Shell's Story

by LeRoy Clary

  “I didn’t catch your name,” Camilla said.

  The man was enjoying himself. “Ah, I have carried more than a few in my lifetime, each with a story. These days I’m called Red, called so because my skin is so pale it turns in the sun.”

  “Well Red, I am Camilla, and this is my older brother, Shell.”

  “If I knew your business, I might help,” Red said as he pointed to several tables and allowed Camilla to select one.

  She spotted one near the railing where the view would be unobstructed by others at the tables. When the waiter arrived, she asked for three glasses of their best wine, and Red requested a plate of bread with jam. Shell wondered at his insistence on the bread, but let it slide as he found a seat and adjusted the chair while watching the man from the inn take up a new position.

  A thought came to him. The man watching might attempt to draw information from Red after he left them. He said, “There’s a man behind Camilla who is watching us. When you have a chance, turn and look. He’d at the corner of the building with the blue sign over the door. Tell us if you know him.”

  “Why is he watching you?” Red asked without turning to look.

  “We’ve never seen him before,” Camilla said. “But maybe you’ll recognize him.”

  Shell said, “If he’s up to no good, he might intercept you and ask about us. I wanted to warn you.”

  When the waiter returned, Red scooted his chair over to give him room to place the wine and bread on the table, and as he did, he glanced up at the road to where Shell indicated the watcher stood. His eyes only rested an instant on the man, then he reached for his wine and sipped, his attention turned back to them. “I recognize him. He’s an odd one. Not exactly a criminal, but he watches newcomers. He’s waiting for something or someone, they say.”

  “Has he done that for a long time?” Camilla asked.

  “About two months, maybe a little more. He eats at the inns and watches all who come and go.” Red leaned over the table and spoke softly, “Some say he’s Dragon Clan.”

  Shell refused to look at Camilla at the revelation for fear his face might give him away. He said, “I thought most hate the Dragon Clan.”

  Red shook his head. “Not so much, anymore. I think people are more tolerant, if not appreciative for what they do. I think secretly that most people wish to be like them.”

  “What does that mean?” Camilla asked.

  “Not meaning to offend you, but I’m just saying that being able to talk to dragons, and ride on their backs while flying from place to place and calling them down to fight their enemies sounds very exciting.” Red reached for one of the loaves of bread and tore it in half before biting into the steaming center.

  Camilla said, “What did you mean by, what they do?”

  Red paused with his chewing and sipped his wine, his eyes fixed on her. “Don’t you have stories about them where you come from?”

  “Some. Tell me yours, though,” she ordered tightly.

  Red spoke slowly and softly, after glancing around to be sure they were alone and no others were sitting too close and listening. “Well, they used to burn and kill as they fought against the King, they say. Now they’re more apt to help you if you’re in trouble. Then there are the stories about an invasion of Princeton from across the Endless Sea, and some say the only thing holding it off is the Dragon Clan. Now, I don’t know what, if any of this is true.”

  Shell said, “I think what you said is probably true, as least from what we hear.”

  Camilla settled back and relaxed. Her eyes flicked to the street. “Why do people think he’s Dragon Clan? He looks no different from us.”

  Shell withheld a smile that threatened to form. He didn’t know if she intended the ‘no different from us’ comment as a joke or an accidental statement.

  Red shrugged. “Can’t say. Never met him, myself. Just repeating what others say.”

  “This invasion,” Shell said, “what can you tell me about it?”

  “There’s a small port down south of here called Shrewsbury. They say it was supposed to take place there, last summer, or the summer before. The invaders had weapons, tents, armor, and everything else stored there, including a whole town where they got rid of the locals and were going to use as a base.”

  “Red, who are ‘they’?” Shell asked.

  Red jabbed his thumb at the ships and beyond. “Over there.”

  Rather than being too inquisitive on the subject and raise the interest of their new friend, Shell said, “We’re staying at a house that rents rooms. Is that a good choice?”

  “Blue door, up one street? Bossy woman doing the rental?”

  “That’s it,” Shell confirmed.

  “Better than most. She’s honest and keeps a clean house. No husband, a sailor lost in a storm, but she gets by.”

  Camilla said, “Red, what do you know about ships? Our uncle is arriving on one, and I’m curious.”

  “These ships here are for cargo. Funny thing about them, there used to be a lot more, and they sailed to places across the sea, but no more.”

  She held her wine glass to her lips, but instead of drinking; she said, “Ever hear of a place named Breslau?”

  Red’s expression changed to the same sort as if someone had stepped on his toes. It became twisted and painful. He glanced back and forth at them, then slowly pushed his chair back and stood. Without hurrying or saying goodbye, he turned and strode away.

  Shell watched him disappear into the crowd, and said, “Well, that was surely unexpected.”

  Camilla said, “I’m sorry.”

  “You couldn’t have known,” Shell said, his eye still searching for Red. Then they fell onto the watcher, who pretended to look elsewhere. “I guess if we want to get rid of anyone bothering us, we just need to mention Breslau.”

  “Can you sense Pudding?”

  “He’s roaming the countryside, searching for a meal.”

  Camilla said, “That must be a wonderful gift.”

  “Or a curse, I’m not sure which it is. I have not felt the sting of a dragon since we entered Fleming. What about you?”

  She shook her head. Then said, “I just cannot see why Red reacted that way.”

  “He talked all about it until you mentioned that one word.”

  Camilla’s eyes had tears at the corners, but an edge of determination controlled her voice. “Maybe I was not supposed to use that name if we were as innocent as we pretended. He knew from that we were not what we believed, and that scared him. I thought this would be easier. I came here to help our families, and I also think because my ego said I could do what others cannot. But the reality is that this is much harder than expected.”

  While Shell felt much the same, he shook his head and forced a smile. “You know what? We only arrived this morning. Let’s give it a few days.”

  “I suppose you’re right. A lot has happened, but I hoped Red would tell us about the city, where to buy weapons, who to trust, and what to avoid. I messed that up.”

  Shell said, “I’ve been thinking of something you mentioned. Those men, the dock workers loading and unloading the ships are strong. Look at the chests and arms on them.”

  “I have been,” a slight smile slipped into place on her lips.

  “They lift and carry all day,” he ignored her smile. “If we find two of them, we can half-trust, they could deliver the watcher to us if we had a private location.”

  Her smile increased. “Or, if I could get him alone for a few moments, I’ll bet I could get a look at his back and see if he has the Dragon Clan mark.”

  “How would you do that. . . Oh!” Shell felt his face redden with some embarrassment, but mostly jealousy. He also feared for her safety.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  The possible Dragon Clan watcher followed them back to the house where they rented the rooms. Shell didn’t make a big deal of keeping an eye on him but didn’t let him out of sight, either. If he tried to slip away, Shell decided to try
following him, maybe turn the tables on who watched who. If nothing else, it would serve him right, but with luck, Shell might find where the watcher lived, or other useful information.

  Their rooms didn’t overlook the street in front, so they didn’t know if the watcher remained out there on the street. Both entered Shell’s room and took the same spots as before, Camilla on the bed and him sitting on the floor.

  She held out her hand. “Let me see that knife, again.”

  Shell passed it to her, again noticing how ordinary it appeared while in the sheath. But as soon as he pulled it, the blade reflected light in a way that indicated the knife was anything but ordinary. The surface of the blade was free of rust, dents, and other signs of use, but instead of a bright reflective surface, it had a soft gray finish. The balance felt perfect, the edge looked new, and the metal had to be an alloy he’d never seen.

  Camilla examined it near the window, turning it over and over, end over end, and then she held the handle to the light. “I should have kept this for myself. I’ve never seen a knife as well made. Have you noticed that inside the black of the handle are pictures if you hold it to the light?”

  “Pictures? I haven’t had time to look at it, yet.”

  “If you hold it in the sunlight, there is an elk on one side and a bird, maybe an eagle, on the other. The handle is smooth, so the images must have been carved from the back side, although I cannot imagine how.”

  He held the knife in the sunlight and found she was right. He slid his fingernail down the edge and couldn’t feel the smallest chip, or dent as if the knife had never been used. Yet, the scabbard was not new, but well-worn and aged. Why would someone purchase a knife so rare and yet carry it in an old scabbard?

  He said, “The knife with the ruby?”

  “Safely hidden. I don’t know why, but this place, this city, makes me feel worried. It’s not the place I’d post pictures of the knife at every street corner. At least, not yet.”

  Shell said, “How do we proceed?”

  “You’re not talking about the ruby knife, are you? Well, remember this is our first day, and we have not even spent a night here. I say we keep exploring. So far we’ve found several interesting things, and I’d like to talk to Red again.”

  “I don’t think he will talk to us,” Shell said. “But I keep thinking about the watcher, and wondering if he is Dragon Clan.”

  “Why would he stay here two months?”

  “Red never said he had been here all that time. Red said he had seen the man around for over two months, I think. What if there is another place he goes?”

  Camilla said, “The watcher? Are you suggesting he may travel to his Family? Or that he has a home nearby? Well, how about him watching more than ports than just Fleming? Or he sails to other ports and always returns here? Maybe the ports are in a certain country across the sea?”

  Shell stood, stretching and pointing to the door. “My intent was to make a point, not throw out a hundred possibilities and confuse the situation.”

  “So, you just want to consider part of the facts, not all of them.”

  “No, I am impatient and direct. Sometimes being impatient and direct are virtues.”

  She laughed softly, and asked, “And how might that be?”

  “I’m going outside, and if he’s there, I’m going to confront him impatiently and directly.”

  “You’re going to walk up to him and ask if he is Dragon Clan and he’s going to tell you? You call that a virtue?” Camilla asked. “If he is, or is not, he’ll probably think you daft, disappear, and you’ll never see him again.”

  “Which would be better than looking up a hundred times today and seeing him.” Before Camilla could object, Shell strode onto the landing and descended the stairs. He threw open the front door and caught sight of someone ducking into the deep shade across the street; someone dressed in the same dull brown color of clothing as the watcher.

  Shell walked down the street, crossing it as he did, and at the next alley turned. He sprinted past the building and leaped behind the corner where he was hidden from sight as he waited. No sooner had he placed his back against the wall than the watcher’s footprints sounded, drawing closer. Shell held still until the shadowed movement approached. He was reminded of Quester sneaking behind him on the path back in the grasslands.

  The watcher continued running until he came even with Shell, and he must have seen Shell from the corner of his eye because he spun and reached for his knife. Shell already held his. The watcher stood taller than Shell by half a head, weighed more, and appeared to be younger, but not by much, maybe a few years.

  He wore clothing better than most dockworkers, not as good as many who strolled the streets. His beard was neatly trimmed and his light brown hair longer than most, but shorter than the sailors who tied theirs behind their heads to keep hair from blowing into their eyes while working aloft. He’d learned that earlier while listening to conversations at other tables.

  “Why are you following us?” Shell asked in a soft voice he hoped sounded as menacing as he intended.

  “I’m not.”

  Shell felt his hand holding the knife, begin shaking. He had never fought with a knife. But he controlled his voice and lied, “Look at my knife. It was awarded to me for combat. I can probably slice you open before you can say your name, which is my next question. Who are you?”

  Fear filled the watcher’s eyes. He saw the quality of the knife, but Shell said nothing else and kept his face passive. Sometimes silence is scarier than words. Shell took a single step forward while raising his knife a few inches higher. “On the ground.”

  “I don’t have anything to steal.”

  The voice quavered, and Shell knew he held the upper hand in the confrontation, at least for now. He inched closer, praying to the Six Gods of the Mountains that nobody entered the alley and that the watcher did as told. “Down. Now.”

  When the watcher didn’t obey, Shell kicked the side of his knee. The watcher collapsed, and Shell rolled him over and placed his knee on the small of the man’s back as he reached for the waistband and pulled the shirt free. He pretended to search for a purse, but in reality, he wanted the shirt hiked high enough where he could see a dragon birthmark—if one existed.

  It did.

  Shell stood, glanced around to make sure they were still alone, and lifted the back of his shirt quickly. “Sorry, I don’t have time for a formal greeting to another of the Dragon Clan.”

  “I thought so.”

  Shell helped him stand. “You knew?”

  “Is that Camilla you’re with? Everyone knows of her and what she looks like.”

  The mark on the back had told him part of the story, but the question about Camilla and the eagerness with which it had been asked, told Shell all he needed for the moment. “It is Camilla. And you are?”

  “River. Raymer is my brother.”

  Shell pointed to the street and said, “So you’re from the Raging Mountains Family? Hold on to whatever you’re going to say until we meet with Camilla and then you won’t have to repeat it twice.”

  They walked out of the alley and across the street together. River said, “Don’t look to your left until we reach the door. When you open it, glance over there and find a man sitting in a chair watching us. I think he’s a Breslau spy and he is also watching you. I’ve been watching him.”

  “And who is watching you?” Shell asked, his tone sharper than intended, but things seemed to be spiraling out of his control.

  River said as if he’d missed the anger behind the question, “Nobody. I’ve been careful.”

  “Not that careful. Our guest at lunch spotted you right away.” Shell opened the door and glanced at a man sitting in a wooden chair, his gaze fixed somewhere else; his face half-turned away as if he had no interest in him. But a normal person sitting ten steps away would look at a person arriving, and perhaps a nod or say something in greeting. The looking away told more than anything else could. He was t
rying to conceal himself.

  Safely inside, Shell pointed to the stairs and nodded a brief hello to the woman who rented the rooms. Her raised eyebrows said she would keep track of who and how many slept in their rooms, but she said nothing as she went back to her knitting.

  River went up first, but said over his shoulder, “You mean Red? I paid him to offer his help to you and ask questions.”

  That explained a lot. Not why Red had run at the mention of Breslau, but everything else about the meeting with Red had been too convenient, too easy. At the top of the stairs, Shell stepped in front of him and knocked softly on Camilla’s door.

  She opened it and waited, her eyes passing over River and coming to rest on Shell.

  He said, “This is River, a relative of ours. His family lives in the Raging Mountains and his brother is Raymer.”

  Camilla’s eyes came alive. “You resemble him, all but his attitude I hope.”

  “Raymer can be hard to take, but what can I say? He’s my brother.”

  Shell motioned to the unseen woman who no doubt listened to every word at the bottom of the stairs while she knitted. “It’s almost time for dinner, why don’t we try another inn and talk over dinner?”

  River said, “Good idea, I know a small inn where there’s good food and privacy.”

  As they departed the rooming house, Shell again told the old woman goodbye, and as he spoke, he realized that with her watching her rooms as she did, nobody was going to get to the top floor without her knowing. He spun and said, “I haven’t seen anyone else in the other two rooms upstairs. Have they been rented for the next few days?”

  She looked up from the almost completed stocking. “Nobody has rented them. Did you want to pay for your relative to stay here?”

  River started to shake his head, but Camilla touched his arm and drew his attention as Shell said, “Yes, that’s a great idea. And we may have another relative meeting us here, too, so why don’t I pay for all four rooms and if he does not arrive, I will still have to pay for you holding the room.”