Nim has a shocking experience after dinner

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Disclaimer:

The original characters and plot of this story are the property of the author. No infringement of pre-existing copyright is intended.
This story is copyright © 2021 Julia Phillips. All rights reserved.

It uses some of the associated characters and situations that arise from the world called ‘Anmar’ created by Penny Lane, whose stories
are also copyright © 2010 - 2021 Penny Lane. All rights reserved.

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But all was hushed as suddenly there came a very loud and peremptory thundering of a fist upon the main door.

Gullbrand was the first to react: “No, Mistress Julina. Leave the door. This is unusual and somewhat suspicious.”

Even as he was saying that, Tedenis nudged Tenant Maralin and made a strong suggestion: “You appear to be the only officer here, sir! We are but six guards in this house, and only those two there are armed.”

The Tenant nodded and signalled swiftly to Verran, whose body posture changed instantly to that of an alert soldier. He strode off swiftly to one side of the large double doors, plucking one of the sturdy staves from the emergency weapons basket as he went. He would be partially hidden from anyone coming in by the heavy door as it swung open.

“Mistress Senidet, please can you swiftly but gently usher all the women and children into the kitchen where they should be out of any harm’s way.”

“Certainly, Tenant,” replied the startled girl. The womenfolk started to bustle and hustle towards the kitchen area, an excited chatter rising as from a flock of avians.

“Oh, and lock the dining room door from the kitchen if you would.

“Havelin, your muscles might be required here so I’m afraid young Nim will need to be left where he is for a little while. Give him one of those flagstaffs from the wall so that he at least has a crude weapon to hand.”

Again came the knocking at the door and some shouting from without, but the walls and doors were too solid to make out the words.

“Mistress Julina, if you would please retire to the kitchens?”

“Tenant, I have some experience in the Princess’ unarmed combat methods, I deem I’m sure I could be of some use here, if that should be really necessary.”

“Very well! But I would have preferred the men to not have the added responsibility for yourself. We have no more time for any further discussions. Please be careful.” He turned round and signalled to the two armed guards, positioning them where he wanted them. The other four guards he told to be ready for any upcoming fray.

“Will someone please now open the door that we might discover what this is all about.”

Julina was the nearest so she went to the handle and opened the doorway even as the Tenant said “No!”
She was sent reeling as a hard shove from outside forced the door into her which knocked her off to one side. But that helped Varran as he had sufficient warning of the swinging door and he arrested it with his foot.

“About time, woman. How dare you keep the City Watch waiting so long.” Three men, swathed in wet weather protective clothing pushed into the hallway, the leader saying loudly: “I am Captain Maximus of the City Watch and we are here to arrest the murderer named Nim. Take me to him.”

Gullbrand then used his most commanding tones as he said: “This Nim. Who has he murdered and when?”

Maximus replied: “His own mother. Callously killed at her home this very morning. A witness saw this Nim scramble away over the rooves after he did the foul deed. And who are you sir that would question the Watch?”

A sort of hush descended upon those there. They all knew that Nim had been here, in this house, in his room, being taught throughout the entire day. This strange story had to be a complete fabrication.

Maximus was aware that something had changed and was puzzling out a way to take control once more. He swung around though as Julina said in her best ‘mother voice’: “Bells and bells of polishing to get this floor nice and there you are dripping all over it. Get your wet weather wear off this instant. I will not have you ruin my home. And let’s get the door closed lest this wretched through draught wreaks havoc here inside.”

Gullbrand then got the leader to swing back to his front as he sternly announced: “I am Gullbrand. I am the Chamberlain to House Blackstone which you should know means that we have some members here of the Royal Guard. You should also be aware that I am known personally to the Watch. And to the City Guard, Marshal Forton having dined here or just around the corner at our other house several times.

“And you should be further aware that you have, in front of all these witnesses, invaded this house. Anyone of the Watch would seek permission first before bursting in. I doubt you even know to whom this building belongs.” He paused then, gazing steelily at this Maximus, who paled visibly when the Einnlander continued: “It actually belongs to Princess Garia, your future Queen and you had no permit to enter. Indeed, I have so far seen nothing to confirm that you are in actual fact with the Watch. And your entire arrogant attitude reeks of this being a falsehood.”

There was a soft thump from the area of the door, which made the leader swing round yet again.

“You fool,” he hissed as he saw one of his men being held tightly in an enveloping hug by a strangely grinning man whom Maximus belatedly realised was a trained soldier, albeit in an unfamiliar uniform. The intruder, who had been the last to enter behind Maximus, had lifted his cape over his head to disrobe as requested and had been grabbed whilst doing so. That woman by the door was now holding a sturdy stave somehow, but the man had no idea how she had managed to get it. All this made Maximus’ brain seethe and confusion was rising rapidly in his head.

He swung back again, trying desperately to regain the initiative.

But he was far too late, for an armed man had by then a sharp sword to his throat and was hissing in his ear: “Drop it!”

Reluctantly, but resignedly, Maximus dropped his sword. His brain remained active however, as he sought a way, a tale, which might help him wriggle out of this predicament.

Most eyes then swung to the third man. He looked around, realised his hopeless position and dropped his knife with an air of frustration. He sighed heavily and looked at the leader, shaking his head in some sort of reproof.

Maralin then took over for a short while. “You three so-called watchmen, kneel on the ground - now!”

He waited for just a few heartbeats before continuing harshly: “Well? Do it! One … two …”

Not knowing at which number the counting would stop, there came the sound of three pairs of knees hitting the wooden floor almost simultaneously.

“Good. That’s better. Now, if you are genuine, then you have nothing to fear.

“But only the…” he hesitated as he sought the right word “... Maker knows what will happen to you if we find you are imposters. This is, by extension, a Royal Household and the King is unlikely to be lenient.

“I am merely a Tenant, or Quadrant if you prefer, and have no powers to dispense justice here. However, I DO have the power to interrogate you to find out the truth which will then be reported to the appropriate authorities. There are a number of things of which you should now be made aware.”

His commanding glare held the intruders fixed as he continued menacingly: “That forthcoming interrogation can be gentle or extremely uncomfortable, indeed painful. It all depends upon yourselves. I would advise you not to mess us about.”

Again he paused, this time to let that settle into their heads. “Right then, first thing for you three to do is to spread your capes’ hems widely around yourselves.”

Again there was hesitation and puzzlement. The three looked confusedly at each other.

“One … two …”

They hastily obeyed.

Then Maralin told the guards and the guildsmen crowded in the hallway to stand on the intruders’ capes, thus making it impossible for them to rise to their feet without a tumultuous upsurge. Maybe, if just one man was doing the standing, there might be a small chance of getting up, but with three or four grinning men on each, the intruders were effectively immobilised.

Hixen was standing on the edge of the cape of the one who had begun to disrobe and Julina was close by when she heard the guard whisper to the kneeling man: “I haven’t killed anyone now for over a week and I miss it something fierce. Just give me one excuse and I shall slit your throat from ear to ear!”

Julina gasped and recoiled at the menace in the guard’s tone, but he looked up at her and, out of sight of the kneeling intruder, winked, mouthing: “Trying to scare him! Make him vulnerable.”

The effectiveness of this threat on the unwanted guest was immediately demonstrated by a violent trembling. A handful of heartbeats later, Julina had to move away from the stench that arose from under the cape. The men standing on the cape all gritted their teeth and forced themselves to stay where they were despite the foul odour. But she still just heard Hixen’s vicious whisper again: “You will get one chance to tell the truth …”

The smell spread until everyone near the door was looking at him, and then it reached as far as Maralin’s nostrils. “Take that offensive man back out of the door, strip him and let the rain wash him and his clothes down. We’ll need a towel and then a blanket to keep his modesty, although his unwarranted incursion here makes my sympathy fade. Don’t let him run away, I want to interrogate him.”

Everyone watched as the armed guard Hixen, Sarjant Varran and the burly Wizen bundled the captive out of the front door. Everyone could hear the panicked babbling of the man before the closing door cut off his torrent of words.

The focus of the room switched back then to Maralin who turned to the other two, obviously trying to decide which to approach first. He let the silence stretch for a few moments, a silence which rapidly gained a severe menace.

His gaze finally seemed to settle upon the one who had been the leader who then jumped at the chance to try to explain. He gabbled out a story that, despite the speed of his speech, still took a long while to come to its conclusion; it was evident that he was making up a tale of some sort as he went along. “The thing is sir, that yesterday there came to my home a messenger telling me that my brother had injured himself and the healer had confined him to a bed for a day or so. I thought to come here and take him home as he is regretfully a simpleton and would just be a burden to yourselves. I thought up this scheme as a practical joke but had not realised the complete status of this house. We just wanted to amuse Nim, my idiot brother, who enjoys simple things, they being the only things he can understand. We meant no harm by our pretending. Merely some light entertainment.”

He gulped while his eyes flew back and forth, his brain obviously working overtime.

“Yes, that’s what it was. A mere playact. Just trying to amuse you all, my lords.”

Another pause, more frantic glances about. “Of course, I am obliged to you all for the care given to Minimus, my brother. Most grateful indeed. Most grateful.”

But his audience just stared at him steadily and he knew that he had somehow lost any initiative he might have had. He paused for a few more heartbeats and then took a breath to start again, when the front door was opened and Wizen came back in, signalling urgently to Gullbrand and Maralin who simply commanded the man to “Shut up!” The man was wise enough to do so.

Wizen came across and had a private conversation with the two leaders during which the men’s faces showed a range of emotions, varying from shock to disgust to anger, and with frequent glances towards the kneeling Maximus. Wizen nodded at something the other two said. A servant arrived from the back with a thick blanket and a towel, which Wizen then took from her and carried outside, closing the door firmly behind him.

Gullbrand and Maralin continued to converse in low tones inaudible to everyone else. Maximus again started to speak but an imperious and commanding hand gesture from Gullbrand soon stopped him. The two standing men nodded to each other in agreement and Maralin directed his attention to the other intruder while Gullbrand went to the dining room door and opened it, slipping inside the room.

“You there! Yes you, the intruder over there by the window! What do you call yourself?”

The man shot a look at Maximus who was desperately trying to communicate with him. To all watching, it was obvious when the man decided to disobey whatever Maximus was trying to convey.

“My name is Zykik, Quadrant.”

“Keep your poxy mouth shut, you whoreson!”

Maralin swung on Maximus and said: “You open YOUR mouth once more without permission and I’ll get that guard standing on your cape to stick you with his sword! You had better hope that he does NOT do that too hard, or you may lose a piece or two of flesh.”

He turned back to Zykik. “Tell us what is going on here, then, Zykik. Only the truth can save you – and then only possibly. We will report faithfully everything that you say when it comes to your trial. How lenient the King shall be remains to be seen.” He broke off briefly as Gullbrand returned. “So was this all an elaborate prank laid on to amuse Maximus’ brother?”

“No Quadrant. I told him before even starting that we should study more before doing anything, but Sim is possessed of a fearsome temper and he needed his brother to fill the role that Sim had elected for him. So he came up with this mad scheme in which he hoped to scare the residents of this household into releasing Nim into his brother’s care. He was convinced that the suddenness and shock of a house invasion would enable us to come in, grab the idiot and then begone into the rainy night.”

“Jeez!” the shock took Maralin back to his origins for a brief second. “That is a statement that raises a whole host of questions! How did you know he was here, this brother? What is this man’s real name – Maximus, with Sim being an abbreviation? Why was it necessary to take Nim now? Why do you go along with whatever this Sim says? And those are just for starters.”

“Errrrm … Quadrant? Is Sim, for that is his real name, ever going to be released? Because he has threatened myself and my family, and Kumpel and HIS family, with dire repercussions should we ever displease him. And he is vicious enough to do it too.”

“Kumpel?”

“The man who soiled himself.”

“Ah! No, we will truss all three of you men and hand you over to the real Watch with instructions to keep you all locked up until the trial. So tell us how you knew to come here. And why was it deemed necessary?”

A further silence fell as Zykik obviously struggled with his thoughts. Just as nerves all around started jangling, he spoke: “I’m sorry, sir. I cannot tell you. I am still too scared of the man and what he might do!”

“Far too late, you ked. I’m goin… Ow!”

“Well done, Toranar! That blood from that nick to his ear will be easy to wash off that rainwear. Try not to harm any of the wet weather gear itself though, as that set of clothing is, we believe, actually Palace issue that this scum has appropriated without permission.”

Sim looked up at Maralin with a shocked look on his face.

“I see you are surprised that we should know that, Sim. Tell us why that surprises you.”

With a sidelong glance up at Toranar, Sim said: “They ain’t no Palace wear. They was in my home, so therefore they are mine, since I am the head of the house.”

“I cannot seriously believe that you think it works like that. They were issued to your brother in order for your brother to perform his duties for the Palace. Once he had done as bid, then he would return them to the Palace. They were merely loaned and the, perhaps more relevant, point is that this transaction did not involve YOU in any way, shape or form. As a result of your actions, your brother has now lost his employment and a debt against him has been raised.”

”Well that ain’t no bother. He’s got no brain cells to rub together, so no-one would miss him.”

At this point, he plastered onto his face a pitiful hard-done-by expression. “I’ve slaved all these years to look after him and not a word of thanks, oh no. I have to tell him what to do in each and every given situation. I almost have to put his shoes on his feet for him! Why just the other ...”

Struggling hard to not let his face show his disgust, Maralin simply said: “That’s enough from you, thank you Sim. Remain silent again. Toranar there has my permission to stick you again, hard, if you utter one more syllable. You may find it difficult to concentrate on the conversation should you lose an entire ear!” Such was the force of his words that the bandit-in-chief subsided, fuming, back into the uncomfortable kneeling position, without saying anything. But nevertheless firmly struggling against ‘his’ cape that was trapping him.

Maralin turned back to Zykik. “Do you want to take this very last opportunity you will ever get to tell us everything, Zykik? Failure to do so will probably be construed as actively aiding this creature.”

Everyone could see the man wanted to but was still afraid of Sim. So Gullbrand stepped back into the focus of the group and said: “Then let us try another way for you, man! Suppose WE tell YOU what was going on. Then you can simply confirm or deny things. That way you have not actually told anyone the dark secrets and Sim will have no grounds to consider you a tale-teller.”

A reluctant nod greeted this statement along with a further fearful glance at Sim.

Just then a door opened at the back of the crowded hallway and a servant came in, awkwardly carrying a largish bundle. “Lord Gullbrand, here is the rope you requested.”

“Thank you.”

“Right,” said Maralin commandingly, “I want both of you to lean forward and rest your foreheads on the floor as far forward as is possible for you. Do it now as soon as the guard behind you allows you some slack. When you get into position then hold your hands behind your back. Any sign of resistance shall be harshly dealt with.”

He looked then at the men standing on the spread out capes. “The rest of you remain in place lest one or other of them attempts to flee. If they do, then take whatever steps you need to prevent it. If it means hacking at them with a weapon then so be it. We don’t really need to keep them alive, but ’twould help if we did.”

The two prisoners did as commanded, the one with some struggle. As soon as Sim was in this awkward position, Maralin reached under the hem of the cape and yanked his ankles back so his legs straightened. His eyebrows rose as he felt the knife hidden inside the man’s right boot. This he swiftly extracted with a warning “Tut tut” to Sim. He then signalled someone to come and tie the legs together, followed by Sim’s hands. Once immobilised, then Sim was stripped of the rainwear as far as possible, leaving him with just the overtrousers that were now tied to the legs. If anything told a tale on him, the fact that he was wearing wagoneer’s overtrousers just for walking made it clear that this man did not understand some normal things.

Maralin took the cape and flipped it inside out, searching for something. “Ah! Here it is! Indeed, these garments do belong to the Palace, the mark is clear to see here on the inside. So we have caught ourselves at the very least a thief.”

Whilst he was doing that, Zykik was similarly encumbered but he didn’t struggle as much as Sim had done so the job was completed much easier and much more swiftly. Both prisoners were returned to an upright kneeling position.

“Right, Zykik. Let us start with a simple non-incriminating question. How did you become aware that the brother was lodged here?”

“Sim told me. Apparently an urchin or messenger or someone turned up at his place of work to let him know that Nim had been injured and would stay here for a short while.”

“Yes, that messenger told us that he was kept waiting for an appreciable while as they searched for Sim. He also told us that Sim is not, as his brother told us, the manager at that depot but merely a simple shift team leader. Who at the time was strangely absent from where he should have been. Anyway, carry on man.”

Zykik hurried to talk. “Well Sim came to see me having been impressed with the movable shelter thing the messenger had used.”

“And he decided he wanted one for himself. Is that right?”

“Well yes, Quadrant. But also…” Again he shot a worried look at Sim who started to say something but then immediately subsided when Toranar’s sword pricked his neck.

Gullbrand then gently said: “Sim told you he needed Nim quite urgently, didn’t he?”

The man nodded.

“Did he explain why?”

“Not then, but later, after he had coerced us to join in this mad scheme.”

“Did he tell you that he needed his brother to be at home in order to take the blame for something?”

Zykik’s face was a picture of amazement. “How on Anmar …?” Both Gullbrand and Maralin looked at him steadily. “Oh! … Yes ... Master and Quadrant. That is exactly what he said,” stammered a clearly shaken Zykik.

“Did he perchance explain more?”

“Only that he had done it a score of times before and it had always worked. And that it had always been easy to persuade their mother to punish Nim for things that Sim had done.”

“But he gave no more detail?”

“No, sirs. None at all.”

“Hmmmm. Very well. Back to the Walking Canopy, then. The plan was to use Nim as an excuse to ‘borrow’ one. Is that right?”

Again Zykik was amazed. “Indeed so. You seem to know everything!”

“Were you with Sim all day today?”

“No, sirs. I only came round after my evening meal. I had been very busy at my work during the day.”

“So you must both live and work close by?”

“Yes, sirs. Sim and his family are the last remaining residents in Scullery Alley, all the workshops there are expanding. Their home, such as it is, is quite close to the mouth of the alley, wedged between two thriving concerns. I live just around the corner, the second house, so ’tis but forty or so strides from mine to his.”

“And your work?”

“Fifty strides the other way, sirs.”

“So the three of you decided to walk a mark or more through the pouring rain, just so Sim could steal a Walking Canopy?”

“When you put it that way, it does sound ridiculous, doesn’t it?”

“Not at all! The more accurate word, I deem, would be implausible. You want us to believe that you doffed your rainwear, settled down at home, ate a meal, then donned the rainwear once more, walked another forty strides in the rain to Sim’s house on the off-chance he wanted something done, where you probably took it off again whilst Sim explained to you what he wanted to do …”

“Oh no sirs. It wasn’t like that at all. He sent an urchin round to summon me.” His tone changed to include a degree of bitterness and anger. “Which I had to pay for!”

“So you just dropped everything and rushed round to do his bidding. What hold does he have over you that you might do these extraordinary things?”

Just then the front door opened again and now-cleaned Kumpel came back in wrapped in a towel and a blanket, loosely held by Varran, Hixen and Wyzen.

Varran looked smugly first at Sim, then at Gullbrand and Maralin, giving the last two a little nod. “Good! I see you have that Sim well trussed. He needs to be!”

Sim tried yet again to wriggle free as his thunderous face swung towards Kumpel. But he didn’t get far. Just poked a sword tip into his own cheek.

“Uh uh!” warned Toranar.

Varran then turned to Wyzen and said: “You tell them all. You are a civilian after all and therefore can’t be considered to be under orders or anything like that.”

“Very well.” He turned to address the onlooking crowd. “Kumpel here has made a full and complete confession. He claims some outrageous things that will have to be checked but essentially Sim is a liar, thief and, most recently, a murderer!”

The crowd gave a gasp.

“Kumpel claims that he and Zykik there have been coerced by threats to assist in various nefarious activities; in Kumpel’s case Sim has threatened to hurt his elderly parents whereas Zykik’s assistance has been gained by threats to his daughter. Both men go to work each day and thus these targets were left mostly unprotected. Sim works also close by, but has some ability to absent himself from his place of employment. Thus his chosen targets were vulnerable.

“So Sim had two accomplices he could bend to his will. Having spent his life manipulating his mother and brother, he was quite adept at it.

“Sim, it appears, does not like to share things. And when he sees something he wants, then he is affronted that someone else has it and he not. He has been pilfering from his work for many a year but recently, in the last week that is, he seemed more desperate than usual to gain something that is, as yet, unexplained.

“This morning, Kumpel was summoned from his work by an urchin and hurried home. As luck would have it, he needed to take shelter under the eaves of the hovel in which Sim resides whilst he adjusted the fall of his cape, since a dribble or two had entered his right boot. To his horror, he observed Sim killing his own mother and then arranging the scene for afterwards. It wasn’t until the three barged their ways into this house that Kumpel managed to put everything together. Sim wanted Nim to be arrested for the murder! Thus both the mother and the brother would be out of the way and Sim could reap the sole benefit of whatever it was.”

Sim violently rocked and tried desperately to get to Kumpel, but Toranar thumped him hard on the head with the hilt of his sword and the man simply dropped to the floor, silenced at last.

When Wyzen had made this explanation, Zykik let out a huge gasp of realisation so now everyone turned to him.

“He has gone too far! I always thought that one day, he would! Now you have most of the story from Kumpel, I find my tongue is freed. I am quite prepared to tell you sirs everything now. That man has lost his hold over me for I know now that you will never release him. And I am almost certain I know why he has just done that which he has.”

“And what might that be?”

“In our part of the City, there is a Master Joiner and Carpenter named Kirkwil. He has an excellent reputation and his business is ever expanding. I know that he was going to make an offer to Sim to buy the plot of land upon which Sim, Nim and their mother live so he could enlarge his premises.”

“But why would that make him murder his mother and try to get his brother convicted for the murder?”

“Because then, he wouldn’t have to share the coin Master Kirkwil offered.”

Another collective gasp arose from many of those gathered there.

“If I might say something else?” chimed in Kumpel. “When he threatened me with harm to my parents, I asked him how on Anmar he imagined he would be able to get away with it. He replied that he had done so when he killed his father, so why would he not be able to do so with someone unconnected to him.”

A very serious Maralin gazed thoughtfully at the captives. “I don’t think we can be too careful about such an apparently dangerous man. Strip him to his underclothes and then carry him to the stables. Be wary when his leg restraints are loosened to remove the unnecessary overtrousers. Let me see … Yes! Let’s take an example from one of the stories Lord Gullbrand told us about Princess Eriana’s upriver expedition and carry him over to the stabling area and tie him securely with a rope around his neck there, hands and feet also bound. I find I really don’t care if he gets wet when carrying him there!”

He paused then, obviously trying to decide what to do with the other two men.

“Right then. Thank you both for your assistance, I shall make sure the authorities know of your co-operation. Should your story prove to be true, I feel certain that the King will take due notice. However, there are two things I have to say here and now. One, your stories need to be checked and two, you must needs be held until the facts become known. Now I could chain you up in the cold and draughty stables and then all but ignore the three of you, or you two could perhaps be used by our Engineers to assist them. You would need to be hobbled I’m afraid, for the giving of your word is not an acceptable option until we know more.”

He searched the crowd of people until he found the one he wanted. “Morkem, would there be room to have these two held mostly fast in your workshop?”

“Aye, sir. We could arrange something.”

… … …

And so ’twas that Nim joined the Blackstone Hotel staff where he forged a lifelong friendship with Havelin; indeed the two men soon shared accommodation situated over the other side of Blackstone House, towards the Palace. After the shock of discovering the true evil of his brother, the entire group had made him most welcome and he soon found a new life. Gullbrand and Waxerwet negotiated with Master Kirkwil and secured a good and fair price for the family plot which they kept for Nim until he was sufficiently educated to be able to make sensible decisions.

His only living relative was thoroughly investigated and in fact found to be already under suspicion and clandestine observation from his employer in an attempt to reduce the exorbitant amount of pilfering that was going on from his workplace. When it was announced that he had been arrested and was under close guard, an almost unending stream of citizens came to the Watch and laid further charges of extortion and other illegal activities against him.

As it transpired, leniency was not granted and Sim’s was the first public execution to be held after The Rains.

As for Nim, he was educated each morning and assisted Havelin in the afternoons. Later, when they had a working example of Havelin’s ‘Steam Wagon’, one problem was solved by Nim himself, who suggested a pair of supporting rods in a strategic place. Everafter, one of these rods was called a ‘Nimrod’.

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