Focusing hard on another mental image, he sent another command. Turn around again. His mental image reinforced his words. Almost instantly the dragon started another turn, forming the letter S in the sky. Soon it resumed flying on its original course.
The dragon was doing his bidding, if reluctantly. He smiled and allowed his thoughts to stray back to the subject of escaping. If he continued to touch minds with the dragon, he could explore the limits. But he felt confident that if he directed the dragon to swoop low and spit at the iron bars on the windows it would. He needed to practice and get the dragon to trust him, but the plan would work.
“Quint, do you have any more lime?”
“Well, I’ve been sort of busy, dining on fresh fruit and passing the time of day with royalty.”
“When you have some spare time I’d like to have more mortar. A lot of it. Rip a strip of your shirt and wrap the lime in it.”
“Why?”
“I don’t want to lose any when you pass it to me.”
“I mean; why do you need it now? So fast?”
Raymer smiled as he spoke, “The time for us to get out of here is not far off.”
The scraping sounds began again, a small snick, snick, snick as the sharp stone scraped mortar from between the bricks. Raymer glanced at the lump of straw covering the last apple and wondered if he should share it with Quint. He had nearly talked himself out of it when the scraping sounds ceased.
A short time later it started up again, but it sounded different, more aggressive. Even desperate. When a guard came near the sounds paused until he continued on. If Quint were moved to another cell, the entire plan would have to change. He didn’t bother mentioning it to Quint because he already knew.
Raymer half-listened as he watched the vendors, many sitting on blankets, displaying their goods in front of them. He searched the crowds for peddlers of apples. Each time he spotted one he tried to match the clothing with the feet and legs of the boy from a day earlier.
An argument broke out between a seller and a buyer, with the buyer giving his opinion of either the price or quality in a shrill shriek as others rushed to mediate the situation. A man weighing enough for two, with gold rings on every finger, as well as both ears, placed himself between them. He offered to settle the dispute for a fee, but when he had no takers, he calmly stepped back and allowed them to trade punches to the enjoyment of the crowd.
All eyes were on the fight, with several shouts of encouragement to one or the other. When it was over, both were dragged off by palace guardsmen. Raymer noticed a bundle of carrots lying at his fingertips, the thick green tops tied with a small piece of twine.
Raymer had no idea how it had arrived, or how long it had been there. He grabbed the bundle and pulled it inside. But he stayed hanging from the bars and watching for a glimpse of his benefactor. Nobody was paying any attention to the cell window. Indeed, nobody seemed to be near since none cared what happened to those held in the dungeon and the road that went by the window. None cared but one unseen benefactor, it seemed.
Raymer felt certain it had been the same boy. But why? Once may have been an accident. Twice a plan. He heard the guard returning and dropped to the floor and sat quickly, hiding the carrots behind his body.
The single thought occupying his mind was that someone was helping him. The incident with the apples could have been an accident. The carrots proved it was not.
The guard walked straight to his cell door and waited until Raymer looked up innocently.
“What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing’s wrong with me today that opening that cell door won’t cure.”
The guard was a younger one, new to the dungeons. He took his position seriously and tried to demand respect from the prisoners, but his efforts were not entirely successful. He was also more observant than most, his mind not yet dulled by the monotonous days standing guard. “You always watch me when I pass. This time, you didn’t.”
“I was thinking about escaping so intently, I didn’t hear you approach.”
Quint picked up on the conversation as if sensing something might be wrong. “Have I ever mentioned to you that my family is wealthy and will reward anyone who aids me in gaining my freedom?”
The guard stood taller than most and was thinner. His hair hung in limp curls, and his face bore the scars of many sores, but his eyes were bright and inquisitive. He turned to face Quint. Raymer slipped the carrots under his leg.
“Tis true,” Quint continued. “Enough to make a poor prison guard a rich man.”
Raymer glanced around looking for another place to hide the carrots but finding none.
The guard said, “Even rich men hang until dead when they cross our king.”
“True enough,” Quint agreed. “But there are times a man needs to risk his neck for the chance to live a good life away from these cells. Let me ask you, are you prepared to die an old man while guarding these same cells?”
The guard hesitated before turning on his heel and abruptly marching off.
Raymer spoke softly, “From his reaction you may not need my help in escaping. That guard can be bought. Reach your hand out to me.”
The string slipped off the carrot tops, and he split the bunch into three carrots for each of them. He reached out and found eager fingers to accept them.
“Carrots! I cannot remember when I last had one of these. Reach your hand out and accept my payment.”
Raymer found another small roll of cloth containing a fistful of mortar. He placed it with the first, but if he were going to use it to neutralize the dragon spit on the iron bars, there would have to be much more. Quint would also need a substantial pile for himself.
He carefully hid the carrots in the straw and took a bite of the one before the guard returned. He chewed and experienced tastes he loved.
When the guard came back into sight, he strode right to Quint’s cell. “How would a guard know he’d be paid to carry the message unless he had the coin in hand first?”
Quint burst out laughing.
“I just don’t want to be cheated,” the guard explained. “You would have to pay me first.”
Quint paused in his laughing long enough to say, “I will tell you that my family is wealthy and lives in a far off land called Northwoods. My father is an Earl, almost equal to a king. He lives in a castle on the Endless Sea. A messenger sent there by you would return with more coin than you would see in a ten lifetimes. They would send an assassin here to deliver your gold. If you betray me, you’ll lose your head faster than the King can hang you.”
The guard looked like he had swallowed a hot coal before he resumed his endless rounds.
Raymer said, “I don’t think he’s going to accept your deal.”
“Too bad for him.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Raymer looked at the single apple and the two carrots remaining. They were a feast for a prisoner. He had them concealed with a light sprinkle of the least dirty and moldy straw. If the guards discovered the food they might change his cell to one without a window, and that would end any future food deliveries.
The conversation Quint had with the young guard tugged at his mind again. “How much of what you told the guard about your family’s wealth is true?”
“Now you want me to pay a bribe to the guards for your escape, too?”
“No, just wondering how much of the story is lies.”
“Well, wonder at this, my friend. If we manage to make good, our escape you and I will have few worries about the coin.” He paused and his voice dropped to a softer, more confidential tone, “Another item for discussion is that if you should escape and I remain here or die, I have a task to request of you.”