Faring’s Da said to always ask why. That seemed like good advice as Gareth continued watching the river and listening to the night sounds. His hand went to feel the lump that was the dragon under the blanket and paused. The newborn of many species are not beautiful. Some are downright ugly. The dragon was loose, limp skin over sharp bones, with a few barbs along the spine and eyes too big for the small head. The sharp teeth could remove a man’s finger with one snap of those jaws. He pulled his hand back to grip the oar, again.
Despite the lack of sleep, he managed to feel better than he had in days. The information fell into place, into nice neat little sections. Not knowing a thing was worse than not understanding the happenings around him. More lights appeared on the shore down river, and the sky in the east brightened with the coming day. “Tom, I see more lights ahead, another village, I think. It’s almost dawn.”
“Take us closer to the far shore so they won’t see us when we drift past. Anything else?”
Gareth eased the boat closer to the far bank with a few strokes of the oars and waited, watching all around as if making sure there was nothing else to report before responding. “The people in the next town will see us after the sun comes up, you know.”
“Can’t help that. I guess we could hold up for daylight, but the time we gain floating down the river ahead of them who’r chasing us would be lost. Besides, with the Brotherhood’s fast communications abilities, by nightfall they’ll have boats up and down this whole river looking for us.”
“Still, if we keep on moving during daylight, and maybe tomorrow night, we’re in Drakesport around dawn, right?”
“Right. If’n nobody snags us first, which they will. Now, ease up on your oars for a bit.”
“Ease up?”
“Stop rowing, I heard something.”
Oars held still, they both listened, and Gareth finally heard the regular sound of the paddling of another small boat. Gareth peered into the darkness upstream. He moved the sleeping dragon and the blanket to the floor, out of the way, and out of sight. A small boat took shape in the dim light of early dawn, long and narrow. It turned and headed directly for them.
Tom said, “Keep your voice down, and a hand on that dagger.”
They waited.
A soft voice called from a few boat lengths away, “There’ll be no need for that dagger. I’m peaceable. Is that you, Captain Tom?”
“That it is. And who might you be?”
“A messenger and a friend. Seth and Irene upriver are also friends of mine. She sent me looking for you with a warning.” The narrow boat pulled quietly to their side, and a middle-aged man with wild white hair smiled as he took hold of their boat to steady his. He pulled himself alongside. “Thought I’d never catch up with you two. Irene said to tell you those men in green robes came asking a fistful of questions right after you left. Then others came. Mean ones. She said to tell you they had two hound dogs sniffing for you. They wanted to speak with Seth, but he was off fishing.”
Tom leaned forward. “They didn’t hurt her?”
The man chuckled and said, “No. No, she’s a tough old bird. They just asked questions about the two of you. She told them that if the Brotherhood brought her boy back to her maybe, she would talk to them, but until then she wouldn’t say another word. She went to cleaning her cabin until they left. Lucky she did, because she palmed the two silvers you left on that chair.”
“Glad to hear she’s well. Now, who are you?” Tom asked.
“Call me Jenkins. Seaman Jenkins, if you prefer, sir.”
Gareth had breathed a sigh of relief at the news of Seth and Irene, even though he didn’t understand much of what had passed between the two men. Unspoken communication had told a tale he didn’t know. His eyes were looking at Tom and then at Jenkins, and he realized there was still more going on than he knew. The current eased both boats downriver at a slow pace, and Gareth wanted to push their boat off from the other and continue rowing, but knew there was more the two men had to say.
“How’d you manage to catch up with us?” Tom asked.
Jenkins used his chin to point to the small double-ended boat he sat in. “This thing’s a modified kayak like they use way up north. Won’t carry much weight, but it gets me there with less effort and a lot faster.”
Tom said, an edge to his voice, “You called me Captain Tom, and addressed me as sir. Have we met?”
“Yes sir, for a time I served under you at Scalene Passage. Manned the rails, port side.”
“Ah, I’m very sorry I didn’t recognize you, Seaman.”
“No reason you would, sir. I was a last minute transfer from the Invincible after she burned. Besides, you had your hands a mite full while you defeated those ships we attacked. Despite what the board of inquiry said, those of us who were there know you for the hero you are. The queen should have stood up for you instead of listening to her cronies.”
Gareth listened and watched the old fisherman with the bad grammar evolve into someone else. The language and manners grew by the sentence. He heard the air of command now in Tom’s voice, as well as the respect the newcomer paid him in word and manner.
Other thoughts of Tom flashed to mind. How fast Tom had agreed to the adventure of crossing a sea and selling the egg, for instance. Other men would not have been so quick to volunteer, at least not those Gareth had met. None of the men at the tannery would have gone, and Odd would have stayed on his farm. So would the old men at the inn. The teachers never joined any activity.
Jenkins said, “Irene thought it might be a good idea if I paddled on ahead of you, sir. Sort of keep you in sight behind me, but just barely. If you see me get snagged by the Brotherhood or the king’s army, you can maybe escape on foot.”
Tom nodded. “That would be greatly appreciated, seaman. I would also appreciate it if you didn’t call me ‘sir’ anymore. I’m just a fisherman these days. After we reach Drakesport and conduct our business, might there be an inn where we’d meet up with you and lift a tankard of ale to the old days?”
Jenkins pushed off and took a powerful stroke with his double-ended paddle. “The Sleeping Lion’s my usual haunt in Drakesport. But I’ll be the one buying the ale, not you, Captain.”
The dragon under the blanket stirred. Gareth didn’t want the dragon climbing out while Jenkins was nearby and liable to see it. He placed a gentle but firm hand on the neck of the little dragon and received a sleepy snort in response. It wrapped its long neck and tail in opposite directions as if to snare his wrist. Gareth pulled his hand free and gave it a few strokes to keep it calm. He slipped the hand away when he felt the muscles relax, and the dragon slept again.
As the smaller boat darted away downstream, Gareth looked at Tom until he caught his attention. “You have some explaining to do. Or should I say, explain’, Captain?”
Tom motioned for them to shift seats and he retook the oars. “You want the short story?”
“We can start there,” Gareth answered warily.
The oars dipped, and Tom pulled gently. Gareth’s change in attitude didn’t seem to offend Tom, in fact, he seemed amused. Tom smiled wider and said, “There was a time I was in command of a warship in service of Queen Alexandria, which was a few years after King Henry died. We were losing the war, back then. The Tarragon navy sailed north to embargo all our ports. Choke us off so we wouldn’t have food or supplies and have to surrender.”
“You were a military captain?”
“I was the captain if you put it that way. The queen wanted to make me an admiral, but that’d take away my ship and put me ashore. The story is, we were down near Scalene Passage, which is the sea passage between two large islands.” He seemed to drift off as he remembered, speaking soft and low as the sun turned the eastern sky pink. After a long pause, he continued, “We broke out of a fog bank directly in the face of the Tarragon fleet. I had my men ready at battle stations, but we were outnumbered ten ships to one. Three ships of the line and seven fast packets overloaded with troops.”