Gareth trotted ahead a few steps and walked in the other rut where he could talk while walking alongside Tom. “You think we can get away? Really?”
“I’ve been considering what’s best to do all day yesterday, and thinking all night, too. We did put some distance between us tonight, but they gave us chase all the way from Priest’s Point, and there’s something missing in our thinkin’, something we missed.”
“I’ve been thinking too. They wanted us, or me, so much they risked sinking their boat. That is a lot to risk.”
Tom nodded. “Let’s consider what we do know. We sailed into that port back there, and nobody cared. Then we left without concern from anyone. I rowed out of the bay and mended the sails before raising them. Nobody followed.”
Gareth said, “Later a pirate bounty hunter ship is right behind us.”
“Why? What changed? That’s what we have to figure out.” Tom pointed to a small pathway that led off at an angle. He knelt and examined the bare dirt, allowing his fingers to trace impressions. “Probably a small herd of deer made this. Take long steps and only walk in the leaves. No footprints for a few steps.”
Gareth did as ordered.
Once they were sheltered by tall brush and the canopy of branches, they followed the track a short way, and when it turned into a small clearing, Tom said, “This looks good. Get yourself some sleep.”
“The dogs will sniff us out, here.”
“Not leaving footprints is more for any locals who might use this road and catch us napping. You’re right, it won’t fool the dogs for two shakes.”
“I’m cold,” Gareth said as he sat and relaxed.
“Me too. And hungry. Maybe later we can try to rectify those things, but right now I need my sleep.”
Curled up with the egg cradled next to him, Gareth closed his eyes and almost fell asleep when the egg moved again. Within the bag, the soft shell slowly expanded at one end, while shrinking at the other. The movement was more pronounced than before. Thinking back, he felt certain it hadn’t moved before this night. Is it hatching?
The idea terrified him. A dragon? After being carried across mountains and dropped into an ocean by one, he shuddered at the thought of a dragon emerging from the bag during the night and attacking him. I should tell Tom. A glance revealed Tom already asleep.
At daybreak, Tom shook his shoulder to wake him. Still tired, stiff and shivering, Gareth stood on painful legs and then limped as he tried to stretch them. As expected, they felt numb and sore at the same time. Tom walked back to the road, maintaining a silence that told more than words of how tired the old man was. His gait had slowed, his shoulders slumped, and his chin hung to his chest.
Later, the ruts intersected with another road, one far more used. Clear impressions of wagon wheels showed in the mud near a puddle, as well as the shod hooves of the animal that pulled the cart or wagon. It passed no longer ago than last evening. Tom studied the area around the puddle and finally pointed to the direction he decided they should take.
Gareth hung his head and tried to snatch a little sleep as he walked, opening his eyes after a few steps, and then closing them again for a few steps. It didn’t work. He gave up and stumbled ahead, eyes forced to stay open. I really should tell him about the egg.
Tom had moved further ahead, but he looked as weary as Gareth felt. Tom had been kind enough to offer his help with selling the egg, and while Gareth hadn’t intended to sink his fishing boat, the fact remained that it had sunk. Tom’s generosity cost him his livelihood. Gareth promised himself to repay Tom for every board in the hull and every patch on the sails. But if the egg was about to hatch—what was it worth? Did anybody purchase baby dragons? Were they as valuable as eggs?
Tom might know some of the answers. He might have suggestions, and if nothing else he needed to know as a matter of trust. Gareth looked at Tom again and saw the weariness of a man about played out. When we stop to eat.
They walked until the morning sun warmed them. The warmth loosened soreness and Gareth felt much better. Not great, but better. The road left the trees of the forest and skirted along fields of recently harvested corn. Their pace increased, but neither spoke.
Tom finally pulled to a quick stop. His bony fingers quickly reached out, covering Gareth’s mouth, fingers threatening to choke him if he made any noise. The old man silently pulled Gareth a few steps into the thick underbrush at the side of the road and knelt, forcing the boy to do the same. He relaxed his grip and held a finger to his lips.
Gareth held still and waited.
A teacher strode into view, green hood pulled low in front, concealing his shaved head down to his missing eyebrows, but he walked with the same sliding, gliding motion all of them used. His eyes were glazed, fixed on nothing as he moved quietly. Each hand was in the sleeve of the other arm, and the heavy material of the heavy, green robe looked warm and practical to Gareth. For the first time, he wished he owned one.
After the teacher had passed, Tom shook his head at Gareth. They remained immobile for so long Gareth became impatient. He was about to speak when a second teacher came into view, traveling the same road, but several hundred steps behind the first. His gaze was as fixed as the first.
After he had disappeared, Tom stood and whispered, “They’re always in twos. At least, all the Brotherhood I’ve seen.”
“I know. They’re paired.”
When the sun reached mid-morning, Tom halted them again. He sniffed. “Smoke.”
Gareth caught the scent, too. Smoke meant a fire and maybe people cooking. His stomach growled in anticipation.
They moved cautiously down the road until a log farmhouse came into view, smoke curling into the sky from a stone chimney made of river rock. The farm was small, a single outbuilding for animals, and the garden looked as if it might feed two, but no more. Tom veered for the house.
“How do we know they‘re friendly?” Gareth asked, excited, but speaking softly.
“There’s times when you just take your chances. We’re about wore out and it they refuse us help we’re no worse off than if we keep on, but if they feed us, we are ahead.”
Two massive dogs caught their scent and tried to out-bark each other as they raced in their direction. Both were mixed breeds, possibly part border collies. Tom stooped and greeted them by petting and talking to them as if they were old friends. When they continued to walk again, the dogs accompanied them, running and playing. The door to the house swung open, and a man shuffled out, an ax resting over his shoulder, clearly a weapon if need be. He watched their approach without words.
“We’re friends in need of a little help,” Tom paused and called from a hundred paces away.
The man lowered the ax and nodded. “Everybody needs help now and then. What can I do for you, stranger?”
Tom flashed a warning look to Gareth, then turned back to the farmer. “We’re hungry, and I can pay a fair price for a meal.”
“Nobody pays to eat in my home. You’re either welcome, or I send you on your way.” He waved an arm, “You dogs, get back to the house and shut up.”
“Just doin’ their job. We like dogs,” Tom said.
The farmer held out his hand to Tom when they were close enough. “Name’s Seth. Wife’s inside. Call her Irene.”
“I’m Tom. This is Gareth, but we’d appreciate it if you don’t remember our names.”
Seth fixed them with a stern look, then nodded and led the way to the door, ignoring any sense of danger as if he appreciated the honesty. He called from the doorway, “Irene, can we feed these two? Seems they’re in a mite of trouble, and maybe they have a story to tell while you heat something up.”