by LeRoy Clary
Another wagon approached, the bed empty but for a few sacks containing grain or something else needed on the farm from the city. A man sat high on a bench seat and called ‘good-day’ as he passed them.
Tessa started ahead, but Fleet said, “Walk behind me.”
He walked a step ahead, keeping her to his side and behind. They might as well get used to the new relationship. As they continued, there was a stand of trees. A clearing held an old man cooking over a small fire. He looked up, smiled, and said, “I haven’t enough to offer a warm meal, but I have extra apples. Would you like a couple?”
He held an apple in his hand, raised to throw it to Fleet. The offer was too good to pass up. Fleet said, “We love apples.”
The red orb flew through the air, and Fleet managed to catch it while laughing. A second one flew, and he made a lucky grab but held on. He said, “Can I ask how much longer it is to Fleming?”
“You’ll see it from the top of the next rise.”
“Thanks for the apples.”
The old man waved them off and continued cooking. Fleet handed an apple to Tessa, saying, “I’m giving you the lumpy one that I suspect has a worm inside. That’s the way us masters do things.”
Her voice was as smooth as a mountain lake on a summer morning. “Do masters ever find knives buried in their backs, placed there by servants eating wormy apples?”
“Never,” he said quickly, then laughed.
At the top of the next rise, the city came into view. Fleet had expected to find something similar to Castle Warrington or the Summer Palace, a walled fortress with all inside the protective walls. What he saw was a spread of buildings of all sizes, constructed of varied materials, and streets traveling along lines that followed a stream or hillside. None looked to intersect squarely, as the streets did in the two cities he’d visited. Instead, they wove a pattern reflecting the natural surroundings.
They paused to take it all in. Smoke poured from hundreds of chimneys and sat in a gray pall over the city. Beyond lay the Endless Sea, or, at least, bay. The masts of ships in the harbor stood taller than any building.
The noise, smoke, stench, and activity stilled their feet. Despite their agreed upon stations in life, they stood side by side in awe, fascination, and disgust.
Tessa recovered first. “I suppose that we must go down there.”
“Have you ever been to an inn?”
“No. But I’ve heard of them.”
“Yes, and I’ve heard stories of the sailors in the Northwoods Province. They’re a rough crowd, and I think we will be staying at an inn well away from the waterfront.”
“Inns cost coin.”
“We have no worries in the area. I have enough for both of us. In fact, I have enough to buy a small farm, so we will eat and sleep well.”
“Yes, master.” She poked him in the ribs.
Fleet tried to walk in a confident manner, arms swinging loosely, and his chin held high. A single glance behind showed Tessa, head down, fists balled. She was not angry. She was scared. They met more people leaving the city. Some exchanged greetings, others ignored him.
Several times they came to cross roads. Each time more people emptied onto the main road like streams feeding a river. Soon there were people, and a wagon loaded down with carrots and turnips, ahead. More people walked behind one group containing three older girls who believed they could sing. Their strident sounds convinced the other travelers that silence is better than a song.
As had been the case at the two royal castles he’d visited, Fleet expected to find the king’s men guarding the city gates and inspecting all who entered or departed. Instead, they passed a few smaller farmhouses, all with barking dogs, and then larger houses, also with barking dogs, but fewer cows, pigs, chickens, and sheep.
They came to the first building that was so tall it had two floors. A woman sat at a window above them and called friendly insults to people passing that she knew. She also made comments to others, but said nothing to Fleet.
The road turned to mud before turning to stone. All were cut to roughly the same size and placed in an offsetting pattern. The ground sloped to the sea. All waste on the road eventually found its way to the bay.
A man stood at a handcart selling meat pies. Fleet headed for him. While hungry, he knew the man would also provide information.
“Pie for you, sir?”
“How much?”
“Two for a thin copper, or a snit each.”
“I’ll take one for my servant and me. Can you tell me where I can find a good inn? Clean. Good food, and not too close to the port?”
Handing him two pies, the man said, “I take it you’re not rich?”
“Not even a consideration,” he said, taking a bite after handing the other to Tessa.
“Then you’d be looking at Red Bear. Follow this street until you come to the city guardhouse and jail. Turn left, and you’ll see it after a bit. Tell them ‘John the pie maker’ sent you, and maybe they’ll spot me a mug of their cheap ale.”
“If we’re there I’ll buy your ale, and not the cheap stuff. Thank you for your service, good man.” Fleet strolled off as if he owned the city, while Tessa stuffed meat pie into her mouth. He’d wager she had never eaten one before.
The guardhouse was obviously the place where sloppy city-soldiers, charged with keeping the pickpockets and petty thieves to an acceptable minimum, stored their clients. The guards were outside eating rounds of bread with slices of cheese and sipping mugs of hot cider. They looked like all needed a bath, and their uniforms, such as they were, didn’t match another in sight.
Fleet made a sharp left turn and as he walked, he looked for the flash of red he knew he’d see. Three blocks away he found it. A smallish building tucked between two larger ones. A sign painted with a red bear hung over the door.
He pulled the door open and was greeted with a large, open room. Instead of the low ceiling and worn benches he’d seen before, this held probably twenty small tables, and chairs for each. Paintings, not very good ones, but paintings instead of blank surfaces, displayed on the walls. The few people seated were clean and dressed well.
A heavy set woman near fifty sat in an alcove to his right. She eyed him and decided he met their standards. “Can we be of service?”
“My servant and I need a room for a few days. Maybe longer, I have not decided. Are your rooms private and clean? Quiet?
“You want all three? That will cost extra,” she laughed.
Fleet didn’t. “How much?”
Her eyes grew devious. “A full silver.”
“Of course, that price includes meals for the both of us,” he said, his tone indicating there was no option.
A hesitation. “Well, sure. But not drink. That costs extra.”
“I’ll see the room before I pay.”
“Certainly, I’d expect no less.” She stood and walked with a limp. At the rear of the room were three doors. She opened the one on the right to reveal a set of narrow stairs. They followed her up them to a hallway lined with doors. She opened one.
The room held a single bed, a sleeping pallet on the floor, and a chair. A window stood open, letting fresh air try to remove some of the stenches of vomit. Fleet walked to the window and looked out at the wall of the building next to it. “Do you have a room facing the front street?”
“I thought you wanted quiet.”
“Do you have one?” He had allowed his voice to show irritation that she questioned him.
She did have one in front. She waddled to another room and opened the door. It smelled far better. He went to the window to find a view of the street in both directions. “This will do fine. Tessa, unpack our things.”
“A silver,” the woman demanded.
“I’ll be down and settle with you soon. Is it possible to get some water in a pitcher and mugs up here? I’ll pay, of course.”
The smile returned to the woman. She turned and left.
Tessa said, “What was that
all about? Why not pay her now?”
“I was establishing that she cannot order me around. And I did not want her to see where I keep my money.”
“Why not?”
“She could sell that information to a thief for half the profits.” He reached behind his back and pulled a small purse from inside his waistband. He pulled two silvers, a large and a small. “I’ll overpay, and she will want to do whatever, so she can keep the small silver. Besides, if John the pie maker appears, I want ale for him. He will be a good source of knowledge about the city if we treat him right.”
“I am so glad that you are in charge.”
He shrugged. “You know I’m just making this up as we go along, right? Separate anything valuable and it goes with us, today. All else stays in this room. Come along, it’s time we go exploring.”
“Yes, sir.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Fleet paused at the door long enough to hand the woman the large silver, and then he slipped the smaller one into her palm as a separate transaction. “John-the-pie-maker drinks your finest ale today, at least, a few mugs when he stops by. I trust that will also pay for beverages for my servant and me for three days or more?”
Her eyes were centered on the coin, but she relented with a heavy sigh. “Sir, if you would leave me a tenth-silver, I would be happy to provide those few things, but this is far too much to pay.”
“Keep it. There may be other small things I need although I cannot think of them now and we needn’t haggle over pennies in the future. And don’t forget the water in my room.”
“Freshwater at least twice a day!”
“We’re going out to do some business. Please see that our room is not broken into.” With that, he strode outside without waiting for a response.
The street was a principle thoroughfare, with wagons passing each other with room to spare. However, most people walked in twos and threes. Fleet paused at the door long enough to scan everyone in sight to make sure he had seen none before, and then he remembered the faces and clothing of all he saw. If he noticed the same person again, he would want to know why.
Tessa was like a young girl at her first dance. Her eyes darted everywhere, but she didn’t take the time to draw it all in. Instead, she was more like a butterfly that wanted to briefly taste each flower in the garden.
“Eyes down, servant,” Fleet muttered the words and he adjusted his shirt and finished examining the people in sight. The weight of the coins sewn into the hem felt proper and reassuring. He tossed his shoulders back, lifted his chin, and walked back up the street to the main intersection.
At the guardhouse, he turned to his left, which placed them on the same road that they entered the city. The downward slope of the ground increased, and trash littered the edges of the walls and at any curbing. From the smell, much of it was animal waste, and rotting food. And also a sharp scent of sour milk. Up the hill there must be a dairy. The stench was gagging, but he ignored it.
Tessa said, “Gods rotting in hell wouldn’t smell this bad.”
“Careful how you place your feet, woman. You wouldn’t want to end up lying in whatever is at our feet.”
As the road got closer to the water, the buildings were shorter and with less repair. The side streets were narrow and dark, despite the daylight. At night, they must be terrifying. Fleet noticed the types of businesses also changed. These catered to drinkers and cheap food. The men they saw were harder, and many gave Tessa more than a casual glance.
She said, “Did you refer to me as ‘woman’? If so, why?”
“People have big ears. They wonder at small things that don’t fit like you and me are going to do while we’re here.”
“I could never live in this filth.”
A Barker dressed in bright blue offered ale, women, gambling, and music, all within the blue door to his side. Another displayed a table of knives. A single glance showed they were poorly made and useful only for stabbing from the back. He also sold iron knuckles for fighting and finger rings with stubby blades for slashing skin.
“Can we go back to the inn?”
The ships lay only a block ahead. Fleet continued walking until he reached the street labeled as ‘front’. There were ships chandlers selling anything needed or wanted for a sea voyage. They specialized in supplying captains with whatever they ordered, legal or not. But most of the business consisted of canvas, ropes, timbers, pulleys, cleats, and other hardware for the ships.
The bay side of the street had a wooden sidewalk and several areas with tables or benches where people gathered to observe the ships at anchor, or tied to the piers. Many were doing business of some sort, but most were watching the ever-changing show of loading and unloading cargo and passengers.
Fleet found a pair of unoccupied chairs that afforded a good view. As he sat, a waiter appeared from a café across the street and asked his pleasure. Realizing everyone sitting, held a mug or a plate of food, Fleet said, “Do you have a decent wine?”
“Beer or ale.”
“Two mugs of your best ale, then. And a plate of cheese.”
The waiter held out his hand. “Two snits, sir. Before I deliver.”
Fleet had a small copper already in his hand. “I expect you will bring me change.”
The conversation around them centered on the ship directly in front. It had arrived only this morning. He quickly figured out that it was from a land so far away that only a few ships a year came from there. That held Fleet’s interest until another man mentioned a dragon.
Both Fleet and Tessa turned at that word. The speaker was a braggart, talking louder than most and very impressed with himself. An older man, one dressed in better clothing than most, leaned closer to Fleet and lifted his cane to point to the newly arrived ship.
“Have you interest?”
Fleet shrugged. “Perhaps.”
“Watching the cargo unload, are you?”
“What business is it of yours, if I may ask.”
The man edged closer, turning his head to ensure nobody was listening. “Your dress tells me you’re not from here, and besides, I’d know you if you were. You appear on the day that ship arrives, and you take up a position where you can watch it. All this tells me that you expected the arrival and have come to greet it in some manner.”
“If I say that you are mistaken?”
“Then I’d have to say you are a liar, sir. Allow me to introduce myself. I’m called Caldor. I buy and sell what the ships bring, and if you have information that will make me a profit, I will pay handsomely.”
Tessa looked about to tell him they were not interested, so Fleet said, “Interesting. I buy my own cargo, but we can always talk. I notice that you said, people call you Caldor, but you never said it is your given name.”
The old man grinned. “Perceptive, intelligent, and direct. I like that.”
“I accept your flattery. Please be seated and we’ll talk.” Fleet found he liked playing the role of someone important.
Pointing with his cane, the man said, “This ship only holds interest to me because it has traveled so far to arrive here. The shape is different, the sails are set further back than other ships, and even the men look different.”
Their ale arrived. He chatted with the old man while they watched the cargo unload and were ready to move to the next observation point on the street when Tessa nudged him. She was watching another ship, one further away. He didn’t see what had caught her interest.
She reached for a slice of cheese from the plate he held, and as her mouth neared his ear, she said, “Look at the stamp on the cargo.”
Fleet turned to look as he sipped his ale. A large wooden crate much like the rest was being lowered from the ship to the pier by a rope and pulley system. Like other crates, the sides held black writing indicating ownership or delivery instructions, but it was too far away to read. However, below the black letters on the crate was the image of a stylized dragon; a green dragon.
Fleet’s reaction was t
o leap up and race closer to the other ship, but instead, he turned to the old man. “Caldor, what do you know about that ship over there?”
“Consigned. Cargo only. You can’t bid on it, so no profit to be made.”
“Too bad. I have business further down the street to attend to, but we are staying at the Red Bear. You might join us later for a meal and refreshment?”
“Delighted.”
Fleet stood and turned to walk further up the street, which would take them closer to the ship with the green dragon on the cargo. He found another place to sit and order an ale, as he watched. As he finished nursing the ale, and the sun was near midday, Tessa nudged him again.
This time, her eyes were looking well beyond ship in front of them. Far out in the bay movement caught his attention. Flying from right to left was a dragon. A green dragon.
It flew in lazy flaps of its wings. The head turned and looked to the land as if it was looking right at Fleet.
But his back didn’t tingle. No tickle, twitch, or sharp pain. It was as if he was not part of the Dragon Clan.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Fleet sat stunned, unable to understand why he couldn’t feel it. A dragon was flying right by him, and he felt nothing. Had he lost his abilities? Was he normal? His breathing came shallow and short while his heart raced. His eyes were locked on the green dragon.
Tessa hissed, “Do you feel it?”
“Sh,” Fleet ordered, glancing around to see if anyone listened to them, and when he found they were not, he turned his attention to the dragon again. He had never heard of anyone in the Dragon Clan not being able to sense one flying so close, let alone the two of them sitting together and feeling as little as ordinary people.
Certainly, some Dragon Clan, like himself, were more sensitive than others, but only by degree. They could all sense dragons far beyond the distance they could see them. As they flew closer, the pain increased. In this case, the dragon flew so close that both Fleet and Tessa should have felt pain approaching that of insect stings all along their backs.
