“Catch the eye of a girl with a red apron to get something to drink. Don’t get the cheap ale or you’ll regret it, that is if you can even drink it. I think it’s the leftover dishwater. Bread, butter and preserves in that cupboard over there,” he motioned with a flick of his eyes.
Gray held out his hand to shake. “Thank you, sir.”
“Please, my days of being addressed as sir are long gone. You may call me Bear.”
“Bear? Do you mind if I ask why?”
“Go grab yourself a hunk of bread to sop up your stew. My old stories can wait.”
Gray found the bread, three different kinds of loaves. He tore off some of the dark, and one held the distinct aroma of rye. He tore off some of that, too. A wooden spatula was sitting in the tub of butter. He applied a generous portion but skipped either of the two jars of preserves.
Bear nodded his approval at Gray’s selection. “Can always tell a good man by the bread he eats and what he puts on it.”
“Then you would not think me so good if you looked at my selections later. I intend to try the preserves and a lot of it.”
“See? You’re smart enough to take care of business in the proper order, and you have the self-restraint to forego what you like for what needs to be done. You do nothing further, impresses me.”
“My name is Gray. I think we’re going to become friends.” With that, he turned his attention to eating. The stew was good, better than he expected. A few unfamiliar spices were quickly becoming his favorites. The meat was unknown, but cut into small pieces, probably to go further and to prevent selfish diners from taking it all.
Bear retreated to his mug of dark wine, giving Gray some privacy and time to think. When he finished eating he turned to Bear, and said, “As a newcomer to this city, is there anything else you believe I should know?”
The old man slowly turned and said, “I think you’ll soon figure it out if there is anything. However, as you are now my best new friend in Fleming, please feel free to ask me anything.”
On impulse, Gray asked, “Do you enjoy after-meal walks?”
“I do indeed. If you’re inviting me, I accept.” Bear was already standing. “Do you have a destination in mind?”
“I’d like to go down to Front Street and watch some of the ships loading and unloading. I’ve never seen the sea.”
“One of my favorite pastimes. Is there a particular ship you’re interested in?”
There was one, but Gray didn’t dare mention the name. Lady Marion. It was the ship that Fleet had found that traveled between Fleming, Shrewsbury, the Marlstone Islands, and Breslau. He didn’t dare say the name because it told anyone listening exactly what he was interested in, and the word would spread as it always does. His enemies would appear.
He shook his head in answer to the question. “There seems to be so much going on at the docks I thought I’d watch for a while until I’m to meet my family contact.”
The answer was true enough. If he listened closely he would hear of ships departing and others due, if the Lady Marion was not in port, which he assumed it was not. From her schedule, she was probably docked in Fleming less than once a lunar.
Bear grunted, “Watching the port seems to be the business of everyone in the city, one way or another. If they’re not shipping, they’re receiving goods, or traveling to far off ports. Some provide rope, canvas for sails, fruits, meats, clothing, wine, and weapons. Not a lot of business in Fleming but for the ships, which was why I thought you might have more than a casual interest.”
That was a long speech that lasted from the table inside the inn until they were well down the street. The statement had almost said that Gray was in Fleming to do business with a ship. Almost, but not quite calling him a liar. He decided to speak less and listen more, as Tessa had told him.
The two people he had met today had both made stunning insights based on scant information. Gray knew that with one more slip, he may as well head back across the drylands and go home. These people already knew too much.
When Gray didn’t respond, Bear pointed where they should turn at the corner, and Bear continued, “Those providing goods and services include me. A while ago you asked why I’m called Bear. I don’t tell most people, but I like you.”
Gray looked at him with interest. A secret no matter how small is a confidence usually shared only with friends.
“Don’t spread it around, but the Bear in The Red Bear Inn is me.” Then he laughed.
“You own it? But you said the cheap ale is swill.”
“Allow me to correct you, Gray. I believe I said it is dishwater, not swill.”
“You eat there?”
“It’s my home. I have a small apartment in the rear. Eating there ensures the quality of the food is better than at other inns, and the drink, with the exception of the poor ale, is of better quality. We do charge a bit more, but I think it’s worth it.”
Gray considered telling him about the fat woman at the door who cheats customers. Then he decided to keep quiet. What if she was his wife? And if he didn’t know of her sticky fingers, that was Bear’s fault because she did little to hide her actions.
And if she spotted something that might be profitable, he had no doubt her lips were to Bear’s ears. A woman like that probably made him a wealthy man. She could see who was buying and selling from whom, who deferred to another, what card player cheated, and she probably overheard deals for cargo being bought and sold daily.
She was probably the most valuable employee Bear had, and Gray felt sure he knew it. The very shape of the room allowed her to be near almost every table since she sat in an alcove looking asleep most of the time, who would not spill their secrets with that room?
They turned at Front Street, the street that wound along the waterfront. At one side of the street were docks, piers, and gravel places for storage of items to be shipped, or recently unloaded. The other side of the street was lined with businesses, the buildings touching one another in efforts to cram more along the street.
There were ships chandlers dealing with all the various items a sailing ship requires or wanted. Canvas, ropes, anchor chain, spars, masts, planking, and even sailors seeking berths were available. Other stores sold clothing, meat, pastries, weapons, and fresh vegetables. Sailors always want fresh fruits and vegetables; he’d heard. And milk. They love milk after a voyage, almost as much as rum.
Along the wharf-side of the street were several patios, complete with chairs and small tables. For the price of a mug of wine or rum or a small meal, patrons could sit under the shade of the overhanging roof and watch the ships. Cargoes were often sold or purchased there. Others watched for opportunities to make money.
Learning early that a ship due to arrive with a load of grain might make the cost per pound go down, so selling any grain in stock while the price remained high was only good business.
Bear nodded to a vacant table. “Care to refresh ourselves while we watch?”
Gray said, “Only if you allow me to pay for a mug containing something better than dishwater.”
Bear navigated through a crowd where all seemed to know his name. Most greeted him warmly, but a few smiles evaporated as he passed the men. Only a few women were there, but at dockside, with the shouting, cursing, and occasional fighting, most women chose to be elsewhere.
Gray allowed Bear to order for both of them, but he reached for a large copper to surrender, or he suspected Bear would manage to pay. He let his eyes roam the ships. Each had a name on the bow, but none displayed ‘Lady Marion’. He checked the cargos, looking for the green dragon stamp Tessa had seen.
“Looking for something? I might be able to help.”