Rake's Story

by LeRoy Clary

  “Serves them right,” Rake decided when thinking of their enemies.

  “I’ve never been inside an inn.” Cinder’s voice now held a trace of uncertainty and unease. She looked at Rake as if deciding to enter or not, made up her mind and strode up the single step.

  She led the way inside, chin up, pausing at the front door long enough to peer around the corner and hear a woman growl, “In or out, your choice, but close the door before more flies come.”

  They entered quickly and pulled the door closed. The inn felt cooler despite the low fire in the hearth of the river-rock fireplace that took up most of one wall. Rake’s home was built similarly. In the winter, the wall of rock threw off enough heat to keep the entire cabin warm. In the summer, the rock helped cool the cabin. The little fire that burned today was for keeping food in the black pot warm.

  Long plank tables with benches lined the room on either side, leaving an aisle up the center that led to another doorway, which was probably the kitchen and the outhouse. Five people sat inside, two pairs across from each other and a lone old man sat napping with his slack hands around a mug of beer or ale.

  Cinder took them to a clear space at the table situated between the others, instead of choosing to sit alone. She wanted to overhear their conversations and perhaps join in, Rake realized. She eased her rucksack straps off her shoulders and sat. Cinder motioned for him to circle the long plank table and sit across from her, in the manner of the other pairs of people. He placed his rucksack within reach and settled down. They ignored the curious looks.

  The heavy-set woman who had ordered them in or out swept past and called, “Be right back.” Her long skirt swished as she moved. Her demeanor was that of a person with too many things to do and not enough time. The woman’s swift actions and voice matched her curt manners. Not rude, but no time for being too friendly.

  The man sitting closest to Rake, who was near their age, and who seemed proud of a neatly trimmed black beard, twirled a finger in it, making little rings of the long strands. He leaned closer and asked Cinder as if they were old friends, “Traveling?”

  “Yes.”

  Rake refused to roll his eyes, although he felt like doing so. Either that or respond for Cinder with an answer of, “No, we are not traveling. We just carry our rucksacks from home to this inn and back again.”

  “Brother and sister? I notice you have the same backpacks and bows.”

  Cinder spoke up first, “Well, yes we are. Clever of you to notice. My brother thinks he is handsome and attracts women like flies to dead animals. The two of you might find yourselves someday smiling at the same women. I wonder which of you will win.”

  “I’m smiling at you because you are joking and trying to amuse me, and I don’t even know your name.”

  “I’ll bet if I go speak to that pretty woman who was washing clothes beside the road a few moments ago, she will tell me you said the same thing to her.”

  Instead of denying it, he smiled wider and puffed out his chest as if that was an accomplishment.

  “We’re going near Groton to visit our aunt. Uncle Brandon got an infected foot and we’re going to help with his farm for a month or two.” Cinder’s tone had softened, and she had leaned slightly closer, a move that caused the man’s finger to make another curl in his beard.

  Another man, sitting on the other side of the table, down a few seats from them, and older by a decade motioned at their backpacks. “Farmers huh? Why the fancy weapons?”

  Cinder turned to him and grinned like a ten-year-old who found a patch of ripe berries. “You assume too much. A family friend insisted we carry them to protect ourselves, and to be honest, I am a better shot than Rake but neither of us is very good.”

  “You are not better than me.” The answer had emerged from Rake without forethought and all in the room laughed at his brotherly outburst.

  The man said, “I have a son and daughter just like you. They are always at one another, always trying to outdo the other.”

  The heavy woman returned and sat a bowl in front of one of those patrons who hadn’t yet spoken. She turned to them and asked, “Drink? Eat?”

  “Watered wine,” Rake said, knowing to never trust naked water and not wishing to feel the results or sour taste of ale or beer. “And what food do you serve?”

  “Today you get yesterday’s bread, sliced venison, and hard cheese. One plate. Seconds cost extra.”

  “Same for me,” Cinder said. Then, as the woman headed for the kitchen, she asked the room at large, “What can we expect to find on the road west of here? Anybody know?”

  The general question asked by a pretty girl drew the attention of all. They competed to tell her their versions while we ate thin slices of venison and bland cheese, taking it all in. It seemed each of them had a different answer, and they listened to all, hoping to hear a glimmer of information about Breslau, dragons, Crabs, or Dragon Clan.

  Instead, he heard tales of bumpy roadways, wily thieves, and about the rude people living in the next village, they would pass through. They were warned to be wary of thieves on the road and in the village and of a pack of wild dogs reported in the area. While perhaps helpful for our trip, there was nothing relating to Breslau. That was both good and bad.

  Rake listened and watched Cinder interact with the men. He had only known her a short time and besides her beauty, there was more to her. She had a way of charming men who were her age—and older ones, especially older. He listened more than talked. While he was larger and stronger, Cinder always seemed to win verbal encounters—those with him, as well as those with others.

  He paid attention to her and the way she handled the men. There were no women except the server. Most travelers were men. She never mentioned Breslau or the Dragon Clan. She let the men talk without guiding the conversation in any manner and seemed interested in all they said, often asking them to expand on what they had to say, although Rake suspected she didn’t really care for their answers. She was leading them on, making them enjoy sharing their information and stories while providing ample opportunity for them to broach the subjects they were interested in.

  He knew asking questions tells the others what you’re interested in, no matter how carefully you couch them. She wouldn’t do that. When the urge to speak arose, Rake stuffed more food in his mouth and washed it down with watered red wine with a sour bite. She had the room fawning at her feet. After learning all about the road to the west, Cinder motioned for him to gather his rucksack with a flick of her finger hidden from the others by the end of the table.

  When he did, she protested, “Aw, can’t we stay longer? These people are our new friends.”

  Rake admired the performance, for that’s what it was. The men encouraged them to stay longer but didn’t protest too hard as they departed. Cinder reached for her rucksack and one of the men leaped to help her. She thanked him, and the others, paid the innkeeper for their meal, and they went outside and continued on the road.

  She said, “A good meal and some help as to what to expect ahead. More than worth the price we paid.”

  “We learned nothing about what we were looking for.”

  Cinder giggled like a little girl as she said, “Not true at all. There is such a thing as addition by subtraction. If numbers of Green dragons had been regularly flying over here, or if Crabs from Princeton passed through daily, they would have mentioned them and warned us. If there were recent rumors of Breslau invading Oakhaven, we’d have heard them. So, we learned there is nothing to scare us around this village. It would be nice if that’s all we ever find; don’t you think so?”

  Rake admitted to himself she was right but refused to say so out loud.

  She paused when they were out of sight of the buildings. She pulled a purse from inside her waist and spilled coins of various colors and sizes into her other palm. “Do you know the relative value of money?”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  They had stopped walking.
She held up a large rusty iron coin and a small yellow one. He studied the images on each when she gave them to him to hold.

  She pointed to the large rusty one he had assumed was worth the most. “That will buy you a few tankards of poor ale. The other, the small gold one, will buy a large heard of cows. Well, maybe not a large herd, but a herd.”

  Rake drew back and reexamined them, obviously confused.

  She said, “It wouldn’t do for you to try to buy a mug of ale with the gold one. Anyone would know you’re unfamiliar with money, wonder why, and know you can be cheated.”

  “What do I do?”

  She plucked the gold coin back and replaced it with a variety she selected, iron gray, copper brown, and one triangle of silver. “That silver angle is worth more than all the rest together. Enough to buy expensive clothing, new boots, and food and meals for fifty days. Gray iron only buys food for a meal. Copper buys meals and lodging, with something left over. Let that be your guide. Most of the time, you just hold out your hand and an honest person takes the right amount and gives you back other coins if you’ve overpaid.”

  “Barter is easier at the trading post,” he said as he eyed the coins suspiciously. They were as cold as winter in his hand.

  “This is the same thing, really. Look at them this way. A small iron coin is a return favor, say helping stack firewood. A large one is for both cutting and stacking. Copper is paid for chopping down a tree, carrying the rounds home, splitting them, and stacking. See? Same things as Hester at the trading post jotting down what you brought to trade.”

  He removed the silver angle coin and held it up. “Three days of hard work? Full days?”

  “Five or six, at least. You’re getting the idea. Now, put them away. I’ll pay when needed, but you have an emergency stash for if you’re alone and need something.”

  They walked on, passing more farms, more barking dogs, and even a few cows that watched them. The people were few, friendlier than they expected, and they talked when spoken to which was a pleasant and welcome surprise. Rake realized Cinder was far more intelligent than she let on. The impish smiles and hesitations were intended to draw strangers in, to make them want to help her. She was good at it. In contrast, he felt his social graces were those of a buffoon.

  Quietly, Rake felt pleased he was immune to her charms. Then he realized she had used the same devices on him . . . many times. Maybe he was not as immune as he believed.

  In mid-afternoon, they were teasing each other like old friends when Rake caught sight of the Red. It was far off, flying in the same direction they were going, but he never felt the tingle that indicated it was close.

  “Do you feel a dragon?”

  “No. Do you?”

  “No. I just saw a red dragon way over there. Probably just out of range to feel it.”

  She asked, “The same one?”

  “It looked like it, but who knows?”

  “If it lands near us, I promise to be braver this time.”

  Both of them kept watching the sky off to their right. They passed through another small village without incident. No inn beckoned so they continued. Another smaller village later held little of interest. Then, the larger one they’d been told to expect came into view. It held over a hundred buildings, some made of stone.

  The Red caused his back to tingle and at the same time, Cinder pulled to a surprised stop and looked at him, her eyes wide with excitement as she searched for the beast. The Red appeared just over the tops of the trees ahead, angled in their direction as it looked down upon them, and flew directly above. Then it beat the air furiously with its wings, gained height and turned. It flew over them again, peering down and looking directly at them again before disappearing over the forest.

  “What was that all about?” Rake asked.

  “It seemed interested in us. Curious. I saw nothing to fear. Who knows?”

  As they walked nearer to the large village, they found people who scurried, strolled, or worked. Nobody seemed to be at rest. They knew from the directions given to them at the first inn, there were two inns in the village, one where the ale was watered, the kitchen dirty, and men of dubious character tended to stay there, but it cost only a little to stay the night. The patrons were locals, most were farmers.

  Cinder insisted on the other, not because she was scared, but because only people with money traveled. Travelers heard rumors and talked freely with other travelers. They often spread the juiciest rumors to new friends encountered along the way.

  If Cinder wanted local news, she would have chosen the other inn, the cheaper of the two, she explained. Rake felt she had a lot to teach him and found himself paying attention. When asked, she usually explained her reasoning without thinking he was criticizing or disapproving of her choices. The outward giggly, cheerful, almost helpless person she portrayed was not who she was. Cinder was a calculating and intelligent spy with the skills to defeat most men in a physical contest without breaking a sweat, at least she was if she used her feet to kick them. Mentally, she was in a class alone.

  Rake considered himself an oaf in comparison. However, as they walked past a young woman carrying a basket clutched to her chest, he drew a shy smile from her. Another young lady paused in her chores to cast an evaluating look at him, which caused him to pull in his stomach and swell his chest. She tilted her head slightly in invitation. He glanced at Cinder and found a frown.

  As quickly as he spotted it, she turned it into a grin, one that seemed phony. In a total lie, she said, “The more attention you draw, the better it is for me to talk and listen without drawing attention. Keep it up.”

  He laughed. “If that’s what you want. You know I love the Dragon Clan and if I have to sacrifice myself by kissing every pretty girl we encounter, count on me.”

  “Just don’t expect me to come to your aid when the boyfriend or husband of one of them punches you.”

  “Hey, I thought we were doing this together. Shouldn’t you protect me while I do my best to represent our people?”

  She said with a wry grin, “There is an inn right ahead. Try to act normal.”

  Rake saw the faded sign of a white wolf or gray wolf, or maybe it was a dog, swinging over the door. The building was squat, the walls had been whitewashed at one time, but were now faded gray and several boards were in need of replacement. On the single bench outside a man lounged, looking almost asleep.

  He called to them in a lackluster voice, “Fairest deal in town, right here. We got what you want. Girls for the men, men for the girls. Honest games you’re sure to win.”

  Cinder said, “Keep walking, Rake.”

  Three buildings further, another sign hung. Three balls. Like at home. A trading post. Good to know in case they needed something. Beside it, over the next door hung another sign. A brown bear on a green background.

  “Inns always have colorful animals for names?” Rake asked.

  “Seems like it,” she said. “But I like this one.”

  A well-dressed man entered the door, a woman holding his elbow. They gave the appearance of prosperity while ignoring all those around. The building was freshly whitewashed. The front had an inviting covered porch and the heavy door had carvings of bears at play.

  They entered to find a host of smells, sounds, and a room filled with tiny tables and sturdy chairs. A musician strummed a lute in the far corner. He played softly, sang quietly, and provided a pleasant background for the conversations at the tables.

  Cinder again passed up isolated tables in favor of one surrounded by others that were occupied. She allowed her rucksack to slide off her shoulder and hit the floor. She leaned her bow and quiver against the wall while ignoring the curious eyes of others. Rake did the same.

  A smallish woman hustled to their table before they were fully seated. A disapproving expression told of her opinion of them. She raised her hand to cover her mouth as she whispered confidentially to Cinder, “You cannot afford to eat here. You must leave.”

  Rake gl
anced at the others and saw clothing more expensive than any he’d ever owned. Most of his were made by his family and were now dusty from walking the road. He pushed his chair back and prepared to stand and gather his things.

  However, Cinder continued sitting and smiled at the woman. “Don’t worry.”

  “You cannot remain.” She hissed. “People like you are not welcome here.”

  Cinder calmly adjusted herself in her chair while ignoring the woman and the stern glances from a few other diners. Their interaction had drawn the attention of all. Cinder made as if to cover her mouth to speak privately, as the woman had, but then allowed her hand to fall casually to her lap as she spoke louder so all in the room could hear, “You have made a mistake. I can afford to buy this inn and hire someone far more pleasant to do your job. Because we are traveling does not mean we are without resources.”

  The woman withdrew as if scalded by hot water.

  In the sudden silence of the room, Cinder said loudly enough for all to hear. “My brother and I are traveling to help a relative and would welcome a conversation about the road to the west. Now, the minstrel should pick a merry tune to restore the mood and expect a coin or two as I depart.”

  The lute played. People talked. The server had disappeared, and Rake hadn’t seen where she went. Another woman, one taller and older approached their table. “Good evening, will you be dining with us?”

  “I hope so,” Cinder said. “And do you have rooms for my brother and me? Tonight, only.”

  “One room, only. But it is large and clean.”

  “We’ll take it,” she said. “Now, what are our choices for dinner?”

  Rake again knew when to be quiet. Cinder ordered for both of them. He’d never slept under another roof and was not sure how to proceed. When in doubt, silence is often the best choice. The woman departed to the kitchen for their meal.

  “May I join you?” a man with a smile that had too many large yellow teeth asked.

  “Of course, you may,” Cinder said as she motioned to an empty chair at their table. She said, “May I buy you a glass of wine or ale?”