The Chronicles of Nevin Reasoner: The Complete Duology

by Thomas Lombard

  As they moved closer, Nevin estimated the city walls were well over a mile in perimeter. Parapets capped the top of the walls, and a ditch ran along the outside. The contrasting colors of the city walls, the castle, and the rich green of new spring grass everywhere made for a lovely sight.

  Just before they reached the castle entrance, the troupe came to an arched stone bridge built over a swiftly running river, flowing from the northwest to the southeast. A line of trees, primarily basswoods, grew on both banks. From the height of the bridge, Nevin further surveyed the topography of the area. The swift river beneath them was formed by the confluence of two smaller streams several hundred yards to the northwest. From this confluence, along the banks, were numerous small houses, the only structures in sight close to the city walls. Off in the distance to the northeast, well past the riverside settlement and the walled city, there were some larger buildings located in a treeless open area. A huge stockpile of logs was massed adjacent to one of the large buildings and two chimneys continuously puffed white and gray billows into the mid-day sky. Nevin concluded that the distant buildings constituted some type of industrial area, possibly containing a foundry of some type. The prevailing wind blew the smoke further to the northeast. He was impressed that potential pollution from the industrial area was blown away from the populated areas. As they approached a central gate, the surrounding ditch was filled with water and appeared deep. Nevin could see no obvious channel to the river, which meant there had to be a system of pipes or conduit supplying the ditch. Another impressive feature, he thought. Overall, these were signs of good city planning and engineering.

  The only visible entrance to the city was through a gate of two mammoth wooden doors, which were currently open. Several guards in royal blue uniforms were stationed at or above the gate. Most of these guards took notice of the three travelers stopped a few hundred feet away.

  Orris took a few steps ahead and swept an arm with pride to introduce his comrades to the city. “This is Sartell, First City of Antrim. Behind the walls is King Lucan’s castle and a city unmatched by any I have ever seen. It is a beautiful place and it gladdens me to see it again. I welcome you both to it. I think it best if I lead our way,” the soldier added. “They will let me pass with no trouble and hold back their curiosity about our large companion here.”

  Orris called up to the gate commander standing on the parapet about twenty feet off the ground, directly above the heavy doors. “A-hey! Keep the gate open for Orris, Captain of the King’s detachment from Huxley, here to report a Gilsum attack! May we pass?”

  Nevin was busy estimating the size of the wall, calculating that one side was the equivalent of two or three city blocks in length. A reply came from the parapet above the gate.

  “Yo! You are recognized, Orris. We heard of your fight. How many men did you lose?”

  “Six. And eight villagers.”

  “You are lucky you were not among them. Do you vouch for your two companions?”

  Orris gave a salute and slapped the shoulder first of Anson, then Nevin. The gate commander then waved them through. As the three men passed, all eyes stared at Nevin though he failed to notice. Something about the wall caught Nevin’s attention and he stopped to closely examine it. The city wall was made of blocks of sandstone, that much was obvious to someone with even a rudimentary knowledge of geology, but Nevin was amazed to find the stone naturally tinted with pink flecks and streaks. It was extremely unusual for sandstone to have a pink-colored mineral content and that fascinated him. It might be orthoclase, a pink feldspar if he remembered correctly. No, he thought, that occurs in igneous rocks. Strontium salts could cause this coloration, but that was unheard of in sandstone. Nevin became delighted with the little mystery of this mineralization, but his concentration broke by a voice from the parapet above.

  “Orris, you need to feed your troll-size friend! He looks like he wants to take a bite of the wall!”

  Laughter broke out from of all the guards within earshot as Orris pulled Nevin by the arm. “Sir Nevin!” he whispered. “Please do not tarry! You will draw too much attention. We should move quickly.”

  Once inside the gate, they found themselves at the edge of the market area with all the accompanying shouts and conversations of hagglers at work. There were many booths and vendors selling a large variety of foods and articles. People with all manner of dress and behavior milled about. The variety of skin tones and physical features indicated a mixture of races among those in the market, but all the adults seemed to be at or near Anson’s height. This meant that Nevin was the largest person in sight, and he felt increasingly embarrassed at the mounting stares directed his way. He was eager to move on.

  Farthest to their left, past the market area, the street was lined with permanent structures, most of which were shops marked by hand-painted signs. These shops were small by Nevin’s standards, even those with living quarters above them. To the right, the street had a few more shops and larger buildings, some with three stories. The appearance of many small windows in these larger buildings suggested they were apartment-type residences, reminding Nevin of the urbanization of ancient Rome. Orris led them swiftly down this street to the right, reminding his companions it was best to ignore the stares and comments aimed at them. Anson considered casting a spell of indifference to avoid attention, but it would be risky to publicly show himself as a mage. It was better to keep his identity secret. Besides, he did not know if he could cover the three of them with that spell.

  From the vantage point past the apartment houses, the layout of the town was fully revealed. In the center stood the castle, around which there was a network of streets that formed nested squares bordering the castle. All the houses were tidy in appearance; most had windows with flower boxes decked with brightly colored blossoms. There was no sign of litter or disorderliness anywhere. The closer the homes were to the castle, the more stylish they became with trimwork and colorful touches.

  Nevin was impressed with the layout of the city. Access to the castle was controllable and secured by the cordon of nested squares and dwellings. In addition, the residents could retreat to the safety of the castle without engaging attackers who might storm the walls. Once again, this was evidence of good planning. Sartell was better built and conceived than he expected. Better yet, there was no foul odor so there must be a sewer system or other method of siphoning waste.

  At this moment, the trio was standing in the southeast corner of the city. The route to the castle was a narrow lane that cut through the inner and outer residential squares straight to the castle’s front door. Orris suggested they go there directly and request permission to enter.

  They went to their left and turned down the center lane. After passing three rows of houses, they stopped at the front of the castle. A single castle door was considerably smaller than the gate of the city, but it was similarly made of smoothly hewn heavy-looking timbers. Uniformed guards were positioned at either side of the door, armed with swords and pikes. A third guard stood between them, and it was to him that Orris spoke.

  “I am Orris, Captain of the King’s detachment in Huxley. I come to meet with the King concerning an attack from Gilsum curs. I am accompanied by a King’s subject from Huxley, and a traveler from a far-off land.”

  “Stand fast, Orris. I will report your request,” the door guard responded, then turned on his heels and briskly entered the castle.

  The remaining guards kept their positions, although their eyes flitted nervously to glimpse at Nevin. Meanwhile, Nevin’s attention returned to geological matters as he eyed the stone construction of the castle. It was made entirely of marble blocks. The basic color of the marble was off-white with a marked blue pigmentation. Nevin had previously seen many samples of mineralized marble with flecks of color, but never blue. This blue marble was as unique as the pink-flecked sandstone of the outer walls. A copper compound might cause this effect on marble, though copper would probably be more greenish. The only other blue pigm
entation Nevin could think of was derived from cobalt. How rare it would be to find marble mixed with cobalt compounds. First strontium in sandstone, and now cobalt in marble! These unique mineral finds were exciting. What other extraordinary geology might he find in this place? Nevin was about to ask if there might be some kind of scholar or quasi-scientist available for consultation when the door guard returned.

  “The King’s Chancellor says he will meet with you tomorrow. Return at noon.”

  Anson was visibly disturbed by this rebuff, which alerted the guards. Orris acted quickly to turn the mage away and said calmly, “I am not surprised the Chancellor put us off, Anson. We had better wait until tomorrow and not raise a stir now.”

  Orris turned around and saluted the main guard before hurrying off with Anson and Nevin in tow.

  “What should we do now?” Nevin asked.

  “We have to speak with the King. Not the Chancellor!” Anson was still disturbed.

  “We also have to follow the protocol of the court, Anson. The Chancellor decides who sees the King. It is difficult to say how much of a problem that old duck will be for us. The thing to do now is find an inn for the night where the two of you can stay. I must go to the Armory to replace my uniform and I should also be seen by one of the Army bone cutters.”

  Anson took a breath to release some of his anxiety. “Go ahead, Orris, and tend to your duties. You are, first of all, an Armsman for King Lucan and you must follow your orders. I can take Sir Nevin and find lodging.”

  Orris told them to go to a place called The Hogshead, which was located in the southwest corner of the city, just off the market area. The owner was a friend and should help them out, and they could all meet there for breakfast in the morning. Orris added with wink as he moved off, “But not too early in the morning.”

  Chapter 16

  Bar fight

  Walking swiftly and staying to the back streets, away from the market area, it took Anson and Nevin only a few minutes to reach the Hogshead Inn. The structure was an old weathered two-story wooden building, unpainted but of solid construction. The entrance lead directly into the main pub room, where they became the center of attention for the patrons seated at the various tables.

  The Hogshead was a fairly clean place but the tables were set with rather flimsy looking chairs, making Nevin a little cautious about sitting. Three of the tables were occupied with customers, some of whom wore the blue uniforms of Antrim Armsmen. Most of these uniforms were rather seedy, suggesting to Nevin that these were probably men of low military rank. A stairway at the back of the room provided access to upstairs sleeping rooms.

  Nevin and Anson walked to the table closest to the back stairway, with Nevin taking considerable care to test the chair’s stability. All conversations in the place halted as the patrons watched the two strangers, prompting Nevin to sit with his back to the peering eyes. Conversations around them slowly resumed with all the buzzing focused on a single topic. Eventually, the pair was greeted by the innkeeper, who introduced himself as Grogan. When told that Orris had sent them, Grogan seemed genuinely pleased that his old friend was still alive and had returned to Sartell. He said Orris would make sure their expenses were covered.

  Grogan said he could provide them with a room and two cots, although looking at Nevin he added, “You, Sir, are an oak tree of a man and will find your feet hanging over the end of any of my beds. Er...that’d go for any of the beds you’d find around the city, but no offense meant, Sir. We will serve you well.”

  Nevin was neither offended, nor amused. He was beginning to grow weary of the distraction caused by his relative large size. Never in his life had anybody paid attention to any his physical attributes. Anson accepted the room offer and Grogan agreed to settle accounts with Orris.

  After the innkeeper left them to fetch some food and drink, Anson and Nevin carried on a quiet conversation over their difficulty in getting an audience with King Lucan. Their talk was soon interrupted by a man from one of other tables, an Armsman whose uniform was stained down the front and patched in several places. Nevin frowned at the man’s sloppy appearance and lack of military bearing, no doubt affected by too much ale or something similar. Though partially obscured by a grizzled, patchy beard, two lengthy scars were prominent on the man’s face, leaving certain he was a veteran soldier. His scars flushed red. Even in a seated position, Nevin stared nearly face to face with him. After wiping the back of his hand across his jaw a few times, undoubtedly a nervous gesture while screwing up his courage, the soldier spoke with a gravelly voice that was convincingly unfriendly in tone. Nevin was glad to see he was not armed.

  “My mates and I have not seen you two around here before. What is your business?”

  Before Nevin could respond, Anson shot back with unusual sternness, “We have no business with you. Be off and let us be.”

  “If your business is for Gilsum, then it becomes our concern.” The soldier looked back at his comrades, who responded with contained grins and gestures of encouragement. Buoyed by this reinforcement, he rested his hands on his hips and pouted a retort. “This big fellow here, he is not from Antrim, that is plain to see. Might you be a Gilsum man? Maybe both of you?”

  The soldier’s beery breath confirmed his drunken state, plus the tendency to totter with his flourish of bravado. Nevin tried to dismiss this attention. “I assure you that I have never been to Gilsum. As my friend said, our business is a private matter and not your concern. Please go away.”

  Looking back again at his two associates, assuring them he was going to follow through with some plan, the obnoxious soldier pointed a finger at Nevin and slurred, “I do not like the way you talk to me, Big One. I think you are a Gilsum man. You would be one of their tall freaks and I wager you are here as a spy.”

  Nevin was getting annoyed. “You have had too much to drink and are talking like a fool. Please go back to your own table.”

  “I told you I did not like the way you talked to me.” With that, the soldier socked Nevin in the eye, knocking him off his chair. Posing in a boxing stance over the now sprawled tall man, he added, “You do not look so tall from the floor, freak.”

  Nevin propped himself up to a sitting position, checking his eye with his fingertips and detecting a trickle of blood.

  Anson jumped from his chair and knelt down to examine Nevin’s face. Angered by the attack on his friend, Anson wheeled and faced the aggressor. He dared not risk evoking a spell, and had no time to think of another course of action because he was grabbed from behind by the soldier’s comrades, one of whom said, “Let them have it out, Friend, and we shall not interfere.”

  Nevin, still sitting on the floor, looked up at his attacker. Now angry about getting bloodied, he was still going to plead his unwillingness to fight—until the aggressor swung his right foot and kicked Nevin square on the side of the face and sent him sprawling to the floor again. Nevin sat up once more and shook his head to regain his senses. That is enough of that! He leaned forward on his hands and knees, raised himself like a runner in a starting position and vaulted toward the soldier, burying his head in the man’s midsection and sending him flying into the table behind him. Nevin then grabbed the stunned man by his shirt, lifted him off his feet and ran with him toward the door, against which the man collided with such vigor that he slumped to the floor as Nevin let go of his shirt.

  “Sorry, Private,” Nevin said, leaning over his barely conscious adversary. “I guess I forgot to open the door.”

  Seeing that Anson was being restrained by the other two men, Nevin gritted out, “I would advise you to let go of my friend, or you can join this man—standing up or lying down.” Nevin surprised himself with the fervor of his threat.

  He must have been convincing, because the other soldiers immediately let Anson go and backed away. Nevin opened the door with one hand and with the other dragged his groggy opponent by the collar out to the street. The other two men then sidled cautiously out the door, passed Nevin, and left
their companion lying half-conscious in the street. As the men took off, Nevin slammed the door behind him and returned to his table.

  Nevin’s last fistfight was in high school, a similar encounter with a football player over Nevin’s membership in the photography club. As an adult now, Nevin was shaken at how easily he came to aggressive behavior. It was primitive to behave this way and he was frustrated that he resorted to this solution. He was not proud of himself and sat silently as Anson examined the two rising welts on his face.

  After Anson pronounced that Nevin’s facial contusions were minor, Grogan brought their meal of boiled potatoes, carrots, a slab of red meat that appeared to be gammon, and two tankards of ale. The innkeeper seemed unconcerned about the mess and never even acknowledged there had been a fight, except to say he was glad it happened before he served their dinner. The food turned out to be tasty, the vegetables being particularly flavorful, but Nevin did not enjoy the meal. His jaw and cheek were sore, making it uncomfortable to chew. Because of the physical demands from several days of overland travel, however, he was also very hungry so he endured the discomfort. Both men ate their fill, except that Anson avoided the meat, and soon retired to their room for the night.

  * * *

  Despite the short length of his bed, Nevin rested well that night. The trip from Huxley was physically and mentally demanding, not to mention the rigor of the deliverance from Hempstead College. With the excitement of their arrival at Sartell, the altercation with the drunken soldier and the full dinner, both men slept a long night and well into the morning.