“Will Jenkins be all right?”
“Course he will. To them, he’s just another boat heading down river, and they have no idea that he even knows of us. He’s been down the river a time or two. He’ll just tell them most of the truth, but not all. He’ll soon be floating downriver again, which reminds me. Be sure to speak softly. Sounds carry funny in fog, sometimes over long distances.” Tom stepped from the boat to the muddy bank. He leaned back into the boat and rolled up the blankets with their food inside, keeping a keen watch the whole time.
Gareth also stepped into the boat again, waking the dragon in the process. He placed the strap of his bag over his shoulder and rubbed the soreness where it rode. He should have made a wider strap. The dragon seemed happy to reenter the leather bag that had held the egg headfirst. It curled up and lay still. The bag felt almost natural swinging at his hip after the days he’d carried it. Stepping into the soft mud of the shore again, he rolled his blanket around the remainder of the food and tucked it under his arm.
Tom nodded down river. “Might be some of those damn teachers of yours looking for us on this bank, too. Most people use the river for travel. I’m thinking we head away from the river and find ourselves a different road going in the right direction. Then we need to hide ourselves because they’ll have all the roads watched, too.”
“So we only travel at night?”
“Nope. They’ll have sentries out at night, and we’ll stumble onto them before we see them. Anyone traveling at night is suspect, so they’ll take a long look. Probably your teachers, the Brotherhood, are walking along every back road around Drakesport all night long. With their fast-talk ability, you can bet they’re waiting for us, and they know what we look like. Or, what we used to look like.”
“Then what do we do?”
“Well, first there’s a few things we need talk about while we get away from here. You know, things to understand between us.”
I thought we already had a deal. “What sort of things?”
“These teachers of yours. Or monks, or the Brotherhood if you prefer. Seems like there’s a hundred or two of them searching for you. For the life of me, I can’t figure how one young man can be that important, so if you’re the king’s long lost son or something, this is a good time to tell me. That way I can make plans.”
“I am nobody!”
Tom flashed a smile, which relieved all the tension in the hopeless-seeming situation. “Then I guess you and me are going to have to hide in plain sight.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Gareth jogged every few steps to keep up with Tom’s rapid pace as he trudged down a well-worn path winding through the thick underbrush beside the River John. Residents of a few cabins on the side of the hill probably used this path daily. As usual, Tom walked like a man half his age or a man possessed. Gareth mentally adjusted the age estimate of Tom to a third of his original. Tom never seemed to hurry, but he never seemed to slow down, either. Tom moved quickly and effortlessly, speaking little, arms swinging with each step. After the fog lifted they traveled beneath the wide limbs of a virgin forest filled with hardwoods of maple, ash, oak, and every other sort spreading above. The trees thinned long enough to catch glimpses of nearby rolling hillsides and the snow-capped peaks of unknown mountains in the far distance.
“Tom, a while ago you said we’re going to hide in plain sight. What does that mean?”
“It means you and me are going to change who others see when they look at us. They won’t think about questioning us or reporting our whereabouts. Those teachers of yours have undoubtedly spread our descriptions far and wide. A handsome, distinguished older gentleman and young scallywag of a pup traveling together will get noticed. Even our new haircuts and my shave will not slow them down for long. I have a few ideas, so just hang on while I scout around for what we need. I’ll know it when I see it.”
The cryptic answer didn’t provide much solid information, but the confidence his voice carried would do for now. Gareth felt the dragon stir in his bag, probably upset from being jostled and disturbing its sleep as they moved back under tall trees. The path followed along a slippery stream bank. He placed his left hand into the opening and felt the animal wrap itself around his wrist as if comforted by the touch. He kept his hand there. The awkward posture upset his balance, but he ignored the discomfort and tried to keep pace.
As they crested a small hill, the heavy foliage thinned along one side of the path. Gareth paused for a breath and found the clearing was a field of newly planted hay, maybe alfalfa. The rows were neat and straight, and he felt a pang of envy. It reminded him of Odd’s farm in Dun Mare. The neat rows of the field also meant a nearby farm. Farms usually had barking dogs and defensive farmers protecting their homes and crops from travelers.
Tom walked a dozen paces ahead. Now he slowed and moved carefully, probably watching for signs of farmers, too. A small cabin appeared in a small valley below them. They paused on the hillside behind a stand of willows, watching the windows of the cabin, and the empty fields. The sun was high, but farmers rose early and had probably been busy with chores for hours. A stout barn and several small outbuildings stood near the cabin, all looking old, neat and well kept. Crops grew in at least three nearby fields.
Beyond the cabin wound a strip of a two-rut dirt road.
Tom said, “Rest here. Stay still and watch for me. I’ll be back, one way or another. Whatever you do, don’t get excited and try to rescue me.”
“Not arguing, just trying to understand. Why do I stay?” Gareth asked, settling himself on a fallen log to watch.
“I don’t want the people down there remembering you being around here, in case anyone asks. I’m speaking about your teachers, of course. Many old men stop by local farms looking for temporary work so I won’t stand out if I’m alone, but those people following you are looking for an old man and a younger one, together.”
“I assume they’ll have dogs down there. Will they smell my dragon up here?”
“Your dragon, is it now?” He chuckled and gave Gareth a pat on the shoulder, “The dogs probably can’t smell it from here, but that thing is beginning to reek if you hadn’t noticed.”
Gareth had noticed.
In the distance, the door to the cabin slammed open. An old man with a long dark beard stepped outside and paused to oversee his farm. Stretching, he looked at the sky and the heavy clouds hanging above the northern horizon. He whistled and a pair of yellow dogs bounded from inside the house. The farmer limped his way to the barn, moving slow and looking pained with each careful step.
With a small salute, Tom headed down the hillside, skirting the edge of the fields so he couldn’t be seen by the farmer. Once down to the road that passed in front of the farm, he turned in the farm’s direction as if he had traveled a distance on the road.
Gareth watched Tom closely. He noticed Tom start to limp and walk much slower, moving like the farmer had, as he headed for his barn. Tom neared the cabin, and one of the dogs spotted him. A torrent of barks followed. Both dogs rushed in Tom’s direction, leaping and sprinting, each trying to arrive first and bark loudest. They were both yellow, and they looked so alike they may have come from the same litter a year or two ago.
Tom knelt and held out his arms to greet them, laughing and calling to the dogs as if they were old friends. They pulled to a cautious stop in front of him and sniffed while the farmer limped out of the barn and in their direction. Tom petted them and shook hands with the farmer when he arrived. Tom had not moved closer to the farm. He waited, as was custom and good manners. They spoke for a short time on the road, and Gareth saw them both chuckling at something. Then they walked back to the barn and disappeared inside as if they were the best of friends, the dogs chasing a stick Tom tossed again and again.