“How do you know he is Dragon Clan?”
“I saw his back.”
“I accept that part of his tale. What’s difficult to believe are more mountains and even another sea to the far East. We know nothing about this concept and I personally, have a hard time with it. If this is true, it may help our families. Also, I can think of no reason for him to tell such a lie.”
Shell said, “The world does not end at the grasslands. There must be more if you go far enough. It only makes sense.”
“I’m not saying it’s untrue. Just that it’s hard to believe.”
“Myron hesitated too, then he believed. He’s already spreading the word there might be an alternative for the Dragon Clan if Breslau invades and wins our lands.”
“It’s unbelievable,” she said. “But gives me hope.”
“I’ve thought about it. If you cross the grasslands what do you reach? The end of the world? A cliff you fall off if you go too far? I mean, there must be something.”
Camilla pursed her lips and remained silent as she turned and started walking down the road again. Shell meekly followed, giving the wolf stern instructions to stay out of sight of the travelers on the road. He received a snort of derision mixed with humor as if to say, ‘of course I will, silly'.
“I’ve never heard of these people to the east,” she said. “Where is your friend now?”
“Myron kept him to pick his brain before he sent messengers to all the Families with the information. He will follow us when Myron lets him.”
“In case Breslau is successful with their invasion. It makes sense and gives us a backdoor. Well done, Shell.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“Nothing but give the Dragon Clan a chance to survive and perhaps join with others of our kind. Do they have dragons there?”
“They do. Quester knew what bonding is, too.”
“Okay, more about that later. We’re getting close to Fleming and still don’t have a plan,” Camilla pointed out.
Shell looked ahead and found at least five or six groups of people on the road walking in the same direction, most arriving on the road from smaller side roads or farms. They carried goods to town, in bundles slung over their shoulders, in pushcarts, and even a small wagon pulled by two young men. Beyond them, the first of the buildings drew his attention. One stood taller as if it was a second house built on top of another.
The farms along the sides of the road seemed smaller and shabbier. The crops were thin, the animals thinner, and the road harder to walk upon with the ruts and potholes. What had been a fairly smooth surface was chewed up with the passing of hooves, wheels, and feet. A misstep would send him sprawling or injure a leg. He watched the ground instead of Fleming, but each time he looked up it was closer.
Shell said, “I’ve placed a few small silver coins where I can reach them, and some copper ones, too. I think we should find an inn, keep our mouths shut, and explore a few days, saying almost nothing to anyone. How’s that for a plan?”
“But, when we are asked?”
“You are my sister. Our father sent us to . . .”
Camilla laughed. “See, you need a story because you’re not very quick while thinking on your feet.”
Shell hurriedly continued, “To meet our uncle, who is supposed to arrive by ship from down south near Racine. He was buying seed, and we will help him get it home.”
“Where’s home?”
“Northwood Kingdom, near Castle Warrington?” He flashed a self-satisfied smile at having an answer ready.
She flashed one in return, then said in a little-girl voice, “But Warrington has a seaport. Why does our uncle wish to unload here when he can do it in Warrington much closer to his home?”
“Uh, I don’t know.”
“Exactly. We live inland, Northwood, but nearer the Raging Mountains. It’s closer to reach by road from here, and the road is easier to travel. We will need a small wagon and perhaps two mules, as well as supplies for three people for twenty days to get the amount of grain our father wants to plant. For the last two growing seasons, we have lost nearly half our crop to rust, and the new grain is resistant to rust.”
Shell looked at her in a new light. She was quick to think on her feet and an excellent liar. Maybe she should do the talking, and I become the dullard brother?
Camilla continued as if spinning a fairy tale. “I’m sure you are good at something, and we should take advantage of it, but talking is not one of them. Would you consider letting me do the talking?”
“I was going to suggest something like that,” he said.
“Oh, I’m sure you were,” she winked, teasing him and not believing a word of what he said.
Shell ignored the heat rising up his neck. “Really!”
“Um, and what else were you going to suggest?”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Shell still hadn’t answered her with more of the cover story when they passed more two-story buildings and spotted one three stories high. Instead of a traveler on the road here and there, they now walked with others only steps ahead, and more behind. A blacksmith pounded metal on an anvil, the sharp sounds setting a pace for the feet of the people. When the hammer rang, feet touched the ground at the same time, some with the left foot, others with the right, but it made an interesting sight.
The city spread out over a long hillside, all the way to the Endless Sea. Ships were at anchor in deeper water, and others tied up to piers. Even at a distance, they were from the waterfront, they could see cargo being shifted, moved, loaded, unloaded, or being stored under roofs to protect the contents from the wet.
The air felt wet as if a fog had just lifted, which it may have. The bricks that made up the road and most of the buildings appeared damp. People had their collars raised to protect their ears from a chilly wind off the water.
A man lounging beside a doorway offered the best ale in the city for the cheapest price, but one look at him convinced Shell he didn’t want to drink there, even if he did drink ale and it was free. The knife worn at the man’s waist was too prominent, the rings on his fingers too flashy, and the smile too contrived.
A few doors down a woman promised to introduce him to another twice as pretty as Camilla, and more willing to be friendly. Another doorway held a man whispering that inside were honest gambling games of every sort, and the owner was very drunk. Everyone inside was winning, and Shell could walk away with a small fortune. It was information for only a few, but somehow Shell had become included.
Camilla was more upset by each offer, and offended, if not insulted by most. Shell found himself enjoying their friendly chatter, and often as not, he exchanged a few words with the barkers, then begging off, usually pleading the lack of coin.
They turned off that street in favor of a wider one, with more respectable people walking and less lounging in doorways. The people were better dressed, or wearing work clothes, hurried about their duties. It paralleled the waterfront and provided glimpses of the ships between buildings.
A woman in a long gray skirt of a color that matched her long brown hair swept a porch with vigor, and above her hung a small sign that offered rooms for rent.
Camilla stepped closer and said, “Excuse me, do you work here?”
The woman smiled and paused her sweeping. “I work here harder than any other because I’m the owner, and the only employee,” she laughed at her joke. “If you’re looking for an inn, there are three right down the street; you’ll see them soon.”
“But you do rent rooms?”
“I do. By the day, or ten-day, which is less. But I only rent rooms. The inns provide good food for a fair price, so I see no sense in cooking for strangers.”