Tanner offered the boy a handful of food as he dug into a bag for more. He said, “There’s plenty. Just let me know.”
Devlin shoved it all into his mouth, stuffing it so full he couldn’t chew. They walked together, with Carrion leading the way. When Devlin choked and spit most of it out, Tanner just held out the bag for him to take more. He took a smaller handful, but placed it all in his mouth as if making sure nobody took it from him.
They set a fast pace, traveling up small hills and down the same. When they crossed creeks, one or two of them sometimes paused long enough to drink. They passed more farms, and then the farms were joined next to each other. Farmers waved, children played, dogs barked, and smiling people passed them on the road. Most wished them a good morning.
The farms were prosperous, the people friendly, and Tanner contrasted what he saw with Shrewsbury. There was a sickness in Shrewsbury. Illness brought on by the others. Yet, he walked beside one of the others, unless he missed his guess. It made it hard for Tanner to like or trust him.
Hopefully, they could get the boy talking. In his story might be clues for how they should proceed or weaknesses they could exploit. But the process couldn’t be rushed.
They went up a hill longer than any before. At the top was a clearing where two small groups of people spread blankets for a picnic. The view was unobstructed. The hillside fell away until it reached a small city. Smoke rose from dozens of chimneys. The buildings were spread out more than in Shrewsbury, the only other large town, or city Tanner had ever seen.
Between many of the buildings were gardens, flower, and vegetable. Trees lined the streets. A square occupied the center, with colorful tents and stalls. Hundreds of people either sold their produce or products. At least that many strolled the offerings and purchased what they needed. Musicians played.
Beyond the buildings was a finger of a bay fed by a river. A stone wall was at the mouth, protecting the boats inside. A fleet of fishing boats, was grouped on one set of docks while much larger ones were for loading and unloading ships. Warehouses lined the shore near the piers. Three ships were tied at the piers, and two more were anchored in deeper water.
Tanner expected to rest with the people sharing the grass and watch the city, but Carrion motioned for them to move on. Tanner noticed the reaction Devlin had with them. If not fear, it was apprehension. He had been almost relaxed until he spotted them.
They moved down the road, but when they were still well above the highest rooftops, Carrion pointed to a place beside the road that couldn’t be called a clearing. They pushed aside a few branches and stepped on a few weeds to make a place to rest.
Carrion said, “Where did you live? I mean what part of town?”
“Over there, mostly.” He pointed to a section of rooftops.
“Why there? I’d think down by the market would be better. Easier to steal food.” Carrion said.
After a hesitation, Devlin said, “No. There is more food in the market, but also, more people watching it, and watching for people like me.”
Tanner said, “Are there many like you?”
“Yes. There’s many homeless.”
That was not the answer to the question Tanner intended. He wanted to know about those with tattoos on their arms but didn’t want to bring unnecessary attention to his interest. He said, “It sounds like the residents don’t like the poor.”
“Townies have their own rules.”
“That’s what you call them?” Carrion asked.
“Yes. Because they belong to the town, I guess.”
Carrion’s eyes drifted away from Devlin and looked out over the rooftops as if distracted, but Tanner saw the interest. He waited for the next question, knowing what Carrion would ask before the words came.
“What do they call you?”
“Beggars. Thieves. Other stuff.”
“What stuff?”
“Anterrians. Foreigners. Sometimes Crabs or filth.”
Tanner fought to keep his reactions to himself. But now the others had a name, and maybe a place where they came from. Anterrians. They would come from Anterria. He glanced at Carrion, who returned a very slight nod of his chin.
Carrion then said, “Foreigners. Like you come from another land?”
“If we have the dragons on our arms we’re Crabs.” Devlin made the statement as calm as if repeating what everyone knew.
“Couldn’t you find work? Maybe on a fishing boat?” Tanner asked.
Devlin held out his arms, displaying the dragons. “With these? Nobody will hire me. They’ll sic dogs on me, or throw rocks at me, but who would dare hire me?”
“You said, ‘dare.' Why that word?” Carrion asked.
Devlin paused again as if he was used to thinking about his answers before speaking. “There are stories about people like me hurting townies. Nobody wants to be around us.”
“There’s others in town with tattoos on your arms?” Tanner asked.
“A few,” his eyes shifted as if he wanted to escape the conversation.
Carrion stepped in and said, “We’re going down there, and I have enough coin for all of us. First thing, we’ll buy you some better clothing. Pants long enough to reach your feet and a shirt with sleeves long enough to cover those tattoos. Where can we buy them?”
“There're people that sell clothes in the market square, but they won’t let me go there.”
“Why not?” Carrion asked.
“They caught me stealing too many times.”
Tanner had heard about enough. He snapped, “Stealing what? Loaves of bread?”
The boy hung his head as if that was a major crime. Carrion said, “You’ll be with us. I don’t think anyone is going to object to you being there. Not if they want to survive to the end of today.”
Carrion was angry, showing his red cheeks, but more than that, his anger had alerted the red dragon. It flew close enough for Tanner to sense it, and at almost the same time Carrion glanced up. The dragon was still out of sight, but drawn by the possibility of danger to its bonded partner.
Carrion closed his eyes to check on the dragon while Tanner said to Devlin, “I think it’s about time we went down there and visit that market. You’ll trust us to manage any trouble, won’t you?”
A hesitant nod was the answer. Carrion’s eyes blinked and returned to normal. He said, “A visit by a red dragon might straighten out some of those people.”
“Or scare them and make them hate anyone associated with dragons.”
Devlin crossed his arms and held his hands over the tattoos, believing they were talking about him. Before long they were strolling down the road, ignoring any negative looks cast in Devlin’s direction.
“Know of a decent pub or inn?” Carrion asked, then shrugged. “Probably not, but I intend to find one.”
“You sound upset,” Tanner said, feeling much the same and wondering if for the same reasons. He wanted to fight for Devlin.
They continued walking, acknowledging the few greetings from the people they passed. Carrion finally said, “They seem so friendly, but then they treat people like Devlin completely without shame or consideration.”
“Maybe they have a reason,” Devlin said, his voice so low that hearing his was like listening to the buzz of a certain bumblebee in a field of clover.
Neither responded. They entered the edge of town and passed modest homes and small businesses. Carrion pointed at an intersection, and they turned. People thronged the street. Horses, mules, dogs, children, and adults moved along the street, so many they bumped and touched each other.
Devlin pushed Carrion roughly with both hands, sending him stumbling to the side of a building. Two or three people paused to observe. Carrion crouched with his knife in hand, ready to cut Devlin, who backed several steps.