Dragon Clan #3: Fleet's Story

by LeRoy Clary

  “Help you?” he asked, smiling a welcome.

  Fleet stood still and waited, leaning on his staff.

  Camilla made the sound with her tongue again and looked ready to jab an elbow into his ribs.

  “Food. And a room,” he managed to blurt out.

  “Fine, fine,” the innkeeper said. “Grab a bowl over there and help yourself. I’ll bring bread. Ale or wine?”

  “Ale,” Fleet said, then heard the sound from Camilla again. “No, better give us watered wine.”

  Camilla guided him gently to a table near two old men playing a game with three dice and pegs on a board. A third man watched, smoking a pipe and continually telling the others the moves they should have made. Fleet would have preferred to sit away from them.

  A younger, female version of the innkeeper appeared with two mugs of watered wine. Raymer preferred white wine but hadn’t asked for it so kept quiet. She placed a round loaf of bread between them, and a slab of butter on the plate.

  She pointed, “Bowls right over there if he didn’t tell you. Help yourselves.”

  Fleet looked at Camilla. She looked away—waiting for him to either answer or get up. He said, “Thank you. What’s in the stew?”

  “Not really sure,” she said, flashing him a smile that rocked him back in his chair with the friendliness. “Whatever my mom found today that she could add to what was left yesterday. And the day before.”

  Fleet watched her hips sway twice as much as Camilla’s exaggerated walk and felt his face turn pink as he realized it was done for him. He chanced a glance at Camilla and wished he hadn’t. She watched him closely, her hand hiding a grin. He stood and headed for the bowls stacked near the pot. A ladle hung beside it.

  He filled two bowls and carried them to the table, avoiding Camilla’s eyes. She said nothing. They ate in silence, and he noticed that she had chosen a chair closer to the game the three men played, and she was not only eating but listening to them.

  The innkeeper returned and indicated the stairs. “Second door is yours.”

  Camilla said, “Did my brother tell you we’ll pay for the whole room?”

  “There’s three beds and room for more on the floor,” the innkeeper protested.

  “We’ll pay for the entire room. Are you expecting many people today? We can make other arrangements if needed.” Camilla smiled sweetly and waited.

  “No, we don’t know who will come, but usually, we try to keep extra room for travelers. This is an inn and if we don’t make room for people to sleep word gets around.”

  “Tell you what,” she said, “We’ll pay one large copper extra for our privacy. Put people in your other rooms, but if you run short and need our room, we’ll share. But we will be the last option. Is that fair?”

  He said, “Make like two small coppers instead. I can’t charge you a large one for so little a favor.”

  “Is there more bread?” she asked. “I think my brother wants more, but he does not talk enough. And would you happen to have any preserves?”

  Fleet hadn’t missed the barb she made about his lack of talking, but he had been speaking with her since entering the inn, if not others. He raised his eyes to meet hers. She made a small head-bob in the direction of the men playing the game.

  He said softly, “I don’t know how to play.”

  “That’s the point,” she whispered. “Ask them to teach you and you will offer to buy them each a mug.”

  “I’ve never done this.”

  “Do it. Now.” She said, and when he didn’t stand she turned to the other table and said, “My brother expressed an interest in your game. It looks like great fun. I’m sure he’d stand each of you a mug of ale if you’d be so kind as to show him the basics.”

  The third man, the one not playing but telling the others how, said, “No need to be shy, young man. Ya don’t need to pay for our drinks, either. Get over here and we’ll teach you.”

  One of the others said, “Hey, speak for yourself, Elmer. I’d like to take him up on that ale.”

  They laughed as Fleet climbed to his feet, knowing his face was red. He took a seat beside their table and shook hands all around. When the pretty serving girl swished passed him next time, he asked for ale all round. Then he glanced guiltily at Camilla and found their table empty. She must have slipped up to their room. But he warned himself to go back to watered wine after one mug of ale.

  A farmer entered and greeted the other three, then was introduced to Fleet. Soon after, another man entered, wearing a knitted watch cap and carrying a bag slung over his shoulder, like sailors often do. He asked for a bed and meal but otherwise didn’t speak much. Fleet noted the Endless Sea was, at least, five days of hard travel away. He had seen sailors at Castle Warrington, but that was a port city.

  Fleet returned his attention to the game, beginning to understand the basics. When he looked up again, there were five more people in the room, all eating, a few drinking. They looked like travelers, too, although obviously not together. All but one of them were men, and she was with her husband, from their interaction. He hadn’t noticed many women traveling when on his last trip. That made Camilla stand out, something to keep in mind.

  He found the back door that took him to the outhouse. It was dark and a night chill told him he’d been talking to the three men far longer than he believed. When he entered again, he wished the men a good evening and headed up the stairs.

  Upon opening the second door, Fleet heard soft snores. He quietly made his way to another bed and climbed in. His mind was filled with all that happened, and he wanted to review it all and try to make sense of it but fell asleep.

  He woke when Camilla tried to quietly ease out of her bed. Her stealth woke him as much as if she’d simply got out of bed normally. Sunlight streamed through the small window, and cooking smells seeped into the room from the kitchen. Fleet leaped to his feet as if he couldn’t wait for the rest of the day to begin.

  “Well, aren’t you happy?” Camilla drawled, a smile creeping onto her face.

  “You were right about listening. One of the men watching the game last night said he wondered what ever happened to that little orphan boy who lived here a few years ago.”

  She paused, sitting back on her bed to be eye to eye with him. “Which one?”

  “I think he called himself Elmer.”

  “The one watching the game? Did he say anything else?”

  “No. Why do you ask?”

  Camilla said, “He saw me many times when he thought I was a boy. Something about my looks must have triggered the memory. I’ll have to be careful around him.”

  “What are we doing today?” he asked.

  “First, we eat. Whatever smells so good is what I want. Then we’re going for a walk while I look at things and try to remember all I can. Much of what happened here is good, and I want to remember it. You will do the talking with people we meet. Your training is far from complete.”

  He said, “You are really intent on that.”

  “It’s the main reason we’re here. A mistake made here will probably never leave Nettleton, but at the Summer Palace, the same slip could be critical.”

  Fleet felt his smile falter and ignored it. “Why would it be so much more important there?”

  “If people of the Dragon Clan are still there, and especially if one is bonded to a dragon, they will be sensitive to anyone asking questions or acting out of turn.”

  He turned his back as is proper, and dressed. When finished he waited until the lack of movement said she was also finished. They went out and found the cooking smells much greater. Strips of ham and a huge pot of simmering grains waited, as well as fresh bread and more preserves. The fire took the morning chill off the room, and smoke from several pipes lingered. Only a pair of old men occupied a table, warm mugs in front of each.

  The innkeeper said, leaning closer. “Everyone else has eaten and departed. Travelers usually prefer to leave early, but I saved you plenty. I also put some food in a
bag you can take with you, today.”

  Camilla looked at Fleet and waited.

  “We are staying today and departing tomorrow. I told you two nights.” Fleet kept his voice calm and firm. She would be proud of him.

  The innkeeper said softly, his eyes locked on Camilla. “A wildling lived near here years ago, and King Ember placed a reward for him. The King believes he was of the Dragon Clan. Some think he may return one day so they keep a keen watch, ready to report a sighting and collect the king’s coin.”

  Camilla shrugged. “I am not a boy, as you can well see.”

  The innkeeper said, “The bag I placed beside the front door is for you because I notice you said you are a girl, but did not deny being related to that wildling. I’m a damned fool if you’re not his sister.”

  “Why are you doing this?” Camilla asked. “You could turn me in and collect the reward if I am who you think.”

  “That boy never did me no harm. The truth is, he helped a lot of people around here. If you see him, you be sure to tell him thanks, and you two need to take the back roads when you leave, as soon as you can.”

  The innkeeper turned and left them alone.

  Fleet said, “How long will it take to report you and the king’s men to come?”

  “Probably ten days. Maybe nine.”

  “Why does he want you to leave today?”

  Camilla served herself a bowl of gruel and tore off a hunk of dark bread. “Whoever reports me will think about it and realize I’ll be gone before then. He will probably try to detain me.”

  “How would the innkeeper know all that?”

  “He listens to his patrons. Last night someone must have spotted the resemblance of that boy and me. I didn’t think anyone would, or we wouldn’t have come here.”

  Fleet still had not eaten. “We should leave now.”

  She chewed her bread and reached for the jar of preserves. “Relax. Whoever it was probably had a lot of ale last night, so will sleep late. Or he left to report me. If the innkeeper thought I needed to leave quickly, he would have woken us up earlier.”

  “You trust him.”

  “I do,” she smiled. “In a way, we’re old friends. Eat your food. We travel light and fast today.”

  Fleet ate silently for a short while then paused. “This man who wants money might follow us.”

  “I’m counting on it.”

  Still eating, Fleet glancing at Camilla now and then. He had always considered her weak and not really part of the clan. She was an accidental member at most. Alone. Small. A girl-woman too slight to defend herself so she always had Brix or Robin nearby.

  At least, those were his impressions. In the span of two days, he’d found how wrong he was. The innkeeper may not know she was the boy who had lived nearby, but on the other hand, he might.

  The innkeeper may not know her, but he respected her. Or more correctly, he respected the ‘boy’ he believed her to be when she was young. She must have done a lot to impress him so much he still remembered. Fleet stood.

  “Finished already?” she asked, tearing off more bread. “We may not eat this well again for days.”

  “I’ll get our things from the room.”

  When he returned, she took her bedroll and staff wordlessly and walked outside to greet the day. Fleet followed, his long brown hair flowing from his face with the morning breeze. He looked over the top of her head. His height was more than most, and he stood thin and lithe, like a reed.

  He asked, “Did I notice you slip a coin or two into the bottom of your mug?”

  “Only, the innkeeper will find it there.”

  Camilla was short, thin, and girlish more than womanish. Her quick smile came more now than it used to, and her wit was already a legend. He’d watched her practice her fighting skills with others, but had never challenged her. It didn’t seem fair.

  He had fought first with a staff no larger around than a small stick. By the time he stood as tall as most men, the staff in his hands was lethal, and in his hands, it moved like an extension of his arms. He was fast and quick, which are not the same things. Often, before an opponent could move to protect himself Fleet’s staff was touching him.

  “That way,” she said, walking to the road.

  “The Summer Palace is the other direction.”

  She called over her shoulder, “I know.”

  They approached a house beside a stream. She tapped the end of her staff on the door lightly, and it quickly opened. A woman stood inside, face impassive.

  “My name is Camilla.”

  “I know who you are.”

  “I bring word from Brix.”

  “After you take my son from me you return with words and excuses?”

  Camilla stood her ground, never flinching. “Others would offer me refreshment.”

  “What do you want?”

  “Brix said to tell you he is well and happy. I know that each time he has been here you have tried to convince him to stay, but he will never be a spinner. You know that.”

  The woman said, “You had no right.”

  “I did nothing. It was his choice and still is. He asked me to tell you that he has now traveled to Castle Warrington, the home of the Earl of Northwoods, so it is a far journey to visit home. The Earl has important work for him.”

  The woman’s eyes lit up as Camilla spoke. Fleet watched the words soothe and caress the mother of Brix.

  “My son works for the Earl of Northwoods?”

  “There he is known and respected by all.”

  The woman reached her arms to Camilla and gave her a hug. “Would you eat with us? We’d love to hear more.”

  “No, we’re in a hurry, but I promised Brix I’d deliver his message. He also said he will visit you soon.” She turned and motioned to Fleet to walk ahead.

  He saw the glint of a tear in her eye. When they were far enough away to speak in private, he asked, “When did you speak to Brix last?”

  “I only told her what Brix would have wanted me to say.” At the King’s Highway, she turned away from the direction of the Summer Palace again.

  Fleet walked beside her. She swung the butt of her staff ahead and in one swift move snapped it into the defensive position so fast his eyes could barely follow. What he did see was incorrect, but was it his place to mention it? She repeated the exercise in the same way.

  “I’m surprised nobody has told you your moves are wrong.”

  Instead of being defensive or angry, she simply said, “Show me.”

  He mirrored her moves until at the end when the staff came into the defensive position. “You wrap your fingers around your staff to hold it. If the enemy swings his sword down in a chopping motion, you lose a finger or four. Cup the staff in the hollow between your thumb and first finger. Curl your fingers underneath, out of the way.”

  “I see,” she said, her voice sounding interested. “What else?”

  “You hold your staff too low. If a sword is swung down at you, holding your staff higher will better protect you so it does not slice your head.”

  “But if it is thrust under my staff?”

  “You let the weight of the staff fall and deflect it downward. It will fall faster than you can lift.”

  She went through the exercise again, and it was plain to see that she imagined an attacker who was using his sword. She defended herself. Then she nodded as if speaking to herself. Looking at Fleet, she said, “Thanks. I’ll work on that. Let me know of anything else I need to work on, okay?”

  “If you’ll tell me what we’re doing walking in the wrong direction.”

  She smiled. “We’re setting a trap.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “A trap?” Fleet asked, trying hard to keep his face stoic. “We’re setting a trap?”

  “At least five people in Nettleton saw us leave and take this road. Whoever is after the reward will realize we’re getting away. Keeping us here, or following is the only way to collect.”

  “We’re intentionally
leading them. But, to where? And I should warn you I’m not about to kill people who are not attacking me.”

  She laughed and said, “We leave the road up ahead. The path leads to the top of a hill with a meadow. The goats and cows keep trees from growing, and a stream passes by. The animals stay on the one side of the water because that is where the grass grows best.”

  “I do not understand how this helps us,” Fleet said.

  “The one drawback to staffs, other than carrying them all day long, is that when fighting you need open space. Roads are fine, but a meadow is better.”

  Fleet followed her when the path turned from the road, noticing she did nothing to hide her footprints in the sand coating the surface of the road. He followed until she carefully stepped off the path at the edge of a wide clearing where several sheep, cows and goats grazed. He followed, careful as she had been, but noticed she never even looked behind to make sure. She trusted him.

  A large willow tree, with drooping branches that hung nearly to the ground, stood at the edge of the forest. She bent over and crept underneath. He did the same.

  She said softly, “It won’t be long.”

  “Why is it important to know who will sell us for the king’s coin?”

  “For me, I need to know who will trade my life for gold or silver. And it will tell all of Nettleton, too. If this person owns a barn, I may burn it. I may rip the roof off their house, shit in their well, and kill their dog.”

  For once, Fleet was glad he didn’t speak much. There was nothing to say that would fit the circumstances, or curb her anger. His single point of focus was knowing he never wanted to cross the girl-maniac squatting beside him.

  A doe entered the clearing and grazed beside three cows. They ignored the deer or perhaps accepted it. Fleet watched it and saw the ears twitch. The head came up, and eyes searched. The deer bounded into the forest in a single hop. He touched Camila with his elbow.

  She nodded slowly. Movement is the first thing eyes notice, even before color. Standing still will often allow others to pass within a few steps. Fleet had used stillness as a weapon from the time he walked.