The column of numbers went to the very last line on the sheet of paper. Edward slid it aside with his index finger and saw more numbers continued to the next and next. “What is all this?”
Tomas tried to look embarrassed. “Men, horses, tents, wagons, food, and supplies as you instructed. You also asked me to determine what else you might need and have it ready for travel today. I did not have time to dicker the prices but did the best I could with such short notice. You did tell me to do what was needed for an extended trip, did you not?”
“I-I guess I did.”
“Edward, if there has been a misunderstanding, I apologize. I was doing my best to please you.” He shuffled the papers to the one on the bottom and examined the figure totaled as if seeing it for the first time. He looked up into the eyes of Edward, “This is indeed a lot of money, but your father can afford it. Still, you should present him with a number that is a bargain, don’t you agree?”
“Yes, that is more gold than I have ever signed for.”
Tomas dipped the pen in ink and drew a single line through the number at the bottom of the page. It was five digits long, 17,387. Tomas winked at Edward and wrote 16,999. “There, that should look much better to your father, and I will still have enough coin to pay the expenses. It means that I will forfeit part of my salary, but I’m sure you will remember what a good businessman I am when you are Earl.”
Edward breathed a sigh of relief and reached his hand to take Tomas’. “When will we be ready to depart?”
“Well, you should have already left by now, but those four trunks you sent to us a short while ago set us back a little. I had to procure another two-wheel wagon and driver, but I assure you there will be no extra charge. I should have anticipated that in the beginning, and therefore, I will bear the brunt of the additional cost.”
“What would I do without you, Tomas?”
“I’m sure you would have gotten along fine,” Tomas smiled.
CHAPTER NINE
Camilla knew that if the boys from the academy watched the Craftsman from the cover of the trees beside the King’s Road, and saw her emerge from behind the bushes, she was in trouble. That meant she waited, too. Until dark, at least. Her bright green shirt would stand out against the browns and tans of the mountain, even the yellow shirt of the boy could be seen from a distance.
A loose stone or sniffle would give her away because the boy had paused to rest so near to her hiding place. Camilla sat still and waited. As the sun sank lower, the boy stood and walked nervously down the path, then quickly retreated. When he moved down the path again, Camilla watched in fascination and used the time to pee, a need she’d denied for some time. Squatting, she realized the boy was trying to draw them out. Show where they hid. He advanced and retreated again. He’d already proven he could outrun them. Now he went directly to where they had last been, probably assured that he could outrun them again.
The closer to the road the boy went, the more attention Camilla paid. If she saw a flash of tan uniform would she shout a warning and also place herself in danger? Normally, she would. Today her leg hurt and she couldn’t draw a deep breath, so running wasn’t the option she would use. Her best course would be to stay quiet and out of sight. But I can’t do that.
The craftsman ventured further down the path, nearing the edge of the trees where the path intersected with the road. Suddenly he spun to his right and darted along a small path parallel to the road. He lengthened his stride. Any boys waiting in ambush would have to run on the road to stay up with him, or lose him. Camilla stood for a better view and saw no movement, other than the single runner.
True, they may have taken up positions further up the road, but were they smart enough to anticipate the unexpected action of the craftsman? She didn’t think so and grinned as she stood. She hobbled down the path. The staff helped her limp. She leaned on it to rest her leg, but her arm and hand grew tired from the unaccustomed weight. She continued, the rolled blanket swinging by the rope and slapping against her hip.
As usual, she was hungry. A glance at the sun told her if she didn’t hurry she may as well have stayed in her cave for the night. She tried switching hands with the staff but couldn’t get the right rhythm to help her walk. Finally, she tried using both hands to hold the heavy staff and limp ahead faster. It worked well, especially going downhill and taking a long step with her right foot supported by the pole, followed by a shorter one for her left.
Her goal became reaching the King’s Road. Not where it joined the path, but further along where the craftsman went. She wanted to take no chances of meeting up with the others. After leaving the main path, she followed the footsteps of the other boy, clearly visible in the dry dust coating the surface of the hard packed ground. Trees and dense underbrush grew a dozen steps to her left, where the road followed the path of the river and the plants drew moisture from the damp ground. To her right stood the barren slopes of Copper Mountain, dry, brown, and desolate.
The leg that darted out from behind a green stand of brambles was unseen until it tripped her. Camilla fell forward, managing to reach out with her hands in time to keep her face from plowing into the hard ground. Immediately her head was yanked back by a hand tangled in her hair while a knee dropped in the middle of her back. She reached for the little knife at her hip, determined to drive it into one of the military boys at the first opportunity.
An angry voice in her ear snarled, “Why are you following me?”
Camilla couldn’t see her attacker, but if it was one of other boys they would have already kicked or hit her, not asked a question. It was the craftsman boy. She slipped the knife back into the scabbard while berating herself. She should have understood that both of them were watching out for surprise attacks. One glance behind probably told the craftsman he was followed, and he set his trap.
Camilla cleared her throat and said, “I saw the boys in brown uniforms chasing after you.”
“So?”
“Yesterday the same ones beat me.”
“They asked me about you. They wanted to know where you hide or live.”
Camilla simply grunted at the information, as if considering the implications.
“What’s that mean?” the boy asked, still kneeling on her back and holding a fistful of Camilla’s hair.
Mean? It means I should have chopped my hair shorter so you can’t hold it. “Just that I’ll have to find another place to sleep when I get back. Another home.”
He relaxed his grip and paused, “I didn’t tell them anything. I don’t even know where you live. You said you’re going to get back? From where?”
It seemed easier, to tell the truth. Camilla didn’t hesitate or consider a lie. “There’s a herdsman up the valley named Arum. He might need me to help him move his goats.”
Brix released the hair and stood. “What about the sheep?”
“Sheep, too.”
“Can you stand?”