A small man in rough clothing stopped at their table and stood in almost the same spot as the first. He removed his hat politely and waited to be recognized. Shell faced him. “Yes?”
“I believe you are new to Fleming and I’d like to offer my assistance—for a small fee.”
“You know Fleming well?” Camilla asked.
“This has been my home for more years than I care to remember. I own a small house and have set aside enough to get by, but I enjoy meeting and helping visitors.”
“The last man wanted to earn a fee, too. We have almost no money.” Camilla said.
Shell kept quiet, learning from both the small man and Camilla. She had not sent him packing, and that interested Shell.
He said, “Of course, I would appreciate you handing me a gold coin or two for my services, but I offer my help and friendship. If you allow me to help you, when it is time to leave Fleming you may leave me a small token of your appreciation, that would be nice, but if you cannot afford a coin, perhaps we’ll become friends and on your next visit you’ll search for me when you are in better circumstances.”
Camilla smiled and said, “We were thinking of moving to another of the outside terraces to watch the ships. Can you suggest one with reasonable prices, good wine, and an interesting view?”
He nodded as he smiled. “You’ve already chosen one of the best, but my personal favorite is down the street where the smaller ships unload. The wine is cheaper, of better quality, and if you request, they bring small loaves of fresh bread and jams for no extra charge.”
Camilla caught Shell’s eye. “Perhaps we should try that place. Shell, would you keep a keen watch while we relocate?”
He understood she was telling him to watch the man from the inn, who still lingered at the edge of the alley. “I will.”
Camilla stood as tall as the little man and ignored his rough shirt and baggy trousers as she took his elbow as if they were old friends. “Please show us the way, and would you be kind enough to share a glass with us?”
Her words and actions were so smooth that Shell lost track of the danger she posed for an enemy. They strolled down the street looking at businesses catering to the ships, past sailors, carpenters, sailmakers, cooks, dancers, and longshoremen. A pleasant chatter surrounded them, as they passed several other places to sip refreshments, watch, and conduct business. Nearly all provided shade from trees; canvas strung across poles or wood roofs.
“I didn’t catch your name,” Camilla said.
The man was enjoying himself. “Ah, I have carried more than a few in my lifetime, each with a story. These days I’m called Red, called so because my skin is so pale it turns in the sun.”
“Well Red, I am Camilla, and this is my older brother, Shell.”
“If I knew your business, I might help,” Red said as he pointed to several tables and allowed Camilla to select one.
She spotted one near the railing where the view would be unobstructed by others at the tables. When the waiter arrived, she asked for three glasses of their best wine, and Red requested a plate of bread with jam. Shell wondered at his insistence on the bread, but let it slide as he found a seat and adjusted the chair while watching the man from the inn take up a new position.
A thought came to him. The man watching might attempt to draw information from Red after he left them. He said, “There’s a man behind Camilla who is watching us. When you have a chance, turn and look. He’d at the corner of the building with the blue sign over the door. Tell us if you know him.”
“Why is he watching you?” Red asked without turning to look.
“We’ve never seen him before,” Camilla said. “But maybe you’ll recognize him.”
Shell said, “If he’s up to no good, he might intercept you and ask about us. I wanted to warn you.”
When the waiter returned, Red scooted his chair over to give him room to place the wine and bread on the table, and as he did, he glanced up at the road to where Shell indicated the watcher stood. His eyes only rested an instant on the man, then he reached for his wine and sipped, his attention turned back to them. “I recognize him. He’s an odd one. Not exactly a criminal, but he watches newcomers. He’s waiting for something or someone, they say.”
“Has he done that for a long time?” Camilla asked.
“About two months, maybe a little more. He eats at the inns and watches all who come and go.” Red leaned over the table and spoke softly, “Some say he’s Dragon Clan.”
Shell refused to look at Camilla at the revelation for fear his face might give him away. He said, “I thought most hate the Dragon Clan.”
Red shook his head. “Not so much, anymore. I think people are more tolerant, if not appreciative for what they do. I think secretly that most people wish to be like them.”
“What does that mean?” Camilla asked.
“Not meaning to offend you, but I’m just saying that being able to talk to dragons, and ride on their backs while flying from place to place and calling them down to fight their enemies sounds very exciting.” Red reached for one of the loaves of bread and tore it in half before biting into the steaming center.
Camilla said, “What did you mean by, what they do?”
Red paused with his chewing and sipped his wine, his eyes fixed on her. “Don’t you have stories about them where you come from?”
“Some. Tell me yours, though,” she ordered tightly.
Red spoke slowly and softly, after glancing around to be sure they were alone and no others were sitting too close and listening. “Well, they used to burn and kill as they fought against the King, they say. Now they’re more apt to help you if you’re in trouble. Then there are the stories about an invasion of Princeton from across the Endless Sea, and some say the only thing holding it off is the Dragon Clan. Now, I don’t know what, if any of this is true.”
Shell said, “I think what you said is probably true, as least from what we hear.”
Camilla settled back and relaxed. Her eyes flicked to the street. “Why do people think he’s Dragon Clan? He looks no different from us.”
Shell withheld a smile that threatened to form. He didn’t know if she intended the ‘no different from us’ comment as a joke or an accidental statement.
Red shrugged. “Can’t say. Never met him, myself. Just repeating what others say.”
“This invasion,” Shell said, “what can you tell me about it?”
“There’s a small port down south of here called Shrewsbury. They say it was supposed to take place there, last summer, or the summer before. The invaders had weapons, tents, armor, and everything else stored there, including a whole town where they got rid of the locals and were going to use as a base.”
“Red, who are ‘they’?” Shell asked.
Red jabbed his thumb at the ships and beyond. “Over there.”
Rather than being too inquisitive on the subject and raise the interest of their new friend, Shell said, “We’re staying at a house that rents rooms. Is that a good choice?”
“Blue door, up one street? Bossy woman doing the rental?”
“That’s it,” Shell confirmed.
“Better than most. She’s honest and keeps a clean house. No husband, a sailor lost in a storm, but she gets by.”
Camilla said, “Red, what do you know about ships? Our uncle is arriving on one, and I’m curious.”
“These ships here are for cargo. Funny thing about them, there used to be a lot more, and they sailed to places across the sea, but no more.”
She held her wine glass to her lips, but instead of drinking; she said, “Ever hear of a place named Breslau?”
Red’s expression changed to the same sort as if someone had stepped on his toes. It became twisted and painful. He glanced back and forth at them, then slowly pushed his chair back and stood. Without hurrying or saying goodbye, he turned and strode away.