by LeRoy Clary
The prospect of renting all her rooms had a wide smile on her face and she almost a giggled. She said, “Half price for the last room if he does not arrive, fair?”
“Fair. Just adjust what I have already paid and if I owe more let me know. Do you by chance sell those stockings you knit?”
“When I can find buyers.”
Shell picked up a completed one and examined the wool and workmanship as if he knew one from another. He said, “I think you have found a buyer. How many pairs do you have completed?”
“Six, but I work fast,” the expression she wore told Shell he could ask for her to repaint the walls of his room and the job would be complete when they returned. If anything, out of the ordinary happened, such as the spy in the chair next door asking questions about her, she would report it to Shell, and he felt confident she wouldn’t reveal anything of him or Camilla. For the cost of a few socks, he’d gained a loyal watchdog.
The suspected Breslau spy was gone when they walked outside, his chair empty. As the three walked down the street, River said, “I already have a place to stay.”
Camilla said, “You have a lot to learn. Shell just made us a friend. That old woman had four empty rooms and nobody to buy her stockings. She might not even have enough coin to eat, but Shell has managed to pay her for things we don’t need, but, what information is she going to share with strangers about us? I’ll tell you. None. Very nicely done, Shell.”
Shell shrugged and said to River, “Besides, her rooms are probably nicer than yours and more secure. After we talk at dinner, I suspect you may need to be closer to us. And I’d think from the way you spoke earlier, you’d want to be closer to Camilla.”
Both turned to face him, one on either side, Camilla in puzzlement, and River in embarrassment. She glanced at him and said, “Not another one.”
Shell laughed, and before long both the others did, too. River guided them higher on the hillside, away from the ships and activity, to a third street parallel to the piers, a residential street for the most part, but a few shops were located there. The shops served the locals instead of the ships. A sign hung over a door with a crude elk carved on it. No paint, no words, just an elk.
River opened the door and entered, leaving Shell and Camilla to fend for themselves. A fat woman wrapped him in her arms and swung him around before looking at the newcomers. “Who do we have here?”
“Distant relatives I ran into. Friends of my brother.”
“Well, do they have names and want to eat the best food in Fleming?”
“Shell and this is my sister, Camilla,” he said almost automatically.
The woman placed her hands on her heavy hips and said, “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I think your mama was messing around a bit if you think you have the same father. Not that I’m an expert—oh, never mind the humble pie—I am an expert, and the two of you can say you’re whoever you want. Now, find a table you like, I’ll throw together a dinner you’ll remember a year from now.”
Her jovial words and quick smile took the sting from her revelation. He and Camilla needed to add a layer or two to their story. Different fathers. Shell’s died, and their mother remarried. The glance he’d stolen at Camilla when the fat woman was talking said Camilla already knew it.
They sat at one of the two larger tables, Camilla and Shell sharing the bench that ran along the wall so they could face the room. They pulled the table closer to them as River grabbed a chair and sat across from them. The serving-woman rushed back with three tankards of ale.
“Watered wine for me,” Camilla said.
“What do you think this is? A deluxe inn, or something? We got ale. You get ale.”
As River laughed, she spun and hurried back to the kitchen. There were no others eating yet, and the room was muted and comfortable. Shell tasted the ale and found it bitter, but drinkable. He glanced at River and caught the smirk. He’s paying me back for the comment about him and Camilla.
In that light, River’s response was fair, probably should have been expected. Shell said, “While we’re alone, let’s talk. Red said you’d been here two months watching all strangers.”
“Yes, I’ve been here two months watching strangers. I was down in Racine and sailed up here. Then I found I should have stayed there because about ten of our family arrived right after I left and sailed not long ago. I missed them, but decided this was a better place to find family.”
“Why here?” Camilla blurted.
“Racine is small. Shrewsbury lies all but deserted. I think people from different families are going to make their way here to Fleming to try and help turn back the invasion or find a way to go over there to help. I want to travel there.”
“You know there are no ships that cross the sea, right?” Camilla asked.
“Well, none do these days, but there used to be a lot of them.”
Shell rolled his eyes, “The point is, none do it now.”
River leaned closer to them. “You’re right, but there are ships here that used to cross the sea. At least five right here in Fleming.”
“But they don’t do it anymore,” Shell said, the anger at River’s oblique attitude increasing.
The woman returned with three bowls of hearty stew, coarse grain bread, jam, and a pitcher of ale. She said, “Don’t fill up on that beef stew, hear me? I have apple cobbler topped with cinnamon and sugar. Do yourself a favor and leave some room.”
When she was gone, River said, “I suggest you eat or Rachael will punish you, probably by not letting you have cobbler. Now, I know ships don’t cross the Endless Sea today, but that doesn’t mean they cannot. If for instance, a new owner bought a ship he could sail it anywhere he wanted, if he bought the right one. I discovered a family messenger here a few days ago and sent her to the Raging Mountains for me. Our family has a war fund that will be enough to buy a ship if they will allow me to use it.”
Camilla seemed to accidently jab Shell in his rib with her elbow before she said, “Keep talking.”
“My idea is this. The other ship sailed from Racine so it can make land south of Breslau, and they’ll probably make their way north across the land to reach the city. What if another ship sails north with the same intent, but we travel south and meet them?”
“Three of us will make a difference?” Camilla asked.
River cleaned the last of the stew from his bowl, leaned back and shouted, “When is that cobbler going to get here?”
“When I feel like bringing it,” the woman shouted back.
River grinned and said, “I don’t think the three of us are the only Dragon Clan coming this way.”
Shell instantly thought of Quester. After telling his story to Myron, probably many times, Shell expected Quester to reach Fleming as quickly as possible. Shell’s mind was spinning at River’s suggestions and ideas. Counting Quester there would be four of them, and a wolf named Pudding and an unnamed red miniature dragon.
Camilla spoke before Shell had his thoughts together. “But is there a ship like that for sale?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
River said, “Ships that used to sail across the sea are available at bargain prices. There are three of them that can be had, that I know of, but one is in such bad condition from years of neglect I wouldn’t trust it. A second has a skipper who drinks far too much and wants a small fortune for his ship. The third has an owner who once had a thriving business sailing across the sea and back, but now he tries to compete with local coastal ships that carry smaller cargoes and have tiny crews, so his ship sails half empty.”
“Tell us more about the third one,” Shell said.
“Rumors say he’s about to lose his ship, home, and anything else to debt, and selling all that won’t begin to cover what he owes. He and his wife and children will be sold into servitude to pay the debts within a few ten-days.”
Camilla said, “He should never have borrowed.”
River said, “True, but if my family agrees to let me use the
money to pay off his debts, he should be willing to let us use his ship for our needs. If not, we can let him and his family be sold into slavery, and we can still buy the ship from the creditors, probably at a cheaper price. We might even buy him on the auction block, or we can hire a new captain from down on the wharfs.”
Camilla settled back and allowed the three plates of apple cobbler be placed in front of her. She distributed them, and Shell, who had never tasted cinnamon and sugar. From the aroma, he found himself more interested in the pie than conversation.
Shell tasted the cobbler and decided it was the best food he’d ever eaten. He looked up at River and said, “You seem a nice man on the surface, but beneath that is a ruthlessness I’ve never encountered, so I don’t know what to think. You will let the man and his family be sold into servitude without a qualm?”
“I don’t know him, didn’t advise him to borrow so heavily, and it is no concern of mine. If he agrees to sail where we want, so be it. If not, that is his choice.” River spooned pie into his mouth as if that ended the subject.
Shell said, “We should speak to him. Camilla?”
She set aside her spoon and looked at River. “When do you hope to hear from the Raging Mountains?”
“A month, at most.”
“A lot can happen in a month. The war may be over, or our family on the other ship may be in dire straits. The owner of this ship and his family may be sold into servitude, and the ship auctioned to others. How much does a ship of that kind cost?”
River snorted, as said as if speaking of a fortune, “At least three gold standards. He also has half that again in debt.”
Shell cut in quickly, “I’m from far away. How big is a gold standard?”
River made a circle with his thumb and forefinger, a circle much smaller than Shell expected. Within the money they had taken from the cabin, there were a dozen gold coins of the size he indicated and more that were larger or smaller. That didn’t even count the silver. He glanced at Camilla. We can buy five or six ships, maybe more.
Camilla said, “You’re telling me to have the captain and the ship, a buyer would have to pay for the ship and half that again to free the owner so he could sail her? That is not a good business deal if you ask me.”
Shell said, “Do you personally know this owner?”
“No, why?”
“I may have five gold coins that size, and few of silver, too.”
Camilla said, “Only fools would pay that much.”
“There is a lender who will get little if the captain and family are sold on the auction block, and then the ship becomes another liability the lender has to sell. But before we talk of that, you two had better eat your cobbler or there will be hell to pay when Rachael comes back.”
A pair of men entered and shouted for ale before the door slammed shut, obviously old customers. Not long after, three more men entered, talking loudly and teasing each other. Camilla suggested they pay Rachael and go back to their rooms and continue their talks.
The day had vanished while eating and talking, and a cool evening settled over Fleming. Many people out walking wore sweaters or light jackets, but there were almost as many people on the streets as during the day. Oil lamps attached to stone or brick walls glowed at almost every street corner, and more between. Most of the nicer doorways had a lamp providing a cheerful yellow light.
But as they approached the rooming house, there were no lights in the small windows. Shell caught a glimpse of a shadow as someone stood from the chair on the porch where the spy had sat earlier, and it disappeared into the darker shadows between the buildings.
Camilla said, “That’s odd.”
“Did you see him slip into the alley?” Shell asked.
“No,” Camilla said. “No candles or lamps inside.”
They paused in the center of the street, searching for danger. River split away from them and moved carefully closer to the far wall of the building, while Shell was more direct and pulled his knife. People on the street either circled well around them or drew back to observe, sensing something was about to happen. Soon a semicircle of people stood silently and watched the three creep up to the front door, but only after making sure the narrow alleys on both sides of the building were safe.
Camilla eased the door open and left it for the others to follow. Shell hesitated, watching the crowd, looking for the spy, or anything else out of place in the group. The silent reaction of the crowd raised the hackles of the neck. They neither seemed responsible, nor willing to offer help.
“Shell!”
The shout from inside the rooming house snapped his attention to Camilla’s voice, and he ran inside. The woman who rented the rooms lay sprawled on the floor near the chair where she sat and knitted. River was sparking his flint, lighting an oil lamp. A dark stain surrounded the woman’s head. Camilla knelt at her side.
“She’s alive,” Camilla said.
River held the lamp closer as the flame took hold and threw back the darkness. The woman’s face was pale, her breathing slow and shallow, but the blood pool had almost dried and was not expanding.
River sat the lamp on the floor and leaped to the front door, and outside. He shouted to the crowd, “We need a doctor and constable.”
Shell found where the blood oozed from a cut on the woman’s head, and on the floor beside her a stick of firewood larger around than his arm. “Don’t move her until a doctor gets here.”
River didn’t return, but an unknown woman entered and announced, “I am a nurse. Let me see her.”
Shell got out of the way. The new arrival probed the wound with gentle fingers and snapped, “Where’s her bedroom?”
“I’ll find out,” Shell said and ran into the rear of the house. He knew only four doors were upstairs, none of them hers, so she must live on the ground floor. One door took him to the kitchen. Oddly, the rear door stood wide open. The second door was a bedroom. “In here.”
The nurse said to Camilla, “You take her feet. Your man and I will lift her shoulders and carry her.”
Shell and Camilla traded places. They lifted, but the woman was short and thin, so she weighed almost nothing. After a few steps they placed her on a bed and Shell was told to fetch water, while Camilla remained to help.
River returned, a constable wearing a brass badge at his heels. River carried the lamp to the bedroom and soon had several glowing while Shell gave a quick update to the constable, just the bare facts.
The constable asked, “Do you have any reason why someone would do this?”
“We’ve only spoken a few times when she rented us the rooms this morning,” Shell said, but a feeling of dread began to slip over him as he considered the two obvious reasons. The Breslau spy or the money?
Either way, it was their fault. He needed to go upstairs and see if the money was gone, not because of wealth, but because if it was missing, that had been the object of the attack. The constable asked more questions, wanting to know where they had been, if anyone could vouch for them, and if they’d seen anything. River answered most of the questions. Shell had already delivered a bucket of water to the nurse and stuck his head inside the bedroom long enough to ask if they needed anything else.
When they didn’t, he went back to the constable and tried to think of an excuse to climb the stairs, but a man carrying a small leather bag entered.
“I’m a doctor.”
“In here,” the nurse shouted, and he hurried deeper into the house.
“Anything missing?” the constable demanded.
Shell said, “I’ve never been in the rest of the house, but feel free to look. Do you mind if I run upstairs and see if my room is okay?”
The constable looked ready to object, but River must have sensed Shell didn’t want the constable upstairs yet. He said, “Now that you mention it, there might have been a vase on that table.”
“We’d better check it all.” He turned to Shell, “You sing out if someone has been in your room.”
/> Shell climbed the stairs and went into his room. The drawers were dumped onto the floor and the little money left for bait was missing. A quick check assured him that neither of the other locations had been found. He didn’t know where Camilla hid the rest, but when he opened her door, all was neat and orderly. The other rooms were untouched, meaning they had returned and interrupted the theft, probably. Whoever it was hadn’t had the time to search Camilla’s room.
Realizing that a search of the rooms by the constable might turn up his hidden money and that would certainly raise eyebrows and new questions, and it might shift the attention away from a simple break-in to an investigation of Camilla and himself. He didn’t need the constable upstairs.
It was the work of half a moment to clean his clothing and belongings off the floor and stuff it all into two drawers. He called out, “Everything up here is normal.”
He met Camilla on the stairs and followed her into her room and closed the door. Camilla said, “She will be fine, we think.”
“My room was searched. The small coin sack is gone, but the rest is still there.”
She moved to a floorboard near the corner of her room and pried it up, then put it back in place. “We’re good here.”
“I think we interrupted them in the act before they could search thoroughly. The back door was left open, probably the way they escaped. The one out front was the lookout.” Shell’s voice stuttered as his mind caught up with his mouth.
“River?”
Camilla said, “He’s trying to get rid of the constable. Make him leave.”
“We brought this on her, you know. I’m not sure how, but it was us.”
“We’ll hire someone to stay with her. And we should hire one of those men down on the docks to stand guard here,” she said.
The doctor called to them and met them at the bottom of the stairs. “It’s not as bad as it looks. She needs to stay off her feet a day or so, but I’ve left instructions, and she will be fine.”
