Dragon Clan #5: Tanner's Story

by LeRoy Clary

  Devlin carefully reached for Carrion’s pack. Tanner said softly, “How are you going to survive with only one hand?”

  Puzzled, Devlin halted.

  Carrion said, his eyes still closed, “He’s right. I’ll cut off any hand that steals from me.”

  Later, Tanner woke when Devlin tried to sneak away. He said, “We won’t hold you here, but after the sun comes up and the two of us are eating our fill, you remember that you left us, and you are hungry. You will not be welcome back with us.”

  When Tanner woke with the sun, Devlin was sitting off to one side where the morning sun warmed him. His eyes watched, but he said nothing. Carrion climbed to his feet and said, “We might as well get on with it. We can eat while we walk.”

  Tanner looked at Devlin and said, “How long will it take to get to the edge of town?”

  Devlin shrugged and remained silent.

  “Oh, come on,” Tanner snapped. “It’ll take as long to walk there as it took you to get here. How long was that?”

  His eyes drifted off to one side, and his lips silently moved, then he said, “Ten days. Maybe more.”

  Carrion barked a laugh and drew the attention of both of them. He said, “Probably telling the truth. You assumed he walked right here, but he probably snuck around farms, stole what he could, and managed to remain out of sight until we found him. Ten days sounds reasonable.”

  Tanner offered the boy a handful of food as he dug into a bag for more. He said, “There’s plenty. Just let me know.”

  Devlin shoved it all into his mouth, stuffing it so full he couldn’t chew. They walked together, with Carrion leading the way. When Devlin choked and spit most of it out, Tanner just held out the bag for him to take more. He took a smaller handful, but placed it all in his mouth as if making sure nobody took it from him.

  They set a fast pace, traveling up small hills and down the same. When they crossed creeks, one or two of them sometimes paused long enough to drink. They passed more farms, and then the farms were joined next to each other. Farmers waved, children played, dogs barked, and smiling people passed them on the road. Most wished them a good morning.

  The farms were prosperous, the people friendly, and Tanner contrasted what he saw with Shrewsbury. There was a sickness in Shrewsbury. Illness brought on by the others. Yet, he walked beside one of the others, unless he missed his guess. It made it hard for Tanner to like or trust him.

  Hopefully, they could get the boy talking. In his story might be clues for how they should proceed or weaknesses they could exploit. But the process couldn’t be rushed.

  They went up a hill longer than any before. At the top was a clearing where two small groups of people spread blankets for a picnic. The view was unobstructed. The hillside fell away until it reached a small city. Smoke rose from dozens of chimneys. The buildings were spread out more than in Shrewsbury, the only other large town, or city Tanner had ever seen.

  Between many of the buildings were gardens, flower, and vegetable. Trees lined the streets. A square occupied the center, with colorful tents and stalls. Hundreds of people either sold their produce or products. At least that many strolled the offerings and purchased what they needed. Musicians played.

  Beyond the buildings was a finger of a bay fed by a river. A stone wall was at the mouth, protecting the boats inside. A fleet of fishing boats, was grouped on one set of docks while much larger ones were for loading and unloading ships. Warehouses lined the shore near the piers. Three ships were tied at the piers, and two more were anchored in deeper water.

  Tanner expected to rest with the people sharing the grass and watch the city, but Carrion motioned for them to move on. Tanner noticed the reaction Devlin had with them. If not fear, it was apprehension. He had been almost relaxed until he spotted them.

  They moved down the road, but when they were still well above the highest rooftops, Carrion pointed to a place beside the road that couldn’t be called a clearing. They pushed aside a few branches and stepped on a few weeds to make a place to rest.

  Carrion said, “Where did you live? I mean what part of town?”

  “Over there, mostly.” He pointed to a section of rooftops.

  “Why there? I’d think down by the market would be better. Easier to steal food.” Carrion said.

  After a hesitation, Devlin said, “No. There is more food in the market, but also, more people watching it, and watching for people like me.”

  Tanner said, “Are there many like you?”

  “Yes. There’s many homeless.”

  That was not the answer to the question Tanner intended. He wanted to know about those with tattoos on their arms but didn’t want to bring unnecessary attention to his interest. He said, “It sounds like the residents don’t like the poor.”

  “Townies have their own rules.”

  “That’s what you call them?” Carrion asked.

  “Yes. Because they belong to the town, I guess.”

  Carrion’s eyes drifted away from Devlin and looked out over the rooftops as if distracted, but Tanner saw the interest. He waited for the next question, knowing what Carrion would ask before the words came.

  “What do they call you?”

  “Beggars. Thieves. Other stuff.”

  “What stuff?”

  “Anterrians. Foreigners. Sometimes Crabs or filth.”

  Tanner fought to keep his reactions to himself. But now the others had a name, and maybe a place where they came from. Anterrians. They would come from Anterria. He glanced at Carrion, who returned a very slight nod of his chin.

  Carrion then said, “Foreigners. Like you come from another land?”

  “If we have the dragons on our arms we’re Crabs.” Devlin made the statement as calm as if repeating what everyone knew.

  “Couldn’t you find work? Maybe on a fishing boat?” Tanner asked.

  Devlin held out his arms, displaying the dragons. “With these? Nobody will hire me. They’ll sic dogs on me, or throw rocks at me, but who would dare hire me?”

  “You said, ‘dare.' Why that word?” Carrion asked.

  Devlin paused again as if he was used to thinking about his answers before speaking. “There are stories about people like me hurting townies. Nobody wants to be around us.”

  “There’s others in town with tattoos on your arms?” Tanner asked.

  “A few,” his eyes shifted as if he wanted to escape the conversation.

  Carrion stepped in and said, “We’re going down there, and I have enough coin for all of us. First thing, we’ll buy you some better clothing. Pants long enough to reach your feet and a shirt with sleeves long enough to cover those tattoos. Where can we buy them?”

  “There're people that sell clothes in the market square, but they won’t let me go there.”

  “Why not?” Carrion asked.

  “They caught me stealing too many times.”

  Tanner had heard about enough. He snapped, “Stealing what? Loaves of bread?”

  The boy hung his head as if that was a major crime. Carrion said, “You’ll be with us. I don’t think anyone is going to object to you being there. Not if they want to survive to the end of today.”

  Carrion was angry, showing his red cheeks, but more than that, his anger had alerted the red dragon. It flew close enough for Tanner to sense it, and at almost the same time Carrion glanced up. The dragon was still out of sight, but drawn by the possibility of danger to its bonded partner.

  Carrion closed his eyes to check on the dragon while Tanner said to Devlin, “I think it’s about time we went down there and visit that market. You’ll trust us to manage any trouble, won’t you?”

  A hesitant nod was the answer. Carrion’s eyes blinked and returned to normal. He said, “A visit by a red dragon might straighten out some of those people.”

  “Or scare them and make them hate anyone associated with dragons.”

  Devlin crossed his arms and held his hands over the tattoos, believing they were talking about him. Before long
they were strolling down the road, ignoring any negative looks cast in Devlin’s direction.

  “Know of a decent pub or inn?” Carrion asked, then shrugged. “Probably not, but I intend to find one.”

  “You sound upset,” Tanner said, feeling much the same and wondering if for the same reasons. He wanted to fight for Devlin.

  They continued walking, acknowledging the few greetings from the people they passed. Carrion finally said, “They seem so friendly, but then they treat people like Devlin completely without shame or consideration.”

  “Maybe they have a reason,” Devlin said, his voice so low that hearing his was like listening to the buzz of a certain bumblebee in a field of clover.

  Neither responded. They entered the edge of town and passed modest homes and small businesses. Carrion pointed at an intersection, and they turned. People thronged the street. Horses, mules, dogs, children, and adults moved along the street, so many they bumped and touched each other.

  Devlin pushed Carrion roughly with both hands, sending him stumbling to the side of a building. Two or three people paused to observe. Carrion crouched with his knife in hand, ready to cut Devlin, who backed several steps.

  “What happened?” Tanner asked.

  Carrion moved a few steps forward. Devlin held up his empty hands in front of him.

  Tanner stepped between them. He looked at Devlin, “Why?”

  Devlin pointed to Carrion’s waist. His purse hung outside, by a single leather thong. There had been four, and the purse had been inside his waistband. “A thief.”

  Lifting the purse and glancing at the cut strips of leather, Carrion understood. “You had to push me before he cut the last one. If you hadn’t acted so fast, he would have my purse.”

  The few people who had paused to watch moved on. Carrion replaced his knife and reached an empty hand to Devlin, who eventually grasped it in a handshake. Devlin said, “If you have a string long enough, tie it around your neck . . . And another to your trousers. They’ll cut the one around your neck and catch it as it falls free. You need at least two.”

  “You know this because you were a thief?” Tanner asked.

  Devlin gave him the same look children give to mothers who ask silly questions.

  “We have a lot to do. Devlin, why don’t you take the lead?”

  The smile was instant and unexpected. His words were, too. “You lead. I’ll be more help to you at your back.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  The three of them walked the streets. People jostled them, others moved out of their way, and more than a few cast hateful looks in Devlin’s direction. Otherwise, few paid them any attention. The city was used to travelers and strangers. Although smaller than Fleming by half, the port city flourished with buyers, sellers, sailors, travelers, and those who profited by them.

  Carrion led them unerringly to the market square. He paused near a vendor selling meat pies and purchased three while asking where they might find clothing. The pie seller gave confusing instructions, but before the pies were eaten, they stood before a short, round woman with pink cheeks matching her overall appearance.

  “I want to buy this boy. A shirt, pants, stockings, and boots,” Carrion said.

  “He surely needs all that. And a bath.” She said, twitching her nose, but not moving to help display her goods.

  Carrion pulled a large silver coin, flipped it in the air with his thumb and snatched it back just as the woman reached out. He curled a lip and said, “It appears to me that you have nothing we’re interested in.”

  They left to the sound of her curses. Further, down the aisle, they found another woman selling clothing. Tall and thin, she greeted all three with a smile when they paused in front of her stall. The clothing displayed was used, colorful, and in good repair. She said, “Do you see anything you like?”

  Carrion stepped forward and said, “Yes, there is. I like your smile, and it’ll earn you a proper fee, I’m thinking.”

  “I’m married, but always appreciate a compliment, good sir.”

  “I simply meant that we have not been treated so well since we arrived this morning. We’ll do business with people that are friendly. Have you anything to fit my new friend, Devlin? The odd-looking young man with us?”

  “Not so odd looking if he wore clothing fit for a man instead of a child. I think he might be a handsome young man with proper pants and shirt. Each will cost two small coppers, but he can have his pick of colors. I’ll hem or mend anything needed for no charge.”

  Tanner said, “Boots, too. I don’t see any.”

  “Can’t sell you them, but when we get your friend dressed properly, I’ll take you to an honest man who will sell them. His stall is just a few steps away. I do have stockings if you wish.” She nodded to a table with stockings of every color and size.

  “Get over here so she can judge your size, Devlin,” Carrion said, pointing to a green shirt.

  “Too small,” she said.” Then she turned to Devlin. “Show me a shirt you like.”

  He pointed to a blue one.

  “Too small, again, but how about this one?” She held up another blue shirt, almost the same color, one with long sleeves. It had, at least, two tears that had been expertly mended.

  He nodded.

  She glanced at his waist and legs and selected a pair of pants that had so little wear there were no patches. “Go behind that curtain and change. Be quick about it.”

  Devlin looked at Carrion for confirmation, then moved to the curtain. He emerged a different person. The filthy clothing in his hand had been charcoal, but that had not been the original colors. They were intended for someone a head shorter. Now he would fit in on any street they'd been on, drawing no negative attention, except for the bare feet.

  Carrion nodded in approval. He turned back to the woman. “Now that you know his size, can you select another shirt and pants, and we need six pairs of stockings if you don’t mind. The colors won’t matter.”

  “Mind? That’s what I do here,” she laughed as she held up another shirt and waited for Devlin to smirk his approval. She wrapped the entire contents in a rag and tied it. Then she walked with them to a cobbler’s stall and introduced them.

  In no time, Devlin wore his first pair of stockings and from another friendly vendor, boots that were hardly worn. The smile he wore convinced more than one he was daft as they wove their way in and out more of the sellers, buyers, lookers, and thieves. Twice people had tried for Carrion’s purse.

  When they reached a leather smith's stall Carrion placed his purse on the counter. The old man with a hammer and scissors on hand said, “Replace the thongs or sell you something that won’t be taken.”

  “Tell me about the second choice,” Carrion said.

  The man reached to a shelf under the counter and placed a flat envelope of soft leather in front of Carrion to examine. There were leather strips, but also a hole in the leather, the edges stitched with heavy cord. A large brass button lay on top.

  He said, “You tie it to your pants like most, but when a cutpurse snips the cords and expects to grab and run, the button sewn on the inside of your pants fouls his play. Same with pickpockets. They can’t get it free.”

  “We’ll take three. Six buttons. Needle and thread, too, if you please.”

  “Cost you eight smalls in total,” his voice said he was willing to barter.

  “Nine, or no deal,” Carrion said, his voice sounding final. It took a moment for the leather smith to realize he’d been offered more than he asked. He offered to sew the buttons, but Carrion refused.

  Tanner said, “You can point us to a good inn. A place with solid food, clean beds, and a place where the captains of ships tend to gather.”

  “That’ll be the Anchor Inn,” he pointed. “Right down that street there. Ask anybody or look for the blue anchor over the door. If you insist on paying me nine, I’ve been watching your skinny friend hiking up his pants since you’ve been here. I have a belt that’ll fit him. Too small
for most and it has been hanging here in my stall taking up space for a summer or two. No charge.”

  They headed in the direction the Leatherman told them, pausing only long enough to buy three bananas, a fruit none had ever eaten, but people near the stall seemed to enjoy them. The vendor told them the strange fruits had arrived on ships from a far-off land. After struggling with the removing the peelings, they found the fruit sweet, but too soft to be enjoyable.

  The sign with the blue anchor leaped out at them from the side of a building. The front door sat on one side of a building made of tan stone while the rest of the wall facing the street was a row of small windows, most of them propped open for circulation.

  Tanner and Carrion headed for the door. Devlin said meekly, “I’ll wait for you here.”

  They both turned. Tanner said, “What are you saying?”

  “I’m not welcome in there.”

  “Your arms are covered, your face is reasonably clean, your clothing is like others. What’s the problem?”

  “The owner chased me with a stick from behind here for looking for something to eat in what they tossed out.”

  Carrion stepped closer to Devlin. “Listen, I’m going to teach you how to act. Hold your chin up. No, a little higher. That’s right. Now, look me in the eye. Do not look away until I do. Hold your shoulders back just a bit. There.”

  Tanner stepped up, “Devlin. Now look at me. No, remember the three things Carrion said for you to do. Okay, act like we’re meeting for the first time.”

  It took several tries until Carrion was satisfied with Devlin’s stance, but when he was, they entered the inn. Maritime memorabilia lined the walls. Rigged ships, paintings of other ships and faraway places, and even a section with ropes tied in fancy knots told they catered to sailors. The clienteles were older, many wore uniforms with gold piping, and the atmosphere was constrained.

  A dozen men sat at tables in small groups, most positioned where they could keep an eye on the street outside, as well as any who entered. There was a man at a small counter beside a door. Carrion approached him before sitting on a stool in front of him. “We need a clean room with three beds.”