Dragon Clan #1: Camilla's Story

CHAPTER TWO

The sheriff of Charleston adjusted his velvet robes and settled into the ornate chair he used the first of every ten-day. The other chairs were worn and creaked with age. He tried to keep to the same schedule the peasants observed. One day for each of his ten fingers. This, the first day, was for planning the next nine.

As he raised his eyes to scan those of the other six seated men, he ignored the worthless aides and peasant villagers standing against the wall. Choosing who sat and who stood at the wall demonstrated his power, almost as powerful as that of royalty, just on a smaller scale. The massive ceiling beams had blackened with soot from candles over the years and hung low enough so that a tall man such as the sheriff had to duck. The walls wore a new coat of whitewash, and the floors retained the natural granite color they had since the day they were laid, more than four hundred years ago. Only three small, high windows allowed shafts of sunlight to stream in. Sounds echoed and bounced off the hard surfaces, making them officious and hollow sounding, somehow pleasing to his ear.

He spoke casually and softly, as was his sly and crafty manner. Talking soft and pleasant while meaning the opposite allowed him to amuse himself with his subordinates. “What do you have to report this day?” His gaze slowly fell on Tomas, his longtime, right-hand man. Tomas handled the mundane details.

The sheriff was pleased to notice that even after all these years, Tomas still flinched at his voice. “Sir, the border feud continues to escalate between Fox Lair and Cedar Crest. I suggest dispatching two of your deputies. They should resolve the situation in a few days.”

The sheriff waited for Tomas to continue, and when he didn’t, the sheriff tapped his foot in irritation. Tomas should know what to do by now. “Yes, yes, my men can certainly calm them down and settle the dispute, but what of it? How does that benefit me?”

Tomas didn’t answer.

“Now, let us imagine the two houses actually come to blows. A few peasants are killed in battle. Then I would be forced to step in and take total control of both houses—for their own safety. God knows for how long I’d have to manage those forsaken remote estates to ensure our good King receives his proper taxes.”

Tomas almost smiled as he said, “For doing this important service for the crown, you would require substantial compensation. From both houses.”

“By now I shouldn’t have to explain this to you. Dispatch a man, one who will stir the pot, so to speak. Have him tie small strips of red ribbon down the disputed border, making the line favor one house or the other, it matters not which. Observe the dispute as it escalates the following day. Spread rumors favoring one house or the other at a local inn. Then attend another inn and repeat the story of the other house. See that it is done, Tomas.”

The sheriff’s attention shifted to the next of his men at the table, a dour-faced executive good at overseeing the construction of public works, bridges, roads, and buildings. His particularly useful skill lay in purchasing materials at one price and paying another while profiting from the difference and leaving no trail for the king’s auditors to sniff out. Of course, if they did, it would lead straight to him and not the sheriff. The punishment would be swift and severe.

Each official at the table gave his report in turn. Nothing out of the ordinary was reported until it came to Edward, son of Witten, the Earl. Although eldest of the five sons, he remained young in both spirit and appearance and was easily excited. His beard had yet to flush out. He had been appointed a minister to the sheriff by the King only last winter and to date had accomplished nothing of note.

He cleared his throat, and his voice quavered. “S-sir, I have heard rumors of a boy of the Dragon Clan in our kingdom.”

The sheriff drew himself up in his chair, knowing that if he stood, he would tower any man in his suite of offices, which he often did just to intimidate and keep order in his first-day hearings. Now he only wanted more information. His body gaunt, his face a mask of sharp planes without the softness of curves. In his desire to withhold his excitement, his voice softened even more than normal. “Where?”

“Near Nettleton, sir. There’s an academy for the second sons of minor nobles and a few sons of wealthy merchants.”

“He is one of the students?”

“No. They say he’s a wildling child.”

“A wildling. Interesting description. Age?” The sheriff snapped.

“I’ve been informed he appears to be no more than twelve or thirteen.”

The sheriff’s eyes roamed the table as if seeking additional information. Deciding nothing else need be discussed this morning, he stood and spun so that his robes flared out and the gold trim sparkled as he stalked away. Over his shoulder he called, “You all have work to do. Get to it. Edward, please come into my office. We have business to discuss behind a closed door.”

Weak in the knees, Edward stood while he avoided meeting the eyes of the other ministers. Entering the sheriff’s office seldom boded well. Those who lingered when summoned paid dearly. He shouldered his way past the few remaining men in the room and managed to reach the door only a step behind the sheriff.

The sheriff waved toward a vacant chair with short legs, as he moved to a sideboard that was struggling to stand upright under the weight of delicacies. Smoked meats and fish filled a silver plate while breads laden with butter and colorful jams occupied a sterling platter at one end. The other end held a twin platter of sliced cheeses and thin-breads. On a stout side table stood four decanters of various red wines surrounded by crystal stemware.

“Wine?” the sheriff asked, his voice as sweet as the contents of any crystal container.

Edward looked confused at the offer, which pleased the sheriff. “May I pour you a glass? Have you ever sampled smoked salmon? I know it’s rare in these lands, but I have my sources.”

“I-I would like to sample it.”

Stealing another glance at Edward as he reached for a few slices of pink fish, the sheriff smiled. The boy was rightly terrified and would tell all. After delicately placing the fish on a plate, he decided Edward might be more comfortable with slices of cold beef and added those. He splashed a generous amount of wine from grapes grown so far away that it took a hundred days to walk there. He didn’t particularly like the wine, but the difficulty in procuring it demonstrated his wealth and power, and he did like that.

This wildling child of the Dragon Clan provided a perfect set of circumstances to teach the boy who was really in charge of the kingdom. Later, when Edward replaced his father as Earl, he’d remember and respect the sheriff. It is not always about the title, but power.

After serving Edward the snacks, the sheriff carried a sweet roll and a glass of wine to his chair behind the desk large enough to intimidate any who sat before it. “I did not wish to discuss this subject in public. Tell me all that you have heard of this dragon boy. Is the source reliable? Have you managed to confirm any portion of the rumor?”

Edward told his story in rushes interrupted only by halting breaks, long enough to draw deep breaths. The plate of exotic foods sat untouched.

When he paused, the sheriff said, noticing the boy had eaten nothing. “More salmon or wine? Bread to cleanse your palate?”

Edward glanced at his full glass of wine and gulped it half down, ignoring the salmon and beef, then shook his head, declining more food.

“Fine, just let me know if you do, son. You’re performing the duties of your new job well. This rumor of the child is important to the King and to me. I just have a few minor questions.”

“Sir?” Edward sat taller.

“Have you decided whether you will depart for Nettleton tonight or early tomorrow? And yes, I must ask if you have sufficient funds in hand to properly finance your journey? Traveling to far lands is not cheap, as you know.”

“Sir?”

“You’ve said that, already. Did you expect to bring me rumor of a boy of the Dragon Clans and just let it lay without confirmation or following it up? I have already praised you for your job well done this morn. Must I retract it and appoint someone more eager to please me?”

“No, sir.”

“Good. Now go find Tomas and tell him you need gold in your purse for your travels. Mention that I said he is to charge you his best interest rate. Take at least four aides, with fast horses for them, on your journey so they can return quickly with messages of your progress.”

“Aides?”

“Tomas will also provide you with the fast mounts you’ll require. He has some very nice ones, well trained and all that. I’ll trust him not to overcharge you, but if you prefer to beg funds from your father, or if you wish to use horses provided by your family, I completely understand.” The sheriff looked away from the confused expression on the boy’s face.

“I’m going? At my expense?”

“Edward, is there another you would have me trust with a mission so important?”

“No, I will go, sir. It’s just that I have traveled no further than Creighton in my few travels.”

The sheriff flashed his best smile and pounded the surface of his desk with his palm providing a sharp noise that made Edward nearly leap from his chair. “Excellent! You don’t have to thank me for providing you this adventure. Listen to me. You’ll love traveling afar, even if you’re moving so fast on your horse you cannot have time to experience it all. Still, you may locate a fine wine or other delicacies I could be interested in. Do keep me informed. I’m always interested in anything of quality.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Now, back to your task. You will confirm the existence of this dragon boy. Without his knowledge, you will lay your eyes on his bare back. That is critical. Send word of it to me immediately. You may consider adding a sketch if you have pen and paper at hand. Nobody else is to know about your mission, understood?”

“I have a question, sir. How will I see the image on the bare back of a boy I do not know, without his knowledge? Wouldn’t it be easier to simply take him into custody and return him here where you could examine him?”

“Warning him of your interest, or attempting to take him into custody might cost you your life. You might find yourself facing an angry dragon flying down from the sky and breathing fire directly at you.”

“Fire?”

The sheriff settled deeper into his chair as he fixed Edward with the same expression that often made men weep. He placed his elbows on the desk and then folded his hands with the tip of his long index fingers touching each other making a steeple. He sighed deeply before speaking softly. “Must I do all your thinking for you, Edward? I’m tempted to assign this glorious task to another.”

“I can do this, sir.”

“I hope so, Edward. More wine? Cheese?”