“Why are you following us?” Shell asked in a soft voice he hoped sounded as menacing as he intended.
“I’m not.”
Shell felt his hand holding the knife, begin shaking. He had never fought with a knife. But he controlled his voice and lied, “Look at my knife. It was awarded to me for combat. I can probably slice you open before you can say your name, which is my next question. Who are you?”
Fear filled the watcher’s eyes. He saw the quality of the knife, but Shell said nothing else and kept his face passive. Sometimes silence is scarier than words. Shell took a single step forward while raising his knife a few inches higher. “On the ground.”
“I don’t have anything to steal.”
The voice quavered, and Shell knew he held the upper hand in the confrontation, at least for now. He inched closer, praying to the Six Gods of the Mountains that nobody entered the alley and that the watcher did as told. “Down. Now.”
When the watcher didn’t obey, Shell kicked the side of his knee. The watcher collapsed, and Shell rolled him over and placed his knee on the small of the man’s back as he reached for the waistband and pulled the shirt free. He pretended to search for a purse, but in reality, he wanted the shirt hiked high enough where he could see a dragon birthmark—if one existed.
It did.
Shell stood, glanced around to make sure they were still alone, and lifted the back of his shirt quickly. “Sorry, I don’t have time for a formal greeting to another of the Dragon Clan.”
“I thought so.”
Shell helped him stand. “You knew?”
“Is that Camilla you’re with? Everyone knows of her and what she looks like.”
The mark on the back had told him part of the story, but the question about Camilla and the eagerness with which it had been asked, told Shell all he needed for the moment. “It is Camilla. And you are?”
“River. Raymer is my brother.”
Shell pointed to the street and said, “So you’re from the Raging Mountains Family? Hold on to whatever you’re going to say until we meet with Camilla and then you won’t have to repeat it twice.”
They walked out of the alley and across the street together. River said, “Don’t look to your left until we reach the door. When you open it, glance over there and find a man sitting in a chair watching us. I think he’s a Breslau spy and he is also watching you. I’ve been watching him.”
“And who is watching you?” Shell asked, his tone sharper than intended, but things seemed to be spiraling out of his control.
River said as if he’d missed the anger behind the question, “Nobody. I’ve been careful.”
“Not that careful. Our guest at lunch spotted you right away.” Shell opened the door and glanced at a man sitting in a wooden chair, his gaze fixed somewhere else; his face half-turned away as if he had no interest in him. But a normal person sitting ten steps away would look at a person arriving, and perhaps a nod or say something in greeting. The looking away told more than anything else could. He was trying to conceal himself.
Safely inside, Shell pointed to the stairs and nodded a brief hello to the woman who rented the rooms. Her raised eyebrows said she would keep track of who and how many slept in their rooms, but she said nothing as she went back to her knitting.
River went up first, but said over his shoulder, “You mean Red? I paid him to offer his help to you and ask questions.”
That explained a lot. Not why Red had run at the mention of Breslau, but everything else about the meeting with Red had been too convenient, too easy. At the top of the stairs, Shell stepped in front of him and knocked softly on Camilla’s door.
She opened it and waited, her eyes passing over River and coming to rest on Shell.
He said, “This is River, a relative of ours. His family lives in the Raging Mountains and his brother is Raymer.”
Camilla’s eyes came alive. “You resemble him, all but his attitude I hope.”
“Raymer can be hard to take, but what can I say? He’s my brother.”
Shell motioned to the unseen woman who no doubt listened to every word at the bottom of the stairs while she knitted. “It’s almost time for dinner, why don’t we try another inn and talk over dinner?”
River said, “Good idea, I know a small inn where there’s good food and privacy.”
As they departed the rooming house, Shell again told the old woman goodbye, and as he spoke, he realized that with her watching her rooms as she did, nobody was going to get to the top floor without her knowing. He spun and said, “I haven’t seen anyone else in the other two rooms upstairs. Have they been rented for the next few days?”
She looked up from the almost completed stocking. “Nobody has rented them. Did you want to pay for your relative to stay here?”
River started to shake his head, but Camilla touched his arm and drew his attention as Shell said, “Yes, that’s a great idea. And we may have another relative meeting us here, too, so why don’t I pay for all four rooms and if he does not arrive, I will still have to pay for you holding the room.”
The prospect of renting all her rooms had a wide smile on her face and she almost a giggled. She said, “Half price for the last room if he does not arrive, fair?”
“Fair. Just adjust what I have already paid and if I owe more let me know. Do you by chance sell those stockings you knit?”
“When I can find buyers.”
Shell picked up a completed one and examined the wool and workmanship as if he knew one from another. He said, “I think you have found a buyer. How many pairs do you have completed?”
“Six, but I work fast,” the expression she wore told Shell he could ask for her to repaint the walls of his room and the job would be complete when they returned. If anything, out of the ordinary happened, such as the spy in the chair next door asking questions about her, she would report it to Shell, and he felt confident she wouldn’t reveal anything of him or Camilla. For the cost of a few socks, he’d gained a loyal watchdog.
The suspected Breslau spy was gone when they walked outside, his chair empty. As the three walked down the street, River said, “I already have a place to stay.”
Camilla said, “You have a lot to learn. Shell just made us a friend. That old woman had four empty rooms and nobody to buy her stockings. She might not even have enough coin to eat, but Shell has managed to pay her for things we don’t need, but, what information is she going to share with strangers about us? I’ll tell you. None. Very nicely done, Shell.”
Shell shrugged and said to River, “Besides, her rooms are probably nicer than yours and more secure. After we talk at dinner, I suspect you may need to be closer to us. And I’d think from the way you spoke earlier, you’d want to be closer to Camilla.”
Both turned to face him, one on either side, Camilla in puzzlement, and River in embarrassment. She glanced at him and said, “Not another one.”
Shell laughed, and before long both the others did, too. River guided them higher on the hillside, away from the ships and activity, to a third street parallel to the piers, a residential street for the most part, but a few shops were located there. The shops served the locals instead of the ships. A sign hung over a door with a crude elk carved on it. No paint, no words, just an elk.
River opened the door and entered, leaving Shell and Camilla to fend for themselves. A fat woman wrapped him in her arms and swung him around before looking at the newcomers. “Who do we have here?”
“Distant relatives I ran into. Friends of my brother.”
“Well, do they have names and want to eat the best food in Fleming?”