Dragon Clan #5: Tanner's Story

by LeRoy Clary

Devlin leaped up to help, inadvertently stepping between the Captain and the scowling man who had been making his way to the table. Together they whisked him outside and down the street, pausing at the first intersection near a hedge. The Captain bent over and threw up.

  Devlin looked at Tanner as if to ask if he’d lost his mind. Then, the Captain stood and headed towards the ships on unsteady legs. Tanner managed to turn him into an alley and sit him on a storage crate. “The Rose is not sinking.”

  “What?” The Captain roared.

  “Those two men sitting behind me at the inn were going to force you to sell your ship to them. I had to get you out of there.”

  “By lying to me? Who the hell do you think you are?”

  Instead of stepping back as most seamen would have done at the voice with the crack of authority, Tanner took one step closer and kept his voice steady. “I think that I’m one of the investors who may save your ship. My partner will make you a fair offer tomorrow. One which will provide the funds to refit The Rose and allow you to remain as owner. But you cannot let those two at the Inn force you into a deal tonight.”

  The Captain no longer looked drunk. He peered at Tanner and said, “You don’t appear to have the coin to pay for a good dinner, let alone a ship.”

  “My friend does. We do not flaunt our wealth for obvious reasons.”

  “So you want to buy The Rose, do you? Well, she isn’t for sale.”

  Tanner slowed down. He only knew the bare bones of the offer. His answer was simple, considering the amount of rum the Captain had consumed. “We’re looking for more of a long-term charter. I cannot share more with you until my friend is with us, but you need to stay away from the Anchor Inn tonight.”

  “Like hell, I will. Get out of my way.” Standing, he waved Tanner aside with an arm.

  Devlin’s fist smashed into the side of the Captain’s head. His legs collapsed, and he sat down on the pave stones, eyes rolled far back into his head.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “Why’d you do that?” Tanner demanded.

  “Because he’s so drunk he would have sold The Rose to those men for another bottle of rum.”

  Tanner let his breath out slowly as he considered what had happened and what he needed to do. When the Captain woke in the morning, Tanner could claim thieves in the alley had attacked them. Tanner would say he protected the Captain, but one of the men had landed a lucky punch before he managed to defeat them.

  “He’s going to be hard to walk back to the Inn,” Tanner said.

  Devlin bent, grabbed the Captain by his shirt front and leg. In one motion he stood and tossed the limp body over his shoulder. “I can carry him that far.”

  Entering the Inn again, Tanner said to the room at large, “Anybody know which room is the Captain’s?”

  “He sleeps it off on his ship,” a voice said, sounding as if it didn’t care, but wanted the room to return to the soft quiet of conversation. Perhaps Tanner read too much into the answer, but he headed for the stairs with Devlin carrying the unconscious man on his shoulder. He took him to their room.

  “Over there,” Tanner ordered. Captain Jamison was deposited on the empty bunk. He immediately started snoring. “Devlin, thanks. You did us a favor tonight. Now I want you to stay with him. Don’t let him out of this room, and nobody comes in.”

  “I can do that.”

  Tanner headed back down the stairs and reclaimed his table. He was on his second watered wine when one of the two sitting at the table behind him approached.

  He made a slight bow, then said with a soft voice and easy smile, “I’m called Masterson, and my friend over there is Captain Brice, of the Far Seeker. We have business to discuss with Captain Jamison. We would appreciate it if you would send him down to speak with us, or if it would be more convenient, we could meet with him upstairs.”

  “In the morning. He is passed out, and I expect him to sleep all night.”

  “Perhaps we can rouse him. It’s very important.”

  “I wouldn’t recommend you try. My man, Devlin, is there also. He has orders to kill any who enter. You see, we carry important papers and must protect them.”

  The man’s smile slipped, but he persisted. “Perhaps I could entice you to intercede for us.”

  “I’d be glad to. In the morning. Now, allow me to finish my wine in peace.”

  “I must insist,” the man said, edging closer as his tone grew more insistent.

  A new voice, one dripping with the sort of authority that only comes from commanding a ship, called, “Sit your ass down and leave him alone. Business is for daylight hours. It’s time for big lies and sea-stories this night. And maybe for busting a couple of heads together.”

  “Here, here,” another captain agreed.

  The man found his chair. Tanner didn’t turn to look until he heard the scrape of two chairs some time later. He glanced around and found the man who approached him, but he locked eyes with the other. Dressed in black, the same black his ship was painted, Captain Brice waited for him to flinch, as did his crew daily. Tanner didn’t.

  The other said, “Don’t worry about it, we’ll make our deal tomorrow.”

  Captain Brice broke eye contact, but as he spun to leave, he said to Tanner from the corner of his mouth, “You take care of yourself. This can be a dangerous city.”

  Any reply seemed inadequate. Captain Brice had made a direct threat and words would not change that. When the front door closed behind them, Tanner briefly considered switching from watered wine to ale, and a lot of it.

  A large man sat uninvited across from him. He brought his mug with him as if he intended to stay. He said, “Made yourself a new friend, huh?”

  “I didn’t like his attitude.”

  “Not many do,” He reached out his paw of a hand and shook. “Bishop. Used to be the first mate a hundred years ago on a ship that had your new friend on the crew. He stole, cheated, and turned out to be the laziest man on the ship. I finally set him ashore up near Castle Warrington with orders to never walk aboard my ship.”

  “Was that you who ordered him to shut up?”

  “Nope. It was another Captain from another ship that he’s pissed on. Captain Brice has few friends in this port. If you had thrown a punch, I suspect half the room would have fought to throw the second. I just came over to tell you he’s a dangerous man. Watch yourself.”

  “Can I buy you a drink?” Tanner asked, sensing the man across from him might hold a treasure trove of useful information.

  “Maybe later. You have business here?”

  “I do. Private business.”

  “Does it involve passage on a ship?”

  “That might be part of it,” Tanner answered, after careful consideration. He didn’t want to talk to someone who might spread the word through the entire city.

  “Good answers. Let me say that the enemy of my enemy is my friend. I can’t remember who said that first, but it remains true. I give you leave to ask what you will of me and I’ll provide honest, straight answers for what you did in standing up to the Far Seeker tonight.”

  “Because we share a dislike for Captain Brice?”

  “More than that. Because when he has the opportunity, he will kill either of us. Make no mistake about it.”

  Tanner settled back in his chair. “You said that a hundred years ago you were the first mate? Does that mean you are now a captain?”

  “It does indeed. I’m the master of the Evelin, as fine a cargo hauler as you’re likely to find. I’ve plied these seas longer than you’ve been breathing.”

  He was easy to talk to, and easier to listen to. Tanner wanted to steer him into talking about the Marlstones, Breslau, or Anterra. But without tipping him off that he was interested. Besides, there were other ears in the Inn.

  “I’ll bet you have some stories to tell. You’ve sailed all over?”

  “Nary a place I haven’t been. Why I remember once down near the Cape, there was this redheaded girl. Well, not so much
a girl as a short woman who was a flirt, if you will. . .”

  Once the stories began, they didn’t end. Tanner said little to sway the directions of his stories, but after two more mugs he mentioned ‘Marlstone’, and a great dragon that had almost landed on his ship. Tanner fought to keep his face impassive.

  “The thing was, this big old green dragon swooped down, and we didn’t know if it was attacking or looking for a place to nest. Most of us were ready to abandon ship and take our chances with the sharks. But it passed us by, and we didn’t see it again for two days.”

  “When the ship got to Marlstone?” Tanner asked, as the man who called himself Bishop almost nodded off.

  His voice grew softer, more intense. “No, we weren’t going to the islands. We were leaving them, heading for Breslau. That was back in the day when ships still went there.”

  Tanner leaned forward and spoke softly to keep their conversation to themselves. “I haven’t heard of that place, but there’s a lot of places I don’t know about.”

  “Not missing much in Breslau’s case. Most are too dry for me. People hiding under hoods and cloaks so you don’t know who is who. Can’t hardly tell a man from a woman.”

  “It sounds exotic . . .” Tanner said to fill the pause.

  “Not if you mean it’s a good place to live. There're only three kinds of people there if you don’t count the slaves. Royals, Freemen, and Crabs. They mark the crabs with dragon tattoos on the arms for who they belong to. That way they’re marked for life.”

  “Crabs? That’s an odd name for people.” Tanner said.

  “Not so much. You see, crabs eat anything on the bottom of the sea. They scramble around looking for food, but they don’t do anything else but eat the leavings and garbage of the sea.”

  “They’re not slaves?”

  “No, slaves produce things and serve their masters. They build or they farm. They work for a living. Crabs do nothing.”

  “Why do they mark them with tattoos?” Tanner asked. “Wouldn’t it be easier to just leave them alone?”

  “If they did nothing to distinguish them, Crabs would mix with Freemen, sooner or later. Freemen would take the pretty girls, and the races would mix, like with the slaves. It’s to their advantage to keep them apart. By ‘their’ I’m speaking of the Royals.” He looked ready to fall asleep on the table again.

  Tanner said, “So the Royals and Freemen mix?”

  “Of course not. The Royals are Dragon Masters. None of them would consider a lower class.” His eyes closed and his forehead settled softly on the table.

  Tanner sat in his chair reviewing every word. Dragon Master. Those two words hinted at a major piece of the puzzle. The Royals were Dragon Masters. He feared that he knew what the unfamiliar term meant. Dragon Master sounded ominously like Dragon Clan, but with a crown.

  He half stood and asked the room at large, which now only consisted of perhaps ten men, “Does Bishop have a room here at the Inn?”

  A friendly man of more years than most said, “He usually sleeps here.”

  A serving girl said, “Top of the stairs, third room.”

  Realizing there was only one way for Bishop to get up the stairs, Tanner stood and ignored the grins most of the men wore. None offered to help. He half carried Bishop up the stairs and found the third room. After placing him on one of the four beds, he went to the other room and checked on Devlin, who was awake, guarding the door.

  While walking back to his table, one of the men he assumed was a captain said, “Well done. It speaks of a man who takes care of his shipmates.”

  A few others muttered in agreement as Tanner sat. He realized that the simple act of taking care of Bishop had put him in the good graces of every captain in the room. He saw it in their eyes, the smiles, and the nods.

  As another unasked for a mug of wine found its way to his table, Carrion entered. He too smiled. Leaning across the table, he said, “Good news. I have almost all of The Rose’s debt in my pockets. Everyone who extended the ship or Captain credit realized the ship will probably never leave port again. They were anxious to recover a portion of their money.”

  “Is there more debt?”

  “Yes. I’ve spread the word that I’ll see anyone tomorrow morning who’s willing to sell, but after that, I will buy no more.”

  Tanner sipped his weak wine while thinking but couldn’t imagine why Carrion had set that timetable. “I don’t understand.”

  “It puts pressure on them to see. They have one chance to sell to me or risk losing everything they have invested with The Rose. We get it done fast and at a good price, but fast is our main goal.”

  “We’ve never talked about doing this fast.”

  “As soon as we begin refitting the ship we’re going to draw more attention than we can stand. People holding debt will be reluctant to sell it to me because they think they may recover more.”

  “Since when do we care about profits?”

  Carrion flashed his most evil grin. “We don’t. But if we do less than convincing others we care for making more coin, they will turn suspicious and wonder at our real mission.”

  “Oh, I see. Well, I also have news,” Tanner glanced around the room, He sensed the hush of conversation at his proclamation as much as heard it, as ears around the room listened. “For later.”

  “Then we should go to our room and sleep. I’d like to rise before dawn and escort our captain to his ship before most of the city rise.” Carrion drained his mug.

  They stood together, and as they made their way the other tables, several wished them a good night or wished them well. Once on the stairs, Carrion said, “What was that about?”

  “I think they like us.”

  “It was you they were speaking to. We’ll speak of this in the morning.” Carrion sounded stern, but his eyes flashed amusement.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Carrion woke before dawn. He had pushed his bed to block the door so nobody could enter during the night, and the Captain couldn’t get out without waking him. It had been a good idea because a confused captain was trying to climb over him to reach the door.

  “Hold on a minute, Captain,” Carrion mumbled.

  “Hold on, my ass. Who’re you?”

  Tanner sat up in bed and yawned. Devlin stood and looked at Tanner for a hint of what he should do. Tanner shook his head and motioned for Devlin to wait.

  Carrion said, “We’re the friends who rescued you in the alley behind the Inn last night.”

  “What?”

  “You were attacked, but we saved you and brought you to our room. We’re above the Inn.”

  The Captain rubbed the bruise on his jaw. “I don’t remember any of it.”

  “Not surprised at all,” Carrion said. “You were pretty drunk.”

  “I remember you from downstairs. I guess I owe you a debt of thanks.”

  Carrion cast a warning glance at the others. “Yes, debt. We talked about that too, last night. Remember?”

  The Captain grew wary. “No.”

  “Oh well, no problem. You said we’d discuss it more today. You invited us to your ship. We have business to discuss.” Carrion kept his voice soft and reassuring.

  “My ship is a disaster, so save yourself a long walk. It isn’t going anywhere soon, if ever. Get out of my way.”

  Carrion said, “Of course, I’m sorry I have you blocked in. I was making sure those thugs didn’t return in the middle of the night. Tanner? Devlin? Get ready so we can escort the Captain.”

  “No need for that.”

  “You must see the side of your face where an ugly brute hit you before these two brave men fought them off,” Carrion smirked in Devlin’s direction. He understood who the ugly brute was.

  The Captain felt his chin and winced. “The Rose is a mess.”

  Carrion said, “We’re just interested in getting you to your ship. It seems there are people in Racine, who’re very angry at you and demand their money.”

  “I suppose it
has come to that. Okay, come with me, and again, I have to thank you.”

  They grabbed their backpacks and bedrolls and walked out of the Anchor Inn single file. Tanner and Devlin took up the rear in the dark streets. Only drunks who didn’t find their way home and bakers were out. Bakers sleep after lunch and rise when most are climbing in bed. By the time most people wake, the bread, meat pies, rolls, and sweets are fresh and warm.

  The smell of the ships grew stronger as they neared the ships. Tar, rotted fish, salt air, sewage, and seaweed filled the air, but there were underlying scents of old wood and smoke. The Captain seemed to perk up with the intense smells.

  When they reached The Rose, the gangplank was in place. At the top, on the quarterdeck, slept an enormously fat man snoring so loud that dogs, two streets away were awakened and barked in response. They went up the gangplank and stepped around the sleeping man without ever waking him.

  The Captain said, “Wait here.”

  He left them on the deck while he entered a door. They heard him shouting at someone and then he returned. “Coffee and food as quick as that lazy cook can get a fire going. Follow me.”

  He climbed a small exterior ladder and wound his way in the growing light to a deck above the others. A carved railing ran around it, and a cargo hatch provided impromptu seating. From there the whole of the ship could be seen, a slender boat with a high, pointed bow. There were two masts, each taller than the norm. In the dim light, the patchwork rolled sails appeared like when they were new, as did the ropes, rigging, pulleys, and wood. Tanner couldn’t see the chipped and peeling paint, the trash in the scuppers, and the general air of decay.

  They sat. The Captain stood and paced. He leaned over the rail and shouted again for the coffee to be brought up as soon as it was done. “Bring four mugs and the pot.”

  The smell of smoke curled from a small metal pipe attached to the front of the deck they stood on. People ashore were beginning to move around as the city woke. A wagon rolled by with iron-rimmed wheels rumbling on the pave stones. A crew called to each other as they navigated a fishing boat down the channel.