Dragon Clan #3: Fleet's Story

CHAPTER NINE

Two days later Camilla’s bruises were fading fast. She looked healthy and ready to travel. The nameless old man had not returned, but they had caught and eaten more fish, and the food supplies they’d brought with them were almost gone, too.

In the late afternoon, Fleet woke from a nap, a routine he was coming to like. Camilla sat on a flat rock a few steps away.

She said, “We can leave tomorrow.”

“Your bruises are not all gone.”

“They fade more each day. By tomorrow, they’ll be almost gone. The day after it will look like I took a slight fall, if that.”

“Okay, tomorrow.”

She stood and began packing their few belongings. Fleet watched, sensing her boredom. He felt it too. They needed to continue and find what was out there. The Summer Palace first, where he expected to find next to nothing because they couldn’t ask the questions they wanted to be answered. Second, the drylands. He couldn’t even ask about the drylands without arousing suspicions.

Fleet said, “What kind of quest is it when you cannot ask questions, don’t know where you’re going, and won’t know you’ve completed it until someone unknown tells you?”

Camilla tossed a stone over his head, causing him to duck. “If the big, quiet man cannot handle the quest, I will.”

“Are you looking to get thrown into the water again?”

“If I remember correctly, you spent your share of time being splashed.”

They settled for an evening of talking and planning. As the sun rose, the following morning so did they. Both were ready to move. Only Fleet looked at the mesa half expecting to see the old man sitting on the perch and watching. Perhaps he was.

In the late afternoon, they passed the first farms. Most were small with poorly constructed houses and barns. The fields were few. Later, past several smaller ones, they came to a wide valley filled with prosperous farms located on dark-brown dirt that seemed rich enough to grow anything. Mules, oxen, horses, cows, and sheep seemed to abound, almost as much as the barking dogs each farm kept.

They paused at one farm where a woman and two small children tended the vegetable garden just on the other side of the fence that lined the road. After passing a few friendly words and confirming they traveled in the right direction, Fleet pulled a pair of copper snits and thanked each of the children for the information as he passed the thin coins to them. Each snit would buy a pair of sweets at a bakery.

Walking down the road, Camilla said, “Your social instincts are pretty good. Better than I expected.”

“Your ability to compliment me is also better than expected.”

She punched his arm. The Summer Palace was less than a day’s walk. But Fleet had noticed the cautious tone of the woman’s voice after she came to the fence and noticed Camilla’s bruised eye. Fleet had received a questioning flick of her eyes.

While many farms filled the wide valley, there were areas of forest and tall trees. Late in the day, a stream flowed under the road through a culvert. Camilla pointed upstream where the section of trees seemed the largest.

They followed a narrow thread of trail along the stream, soon finding a small clearing covered with grass. The hanging limbs of nearby trees kept it in the shade most of the day. A circle of rocks occupied the center. At first, Fleet hesitated to use such a public location, a place where it was obvious from the ashes a fire had burned since the last rain.

Then he reconsidered. If they were brother and sister on their way to visit an uncle, they would not hide. They would welcome a place to spend the night near the road with a place for fire and wood nearby. He let his blanket and pack fall to the ground, but through habit held onto his staff.

Camilla said, “Close to the road.”

“Your bruises can only be seen up close. I think we enter the Summer Palace tomorrow and spend at least one day.”

“We will buy at least two warm blankets for me. I’m tired of sleeping cold. And food. With meat,” she laughed.

Fleet said, “And water bottles to carry. And dried apples, nuts, smoked meat, and more. I don’t expect any fish in a stream that small, so we will go hungry tonight.”

“Maybe. But we have time before dark. You try your hand at fishing, and I’ll explore.”

“I take that to mean you believe I am a good fisherman,” Fleet said, smiling and acting cocky.

She turned at the edge of the clearing and said, “Or that you are so poor at foraging I don’t want you along.”

To his surprise, he caught one small trout—enough to barely feed either of them. Split in half it would only provide a tantalizing taste. He had firewood gathered and a small fire started with she returned, carrying a dead chicken by its legs. It hung at her side as she walked and she acted as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

She handed it to him. “Can you pluck and clean that?”

Dumfounded, he only nodded.

Finally, the smile she had been holding back erupted. Reaching into her pocket, she withdrew a small cloth wrapped around something. Then she pulled a blanket from behind her. “Salt and spices. And I have early raspberries.”

Fleet understood. She had found a farm and purchased the hen, spices, berries, and blanket. He carried the hen off a distance. When he returned to the campsite, he held a chicken ready to roast. Camilla had built up the fire and took the chicken. The knife at her waist appeared in her hand, and she deftly cut it into pieces.

“Takes too long to cook, whole. I’m starving,” she said.

While he had plucked and cleaned the chicken she had also cut several green branches to hold the chicken above the fire while cooking. She started roasting it as the sun set.

Suddenly she looked up at him as if startled. “Tomorrow is the day we came here for. I am getting excited.”

“To begin our quest that makes you excited, or to eat well and sleep warm?”

“I can be excited for all of those things. But you said our quest. Is it no longer yours?”

Fleet considered. He had said they shared it, but was that really what he meant? No, she could have a part of it, but this was his entry into manhood. He intended to do well. “Whose it is isn’t the issue. Our families may face danger, especially if the one we seek is a rogue.”

“Rogue? A rogue of the Dragon Clan? Is there such a thing?”

“Are you not one? Or, were you one?”

She turned each piece of chicken slowly before speaking. “I guess I was. There could be others.”

“Then the issue becomes, what do we do when we find them?” Fleet waited for her anger in not sharing the quest to catch up with his statements. When it didn’t happen, he became even more impressed. If he sat on the other side of the table, he would not have reacted calmly or intelligently. Perhaps he was not as grown as he believed.

They talked late into the night, planning and sharing concerns, but in the end, only Fleet had ever as much as stayed at an inn, much less visited a city or palace. Nettleton was the largest either had even seen except for the one trip with his father, and it held less than a hundred people. At the council meeting when they agreed to allow Fleet to go, Robin had told him a city, a true city worthy of the name, holds more than a thousand people.

Camilla said, “If Robin were telling the truth, ten Nettleton would fit into one Summer Palace.”

“And ten Summer Palaces into Princeton, they say.”

“Do you ever get the impression older people tend to stretch the truth when they try to warn us about things.”

Fleet nodded. “You’re probably right.”

They built up the fire and settled in for the night, well fed, tired, and anxious. Fleet realized that just because they were close to the palace, he couldn’t let his guard down, so he placed his staff in easy reach and pulled his knife out placing it under his makeshift pillow.

Twice during the night wagons squeaked their way down the road a hundred steps away. A trotting horse woke him, but it never slowed. The fourth time he woke it was to movement in camp as Camilla tried to rekindle the fire without making noise. The sky was lighter, but not yet true dawn.

“In a hurry?” he asked.

“Can’t wait,” she said, tossing a handful of twigs on the beginnings of a flame. “We have chicken to eat, and we can be on our way.”

By the time the sun peeked over the hills they were moving to the road. They walked side by side, each in a rut made by wheels. A strip of green grew down the center. A snort behind drew their attention.

A mule with lopsided ears had managed to get within fifty paces. It pulled a wagon with the bed filled with green hay. A boy a few years younger than them sat on the small bench, wearing a smile.

They stepped aside to let it pass. However the boy called, “Almost sneaked right up on you, didn’t I?”

Fleet said, “If that mule hadn’t snorted you might have.”

“You can jump on the back and ride if you want. My name’s Tommy.”

The wagon had drawn alongside them, and Camilla was on the other side when Fleet leaped up. The hay was fresh cut, smelled like a spring day after rain, and it was soft. The mule walked slightly faster than he had.

Camilla hadn’t accepted as quickly and had to run to catch up. Fleet held out his hand to the boy. “They call me Fleet, and this is my slow sister, Camilla.”

Tommy laughed at that. “Where are you going?”

Instantly Fleet understood the opportunity to practice their story with a friendly stranger. “We have an uncle that lives near the palace. He hurt his leg and needs a hand with his farm until he heals.”

“That’s nice of you, but I suppose your folks sent you, right?”

Camilla, picking up on the idea said, “Exactly. Not that we didn’t want to get away from our place for a while.”

“Who’s your uncle? I know most everyone.”

Fleet saw the trap he’d fallen into. “He lives on the other side of the palace. I doubt if you’d know him.”

“Hey, that’s where we live. Now I know who it is, but can’t think of anybody who hurt his leg.”

Camilla looked at Fleet as if to ask how he could be so stupid. At least, that’s how he interpreted the look.

She said, “Really? Do you live to the east of the palace?”

“Sure. I’m a Duncan. Seven brothers and sisters.”

“That many! Wow, I’ve always wanted a big family. Tell me about it. Please. Tell me everything.” Camilla talked as if hearing about Tommy’s family was the most important thing in the world. Her eyes were wide, and she moved closer so she wouldn’t miss a single word.

That’s how Fleet saw the interaction between them. Tommy suddenly couldn’t slow down his talking, while she lapped up each word like a puppy drinking spilled milk. Fleet settled back to watch and learn. She never did get around to telling Tommy their uncle’s name. Anytime he slowed his talking, she asked another question.

Then, close to midday, as the wagon crested a hill the Summer Palace came into view. She turned to Fleet, winked, and said, “We can’t thank you enough for the ride, Tommy. I do hope we’ll see you again before we have to go home, but this is where we need to get off.”

She slid down the hay and leaped to the ground. Standing with hands on hips, she said to Fleet, “You coming?”

He quickly shook Tommy’s hand and climbed down. They waved together and watched the wagon pull ahead.

Fleet said, “I have a lot to learn.”

“I think you just did.”

They walked along the road, looking at the palace that grew ever larger. She said, “I can count over a hundred windows from here.”

“Look at the flags waving.” Fleet took in the gray stone of the walls, the soldiers marching along the top walls, and from their small size readjusted his expectations. The soldiers were still too far away to make out detail, but the walls were as tall as trees. Large trees. Later he adjusted that estimate to the walls being higher than the highest trees, and still his measurement was short.