they must to rebuild. She knew that war was a terrible, destructive thing and that she should hate it, but the war had been the only really exciting thing that had ever happened in her life.
She should have known her dreams would come to naught. As homes and businesses were rebuilt, as trade took on a new shape despite war and piracy, everyone else had tried desperately to make things go back as they were before. Everyone except Alise. Having glimpsed a possible future for herself, she had struggled wildly to escape from the suffocating destiny that sought to reclaim her.
Even when Hest Finbok had first begun to insinuate himself into her life, she had kept her focus on her dream. Her motherâs enthusiasm and her fatherâs quiet pride that the familyâs wallflower had finally attracted not only a suitor but such a rare prize of a suitor had not distracted her from her plan. Let her mother flutter and her father beam. She knew Hestâs interest in her would come to nothing, and thus she had paid little mind to it. She was past pinning her hopes on such silly, girlish dreams.
The Tradersâ Summer Ball was only two days away now. It would be the first event to be held in the newly rebuilt Tradersâ Concourse. All of Bingtown was in a stir about it. Representatives and guests from the Tattooed and the Three Ships folk would join the Bingtown Traders in commemorating the rejuvenation of their city. Despite the ongoing war, it was expected to be a celebration beyond anything Bingtown had ever experienced, the first time that the general population of Bingtown had been invited to the traditional event. Alise had given it little thought, for she had not expected to attend it. She had her ticket for her trip to the Rain Wilds. While other eligible