by LeRoy Clary
They walked past others, noted a few suspicious men and women, but they may have been muggers and thieves and have no connection to Breslau. Cinder guided them, insisting Sadie walk a few steps behind as if she was not with them until reaching the inn. Inside, they found Demi stirring a pot suspended over a small fire.
When Demi turned at the sound of them entering, she held a carving knife with a blade long enough to run Rake through and exit his back. She didn’t recognize them in their robes, and she didn’t know Sadie. Rake held his hands up and called, “It’s us. Rake and Cinder. We brought you another customer.”
“With those robes on, you almost got yourselves cut. What are you trying to do now?” The knife disappeared into the folds of her skirt.
“We had a bit of a problem by the market and it seems there is a reward posted because of the men last night who were going to burn down your inn.” Cinder ignored the knife and introduced a wary Sadie. She watched Demi and her skirt, and where the knife disappeared again.
Rake went out onto the front porch and sat in the rocker as he sorted things out in his mind. Sitting in the long robe took a little getting used to. He hiked it up and sat carefully. He gathered his thoughts as he slowly rocked, reviewing what he knew and what he suspected. Tomas and Hadrian were the two central people they were interested in so far, the ones who gave the orders, but they were not the leader or leaders. Probably one of their position was posted at each of the inns, except Demi’s, which refused to cooperate. Capturing and questioning either of those two men would be enough to find the name of the one in charge. Locating that man might provide the answers they needed.
He had forgotten how he was dressed as he rocked until a man passed by and left a small coin on the edge of the porch near his feet. Rake almost stood and shouted he was not a priest from the Brownlands so retrieve his coin. Instead, he sat again, guilty at accepting the coin intended to help the poor. Maybe he would have the opportunity to gift it to another wanderer, a real one. He could change clothing to prevent another incident and decided not to.
The robe was comfortable. Inside it, nearly anything could be carried. And it concealed his identity. Even on the porch of the inn, Rake was not safe in Mercippio unless disguised. Besides, his undisguised presence drew danger to Demi and even those who lived nearby.
Rake had found the pockets in the robe contained slits. His hands could reach under the robe to his knife or anything else he carried. Until discovered, the robe would allow him access to any part of the city.
Movement at his side drew his attention, as it will for any hunter used to providing food for his table. He continued rocking without changing the pace, but his eyes watched shifting darkness between the cracks of the porch floorboards. He thought it was a dog but caught sight of the pale green of a filthy shirt.
Someone was under the porch, crawling on hands and knees quietly. Only an accident of the light had allowed him to see the man. Curious, he watched him move directly in front of his feet and pause at the edge of the porch. A few filthy fingers stealthily appeared at the end of the boards and moved in the direction of the single coin still on the porch at his feet.
Two things sprang to mind. First, the coin would purchase little. Money was a new experience, but the rusty piece of iron might buy a single meat-on-a-stick or a small wedge of cheese. However, when you’re hungry enough, that coin held value worth the risk to steal. The second item was the hand itself, or more precisely, the wrist edging into view. It was tattooed and done poorly. The lines were thick and crude, the colors faded and inconsistent.
It was the hand of a Crab. Their tattooing had been described in many Dragon Clan stories. Besides, it was the hand of one that might willingly share important information for only the cost of a meal from Demi. The hand made a snatch for the coin. Instinct made Rake stomp on the fingers and pin them down. If the hand got hold of the coin, the man would flee, and he’d never catch the culprit.
With his foot holding a squealing, twisting, Crab, Rake stepped off the porch and grabbed the man by his shirt and twisted the material into a ball, pulling him close.
Rake raised a fist high and threatened to punch the skinny thief. “Shut up. Hold still, or else.”
The Crab went limp. Tears flowed.
Rake lifted him higher. The man was all skin. The Crab weighed less than his little sister but was almost as tall as Rake. His clothes were rags, the knees were torn, the shirt filthy and missing a sleeve. He had no shoes.
Dirt was ground into his skin, his hair hung in greasy strands, and he smelled worse than most outhouses, not that Rake had been in that many, but the stench was offensive and strong. “Calm down,” he said again.
The look in the Crab’s eyes was wild, reminding Rake of a wild kitten he’d once captured near the trading post. Rake turned his hip to protect his groin before the knee shot up and struck his thigh. Rake shook him in frustration and ordered him not to attempt it again.
“You’re a wanderer. A priest. You cannot do this to me,” the Crab howled.
Then, because he didn’t have a better idea, Rake spun the Crab around got his arm around the man’s neck. Up close, the smell increased, but he held on and lifted him off his feet and carried the protesting Crab inside.
Three startled women turned as one.
Rake still had a fistful of the green shirt as well as his other arm around the man’s neck. The bare arm of the Crab revealed the crude images of dragons intertwined and fighting with sharp teeth from wrist to shoulder. No words of explanation came to Rake, so he lifted his chin and said defiantly, “This man is hungry.”
“And dirty,” Cinder said.
“And he stinks,” Sadie added as she moved a few steps away.
Rake looked down at the man, at his tangled hair, the spiderwebs clinging to him from underneath the inn, and then at his eyes. They were scared but clear and intelligent. He asked the women, “How long before we can eat?”
Demi said, “It’ll be a while.”
“Can I have that old bread? And some butter?” He asked, pointing to the leftovers on the counter with the point of his knife.
Demi said, “I have milk fresh yesterday to go with it.”
Rake buttered the bread and took the mug of milk in his other hand as he let go of the shirt. He said, “Want this? Come with me.”
Over his shoulder, he called, “Please bring me more water. Lots of it.” He took the man up the stairs to the dismay of the three women, and into their room. He handed the bread to the Crab and placed the mug of warm milk next to him. Both were gone as he stuffed bread in his mouth with both hands and poured milk in so fast it ran out the sides of his mouth, determined to eat and drink before Rake could change his mind.
Rake didn’t criticize. He waited until the Crab swallowed and picked most of the crumbs from his shirt. He asked, “Want more?”
He nodded quickly.
Rake said, “How about a full meal? A real meal? But you have to do something for me.” He pointed to the wash basin and bar of soap. There was only one bowl, enough to wash hands or a face in, but it would have to do until more arrived.
He said, “You will wash, and I have spare clothes and we’ll feed you. I see you looking at the door. You want to run away. Use it if that suits you. I won’t get in your way.”
“Why? Why are you offering to do all that?”
Rake shrugged. “Some might say I don’t like people that mistreat dogs. You’ve been treated worse.”
A soft knock at the door and Demi entered, a nearly full bucket in each hand. She wordlessly placed them on the floor and slipped out.
The man stood taller. “Do you have that knife handy?”
Rake slowly pulled it from under the robe, not understanding the reason for the request.
“Can you cut my hair?”
Rake stepped closer, ignored the twigs and spider webs from under the house, and whatever else might be in there. He gathered a handful and cut with a sawing motion. The result
was chopped and uneven. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“Cut it all. Leave only a finger-length. And the beard. Can you cut it, too?”
Rake cut the hair and beard after the Crab washed it once, but it needed two or three more times to be considered clean. He liked what he saw in the changes, already. The wild hair and tangled beard were choppy, uneven and in spots cut too short, but the overall improvement was astounding.
Then the man slipped out of his shirt and pants. His body was filthy, bruised, and a hundred scabs of various sizes were evident. He washed his face, hair, and beard again. Then the man started washing the rest of himself. Five bowls of water later, he was fairly clean, the water black, and Rake tossed it off the balcony after making sure nobody was below. He refilled the bowl and waited, then repeated the process. The Crab finally stepped into a pair of Rake’s pants, rolled up the cuffs, and pulled a long-sleeved shirt over his head.
Another quick look out the balcony window assured Rake there were no lurkers with firebombs in sight. He didn’t expect them in the daylight, but it didn’t hurt to check. While at the window, he looked down on the cobblestone street, the buildings across from them and the appearance of the people. It was the people that caught his eye.
Again, there were not as many as he anticipated should be outside on their normal course of errands and duties. But it was the small motions of each he detected that worried him. Their eyes shifted endlessly. Their heads twitched back and forth as they walked, even while keeping their eyes lowered. The slightest movement by a sleeping dog, the flight of a bird, or a few leaves blowing drew startled reactions. They were worried and afraid.
Rake sat on the bed and watched the continued transformation of his guest. It was magical. A little water, hair trimmed, and used clothing made the Crab appear like most others in the city. Rake glanced down at his long robe and decided to continue wearing it. The concealment for his weapons was too much to sacrifice for a return to his normal clothing, not to mention the disguise. The robe was as good as a mask. He said, “In the morning, we will buy you some shoes.”
Cinder called up the stairs that dinner was almost ready.
“We need to talk,” Rake said.
The Crab only nodded, as if expecting something terrible to be said. His eyes went to the small door leading to the balcony and freedom. If the Crab climbed the small railing and hung from it to drop to the ground and ran, Rake wouldn’t stop him. Then the eyes returned to meet Rake’s. Seemingly, a decision had been made. He would remain.
“What will we call you?” Rake asked.
The Crab hesitated. His eyes shifted away. Then, almost as great and the transition he’d already made in physical appearance, he stood taller, his chin lifted, and he met Rake’s steady gaze with one of his own. “My mother called me Moon because I was born on a night of the full moon.”
“Moon, it is. I’m Rake. The owner of this inn is Demi, the woman who brought the water. The younger woman is Sadie, and the beautiful one is Cinder. Now, how about we go enjoy a full meal and a little conversation?”
The Crab remained as if his feet had grown roots. “This seems like a trick of some sort. Or a bad dream and I’ll wake up just as the food arrives.”
The conclusion was reasonable, perhaps even expected. Crabs, from the little he’d heard, were treated worse than mangy dogs in Breslau. His description earlier had been accurate. They were treated as subhuman. Rake paused before speaking and when he did, his voice was filled with emotion. “Listen, we, my friends and I, don’t mind helping a man out, but if you cross us, steal from us, or do any of us harm, you need to know there isn’t a place where you can hide.”
“I wouldn’t do that.”
Rake gave Moon a friendly slap on his shoulder, again amazed at the transformation and the negative response from the women earlier. Inside Rake, a small kernel of doubt plagued his actions in taking the man into their lives. Despite his generous offers to Moon, the man was a thief, a runaway from Breslau, and probably more. Trusting him was a stretch, and as his eyes fell to Cinder’s, he knew she agreed with those ideas.
Moon could cause them no end of trouble, from stealing and murder to discovering their identities and revealing them for profit. The upside of befriending him was little, perhaps salving their minds by the help he might provide, but the reality was there was little else they could, or would, do for him. Keeping him nearby also endangered him. If Moon should be discovered by representatives of Breslau, he would be executed along with the Dragon Clan that protected him.
On another mysterious note, Moon had let his education slip time after time, both in his conclusions and his accent. His manners of speech that were far too sophisticated for a mere Crab. No Crab should speak as well as Moon. He was another puzzle to figure out or have explained. Rake said, “Let’s go eat.”
Before they were all the way down the stairs, Cinder looked up the stairs at them again and whistled loudly in appreciation, Demi clapped her hands and Sadie laughed. Sadie called to Rake, “Who’s that handsome gentleman with you? I’ve never seen him before.”
It took a moment for Moon to realize they were talking about him, and when he did, his complexion tinged with pink. The others laughed, and that encouraged them to continue with their catcalls.
Rake finally held his hands up in mock surrender and called over the banister, “I want you all to meet a new friend of ours, Moon.”
“Is Moon hungry?” Demi asked as she held up an empty bowl. “Because he’d better be. I cooked extra just for him.”
“I’ll let him talk for himself,” Rake said as he pushed Moon ahead.
At the bottom of the stairs, Moon said, “Yes.”
“Then get your skinny butt over here and let’s do something about it,” Demi said.
Cinder pushed two small tables together and they all sat at the larger one she created. In the better light, Rake noticed again how poorly he’d cut Moon’s hair. Sadie also noticed where he was looking and said, “I’ll clean it up later. It looks fine for now.”
Cinder turned to Moon, who was trying to eat as slowly as the others and having a difficult time. She said, “Why don’t you tell us something about yourself, Moon?”
“Just a Crab.” His voice was barely a whisper, his shoulders slumped, and his eyes looked down at the table.
“Not near good enough,” she continued speaking sweetly, but there was an undertone he clearly understood. Rake had heard Cinder speak in a congenial tone and in anger. Now, the sharpness of her words drew the attention of all. “As of a few days ago, most of us sitting at this table didn’t know what a Crab was. We still don’t, not really.”
“Why would you care?” he asked abruptly, with a touch of anger.
Cinder didn’t back off. She seldom did. Leaning forward, she said, “We are giving you clothing, offering medicine, food, and friendship. For our efforts, you sit there and scowl as you refuse to talk in a civil manner. Are you daft?”
“I don’t know that word.”
“Then learn it. Daft means a little crazy. Not right in the head.”
“I’m not crazy.”
Cinder settled back and crossed her arms over her chest. Her tone eased. “Let’s try this a different way. You need our help. We need yours. We have what you want, and you have the information we need. Unless you want to push that bowl away and leave this inn hungry, you will share answers with us in return for our generosity.”
He appeared confused.
Demi said in her conciliatory manner of running an inn, “We’ll eat first, and then talk.”
The interference by Demi was noted by the three Dragon Clan and put aside for the moment. She had no right to interfere and the subject hadn’t ended. Rake ate slowly, reconstructing the conversation as he’d heard it. Cinder had grown angry and made a threat. Carrying out that threat canceled any possibility of questioning Moon. Perhaps Demi’s intervention was as much to put a leash on Cinder as it was to give Moon time to think and rec
onsider his attitude.
The rest of the meal was quick, the remaining conversation strained, and everyone sat with eyes averted. After Moon had finished his second bowl of stew and ate another half of a loaf of bread, he pushed himself away from the table, stood, and sprinted out the front door. He burst through it at a full run.
The other four sat stunned. Rake spread his hands and said, “Well, I didn’t expect that. I’m not going to chase after him. By now he’s gone into hiding and he knows the streets. I’d never find him.”
“He seemed happy. Even pleased,” Sadie said. “I wonder what we said?”
Demi scooped the dirty dishes into her arms and said before leaving for the kitchen, “You can never tell. I was fooled, too.”
Cinder looked at Rake with a scowl that was becoming familiar. “You must have scared him. What did you say?”
“Why blame it on me? I had him bathe, wear my clothes, and even cut his beard and hair.”
“You did something,” she accused.
“No, he didn’t.” Moon stood in the doorway, his eyes streaming tears. “All of that wonderful food just came out of me. That’s why I ran. I didn’t want to vomit in here.”
It looked as if he’d made a friend of Demi for some strange reason. Rake wondered if he had vomited, would Demi consider it a compliment, or would she forgive him.
Sadie rushed to Moon’s side with a mug of watered wine. “Here, rinse your mouth, spit it out and then drink it all. I’ll go get you some bread. One piece, for now. No stew until you keep down the bread. But there is plenty so don’t worry.”
She rushed to the table and grabbed dry bread, no butter, and back to him. He still remained at the doorway, probably in case he needed to rush outside again. His tears flowed unabated.
Cinder leaned closer to Rake and whispered as if she hadn’t made the accusations a few moments earlier, “See? I told you there was nothing to worry about.”