by LeRoy Clary
“In a hurry?” he asked.
“Can’t wait,” she said, tossing a handful of twigs on the beginnings of a flame. “We have chicken to eat, and we can be on our way.”
By the time the sun peeked over the hills they were moving to the road. They walked side by side, each in a rut made by wheels. A strip of green grew down the center. A snort behind drew their attention.
A mule with lopsided ears had managed to get within fifty paces. It pulled a wagon with the bed filled with green hay. A boy a few years younger than them sat on the small bench, wearing a smile.
They stepped aside to let it pass. However the boy called, “Almost sneaked right up on you, didn’t I?”
Fleet said, “If that mule hadn’t snorted you might have.”
“You can jump on the back and ride if you want. My name’s Tommy.”
The wagon had drawn alongside them, and Camilla was on the other side when Fleet leaped up. The hay was fresh cut, smelled like a spring day after rain, and it was soft. The mule walked slightly faster than he had.
Camilla hadn’t accepted as quickly and had to run to catch up. Fleet held out his hand to the boy. “They call me Fleet, and this is my slow sister, Camilla.”
Tommy laughed at that. “Where are you going?”
Instantly Fleet understood the opportunity to practice their story with a friendly stranger. “We have an uncle that lives near the palace. He hurt his leg and needs a hand with his farm until he heals.”
“That’s nice of you, but I suppose your folks sent you, right?”
Camilla, picking up on the idea said, “Exactly. Not that we didn’t want to get away from our place for a while.”
“Who’s your uncle? I know most everyone.”
Fleet saw the trap he’d fallen into. “He lives on the other side of the palace. I doubt if you’d know him.”
“Hey, that’s where we live. Now I know who it is, but can’t think of anybody who hurt his leg.”
Camilla looked at Fleet as if to ask how he could be so stupid. At least, that’s how he interpreted the look.
She said, “Really? Do you live to the east of the palace?”
“Sure. I’m a Duncan. Seven brothers and sisters.”
“That many! Wow, I’ve always wanted a big family. Tell me about it. Please. Tell me everything.” Camilla talked as if hearing about Tommy’s family was the most important thing in the world. Her eyes were wide, and she moved closer so she wouldn’t miss a single word.
That’s how Fleet saw the interaction between them. Tommy suddenly couldn’t slow down his talking, while she lapped up each word like a puppy drinking spilled milk. Fleet settled back to watch and learn. She never did get around to telling Tommy their uncle’s name. Anytime he slowed his talking, she asked another question.
Then, close to midday, as the wagon crested a hill the Summer Palace came into view. She turned to Fleet, winked, and said, “We can’t thank you enough for the ride, Tommy. I do hope we’ll see you again before we have to go home, but this is where we need to get off.”
She slid down the hay and leaped to the ground. Standing with hands on hips, she said to Fleet, “You coming?”
He quickly shook Tommy’s hand and climbed down. They waved together and watched the wagon pull ahead.
Fleet said, “I have a lot to learn.”
“I think you just did.”
They walked along the road, looking at the palace that grew ever larger. She said, “I can count over a hundred windows from here.”
“Look at the flags waving.” Fleet took in the gray stone of the walls, the soldiers marching along the top walls, and from their small size readjusted his expectations. The soldiers were still too far away to make out detail, but the walls were as tall as trees. Large trees. Later he adjusted that estimate to the walls being higher than the highest trees, and still his measurement was short.
CHAPTER TEN
The Summer Palace was huge and impressive from the outside, but the volume of noise was unexpected as they walked closer. People passed them on the road, usually nodding or wishing them a good day. A smaller road had intersected theirs and four people, two men, and two women, walked, at least, a hundred steps ahead.
“Perfect,” Camilla whispered. “We’ll just follow them and do what they do.”
The road curved around to approach from the west side of the castle, and in the center of the massive stone wall opened a huge set of wooden gates. Soldiers stood on ramparts above, bows ready in their hands. Others held shields and spears, and still, others wore the gaudy blue and gold of the king as they stood with spears at their sides. Flags of every color waved overhead.
The four people in front slowed and spoke to a soldier beside the gate who was writing on parchment. Fleet heard most of the conversation and glanced at Camilla. She nodded and smiled with confidence as if she had done this a hundred times.
“Your business?” the soldier holding the quill demanded, none too friendly.
Camilla said, “Camilla and Fleet. We’ve never been here before. Which inn would you recommend for two nights? Nothing too expensive, but clean. And good food.”
“Ah, that's probably the Red Hen or the Fish Inn. Fishin’, get the joke?”
Camilla chuckled, then flashed her brightest smile. “Where can I find them?”
“Just enter the main gate here and cross the square. Take the same lane as the church steeple is on.”
“I can’t thank you enough, good sir. Come along, Fleet. If your mother hadn’t named you Fleet, she would have named you Slow.”
“Like I haven’t heard that before,” he mumbled, ignoring the grin the soldier now wore, as he made the entry of their passing into his log.
They both drew to a halt as they passed under the gate. Inside was chaos. Colorful tents filled the open square. Barkers shouted their spiels, two different pairs of dancers twirled to the beat of drums in one case, and to a stringed instrument in another. Sellers stood, sat on stools or on the ground. Buyers wandered from stall to stall. Musicians played. Bargaining was everywhere.
An argument broke out. People crowded around to watch. The tents were set up in ragged rows, with narrow paths between. Each seller seemed to own a small space and tried to spread out to that belonging to the spaces on either side. Fleet saw carrots, onions, and turnips sold at one stall. In the next stall hung dried meats. The next displayed hats of all colors, sizes, and styles. A dog chased a cat. People screamed at both as a boy chased them both.
“I love it,” Camilla said.
Fleet smelled meat cooking. And bread. The smells came from nearby. He took Camilla by her elbow and steered her in that direction. A few stalls away an old man with a long gray beard cooked strips of unknown meat over coals. Each was skewed on a thin strip of wood.
“Two,” Fleet said, holding up two fingers in case he couldn’t hear above the din.
“How much?” Camilla asked, putting her hand on Fleet’s and lowering it.
The man grinned. “You’re new around here. A thin copper for both to welcome you.”
She pulled a thin copper and held it up. “For four.”
“Food is expensive here. You’ll learn. Take the two and give me the thin.”
The brown coin disappeared as she turned and pointed to a woman baking in an oven mounted on a small wagon. Her goods were displayed on the tailgate, a variety of rolls, buns, and bread. Camilla pulled an unwilling Fleet away from the meat vendor. The price for bread seemed reasonable and as Camilla paid the meat vendor was at her side, holding four strips of meat.
“I thought I’d deliver these. One thin copper for the four, as you offered.” His smile looked forced.
Camilla paid him. The bakery woman sighed, “Too much.”
Fleet said, “I almost paid that much for two.”
The baker dusted powdery hands and chuckled, “I know. He always sets up his stall right near the city gate to catch those newcomers who don’t know any better.”
&nbs
p; “Is that what you do?” Camilla asked, trying to smile as she tasted the first bite of meat and her eyes lit up with joy.
“Just the opposite, Miss Prissy, who thinks she knows it all and knows nothing.” She gave Camilla a knowing look and continued, “I set up here by the gates so people leaving the palace can take fresh bread home with them. Hopefully more than one loaf.”
“Miss Prissy? What does that mean?” Fleet asked, finishing the first strip of meat and tearing off some bread that was still warm.
The woman opened the oven door and used a wood paddle to pull out another loaf of bread. She said, “What it means, is your sister is just like my youngest. Always has her nose in the air and thinks she knows everything.”
Camilla laughed.
“Miss Prissy,” Fleet said, then turned back to the baker. “Are you here often?”
“Most days.”
Fleet said, “You can count on us being back.” Then he began navigating the narrow passages between the stalls and tents, barely avoiding purchasing, at least, a dozen wonderful looking items. He came to a stone wall. A narrow path of a road followed the edge of the wall, which was crowded with people.
He stood and turned a full circle. “That is the wall of the dungeon. See where it has been repaired since the dragon attack? The rocks are newer looking. And there is the church steeple the guard spoke of.”
“I protest if you intend to locate us at the Fish Inn. He mentioned the Red Hen first, and it is my guess that it is the better of the two.” Camilla had her jaw set.
Fleet liked the idea of the other because of the funny name but relented. He started to turn into the alley leading to the inns when he noticed the strings to Camilla’s purse at her waist were exposed. Then he saw one was broken.
Her eyes followed his to the strings, and she pulled the purse free. Of the four strings, only two were intact. “Cut,” she said, examining the ends.
Fleet felt for his own purse, half expecting it to be gone. It was there. “After we secure our rooms we add two more purses to our list. We split our coin so if we lose a purse we still have the means to pay.”
“We also buy a needle and thread.”
“I’m talking about making sure we’re not robbed.”
Her face was tight, serious. “Me too. I’ll sew some of the more valuable coins into our clothing tonight.”
Fleet found a lane that ran in the direction of the steeple. The crowds instantly thinned as they entered a narrow canyon set with doors every so often. As they came to the first intersection, a sign painted with a red chicken hung over a door.
He also saw a sign further down the street with a large silver fish painted on it. They entered the doorway and found long tables set to either side of the room, making an aisle down the middle. A set of bells on a ribbon jangled when the door opened. On the left was a fireplace, and on the right was a raised area where a man sat and played a small string instrument that made a pleasant sound to match his voice. A stairway rose on the far wall, an open doorway under it.
Four people ate at a table on the left, a table that could seat sixteen or more. A woman with a face flushed bright red emerged from the door under the stairs, a tray of mugs in her hands. “Sit anywhere, I’ll be right with you.”
They took a seat nearer the man singing. The red-faced woman rushed up to them. “What can I get you?”
“We need a room for two nights,” Fleet said.
“Don’t rightly have rooms. Up there,” she indicated the landing with a jut of her chin, “are places to sleep on the floor.”
Fleet said, “We were hoping for a room to ourselves. Are there any nearby inns that have them?”
“The Fish Inn has private rooms. That is if they’re not all rented. But if you stay there, let me give you some friendly advice. Eat and drink here. I suppose you want to go on down there and see about a room first?”
Ignoring the groan from Camilla at the information about the inn with the funny name, he stood. “We’ll check with them, but since you were fair with us, you’ll see us again.”
They left the Red Hen with Fleet trying his best to avoid eye contact with Camilla. The Fish Inn did have rooms to let, on the first floor. Each door was in a hallway that anyone in the main room could see. No locks, but enough prying eyes to deter thieves. The proprietor was a massive man with a bald head a gold earring and quick smile.
Fleet decided any thieves would be better off stealing elsewhere. Three rooms were available. He said to take their choice. The first was right next to the main room and the least desirable since most people wanted quiet. But it was available. However, the door was situated where half the room could see it, and that seemed better than privacy.
“This one will do nicely.”
“Quieter ones in the back,” the proprietor offered.
“We like this one.” Fleet paid for two nights and closed the door as the proprietor left. “We have shopping to do. I suggest we stay together.”
“Water bottles, blankets, needle and thread, food for traveling. What else?”
“Information. I want to hear about the dragon attack,” Fleet said.
“Is that a good idea? We don’t need to tip anyone off the reason we’re here.”
Fleet considered her answer, then decided. “I imagine all newcomers ask about it. It would be odder if we didn’t.”
Camilla removed part of the coins from her purse. She turned a loaf of bread over after tearing off one end so it looked like they had eaten from it. Then she scooped part of the underside with her finger and placed the coins inside. Looking up at Fleet’s expression, she said, “Who would steal a loaf of stale bread?”
“Splitting your money into smaller amounts is always a good idea, but there are so many people here I feel like keeping it in my hand.”
“It’s like everyone is trying to cheat everyone else. Almost a game.”
They left together, but Fleet paused in the main room where two men played a dice game. Neither moved fast and from their position, they would see anyone entering a room. He steered Camilla near them. Then he waited until they looked up.
“My name is Fleet, and this is my sister, Camilla. We’re here to visit an uncle but we have a couple of days to ourselves. I’d like to ask a favor.”
The response came after a hesitation, and one of them glancing at the other and getting a nod. He growled, “What is it?”
Fleet said, “We have never been to a city like this, and we don’t have much to steal, but all we have is here. If it gets taken, we don’t eat until our uncle comes, and my father will really be mad at me. Could you just keep an eye on our door?”
The nearer of the two shrugged.
The other said, “Nobody steals at the Fish Inn, but we’ll watch for you.”
“That makes me feel better. Can I, at least, buy each of you a mug of ale?”
Smiles lit up their faces as Fleet motioned to the woman serving food to another table. She said, “The usual?”
Both men nodded. Fleet thought he saw hesitation and asked, “Is there more than one ale served?”
“Three,” she said.
“They will drink the best today,” then he looked at them. “If that is agreeable to you?”
Eager nods greeted his offer. As he and Camilla left the inn, Camilla whispered, “Our room is safe. You made a pair of friends.”
They walked down the almost deserted street by several colorful doors until they came to the edge of the market again. They paused and looked over the hundreds of brightly colored tents, waving banners, and people milling from one stall to another. A woman danced to a poor musician, further along, several chickens escaped their cage and ran off, a boy of ten or twelve in pursuit.
It all seemed fun until Fleet found a pair of eyes in the crowd watching him. Fleet glanced away and made as if to turn into an alley. Then he looked quickly, and the same man was still watching. He wore a loose fitting shirt and baggy trousers as if he had lost a lot of weight. His cheek
s were smooth, only a stubble of beard grew on the tip of his chin.
Camilla said, “There is where I can buy a needle and thread.”
She took his arm and steered him into the throng. Fleet meekly followed. While she dickered with a pale woman over the items, Fleet made a full turn looking for the oddly dressed man who was watching. Instead, he found a palace guard looking at him as if he was angry. Or scared.
“Pay her. We have to go.”
Fleet moved away from the guard, pushing Camilla ahead. She sensed something wrong and went quickly. He headed in the general direction of the Fish Inn, taking them from the turmoil of the sellers and buyers, next to the palace walls. There they left most of the activity and walked quickly until reaching a section of the city wall plastered with official notices, items for sale, and posters for people wanted for crimes.
A poster all alone held a finely drawn face. It was Fleet. The poster was placed by the king, and the image was a perfect representation. A reward was offered.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
They ducked into the next street, but not before Camilla’s hand snatched the poster from the stone wall and slipped it inside her shirt. Taking several turns down streets lined with many doors and windows, but few people, they arrived back at the inn. Perhaps ten people ate dinner in the main room. All eyes watched them as diners always watch new arrivals, but none reacted with recognition except the two old men playing the game. One gave them a friendly nod before going back to his dice.
For the entire distance from the square, Fleet had examined every person he passed, peering at each one to see if there was any sense of recognition. The oddly dressed man in the square had watched him with greedy eyes of recognition, and the palace guard seemed to be watching him, as well.
Once in their room with the door firmly closed, Camilla pulled the poster out. She held it up beside Fleet. “The drawing looks a lot like you. Not exact. Close enough to be your brother and bring questions to mind for anyone searching for this person. Or they might decide it is poorly drawn and it is you.”
