Dragon Clan #4: Gray's Story

CHAPTER FIVE

The city spread around the bay, an expanse of tan and gray buildings made of unpainted wood as if the residents were not sure if they’d remain or move on. The entire city was built on the slope of the hillside, half the streets running parallel to the waterline, and others intersecting at angles, but always sloping downward. At the edge of the water were docks, piers, and ships of every size and shape. Most carried cargo, much of which was actively being unloaded, or loaded.

A pall of smoke from a few hundred chimneys hung over the city. The streets were cobblestone. People stood, milled, gathered, or walked. In a single glance, Gray saw far more people than he’d ever seen in his entire lifetime. He suddenly felt small. Scared.

He felt Prater’s eyes appraising him again, gathering more information. On impulse, Gray said, “Not as large as I pictured.”

The comment seemed to confuse Prater, as he had to again reevaluate Gray. That pleased Gray, but he decided not to push for more reaction. It would be too easy to make a slip on the most obvious detail and raise Prater’s interest again.

Prater said, “Have you enough coin to conduct your business? Fleming is not for those without copper or silver.”

“If you’re offering to help me with a loan, I do appreciate your generosity. However, while not wealthy, my family has provided me with ample funds.” He tried to say it as if that was the norm, and that he’d made many similar trips. At the same time, he tried to ignore the noise, smells, people, dogs, pigs and excitement that filled the air. A cow watched him as he passed, its eyes on him even when he turned to look back.

The road descended into an area of taller buildings and fewer animals. Gray found the intersection Tessa described. He paused, shook hands with Prater and made vague plans to have a meal together the following day, a meeting Gray intended to avoid. Gray turned left, keeping an eye out for the sign with the Red Bear above the door.

Two blocks later he found it. Inside the door, in a tiny alcove sat an enormous woman. She dwarfed the small table before her. She barely raised her eyes from the papers in front of her. “A meal or drink?”

“A room if you have one.”

“We do indeed. Three small coppers a day includes your food, not your drink.”

“I require privacy.”

“A room for yourself, eh? That’ll cost you five if you don’t mind.”

Fingering his coins, he said, “I want it to face the street.”

“Most want to sleep instead of listening to drunks and fights all night long. Make that four coppers and we have a deal.”

Gray pulled a small silver and said in a knowing voice that he hoped concealed the knowledge she would certainly cheat him, “Some of my family has stayed here before. They told me that if I give you this to hold, you will accrue my expenses and upon my leaving, provide a fair accounting.”

Her eyes lighted up as the coin disappeared into the top of her blouse. “How long will you be with us, good sir?”

“Three, maybe four days. Can you direct me to my room? I have business to attend this day.” The expense of the small silver coin was intended to allow him more freedom and fewer opportunities to make the sort of small mistakes that would point him out as a stranger visiting a city for the first time.

She indicated a door beyond the common room where several people were eating their mid-day meals. His stomach churned. The food smelled inviting of unknown spices and freshly baked bread.

She waved a hand for him to proceed to the door while she continued to sit and guard the front door. “Top of the stairs, second room.”

“Thank you. The food smells so good I’ll eat before I leave.” He walked away feeling stiff, alone, and as if he stood out in every way. Each person who cast a glance in his directions must certainly realize he was Dragon Clan.

Once he climbed the stairs, he calmed himself and tried to slow his breathing. The second door opened a fingerbreadth, and he poked a nose inside to ensure it was empty. Then, throwing the door fully open, he entered.

A bed occupied the wall to the right. A small chest of drawers the left wall, and an open window on the wall directly in front of him. A single battered chair sat before it. He closed the door and placed his belongings on the chest, moving the candleholder aside while leaning his staff in the corner where he could reach it from the bed at night.

The coins were next. He’d been warned. Any two men in the city with a knife between them might cut his throat, knock him over the head, or pick his purse. The hiding places in the room were few, obvious, and the first any thief would search.

Sticking his head out the window revealed the roof below the sill was made of overlapping cedar shingles. Time had warped and twisted them. Below, on the street, a hundred people went about their business as he rested his elbows on the window ledge. His hand slipped a gold coin under a shingle and made sure it fit the spot tightly.

That accounted for one. The plaster walls had several cracks, a few rather large. One near his bed rose from the floor and continued halfway to the low ceiling. He slipped two gold coins inside the crack, standing them on end, and scratched above the crack with his fingernail to free enough plaster dust to cover the coins. He spat in his hand and used it to wet the dust, then packed it in the bottom of the crack. When done, the coins were hidden.

He then pulled a drawer from the chest and turned it upside down. Lighting the candle, he waited for the wax to melt and then placed one large and three small copper coins on the underside of the drawer. He let the melted wax cover the coins until they were securely stuck to the bottom. He turned the drawer back over and inserted it into in the slot. He placed his supply of dried food in the drawer.

Any thief with experience would check the undersides of the drawers as soon as they finished searching backpacks and the bed. Finding the coins would satisfy them they had located his stash. They would look no more, thinking they had it all.

He headed down the stairs. A pot of stew hung simmering from a hook over a low fire. Three piles of wooden bowls were sitting beside it, and a small box held a variety of carved spoons. He filled a bowl with a ladle and selected a spoon. He spotted an unoccupied table and sat.

An older man at the next table leaned close and said, “New here?”

“Umm, yes.”

“Catch the eye of a girl with a red apron to get something to drink. Don’t get the cheap ale or you’ll regret it, that is if you can even drink it. I think it’s the leftover dishwater. Bread, butter and preserves in that cupboard over there,” he motioned with a flick of his eyes.

Gray held out his hand to shake. “Thank you, sir.”

“Please, my days of being addressed as sir are long gone. You may call me Bear.”

“Bear? Do you mind if I ask why?”

“Go grab yourself a hunk of bread to sop up your stew. My old stories can wait.”

Gray found the bread, three different kinds of loaves. He tore off some of the dark, and one held the distinct aroma of rye. He tore off some of that, too. A wooden spatula was sitting in the tub of butter. He applied a generous portion but skipped either of the two jars of preserves.

Bear nodded his approval at Gray’s selection. “Can always tell a good man by the bread he eats and what he puts on it.”

“Then you would not think me so good if you looked at my selections later. I intend to try the preserves and a lot of it.”

“See? You’re smart enough to take care of business in the proper order, and you have the self-restraint to forego what you like for what needs to be done. You do nothing further, impresses me.”

“My name is Gray. I think we’re going to become friends.” With that, he turned his attention to eating. The stew was good, better than he expected. A few unfamiliar spices were quickly becoming his favorites. The meat was unknown, but cut into small pieces, probably to go further and to prevent selfish diners from taking it all.

Bear retreated to his mug of dark wine, giving Gray some privacy and time to think. When he finished eating he turned to Bear, and said, “As a newcomer to this city, is there anything else you believe I should know?”

The old man slowly turned and said, “I think you’ll soon figure it out if there is anything. However, as you are now my best new friend in Fleming, please feel free to ask me anything.”

On impulse, Gray asked, “Do you enjoy after-meal walks?”

“I do indeed. If you’re inviting me, I accept.” Bear was already standing. “Do you have a destination in mind?”

“I’d like to go down to Front Street and watch some of the ships loading and unloading. I’ve never seen the sea.”

“One of my favorite pastimes. Is there a particular ship you’re interested in?”

There was one, but Gray didn’t dare mention the name. Lady Marion. It was the ship that Fleet had found that traveled between Fleming, Shrewsbury, the Marlstone Islands, and Breslau. He didn’t dare say the name because it told anyone listening exactly what he was interested in, and the word would spread as it always does. His enemies would appear.

He shook his head in answer to the question. “There seems to be so much going on at the docks I thought I’d watch for a while until I’m to meet my family contact.”

The answer was true enough. If he listened closely he would hear of ships departing and others due, if the Lady Marion was not in port, which he assumed it was not. From her schedule, she was probably docked in Fleming less than once a lunar.

Bear grunted, “Watching the port seems to be the business of everyone in the city, one way or another. If they’re not shipping, they’re receiving goods, or traveling to far off ports. Some provide rope, canvas for sails, fruits, meats, clothing, wine, and weapons. Not a lot of business in Fleming but for the ships, which was why I thought you might have more than a casual interest.”

That was a long speech that lasted from the table inside the inn until they were well down the street. The statement had almost said that Gray was in Fleming to do business with a ship. Almost, but not quite calling him a liar. He decided to speak less and listen more, as Tessa had told him.

The two people he had met today had both made stunning insights based on scant information. Gray knew that with one more slip, he may as well head back across the drylands and go home. These people already knew too much.

When Gray didn’t respond, Bear pointed where they should turn at the corner, and Bear continued, “Those providing goods and services include me. A while ago you asked why I’m called Bear. I don’t tell most people, but I like you.”

Gray looked at him with interest. A secret no matter how small is a confidence usually shared only with friends.

“Don’t spread it around, but the Bear in The Red Bear Inn is me.” Then he laughed.

“You own it? But you said the cheap ale is swill.”

“Allow me to correct you, Gray. I believe I said it is dishwater, not swill.”

“You eat there?”

“It’s my home. I have a small apartment in the rear. Eating there ensures the quality of the food is better than at other inns, and the drink, with the exception of the poor ale, is of better quality. We do charge a bit more, but I think it’s worth it.”

Gray considered telling him about the fat woman at the door who cheats customers. Then he decided to keep quiet. What if she was his wife? And if he didn’t know of her sticky fingers, that was Bear’s fault because she did little to hide her actions.

And if she spotted something that might be profitable, he had no doubt her lips were to Bear’s ears. A woman like that probably made him a wealthy man. She could see who was buying and selling from whom, who deferred to another, what card player cheated, and she probably overheard deals for cargo being bought and sold daily.

She was probably the most valuable employee Bear had, and Gray felt sure he knew it. The very shape of the room allowed her to be near almost every table since she sat in an alcove looking asleep most of the time, who would not spill their secrets with that room?

They turned at Front Street, the street that wound along the waterfront. At one side of the street were docks, piers, and gravel places for storage of items to be shipped, or recently unloaded. The other side of the street was lined with businesses, the buildings touching one another in efforts to cram more along the street.

There were ships chandlers dealing with all the various items a sailing ship requires or wanted. Canvas, ropes, anchor chain, spars, masts, planking, and even sailors seeking berths were available. Other stores sold clothing, meat, pastries, weapons, and fresh vegetables. Sailors always want fresh fruits and vegetables; he’d heard. And milk. They love milk after a voyage, almost as much as rum.

Along the wharf-side of the street were several patios, complete with chairs and small tables. For the price of a mug of wine or rum or a small meal, patrons could sit under the shade of the overhanging roof and watch the ships. Cargoes were often sold or purchased there. Others watched for opportunities to make money.

Learning early that a ship due to arrive with a load of grain might make the cost per pound go down, so selling any grain in stock while the price remained high was only good business.

Bear nodded to a vacant table. “Care to refresh ourselves while we watch?”

Gray said, “Only if you allow me to pay for a mug containing something better than dishwater.”

Bear navigated through a crowd where all seemed to know his name. Most greeted him warmly, but a few smiles evaporated as he passed the men. Only a few women were there, but at dockside, with the shouting, cursing, and occasional fighting, most women chose to be elsewhere.

Gray allowed Bear to order for both of them, but he reached for a large copper to surrender, or he suspected Bear would manage to pay. He let his eyes roam the ships. Each had a name on the bow, but none displayed ‘Lady Marion’. He checked the cargos, looking for the green dragon stamp Tessa had seen.

“Looking for something? I might be able to help.”

Bear seemed a little too friendly in his offers to help. But he hadn’t built and maintained one of the best inns in the city without being savvy to handling people. Gray said, “I’m just taking it all in. There’s so much to see.”

A waiter took Bear’s order. Bear flashed a smile that unnerved Gray. It was as if the man could see right through him. It would be wise to have one drink and make an excuse to return to the inn. It might even be wise to move to a different inn if he was so transparent to Bear.

As those thoughts crossed his mind, his eyes spotted Prater, the young man he’d met on the road. Prater was standing beside a pile of boxes on a pier taller than his head. He was speaking intently to another man, who had his back to Gray.

When the other man turned, he matched the description of the one he had come to Fleming to meet. Caldor. The man Tessa said helped her, but she still didn’t trust.

Of all the people in Fleming, besides Bear; the only two he knew, were talking together. His own insight told Gray that he was the subject of their conversation.