“So you guard people?”
“I used to. Now I work for myself.”
Gray walked on without speaking until he managed another careful glance at Prater’s face. He was, at least, ten years older than he’d first thought. Prater also admitted to being a trained fighter with the king’s army, and he had worked as a personal guard, yet Gray, who had not practiced with his staff diligently for years, had easily defeated him. Or had he only demonstrated his abilities to a stranger looking for Dragon Clan?
Prater had asked several direct questions about the staff, but in his profession, he should have already known the answers. Gray realized his new friend was milking him for information while providing little of his own. Prater may not know a cabbage from a staff.
The mission the family sent him on didn’t include making friends of strangers wearing swords. Gray decided he’d already unwittingly revealed too much information and Prater might take advantage of it. He needed to separate himself from Prater and concentrate on what he came to do.
They walked up the shallow slope of a long hill and upon reaching the top, paused. The city and port of Fleming lay ahead. The excuse to separate soon seemed obvious. Gray planned his goodbyes and picked up the pace.
CHAPTER FIVE
The city spread around the bay, an expanse of tan and gray buildings made of unpainted wood as if the residents were not sure if they’d remain or move on. The entire city was built on the slope of the hillside, half the streets running parallel to the waterline, and others intersecting at angles, but always sloping downward. At the edge of the water were docks, piers, and ships of every size and shape. Most carried cargo, much of which was actively being unloaded, or loaded.
A pall of smoke from a few hundred chimneys hung over the city. The streets were cobblestone. People stood, milled, gathered, or walked. In a single glance, Gray saw far more people than he’d ever seen in his entire lifetime. He suddenly felt small. Scared.
He felt Prater’s eyes appraising him again, gathering more information. On impulse, Gray said, “Not as large as I pictured.”
The comment seemed to confuse Prater, as he had to again reevaluate Gray. That pleased Gray, but he decided not to push for more reaction. It would be too easy to make a slip on the most obvious detail and raise Prater’s interest again.
Prater said, “Have you enough coin to conduct your business? Fleming is not for those without copper or silver.”
“If you’re offering to help me with a loan, I do appreciate your generosity. However, while not wealthy, my family has provided me with ample funds.” He tried to say it as if that was the norm, and that he’d made many similar trips. At the same time, he tried to ignore the noise, smells, people, dogs, pigs and excitement that filled the air. A cow watched him as he passed, its eyes on him even when he turned to look back.
The road descended into an area of taller buildings and fewer animals. Gray found the intersection Tessa described. He paused, shook hands with Prater and made vague plans to have a meal together the following day, a meeting Gray intended to avoid. Gray turned left, keeping an eye out for the sign with the Red Bear above the door.
Two blocks later he found it. Inside the door, in a tiny alcove sat an enormous woman. She dwarfed the small table before her. She barely raised her eyes from the papers in front of her. “A meal or drink?”
“A room if you have one.”
“We do indeed. Three small coppers a day includes your food, not your drink.”
“I require privacy.”
“A room for yourself, eh? That’ll cost you five if you don’t mind.”
Fingering his coins, he said, “I want it to face the street.”
“Most want to sleep instead of listening to drunks and fights all night long. Make that four coppers and we have a deal.”
Gray pulled a small silver and said in a knowing voice that he hoped concealed the knowledge she would certainly cheat him, “Some of my family has stayed here before. They told me that if I give you this to hold, you will accrue my expenses and upon my leaving, provide a fair accounting.”
Her eyes lighted up as the coin disappeared into the top of her blouse. “How long will you be with us, good sir?”
“Three, maybe four days. Can you direct me to my room? I have business to attend this day.” The expense of the small silver coin was intended to allow him more freedom and fewer opportunities to make the sort of small mistakes that would point him out as a stranger visiting a city for the first time.
She indicated a door beyond the common room where several people were eating their mid-day meals. His stomach churned. The food smelled inviting of unknown spices and freshly baked bread.
She waved a hand for him to proceed to the door while she continued to sit and guard the front door. “Top of the stairs, second room.”
“Thank you. The food smells so good I’ll eat before I leave.” He walked away feeling stiff, alone, and as if he stood out in every way. Each person who cast a glance in his directions must certainly realize he was Dragon Clan.
Once he climbed the stairs, he calmed himself and tried to slow his breathing. The second door opened a fingerbreadth, and he poked a nose inside to ensure it was empty. Then, throwing the door fully open, he entered.
A bed occupied the wall to the right. A small chest of drawers the left wall, and an open window on the wall directly in front of him. A single battered chair sat before it. He closed the door and placed his belongings on the chest, moving the candleholder aside while leaning his staff in the corner where he could reach it from the bed at night.
The coins were next. He’d been warned. Any two men in the city with a knife between them might cut his throat, knock him over the head, or pick his purse. The hiding places in the room were few, obvious, and the first any thief would search.
Sticking his head out the window revealed the roof below the sill was made of overlapping cedar shingles. Time had warped and twisted them. Below, on the street, a hundred people went about their business as he rested his elbows on the window ledge. His hand slipped a gold coin under a shingle and made sure it fit the spot tightly.
That accounted for one. The plaster walls had several cracks, a few rather large. One near his bed rose from the floor and continued halfway to the low ceiling. He slipped two gold coins inside the crack, standing them on end, and scratched above the crack with his fingernail to free enough plaster dust to cover the coins. He spat in his hand and used it to wet the dust, then packed it in the bottom of the crack. When done, the coins were hidden.
He then pulled a drawer from the chest and turned it upside down. Lighting the candle, he waited for the wax to melt and then placed one large and three small copper coins on the underside of the drawer. He let the melted wax cover the coins until they were securely stuck to the bottom. He turned the drawer back over and inserted it into in the slot. He placed his supply of dried food in the drawer.
Any thief with experience would check the undersides of the drawers as soon as they finished searching backpacks and the bed. Finding the coins would satisfy them they had located his stash. They would look no more, thinking they had it all.
He headed down the stairs. A pot of stew hung simmering from a hook over a low fire. Three piles of wooden bowls were sitting beside it, and a small box held a variety of carved spoons. He filled a bowl with a ladle and selected a spoon. He spotted an unoccupied table and sat.
An older man at the next table leaned close and said, “New here?”
“Umm, yes.”