by LeRoy Clary
There are times to be quiet and let others do for you. Demi was thanking him for preventing her inn being burned without using the words. She managed to move around the stone oven and kitchen as if nothing was wrong. Her phony smile was almost believable.
He said, “I don’t think they came here because of us, but we don’t know for sure.”
“If you hadn’t been here, they were still coming. Last night. Tonight. Tomorrow. It makes no difference.” She sounded defeated. “In the end, they will win.”
He’d expected her to be happier. But she was right. They had failed to set fire to the inn last night, by accident more than anything else. Tonight or tomorrow others sent by Hadrian would succeed. She knew it.
Cinder joined him, saying little. They ate quickly and excused themselves. The day was already warm, the sun as bright as possible as it filtered through the smoke and haze. As they entered the street in front of the inn, both searched the alleys and doorways for anyone lurking nearby. Cinder said as they walked in the direction of the market, “You’ve adapted to villages and cities better than I expected.”
“Meaning?”
“You’ve never been in either, but I was just making the positive point that you’ve never seen this many people, an inn, or even money. You’re adapting well. Within two days you move through the streets like you’ve lived here all your life.”
“You’re doing the same, but better.” Rake’s response sounded as hollow as the words.
“I know. I’m just trying to understand it. How we can adjust so quickly.” She ignored his fake compliment and acted as if he’d meant it. They came to the end of the street where it intersected with the row of merchant’s stalls that were setting up for the day. Banners flew from some, colorful tents covered others. Goods were displayed, the best was always near the front to attract buyers, the rear held the items sold more often. It was a game all played.
Rake slowed and gently took her elbow, He steered her against a wall where they could observe and perhaps avoid being observed. He said, “It’s really not so different than at home. Money instead of barter, bigger buildings, more people, but we still sleep on straw and eat eggs. The biggest difference is that I don’t have to do everything for my family. There are not three others of my family depending on me bringing home a rabbit or fish for the next meal. Tasks are specialized.”
She smiled. “That’s exactly it. I was trying to get it right in my head. Here, there is a man who hunts, another that raises animals, and a third who butchers them and sells to you. Or someone to cook and you pay to have it done. Same with clothing and everything else. Each person in a city is a specialist of one sort or another, and with a few coins rubbing together in a purse, all is provided. At home, we do it all for ourselves or go without.”
She was correct. At his home, Rake did the hunting, one sister the cooking and household chores, his little sister looked after the sheep, but Cinder was right. They either did it all or it didn’t get done. He looked out over the tradesmen, sellers and early customers, watching for any that were unusually interested in him. None stood out but one near the end. He said, “There’s that woman who sold us the meat on sticks and sent us to Demi’s inn.”
“Do you think she did that on purpose? To help Demi?”
Rake nodded. “I’ll bet if we approach her in the right way, she will fill us in on several things, and probably point us to others who believe as she does. She might be a big help and prevent us from making mistakes.”
They walked to her stall as if innocently passing by. When they reached the small cooking fire, despite having eaten there a short while ago, Cinder approached and asked for two strips of meat as if it was the first time. She said, “I want to thank you for the recommendation of the inn.”
The woman continued turning more strips of meat as she said without looking up, “You had a little trouble last night from what we heard. I’m glad you were able to help her.”
Rake said, “Things are changing in Mercippio.”
“And not getting better. My provider of meat, a hunter for years, had an ‘accident’ and cannot hunt. Now the butchers refuse to sell to me. You see, I spoke out against what’s happening. They will punish me by putting me out of business. Same as Demi.”
Rake quickly saw the opposite advantage of specialization, and the way Breslau could take over a foreign land without bloodshed, or very little of it. People had to eat. Control the food and you control the city. Control the travel by owning the inns and you know who is where—and why. The blacksmiths had been bought. Weapons were no longer produced. The ingredients for an invasion were being combined as readily as for any recipe.
A pattern took shape in his mind. It hadn’t fully developed, but rather than march an army into a new land and fight fierce battles, a smarter way was to send people ahead to take control of vital resources as Cinder had suggested. It could work. Probably had worked a half century before in Princeton. However, he might also have been looking for things to support his ideas and twisting facts or seeing what he expected. To date, nothing concrete supported Breslau planning to attack or take over the eastern lands. To sound the alarm to all Dragon Clan, he needed more.
Cinder and the old woman were talking, heads together, and he felt joining them would be an intrusion and might stall what looked like an informative discussion. He moved to the next stall and found shoes and boots displayed, all of poor quality but sewn well. It made him think that the craftsman was well trained, but the materials available were substandard.
Rake knew leather. He tanned his skins and understood quality and those barely worth hauling to the trading post. The stall after that one sold turnips, carrots, and radishes. Crops that grew through the winter, only a few selections and all were with scabs, wormholes, or stunted.
A longing for fresh fruit and vegetables filled him. It was still early spring, and they were nonexistent. At the next stall, an old man sold hats of all varieties, many with wide brims, something more commonly seen closer to the desert than in the mountains. His hat purchased at the trading post had been lost along the way and he had no idea where. The wide brims he observed protected the face, neck, and shoulders from sunburn. Rake lifted one, surprised at the overall heavy weight, and his initial impression was that wearing it when moving through the forests near his home would be difficult. Small branches, briars, and brush would tend to knock it off. However, being heavier, the desert winds were less likely to blow it off his head.
He handed it back with thanks to the vendor for allowing him to try it, and he turned to move to the next stall. A woman accidentally stepped in front as she moved past. In the process of moving aside, his eyes were drawn to her—and past her head. Across the street, a man turned abruptly away, drawing his attention with the move. If the man had wished to remain unseen, he should have casually glanced at Rake and then away as if he didn’t care. His action gave away his intention, which was to watch Rake. In order to be a successful hunter, Rake had learned to keep his eyes open for anything unusual. He never looked directly at a deer because if the deer saw his eyes, it fled.
He should have been watching for followers all along, especially after the incidents the day before, and the bottle-bomb wielders. Now that he knew the color of the man’s pale blue shirt and the unique small hat he wore; Rake could keep watch on the watcher without letting on. Rake flicked an imaginary fly from in front of his face with the back of his hand, and while doing so, his head and eyes turned a fraction. The man was again watching him.
Rake moved on and examined the goods in a few more stalls while looking out for Cinder’s return and keeping track of the man at the same time. Not a lot to do, but as he walked or turned to examine the goods presented by the vendors, his head and naturally swept past the watcher in the blue shirt and hat. He also looked for more people watching him and found none. The man remained across the street and paced his progress down the stalls, always remaining behind whatever cover he found, always seemingly
busy with something to occupy his time as he shadowed Rake. He was good at following, but Rake was better.
Rake moved down a few more stalls and glanced ahead of the follower. A narrow alley, too small for a wagon of any sort, stood between a pair of two-story stone buildings. He saw no windows on the blank walls of the buildings facing the alley. Refuse filled much of the space. An idea took form.
He moved casually back in the direction of the meat vendor and caught Cinder’s eye. They were still deep in conference, so he assumed the woman was sharing valuable information. The hard part would be getting Cinder to share it with him. She came to his side expectantly, obviously with much to discuss, which was good. Instead of hearing her out, he held up a hand to stop her. “Listen to me and don’t react. If you carefully look beside my left shoulder you will see a man in a blue shirt and a small hat.”
Her eyes barely flicked in his direction. “I see him. The hat is useless against rain or sun and silly.”
“He goes wherever I go.” Rake moved a step to his right. “Now, if you look past my right shoulder, there are two buildings and a narrow space between them. It’s filled with trash and whatever.”
She smiled. “Let me guess. You want me to sneak around the buildings and silently wade through all that muck and trash until I wait for you to lead him there. Then I’m supposed to reach a position where I can grab him and yank him into the alley without being seen.”
That forced an unexpected chuckle from Rake. “Right. I can move down the rows of stalls to draw him down there and come help you after you grab him. Just hold him until I get there.”
Her easy smile turned to a snarl. “That won’t be necessary. You will not have to rescue me. However, you can come and listen to me question him if you want.”
“I was not insulting you,” Rake said.
“Yes, you were. Intentional or not. Give me time to get into position. I’ll raise my arm to signal.” She strode away, back in the direction of the meat seller.
Rake watched her, trying to think of what he’d said wrong. Then he strolled along the stalls again, making sure the man in the hat kept pace. Later, while looking at a table displaying poorly made knives, he saw Cinder’s arm wave from the corner of his eye. He slowly moved down another few stalls, acting the part of a bored shopper as he had since she left him to talk to the meat seller. He didn’t want to spook the watcher by rushing. The man moved down two more stalls and paused at his post across the street.
He was only twenty or thirty steps from the alley. There was no sign of Cinder. Rake went down to the next stall and paused. The man across the road kept pace . . . until he disappeared.
Without wishing to excite anyone, Rake turned and casually walked across the road and then along the front of a building with no door openings onto the street. As he reached the alley, a quick glance around revealed nobody paying attention, so he side-stepped and entered the alley. It was barely wide enough to walk through without turning his shoulders.
Beyond, a pile of refuse stood precariously head-high, probably stacked there by Cinder to hide their actions. Behind it, Cinder stood over a seated man holding his hand to his bloody nose. The blood flowed down his chin and ran down to his blue shirt, where it spread into a wide red stain. There was no sign of his silly hat.
“Find out anything?” Rake asked.
“Yes. I found that he does not like to talk to me. He insists on being quiet. However, I have just begun to question him so there is hope.”
Rake slowly shook his head as he approached closer to them. With a wink to Cinder, he said, “That’s good. I was afraid you’d already killed him. You’re always too quick to slit their throats. I remember coming across the bones of that other spy you left down by the bank of the stream, not that the coyotes had left much of him for me to find. I recognized his clothing. I suppose the wild dogs roaming these streets will take care of this one, so you won’t get us into trouble leaving the body here.”
She released her grip on his shirt and pulled her knife. She ran her thumb down the edge and winced as if it caused the red blood on her thumb, which she held out for Rake to see. “It’s sharp enough.”
Rake withheld a smile. She was smart. The blood was not hers. It was the watcher’s, from his blue shirt when she held it and dipped her thumb in the flow. But the sight of the indirect threat made an instant impact. He said to Cinder, “I’ll go guard the entrance of the alley. I can’t stomach watching you butcher another one. Besides, we don’t want the local authorities running you out of this city, too. Twice was enough.”
Neither of them had so much as looked at the man on the ground during their conversation. That may have scared him more than direct threats. Besides, Rake had heard that most men fear a knife more than an arrow. There is something about it that touches a primal fear, and she was feeding that fear.
“Wait,” the man whimpered.
Rake ignored him. He turned and took two steps away.
“Wait!” The call was louder. “I’ll talk but you have to stay here.”
Rake turned and looked over his shoulder but didn’t move closer. He said, “Talk to my sister. Not me.”
Cinder wiped the bloody blade on the sleeve of his shirt but didn’t replace it in her sheath. “Why are you watching my brother? Spying on him? Deny it and you will die this beautiful morning.”
“A man hired me. He has tattoos on his arms. Dragons.”
“I wanted his name, not to know his dress habits,” she said mildly, ignoring the mention of tattoos.
However, Rake knew as well as her that the tattoos marked him as a Crab, one of the less-than-slaves in the Breslau culture. He had also heard of some Crabs that had been elevated to higher positions due to their service to the Breslau royalty. Again, Breslau involvement in Oakhaven.
The intense feelings of a combination of fear, exhilaration, and preparation of a coming battle had Rake on edge. His senses seemed more alert, even more than last night during the intended fire-bombing. Then it had been almost impulse, while this feeling hinted at future battles.
As he watched Cinder wait for an answer, a tingling on his back drew his attention. A dragon was near. He ignored it as the man debated if he should say more.
The man raised his eyes to meet those of Cinder and he shuddered. “Tomas. He is called Tomas.”
“Where can I find him?”
“Are you going to let me go?” he asked.
“I am not sure you will live out the morning. I do know that you won’t if you don’t quit stalling and making conditions before speaking to me.”
Cinder was right. He was stalling. As if expecting help to arrive. She flashed a meaningful look at Rake, and he moved to the end of the alley, only a few steps away. He heard their voices behind him as he watched from behind the tall pile of rubbish. There was no sign of help approaching. If they came, Cinder would run to the other end of the alley and escape, with Rake at her heels.
“Tomas. At the Inn of the Three Feathers. He lives there.”
“How long has he been in Mercippio?”
“I wouldn’t know. I’ve only seen him since winter.”
“Who are his friends?”
“He has money. No friends.”
“He pays you to watch us?”
“Yes.”
“Why us?”
“I don’t know. He just said what to do and told me what you look like.”
Cinder kicked his ribs. No warning. No indication it was going to happen.
“That hurt. He said you killed two of his men last night. I think he wants you dead.”
Those last night would be the fire-bombers. It made sense that he’d want them watched—and either killed or brought before him. He would also have questions of them.
Rake peered around the corner of the alley and found two large men who walked shoulder to shoulder, their legs in perfect but unconscious rhythm as their heels struck the cobblestone street. Only experienced soldiers walked or marched like that. Thei
r eyes searched the crowd as they moved, probably looking for the man in the little hat—and them.
“Keep him quiet,” Rake said as he moved behind the first pile of rubbish.
Cinder said to her prisoner, “Your job was to follow us. Just that? Nothing else?”
“And report to Tomas at the Three Feathers. Where you go. Who you talk to. That sort of thing.”
Rake took a few more steps in their direction. “There are two very large soldiers in ordinary dress looking for you or us. Why?”
His eyes lowered. “I think they are looking for you, not me. I sent a messenger to Tomas saying you were at the market.”
Cinder reached into a pocket and pulled a length of rope free. In a few heartbeats, she had him tied and warned of things to come if he made any noise. She stood and looked at Rake. “Want to be the bait? Bring them in here where we can talk in private?”
“Sure.” Rake hung his head and slumped his shoulders as he moved to the end of the alley. Behind, he heard Cinder moving the rubbish to conceal herself. He located them easily, five stalls away. He stepped out on to the road and leaned against the building as if he’d been there the entire time. He turned his head to look at the stalls directly in front of him.
A grunt and flicker of movement in the corner of his eye warned Rake they spotted him. He turned slightly more away, getting a good look at them in the process. Neither carried a bow. Their footsteps were easy to hear as they pounded in his direction even though his head was turned away. He ignored them until they were close.
He spun, tried looking surprised for an instant, ducked into the alley, and sprinted away. He ran twenty steps past where Cinder was concealed, then turned back.
As he did, the second man, the one lagging behind the other, crumpled to his knees. Cinder held a wooden club, a piece of wood discarded by someone, but as large as her arm and as big around as her wrist. She held it at one end with two hands, drawing it back to swing again.
The first man, warned by the sounds of her striking the other and his fall, turned to face her as he pulled a short sword from inside his cloak. He cut the air theatrically as he moved a step closer, forgetting about Rake.