Rake's Story

by LeRoy Clary

  He held up his full mug and shook his head. He eventually said he was a buyer of anything he could purchase cheap and sell for a profit. He’d recently traveled from the west and could answer our questions. Rake remained quiet while Cinder asked a couple of generalized questions and the man talked and talked—mostly about the wonderful business deals he had made in different towns and villages, all boring stories without end.

  Another man, another traveler, joined us. He was tall, he directed his smile at Cinder while ignoring me. Then a quiet traveler who had recently visited friends west of the village asked for a seat. Our table was more than crowded. The conversation lagged only slightly. With the food served, Rake grew bored until one mentioned a Crab.

  “A Crab?” he said. “You mean, one of those slaves from Breslau?”

  Cinder shot Rake a look to shut him up again.

  The man leaned closer to Rake. “Worse than slaves, is what I hear. The second one I’ve heard about coming here this spring already. It’s like Breslau is getting ready for war and it’s coming this way.”

  The other man said bitterly, “I heard Breslau has moved a whole army close to our border, telling everyone there that they’re protecting themselves from us. Us! As if we have an army and would attack them. They are planning an invasion, I tell you.”

  Rake remained quiet. Cinder said coolly, “Really? They have moved a whole army?”

  The first man said, “Rumors of all sorts fly these days like bats at night, each taking a different route. I never said it was true, it is just something I picked up a few days ago. There is another rumor where they are massing an army on the northern border. And one that says they may crown a third king, though who knows why that would happen, but they do already have two, so what they will do in the future is a mystery.”

  The other man said, “Well, I’ll tell you something that’s not a rumor. I’ve seen two dragons in the last week, alone. None flew around here for probably three or four years, then suddenly two. Another last month, I heard about it but didn’t see anything.”

  Cinder turned to him and in her sweetest voice, asked, “How do you know it was not the same one two times? Isn’t that more likely?”

  “Because one was green and the other red. Confidentially, I think the Dragon Clan has returned—or is about to. You know what that means. Dragon people and their strange ways sneaking around and stealing from us all. Worse than gypsies or waylanders, if you ask me.”

  Cinder didn’t object. “Well, that answers my question, I guess. I’ve always thought Dragon Clan were mistreated and most of what I heard were lies and rumors, but we’re from a place so small it’s not even a village, so what do we know about such things? Can we buy either of you wine or ale?” She sounded like she was changing the subject but when they declined, she turned and asked Rake as a way of dismissing them, “Are you getting tired? You look it.”

  Both men remaining at the table quickly excused themselves.

  Another man quickly approached as if he had been waiting for an opportunity. He was older, with streaks of gray in his hair and beard, but he moved with the grace of a younger man. He motioned to an empty chair.

  “Certainly,” Cinder told him. “We’re almost done but would love to hear what you have to say. The wine here is excellent, may I offer you a mug?”

  “You may, and I’ll accept. My name is Faith and I’m also traveling west.” He spoke softly, so quietly that with the buzz of background conversation and soft music from the man in the far corner, nobody overheard his words. He said confidentially, “I came here today from the east, same as you, only arriving a short while ago.”

  “Oh?” Cinder asked, seemingly uninterested but Rake noticed her back become a little straighter.

  Rake gulped more watered wine, far more water than wine. The man seemed to be making a point.

  He said, “I have a sister who lives in a little village not too far from here. She told me a remarkable story yesterday before I set out.”

  Cinder turned to fully face him, her expression blank.

  He continued, “Two young people, about your ages, were passing through her village and were attacked by a dog. The dog had been trained to attack travelers, and it had done so several times. At the signal of the owner, the dog charged a young woman.”

  “Was she hurt?” Cinder asked breathlessly, her hands moving to cover her mouth as if she was frightened.

  “No. The man who was with her killed it with an arrow, shot from a bow described very much like the ones you both carry but I’m not implying anything.”

  Cinder never glanced away and showed no emotion and little interest in his story. She said, “Our weapons were made by a craftsman named Carver, near our home, and we’re told they are among the best anywhere. Very popular with many.”

  The man was suddenly less sure of himself after their lack of response. He added, “The man who shot the dog was so angry, he ordered the village to build a cairn for the dog right in the middle of the street. If they didn’t, he said he would return and burn the village down.”

  She smiled. “That sounds fair to me. I’d like to meet that man and shake his hand. He must have been a big, ugly sort to threaten an entire village and not have them respond. Was he an imbecilic giant?”

  Rake felt the heat of embarrassment at her joke. He forced himself to remain calm and pretend innocence.

  “That was not mentioned, but I don’t think so.”

  “Do you recall his name?”

  He suddenly looked uncomfortable. “No.”

  “I see.” Cinder waited and then placed her index finger on her chin and continued as if a thought occurred to her. “Is this another of those wild rumors I keep hearing? Like the one about the ghost-woman in the white dress or the deer with two heads?”

  “This one is true, I assure you.”

  “And what was your reaction to the story when you first heard it?”

  He blushed, then said in a firm voice, “I’d like to shake his hand, too. I travel a lot in my work, and I’ve seen people do all sorts of things to those of us who travel for business. The man who did what the story says deserves my thanks. Travelers should be protected and not attacked by dogs. I’ve already paid for your dinner and lodging.”

  “That was not necessary. We are just farmers and travelers on a trip to help relatives. We’re not ones to burn entire villages.”

  He stood and with a sly wink of disbelief and said, “If you should happen upon them, buy them a meal and I’ll be happy. Good night.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  The woman who served them returned to the table and asked if they desired plum pudding for dessert or to be shown to their room. They chose the room.

  As they entered the door to the stairway at the rear of the dining room, Rake noticed that all eyes were again on them. The music played on, but Cinder had made a slight detour and placed two coins in the hands of the minstrel along the way, and she whispered something in his ear. His face broke into a wide smile.

  Rake understood. It was not the music she paid for, it was for the musician to watch out for her and to share information, should it come his way. All she needed to do was ask him and he’d tell her whatever he’d heard while playing his lute, which was probably every whispered word in the room. Whoever looks at the lute player when speaking confidentially?

  Their room was the third door in a long hallway. Inside was a small fireplace that hadn’t been used since winter, a raised wooden platform with a straw-bag for a mattress on top, and folded blankets at the foot. A chair stood to one side, and a small table with a pitcher of water for washing. A chamber pot rested beside the table.

  “Perfect,” Cinder said to the innkeeper. “Do we owe anything?”

  “It has been generously paid for by a very nice gentleman who regularly stays with us. Will you eat with us in the morning or can we offer food for the road?”

  “We’ll eat here. Thank you for the offer, but if you can also give us something to t
ake with us to eat later, I’ll gladly pay.”

  “No need for that. I apologize for the mistake my girl made about you earlier. Evelyn is usually insightful and restrained when those who cannot afford to stay enter by mistake. She normally discreetly directs them to the other inn down the street that is for people like them. I hope there is no lingering insult.”

  “An unintentional mistake is easily forgiven, even an insult. Only those who intend to hurt are of concern.” Cinder’s cold gaze lingered on the innkeeper. The mention of “people like them” didn’t sit well with Rake either.

  The innkeeper slipped out and pulled the door quietly closed.

  Cinder went to the chair and placed it in front of the door and perched the pitcher of water on the edge of the seat. Rake had almost told her that the chair wouldn’t prevent anyone from entering but realized if the door was pushed, the pitcher would fall, break, and give warning, if not scare off an intruder.

  Cinder said, “Sleep with your knife at your side. I don’t trust these people—and I don’t like them.”

  Rake set his things across the room from the door, thinking that if someone managed to enter, they would have to cross the room to reach his things if they were thieves. Also, he claimed the far side of the bed, so they would have to get past Cinder to get to him. The idea made him feel safer, although he weighed twice what she did. He said, “Why?”

  “I don’t trust anybody, I guess. That’s advice from my father for this trip.”

  “But you distrust these people more than most?” He looked up to watch her reaction.

  “Yes, these people at this inn are pretentious and only concerned with themselves and money. Their money. Some will do anything for it and reject those who have little. I prefer people who are more concerned with others.”

  Rake paused and then stood, examining the bow standing beside the quiver and his rucksack. Tomorrow, he promised himself he would make time to practice with the bow as he promised Carver. His hands hung limply at his sides and he waited for Cinder’s next words. He’s shared a sleeping pad beside his sisters his whole life, but this was different. True, he’d camped with Cinder for a night, but this suddenly felt different. There was one bed. He considered spreading his blankets on the floor. Suddenly, that seemed the proper thing to do.

  Cinder had placed her rucksack beside the bed on the other side. She pulled off her heavy outer-shirt and sat on the edge to remove her boots. Then she paused and looked at him, obviously sensing a problem. She realized what it was and chuckled. Then she said seriously, “Six of the nine known gods are laughing along with me at your embarrassment, you know. We are going to sleep, not ‘sleeping’ together. Take off your boots and whatever else you do at night and get into bed.”

  Rake eagerly turned and flashed his best smile and pulled his shirt over his head without bothering to undo the fasteners. With his boots off, he fumbled at the ties for his pants.

  She coolly slipped into the bed and said in a sexy voice, while batting her eyelashes at him, “And remember this, Rake. If you so much as touch me once, even by rolling over while asleep, I’ll slit your throat and go on tomorrow as if you never existed. Please blow out the candle before you get into bed.” She pulled her knife and stabbed it into the floorboards beside her where her hand could reach it easily.

  Rake felt his smile fade to nothing. The bed was small, barely large enough for him alone. If he wanted to roll over, there wasn’t room. Especially without touching her. He had his rolled blankets on his rucksack and reached for them. Sleeping on the hard floor would be uncomfortable, but he’d wake alive.

  “Don’t you dare insult me and sleep on the floor, so I have to listen to you complain all day tomorrow about your aches and pains,” she said.

  His hands pulled to a stop. She was in the bed lying on her back, the cover pulled up to her chin. Only her eyes moved as they went to the rolled rucksack blankets and back to him. Rake blew out the candle so she couldn’t see the embarrassment on his face. It was almost as if she read his mind.

  In the complete darkness, he fumbled his way to the bed, careful not to touch her by mistake. He lifted the corner of the blanket and slipped under, almost half his body hanging over the edge. Rake remained very still, listening to her soft breathing, too scared to talk, clear his throat, or scratch an itch.

  The tempo of her breathing slowed and deepened. A soft snore assured him that she was asleep.

  He remained awake as he considered the events of the day and all that had transpired. It had started with the highwaymen kicking him in his ribs, which were still sore. More had happened in one day than had in some months of his life. In a single day, he’d killed two men, rescued a young woman from slavery, threatened to burn down an entire village, and eaten two meals at inns, all the while in the company of a very pretty, intelligent woman his age who threatened to cut his throat if he accidentally touched her. Now he would spend the night in an inn alongside that woman if his mind would settle down.

  The pitcher balanced on the chair crashed to the floor.

  Rake was on his bare feet and charging the door, his knife in his right hand before he fully knew what was happening. The door had been quickly pulled closed again, but the outline of the door showed through the crack around the outside because it hadn’t closed fully. He flung it open and found the hallway empty. Cinder reached the door an instant later and cursed more than expected.

  Rake turned to find her hopping on one foot, holding the other. She’d stepped on a shard of the broken pitcher. Rake ignored her as he looked into the hall again. He pulled on his pants and a thin shirt while the door remained open. He walked to the door leading down to the stairs the dining room and threw it open.

  A few people were still sitting at the tables, all with mugs or cups in front of them. The musician still played in the nearby corner. All looked startled at his disheveled dress and sudden appearance. He growled, “Anybody come in here from these stairs a short while ago?”

  The musician shook his head.

  The innkeeper rushed to him. “Is there a problem?”

  “How many rooms do you have upstairs? I saw eight.”

  “That’s all of them. I live on the third floor by myself. Why?”

  “Someone tried to enter our room. If nobody came down here, it was a thief from one of the seven other rooms. Which of them can you vouch for with certainty?”

  She pulled herself up taller and her voice grew stern. “All of them.”

  Rake met her with a gaze of his own. “I would have thought you’d want to identify a thief in your inn. Know this, I will kill anyone who enters my room tonight. You might tell that to your other seven ‘honest’ guests.”

  “I won’t stand for talk like that,” she said.

  “You don’t have an option,” he said as he backed through the door and pulled it firmly closed. He went into the room and found Cinder tending the cut on her foot. It had bled, but not too much. She had a rag wrapped around it and the candle on the floor beside her while she examined it.

  “Find out who?” she asked.

  Rake moved the chair back into place and set the chamber pot where it would fall with a clatter if the door opened. “Nobody went down into the dining room, so it was a guest who is in a room in this hall. There are people down there drinking and listening to music. All agree nobody used the stairs and there is not another way to leave. I got to the door before anyone could go down them anyway, so whoever it was will still be on this floor.”

  The innkeeper climbed the stairs and peered through the small opening of the door, inquiringly at them. She pushed the door open. She saw Cinder’s cut foot, the shards of the broken pitcher, and chair beside the door. She understood the situation perfectly as her eyes shifted to the other doors one at a time.

  Rake let her figure it out. The intruder was in one of those seven rooms. He said, “In the morning, you and I will talk, and you will give me the names of each of them.”

  “I cannot d
o that. This is a reputable inn and it is my job to protect my guests.”

  Cinder looked up from her foot and said to Rake in a tone he was beginning to know well while ignoring the innkeeper. She shook her head. “Oh no, you don’t, Rake. You’re not going to set fire to this place, too. And while I’m on that subject, nobody has to die just because they tried to steal from you. Just be reasonable for a change. Control that evil temper.”

  The innkeeper had gone white as she spoke.

  Cinder continued as if still talking to Rake, “And get the idea out of your head that it is easy enough to sit in that chair in the hallway until each person in those other rooms comes out—or you’re going to burst into each of them. You’re not going to beat the other guests into submission just to get them to admit what one of them did. Six are innocent.”

  The innkeeper said in a cajoling voice, “Sir if you will come down to the dining room early, I’ll point out each of the other guests as they arrive for breakfast and provide information about them. I’m sure you’ll see that none of them was responsible for the intrusion. Were you intending on staying with us another night?”

  “Rake? Do we leave tomorrow, or do we spend a week or two here?”

  “Can we talk about it in the morning?” he asked Cinder, trying to keep a straight face and seeing by the dreadful look on the innkeepers face she thought him crazy and wanted him to depart. She wouldn’t demand they leave for fear of his violent reaction.

  After resetting the chamber pot on the edge of the chair when it had to fall if the door opened, he finally got back into bed, again careful to take up far less room in the bed than Cinder. She blew the candle out and again, he was awake in the dark. Cinder went back to sleep too quickly for his taste. Nothing seemed to bother her or keep her from her rest.

  There were things to consider. Who and why were the main things roiling in his mind. The patrons of the inn were without exception wealthy, at least by his standards. None would gain much by trying to steal from them. Perhaps the magnificent weapons were the objects someone envied. Not that they appeared expensive or valuable—until they were used. In his hand, the bow became an extension, a weapon finer than any he’d ever held. Another guest would not know that.