Both Faring and Gareth turned to face him. Teachers seldom volunteered information of any sort, and the comment came as a surprise.
The teacher appeared almost confused by his own outburst, then stood up straighter before continuing, “My point was perhaps unwelcome, obscure, and thoughtless. I apologize. I thought that since this is not the most desirous plot of land on which to grow a garden, and it will not sustain you and your Da over time, certainly not the winter, a change might be in order. Your cabin is old, rotted, and unless I’m mistaken, termite infested. In a year, it will be a mound of wood pulp overgrown with weeds. On the other hand, a year of servitude for a young man, such as yourself, might teach you the beginnings of a trade to last you a lifetime.”
Gareth took a step nearer to the teacher. “Are those the first words you have ever spoken to Faring?”
“Possibly. I do not remember.”
Gareth looked at his friend for confirmation. With Faring’s nod, he continued, “Last year the tannery was the largest and most profitable business in Dun Mare, other than the inn. They had money to buy food and pay the men working for them a fair wage. Now it’s closed, and the owner’s looking for a job in the lower valley while his son is to be sold as a slave for a year. Sold somewhere far away from Dun Mare, I’m guessing.”
Faring edged a step closer to the teacher, too. “Yes, a strange set of happenings, if you ask me. Almost as if someone, or some group of people, wants me to leave Dun Mare.”
Do not allow this teacher to evade your questions. Gareth said, “Teacher, have you ever lied to me?”
“I am not permitted to lie.”
“Then answer this. Are you trying to separate Faring and me? Is that what this is all about?” Faring asked, his voice cold and sounding far older than his years. “Are you responsible for the tannery failing?”
“Which of your questions do you wish me to answer?” The teacher asked, his voice gentle and soft as the meow of a kitten as he tried to slip away from the real question.
Gareth knew well the many loopholes the teacher could squirm through if asked the wrong questions. Faring was not used to the manner of speaking that obtained answers from teachers. He said, “Teacher, why did the price of tanned leather go down?”
“It is a simple business process, easy to understand. The trading company down-valley offered less for tanned leather than it paid in years past. It was the single buyer for the skins processed at the tannery, and in turn, it sold the skins in large cities.”
“Does this trading company down-valley have new owners, by chance?” Gareth slowly asked. “Say in the last season or two?”
“I believe it does.”
Faring edged closer again, and Gareth held out his arm blocking him from advancing on the teacher. Faring said, “Who would these new owners be?”
“I do not know specific names.”
“Are they teachers? Or do they have any direct connection to teachers?” Gareth asked, his voice low and controlled.
The teacher’s eyes focused on a vacant space behind them instead of making direct contact. His voice was soft as a warm summer breeze. “I believe that may be a correct assumption. They may be related in a fashion.”
Faring’s face reddened even more.
Gareth also looked away. The realization that in some ways he was the reason for the tannery closing and for his friend being sold into servitude stilled his tongue. People had lost their livelihood, and people would go hungry if they did not find work elsewhere. It’s my fault.
The teacher then looked to each of them in turn, his face still and solemn. Almost sad. Wordlessly, he turned and walked away.
CHAPTER FIVE
The sound of footsteps outside his hut alerted Gareth someone was there, but only because he was listening intently for the sound. The crescent moon had already risen, so he doubted it was one of the teachers. They would be snug in their beds, believing him to be also. A soft whistle was the signal he’d been waiting for from Faring, notifying him all was clear after he circled the hut. It finally sounded. Gareth threw back the door and stepped into the crisp night air.
This is it.
Gareth glanced into the hut for the last time. A few worthless trinkets sat on the shelf near the window. An armful of split oak and strips of cedar kindling stood in the wood bin, and a clean bowl with a small chip on the rim held a wooden spoon. He blew out the single candle and eased the door closed.
Faring stood outside carrying another clay jar containing dry soda, smaller than the first Gareth had carried to the hoard hidden on the mountain above the nest.
“You sure about this?” Gareth asked quietly, picking his way up the path and trying to think of all the possible options and problems in stealing the egg and then in getting away. How do you sell a dragon egg and how much do you ask for it? The ideas swirled in his mind at the same time, until everything jumbled. “You don’t have to help me. I know you’re scared.”
Faring didn’t answer for several long seconds, which seemed like hours. When he did, his voice carried anger of a sort Gareth seldom heard. “Your damn teachers bought the trading company that buys our leather. They gave us less and less money for each shipment and charged more for supplies until Da couldn’t continue. They intentionally put us out of business just so they could split you and me up, no matter how many others it hurt.”
“Why’s it so important for them to keep us apart?”
Faring shrugged. As if dismissing the idea, or the desire to talk, he pushed ahead faster, forcing Gareth to do the same to keep up. The narrow path rose through the foothills to a steep rise as they trudged along. Few came this way since the black dragon had built her nest on the cliff as the winter snows melted.
“You’ll be too tired to do anything when we get up there if you don’t slow down,” Gareth said.
“Maybe so, but I want you to know I won’t climb down the damn cliff where the nest is. I won’t get burned black by dragon spit like that grass. And if that ugly dragon eats me I’ll hold it against you forever.”
Gareth chuckled, and the tension between them seemed to float away on the still night air. Their pace slowed to a brisk walk that Gareth would have enjoyed if his breath didn’t come in gasps and his chest didn’t hurt. The higher they climbed, the more scared he became. This is it, he repeated to himself over and over.
Faring had traveled in silence as they climbed the foothills. When they started up the last, and steepest incline of the mountain itself, he abruptly said, “I think they want us apart because with me gone they’ll be the only ones around to put information or ideas into your empty head. They don’t want you to have a mind of your own, listening to me and my ideas. Maybe they blame me for taking you to the dragon’s nest. It doesn't matter. They just keep coming here to Dun Mare year after year and teaching you only what they want you to know. Like they own you.”
The night whispers had hinted at much the same idea. He felt guilty not talking to Faring about them more than the little he’d once shared, but held his tongue anyway. It was always disconcerting to listen to Faring spout his ideas and observations—often they were far in advance of his age. “I don’t understand, either. I’m just a farmer boy.”
“So, you say. But, I’ve been thinking on that, too. My Da says there’s nobody who does things for free in this world. Somebody’s always paying for everything. Who’s paying the teachers for your learning? That brings up another ‘why.’ Why would someone pay for you to learn in the first place? Eight or ten teachers to watch you, every day, at least, four hovering around you at a time. Can’t be cheap. Besides, buying that fur trading company down valley must have cost them a few silvers, too.”