Gareth spun and ran back to the main door, intent on locating Faring. Why hadn’t he heard the tannery was closed? Was Odd’s farm so isolated that important news never reached it? Or were the teachers that had been there daily keeping that information from him? Teachers had been at the farm lecturing him, and nearly every day there had been other lessons, yet none mentioned the tannery closing. As he pushed through the door to leave, he noticed a teacher standing motionless only a few steps away, near the edge of the trees. It was a familiar teacher who seemed to hold a certain amount of affection for him, if such a thing was possible. He didn’t even bother searching for the second one he knew would be close. “Teacher, what’s going on, here?”
“You can see for yourself this tannery has ceased operation.”
“But how are Faring and his Da going to earn a living?”
“That question is not within my realm of knowledge. Nevertheless, the tannery has finished operating. The people who once worked here will move on and find employment in other places, I am sure.”
“Where’s Faring?”
The teacher shifted positions and slipped each hand into the opposite sleeve as if delaying answering. “Our duties do not include knowing the whereabouts of others.”
Not lying, but not telling the truth, either. The whispers called teachers “the Brotherhood” as if that meant something relevant and ominous, but his mental image of them remained one of a teacher. Mentioning the name “Brotherhood” might tell them he was gaining information from another source. For the last few nights, the whispers had become louder, more insistent, the words they hissed almost understandable. Without hesitation, Gareth turned and marched up the hill in the direction of Faring’s house at the far edge of Dun Mare.
“I have the answer to a question you asked several days ago,” the teacher said as he matched Gareth’s fast stride.
It was unusual for a teacher to walk that fast, and even more unusual that he seemed to be alone. Gareth glanced to either side and into the surrounding forest. He didn’t find another, but didn’t mention it. “An answer to what?”
“Paying money for not placing yourself in danger is not a reasonable request. Therefore, it has been rejected.”
Gareth’s concern for his friend still foremost in his mind paused near the top of the hill and faced the teacher, his anger growing as the situation of the tannery resolved itself. “Then, there is nothing that prevents me from returning to the nest and stealing an egg, is there?”
“Of course, there is,” the teacher replied calmly without panting from the climb, as Gareth did. “Your sense of self-preservation and common sense will keep you safe. The earlier venture to the nesting site was simply a youthful learning experience. Now that you understand the hazards of such excursions we believe you will never venture that close to a dragon nest again.”
“I see what you mean,” Gareth said, controlling the tone of his voice to avoid sounding angry or distrustful. Agreeing with the teachers did not mean he had to obey.
That simple but revolutionary idea instantly transformed his way of thinking. He concealed a wry grin.
Gareth started walking again, neither leaving the teacher nor inviting him along. The teacher remained at his side, matching strides. Gareth panted, “I’m going to see Faring to offer my condolences about the tannery closing. Any objection?”
“On the contrary. We would expect no less of a gentleman.”
We. Gentleman. The teachers often referred to him as a gentleman and themselves in the plural. Usually, they deferred to him as they would any person of high position, or at least in the way it was described in the history lessons. Yet, he was a penniless orphan who plowed the earth behind an ox and split firewood for a meager living.
Instead of taking the longer and well-used road to Dun Mare, Gareth cut across a mire and quickly stepped through the damper sinks, ignoring the wetting his boots received. The air above the swamp buzzed with the whines of hungry mosquitoes, gnats, and swarms of tiny, biting, no-see-ums, an insect far more offensive than most because they bit before you knew they were there. Gareth ignored the variety of insects landing on his bare skin and walked faster. The shortcut brought him to a series of low, tree covered hills thick with tangled underbrush, and finally to a small hill at the rear of the house where Faring and his Da lived.
The teacher still matched his rapid pace without displaying any signs of exertion. Somehow that made Gareth angry, but he said nothing and fought to control his breathing.
Gareth hadn’t visited Faring’s tiny cabin in a long while because Faring’s Da frowned on his lowly status as an orphan and silently discouraged all his visits. A vegetable garden surrounded the old cabin, used to plant different kinds of beans, berries, red and white turnips, carrots, and several other fruits and vegetables.
Faring’s Ma had left the two of them long ago, dancing to the tune of a minstrel with a soft voice and pleasing smile. Faring’s chores included many his Ma used to do; planting, weeding, and caring for the garden, as well as preparing most meals. His duties at the tannery prevented him from spending much time in the garden. Usually, it was more of a patch of wild growth than the well-tended garden it appeared to be today.
Barefoot, Faring knelt between rows of corn, furiously digging weeds from furrows with a hand-shovel stabbing the rocky ground and throwing each weed at least twice as far as necessary. The corn stalks stood head-high, with tassels turned brown and ears almost ready to harvest. One glance at the freshly overturned dirt between the plants and the pile of wilting weeds in the rows told of the hours spent working the garden over the last days.
As Gareth approached, Faring spotting him and slowly stood, hands on hips. His eyes flicking from the teacher to Gareth, and back again. He threw a fistful of weeds to the other side of the corn as if in frustration, not caring where they landed. “Go away. I got lots of work to do.”
“Never saw your garden look this good,” Gareth said.
Faring kicked at the dirt with a bare toe. “Never had the time to care for it properly. Since the tannery closed, we got nothing but free time, so I work it all day while Da lifts mugs of ale at the inn.” Faring’s thumb jabbed in the teacher’s direction. “Why’s he here with you?”
“He’s a teacher.”
“I know who and what he is. I asked why’s he with you.”
Gareth turned and faced the smooth-faced man in the green robe. “Perhaps you’d like to answer Faring?”
The teacher turned and faced Faring. “My mission today, as always, is to educate Gareth. If he does not remain on farmer Odd’s farm where we can do our lessons, I must travel with him to pass along any meager lessons that I may provide.”
Faring said to Gareth, “My Da thinks we might have to move down-valley near Queensgate. There’s another tannery there, and maybe he can combine operations with the owner. Or maybe Da can get work there for himself. He intends to sell me for a hired hand to anyone with enough coin, for at least a year. Maybe after that, maybe we can live close enough to be friends again.”
Sell? Faring? Gareth said, “What do you mean, he needs to sell you?”
Faring hung his head. “I have few skills so I won’t bring much, but Da needs every coin he can raise to work out a deal, at least the ones left over after paying for his ale.”
The teacher slowly turned, and he examined the tiny cabin. His eyes lingered on the state of disrepair of the roof, shifted to the rocky, infertile ground the cabin sat upon, and the teacher unexpectedly spoke up, “Learning a skill for a year might not be the worst thing for you, master Faring.”