Then Camilla turned and allowed five knives to fall at Shell’s side. “Choose one.”
“They’re not mine.” Shell made no effort to look at them or touch one.
She curled her lip, and her eyes flashed in anger. Her voice cracked, “Henry put your old boots back on or go barefoot. Shell is not intelligent enough to apply the same argument about the dead to himself, so I guess you cannot wear the boots.”
“Wait,” Shell said. “It’s not the same.”
Camilla looked at Henry and winked, so both could see it. “It’s the same thing, Shell. You have a rusted piece of old iron for a knife that won’t cut through thick fog. Stop being pigheaded and select a knife that the owner would offer if he were alive.”
His eyes fell on them. All of them were far better than the one he wore, in fact, all were better quality than he’d ever seen. The one, with the gold handle and the rubies, was not included in the five. But the others, the well made one without a spot of rust was. He selected it and turned it over, examining the odd metal, the sharpness of the blade, the feel of the balance.
She motioned for Henry also to select, and he took the fanciest of the four, one with a good blade and a handle made of horn. Camilla selected a shorter blade, thinner well made. She said, “Before we leave, we’ll go inside the cabin and find belts, scabbards, and maybe a few other things for ourselves. What we leave behind will probably be taken and sold by the locals when the word of this place gets out or burned. It is not right to waste or allow others to benefit and grow rich for our actions.”
“I agree. Most people will just try to profit by what they find here,” Shell said.
“I’m tempted just to burn it all and walk away,” Camilla said. “And I would, except for the friends and relatives of those in that gully. We owe them a chance to find out what happened to the travelers, and the authorities are who are best suited to do that.”
Henry had set his new knife to his side and was again grooming the wolf with probing fingers. He said, “Will Pudding keep watch on us tonight?”
“Pudding,” Shell reluctantly used the name for the first time, “makes circles around our camp, some larger and other small. She does that all night long between naps.”
“You can see her out there in the dark?” Henry asked.
“I know she’s out there, and sometimes I catch a glimpse of her. I also see her tracks in the morning that tell where she’s been,” Shell hastily explained.
“Good,” Henry said. “It sounded for a moment like you know where she is all the time like you have God’s eyes.”
“That would be silly,” Shell said, with an awkward glance at Camilla because of telling another lie.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
They awoke well after the sun had tinged the lower sky pink and above it turned to brilliant blue as the sun reached over the mountain peaks, but the three had remained awake and talking well into the night. Shell felt Pudding trotting well to the west before he opened his eyes, satisfied at having already eaten a ground squirrel. The wolf was returning from following the overgrown path until she reached a road. The scent of men was strong on the road, and the wolf had turned back at that point. She didn’t care for men.
Shell didn’t know how far away the road lay, but he knew Pudding might have departed before dawn, and her gait was faster than a man jogged, while never tiring, so it might be a full day’s travel away.
He’d keep that information to himself, of course. Sooner or later he and Camilla would find time to speak alone, and he’d confide those things she probably already suspected. Camilla had brought hard biscuits, nuts, and jerky with her. He shared the venison and decided to use at least a small coin from the bowl to buy food that was not made from a deer. A farmer might sell him a chicken or ham.
In the grasslands, there are no inns or stores to purchase things, and few farmers with excess food, but he’d heard of both and knew the basics. Now that they were leaving the mountains and heading for the coast, he also needed to ask directions to Fleming so he could locate Henry’s family and find him a home. The boy was a fine traveling companion, but too young for the real purpose of the trip. The primary reason to leave him behind, though, was that he was not Dragon Clan.
Later, but before leaving, Camilla handed each of them a belt and scabbard, as well as small purses, which were empty leather sacks with strings attached to tie them closed. “We will each carry a few copper coins and a small silver. We need supplies, and my bread is about gone, so no protests spending this money. We’re trying to help those dead people, and they have no more use for silver or gold.”
The belt she had selected for Henry fit after they sliced off the end, and it looked natural as if he’d worn it his whole life. The boots were also a good fit and obviously, the boy walked better with all his toes inside them instead of sticking out.
Camilla found another backpack in the cabin and used material torn from shirts to wrap the jewelry into small bundles. There were a few rings, pendants, and several chains, most of them silver, but one gold. She placed all of it into the side-pocket of the backpack she’d found.
She said, holding it up, “Henry, this one will be yours. Put your things inside. We’ll discuss the story we’re going to tell while we walk away from this evil place, but we’ll give all of this jewelry to the proper official in the next town and give him directions to find this cabin.”
She wrapped coins in smaller bundles so they wouldn’t jingle and rattle while being carried, and placed them in the bottom of her backpack, and more in Shell’s. “We’ll keep the coins and until we decide what to do about them. Since we probably can’t find the proper owners, I think we’re stuck with them, but if nothing else, a family council can hold them and put them to good use.”
Then she held up the gold-handled knife and turned it, so the rubies twinkled in the sunlight. “This is different, I decided. We keep it and when we reach a large city or town post a reward for information about the owner. It was owned by someone wealthy, probably royalty, and there will be people who will recognize it. Perhaps we can find the family of at least one of the murdered.”
Henry said, “But you don’t want us to mention that knife at the next village? Right?”
She shook her head, “While I generally try to think the best about people, I understand greed, too. That knife is the only thing here that is a direct link to a family that will recognize it. It is probably worth more than a small village. I’ll trust myself to do what is right with it until identified.”
Shell liked her attitude. She was worried first about the families who must stay awake on dark winter nights thinking about those relatives who had disappeared, never to be heard from again. If possible, Camilla would provide closure for a missing father, son, wife, or sister. Locating one was much better than none, and one might also solve the deaths of two or three if the one traveled with others.
Backpacks and bedrolls ready for travel, he took them directly to the path the wolf had told him about. All at the cabin was left for others to return and to hopefully do what is right. But he knew that a village could do little by itself. Most had a single person as a peacekeeper, a part-time farmer or storekeeper who had no experience with what they left behind. A city might do more, depending on the officials in office—or it might do nothing.
Word of the find might leak to the population, and a treasure hunt might ensue. A crooked official might seize everything and keep it for himself and his cronies. Shell decided that the wealth in his backpack could easily be stolen again if left at the cabin, but if he and Camilla retained it, their family would use it to help others, and perhaps to fight Breslau.