Dragon's Treasure - 8. Kassel

The four scruffy boys attracted no attention at the gates of Kassel than any of the other poorly dressed peasants who streamed into town. Openly concealed in the crowd, the boys passed into the city. Had the guards looked closer, they might have wondered why the boys’ eyes were so wide, and why their mouths hung open. Had the boys lingered, they might occasionally have seen the guards inspect a wagon or two. Had they looked closely, they’d have seen the small bribes that passed from wagoner to guard.

Kassel was the largest city any of the boys had seen. The gate through which they entered was set into walls made of the same stone as the mountain. The walls were over 60 feet high, and crenellated. They merged with the mountain itself where natural precipices and deep chasms had been incorporated in the city’s defenses. Buildings, too, were made of the mountain’s natural stone. Barnacle-like, the city climbed the hills and clung to the rocks.

From the distance, the city had seemed magnificent. At close range, however, “You know how a head of wheat looks at perfect ripeness?” Ian asked. “And how it looks ragged and ugly if it’s left in the field too long? That’s what this city looks like. It looks like it is past harvest.”

Jeremy nodded. He was a druid and understood Ian’s analogy, applying it to the plants of the forest with which he was familiar. Ulee had been reared in a city. Until he’d run away, he seldom left the tannery into which he had been apprenticed. He didn’t understand, but nodded in agreement with his friend’s words. Thorby, also city bred, didn’t understand either, but he wasn’t paying attention to Ian. Thorby, a Thief, was gathering and assessing far more useful information.

“The Ordinary is that way,” he said, pointing to the left.

“How do you know?” Ulee asked.

“I saw a boy nick a purse,” Thorby replied, matter-of-factly. “He went that way. It’s where he’d find a hiding place and where the dandy he nicked would be least likely to follow.”

With Thorby in the lead, the boys made their way through streets and across small plazas. “Are you following the thief?” Ian whispered.

“No,” Thorby answered. “He’s long away. I’m following the crowd.”

Ian looked around. There was no crowd. At times, the four boys were the only people visible. Ian followed Thorby, keeping both his eyes and his mind open. Ah ha! he thought. The streets are deserted because everyone is at the market…or moving between the two markets. Therefore, nearly everyone Thorby sees becomes a guide.

Ian’s assessment and Thorby’s urban survival skills proved accurate and correct. Rounding a corner, the boys faced a plaza ringed with shops and busy with people. Thorby spoke quietly to Ian. “The boy thief? He was here before us. I saw him across the square. He went into one of the shops. Probably not that of his master. He’ll go out another door, and then in and out of several shops before he returns to his master.”

Ian nodded his understanding. “Perhaps we should do the same.” All the boys knew that they were looking for Marion, a jeweler who at one time had a shop in the ordinary. “You lead, please.”

Ian took Ulee’s hand. “Stick close to me, little Hedgehog,” he said. Ulee nodded anxiously, and squeezed Ian’s hand.

Thorby and Jeremy made a little show of visiting shops and stalls, looking at this and that, and being very careful to keep their hands in sight. Thorby had warned Jeremy. “We don’t want them to think we’re thieves. Ian said not to attract attention.”

“That’s the one!” Ian said. His voice was excited, but not loud enough to be heard outside the boys’ circle. “It’s Marion’s. At least, that’s what the sign says. He may be dead and the sign not changed.” Ian pointed to a sign. Lettering spelled the name. The letters were a pretension; it was unlikely that even one in a hundred of the people who frequented the Ordinary could have read them. Below the lettering was a cartouche: an oval on its side contained what appeared to be a bunch of grapes, a bird with its wings spread, and a donjon. Ian wondered at the symbols’ meaning, but the letters were clear.

“How do we find out?” Jeremy asked.

“I’ll go in, alone,” Ian said, shushing Ulee’s instant protest. “I’ll be all right, and you will wait outside with Jeremy. Thorby, please keep watch through the door, if you can.”

The shop was bright, much brighter than most of the shops the boys had visited. Shutters high in the walls had been opened to allow light to enter. The light fell on shelves that lined the back wall. On the shelves, gems, silver and gold jewelry, and other objects glittered. Two tweens, dressed in smocks, stood at the counters. One was talking to a woman who was accompanied by two men.

“What do you wish to see,” the second clerk asked Ian. The boy’s question was casual, as if he were not really interested.

“Um, a pin,” Ian said. “Yes, a pin…to hold a cloak closed at the throat.” Nana had owned such a pin, one of the few pieces of jewelry Ian had ever seen.

“Silver or gold?” the clerk asked.

“Um, silver?” Ian replied.

“Over here, please,” the clerk said, gesturing toward a corner of the shop. Ian realized that the clerk would then be between him and the door, should Ian decide to grab a pin and run out with it. Hmmm, not as dull as he seems, Ian thought.

Ian examined several pins while waiting for the other customers to leave.

“My grandmother knew a jeweler named Marion. Is this still his shop?” Ian asked, trying to be casual.

“Who is your grandmother?” the clerk asked. “Perhaps I know her.”

Smarter than he acts, Ian thought. “Her name is Ruth. The Jeweler Marion named his daughter for her.”

“Ah,” said the clerk. “A different Marion, perhaps. Our master does not have a family.”

Ian was stunned. The effect of the clerk’s words must have shown on his face.

“You seem disappointed,” the clerk said.

“Uh, we…I…that is…” Ian stuttered. “I’ve traveled far to find this man. I’m more surprised than disappointed. It’s hard to believe that even Kassel is large enough to have two jewelers named Marion.”

“If your grandmother is Ruth, who is your father?” A bass, man’s voice came from behind Ian.

Ian turned quickly. Light from the open door blinded him, and he saw only the outline of a figure, limned by the light. The second clerk stood beside the figure. Ian recognized that tween more by the outline of his smock than by his face which, like that of the man, was hidden by the brightness behind them.

Ian quickly named his father, and his father’s father.

By this time, Ian’s eyes had accommodated to the light, and he saw a smile on the face of the man. “I am Marion, and if Ruth is your grandmother, then I am your…oh, my, I’d not quite thought of it, before…your fourth cousin twice removed. What is your name?”

“Ian of Old Oaks farm,” Ian said, immediately trusting this man.

*****

Marion and Ian were alone; the apprentices were watching the shop. Ulee, Thorby, and Jeremy were napping in the living quarters above the shop.

“I know you’re tired,” Marion said, “and you’ll get a nap before supper. But I must know. Why did Ruth—your grandmother—send you to me?”

“I am a mage,” Ian said, “and she feared the Red Robes. She hoped that you would help us hide, or help us get to Arcadia.”

“You don’t seem to be surprised,” Ian added.

“Us?” Marion said. “You said us.”

“Um, Ulee’s a mage, too, and so are the others. Ulee came to the farm; grandmother sheltered him, and sent us off together. We sort of found Jeremy—well, he found us, really. He tried to kill us before he knew we weren’t Red Robes. We sort of found Thorby, too. In Witten. Jeremy’s a druid, and Thorby can make wind…” Ian’s voice drifted off. “Please don’t turn us away,” he pleaded.

Marion reached out and hugged the boy. “Fourth cousin twice removed, you’re still family, and those who are your companions are family, too. You’ll not be turned out. But we must talk more of this, soon. Please ask—no, please tell your companions not to use magic and not to speak of magic until we’ve been able to talk, more.”

That evening, Marion, his apprentices—Oliver and Bastian—and the four boys sat at a table. The table held more food than Ulee and his companions had seen in a long, long time. Soup steamed in a tureen. Warm bread filled the air with the aroma of yeast. A basket of fruit provided an island of color. A platter of sharp cheese and a tub of butter completed the meal.

“Thorby, would you pass the bread, please?” the younger apprentice, Bastian, asked. Thorby looked up. Bastian’s hand, stretched out to take the basket, was—folded, Thorby thought. His little finger is folded over. He’s a Thief! When Thorby released the basket, he folded in his own finger. I think he saw it, the boy thought. Wait, now.

Given Marion’s warning about not speaking of magic, a warning which he had impressed on his companions, Ian struggled to tell of their journey. He glossed over the reason for their departure, and of their meetings with Jeremy and Thorby. He said nothing of the time spent with Josephus. Oliver and Bastian were impressed, however, by Ian and Ulee’s capture by slavers, and Ian was able to string that story out for most of the meal.

During a break in the narrative, Bastian offered the bread basket to Thorby. This time, he drew the finger of his opposite hand down the side of his cheek, as if scratching. Thorby replied with a different countersign. That’s enough for now, he thought. He’ll seek me out later if he really is a Thief.

*****

Bastian did, indeed, seek out Thorby. Marion had bade the boys goodnight, and retired to his room. The boys walked down the hallway. “Thorby,” Bastian asked. “Will you share with me? I know we hardly know you, but Marion said you were all family…”

Because the companions had deferred to Ian’s leadership for so long, Thorby instinctively looked to that boy, who nodded and said, “Of course, Thorby. And thank you, Bastian, for making us feel welcome.”

“Hey, how about me?” Oliver asked. I’d like to make you welcome, too. Will you share with me, Ian?”

*****

Ian lay awake. Oliver had fallen asleep beside him. Jeremy and Ulee had fallen asleep on the next bed. Oliver and Bastian maneuvered us, he thought. For some reason, Bastian wanted to be alone with Thorby. There was something going on with the bread basket, but for the life of me, I can’t figure out what it was. That was his last thought before sleep claimed him.

*****

“Thorby, I felt your loneliness and pain in your magic,” Bastian whispered to the boy when he woke. “No, no,” Bastian put his fingers over Thorby’s lips. “Say nothing now. I know you are not ready. Know that when you are, I am more than a Thief. I am a friend.”

*****

“But grandmother said not to trust a letter,” Ian protested.

“I will write one that only she will understand,” Marion assured him.

…to hear from you. Your namesake is healthy, and is betrothed to a fine man, a Master Potter of some repute and comfortable position. Your gift was most welcome, and arrived unbroken.