“I don’t trust any of them. Besides, this is how you and I can get rich. It’s our deal.” Gareth used in his most convincing manner.
He started to go on, using other arguments but paused. He had mentioned the night whispers to Faring only once and didn’t plan to again. If word of the warnings leaked it would be twice as hard to escape from the teachers, if at all possible. Lately, Faring acted too stressed to trust in that manner. He was two or three years younger than Gareth, so should feel no heavy responsibility at his age, but with the problems at the tannery he was not his old self.
Gareth turned and examined the wall shelves neatly lined with the jars of acid, soda solution, and others powders and liquids. Heavy leather aprons and equally heavy gloves hung from large pegs on the wall. At the farm, Odd had a large coil of strong hemp rope in the barn. His plan came together in an instant.
“Okay, I’ll tell you what. I’ll pay you to help me carry supplies up the hill to the top of the cliffs above the nest. I can manage the rest on my own.”
Faring paused and leaned on the broom handle while shaking his head. “I never told you this. After we were trapped under the dragon’s nest that day, my mind fills up with visions of angry dragons at night, every night. I see that ugly dragon flying along and carrying my headless body in her mouth like she did with that deer.”
“Then, how do you know it’s you if there’s no head?” Gareth laughed.
“I recognize my big feet,” Faring snapped, a smile threatening to break out, then failing.
“I’m sorry, it’s no joke. Listen, we’ll talk again in a few days. Right now, I’ve got some serious thinking and planning to do.” Gareth hurried off, careful to follow the usual path to his hut, at his usual pace, but as he rounded the first wide bend and was shielded by the forest to any following, he stepped into the depths of deep shadow under a tree and waited. He’d made many similar moves in the last few days. Within fifty heartbeats, a pair of teachers wearing their green robes appeared, silently traveling the exact same route.
Faring was right. They were always nearby. Following. Watching. Observing, but not interfering unless he was in danger or they were instructing him. The two noticed him standing in the shadows and floated to a stop, together as one, a few dozen paces away. Gareth locked eyes with the nearest. The other seemed not to see him, his focus far off.
Gareth still felt uneasy, as if more eyes watched him. Before speaking he let his gaze roam around, exploring and penetrating each shadow of the dense woods, every tree trunk, and shrub. Deeper in the forest a vague outline revealed another robed man standing perfectly still, almost invisible unless someone looked directly at him. Gareth continued his examination and located a fourth teacher standing motionless near the edge of the path, partially concealed by a tall stump covered in blackberry vines.
There could be more. But at least four of them watched him all the time, these days. Probably because they had become suspicious of his actions after the first trip to the nest. They would protect him against his own will. Had they always watched his actions this closely? He didn’t know, but his plans to steal the egg must change, and he would have to evade them. He chose the teacher standing alone on the path. He looked like every other teacher Gareth had known. Gareth walked aggressively in that direction, half expecting the teacher to flee at his swift approach, although none had ever done so. As he neared, Gareth said in a calm voice, “I want to speak with you.”
“As you will.” The formal voice was barely more than a whisper, yet carried as if a shout. The eyes of the teacher settled on Gareth, and under the shaved eyebrows he hardly blinked. The effect unnerved most, but Gareth was used to it.
“Do your friends in the woods need to join us?”
“If you desire, Master Gareth. I will call to them.”
Gareth shrugged off the offer. He realized in the past that this man had instructed him in history and mathematics, and was one of the most frequent visitors to Odd’s farm. The two who had followed behind Gareth on the path remained immobile a hundred steps away, watching and patiently waiting. The last of them still stood partially hidden and made no attempt to join them. “Teachers follow me everywhere. Why do they do that?”
“Your safety, as well as the safety of others, is our concern.”
“But, you are primarily concerned with my safety. Right?”
“We are teachers and followers of our god’s will. We are concerned with the welfare and safety of all.”
Doubletalk. Be specific. “Yet you only teach me. I have never heard of you teaching others.”
Silence. They stared at each other. Gareth decided to outlast him and fought his own blinking.
“Is that a question?”
“Yes,” Gareth waited while taking, at least, five slow breaths and still not blinking.
“In that case, your answer is that we teach many students, both near and far. Do you have any other questions for me this day, Master Gareth?”
“I do. You teachers come and talk to me about things that happened in the past, and the shape of the world and happenings in kingdoms I’ve never heard of. You teach me math, reading and writing, but you don’t teach Faring, or any others living in Dun Mare. My only other question is, why only me?”
“It is not my decision to determine which students are deemed worthy or necessary to teach. Nor is it my choice of what subjects you are to learn.”
That’s as good as admitting someone else is in charge of those things. “Who decides them?”
He spread his limp hands. “I do not personally know them, or their names. I simply follow my calling.”
“What if I decide not to study with you anymore?”
“Why would you even threaten such a childish thing, Gareth? You are intelligent, and usually, you ask more questions than we can answer because you are curious, and your mind is quick. It makes no sense for you to threaten to cease learning, and it may be impossible for you to do so. Therefore, I suspect this is a rhetorical question, and you will continue your studies.”
Gareth saw the double-talk for what it was and accepted it for both the truth and an evasion at the same time. No teacher had ever lied to him, as far as he knew. Lately, though, he had come to recognize some of the deft verbal maneuvers they used to avoid specific answers. Still, he might get relevant information if he asked the right questions in the right manner. Besides, the teachers were not the only ones who could shift the truth with a few words.
“My finger touched black slime under the dragon nest they call dragon spit. It hurt. What is that stuff?”
The teacher stepped forward and gently took Gareth’s hands in both of his own, examining the fingers while answering. “Some uneducated peasants believe that dragons actually spit fire, but that is not the truth. They spit a caustic substance, not unlike that of a spitting snake, or that of many other poisonous creatures. In the case of dragons, it prevents small animals from climbing the rocks and cliffs to reach their nests and vulnerable eggs during nesting season. They also use it as a weapon when they attack their enemies. Your fingers appear to have suffered no permanent harm.”
Telling the teacher his fear of dragon slime and the pain he suffered might lower the intensity of his surveillance. They’d think he wanted no part of a dragon from now on. “I’m mostly healed. But, I wouldn’t want to hurt like that again. Teacher, what would you use on yourself if a dragon spits on you?”
“I would use a very quick prayer because I am certainly going to die.”