---

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.

---

Nim was not a happy person. In fact, as he muttered to himself, his gruntle was considerably dissed.

The rain had found a way inside his weather protection, and a drip kept briefly obscuring his already starkly reduced vision from his right eye as it went to join the others in his bushy beard. He was vowing great retributions on his elder, yet smaller, brother Sim, and planning some extremely unpleasant and painful interludes. He didn’t care any more that this might upset his mother, who always seemed to take Sim’s side. How can she be so blind to the smarmy lies and twistings of the truth that Sim continually told her?

His vengeance plans took his mind away from his miserable journey through the rain-sodden streets of Palarand City, so much so that he almost missed his next turning. Cursing gently to himself, he swiftly manipulated the reins so that his frayen, Hendick, turned into the correct alleyway. Pushing his newly-formed vengeance war with his brother to the back of his mind for now, he began counting the property entrances.

… … …

“Shiba-bubufu” screamed Nim at the top of his voice, knowing that the roar of the pouring rain would make it very private. He knew without even checking that his bad day had suddenly got worse. He hoped he would …

“Tut! Tut!” said a girl’s voice just behind his head.

His face flaming, he jerked his head round to try to see to whom it was he had to apologise for such dreadful language.

And in so doing, he jarred his swiftly-swelling ankle again on whatever it was lurking just beneath the surface of all the collected rainwater in the courtyard and over which he had so recently stumbled.

One of the suddenly revealed girls, at whose shrivelled arm he was now suddenly trying desperately not to stare, was grinning at him even though he had used the most powerful of expletives, one that should never be used within anyone else’s hearing.

… … …

Nim sat back, taking stock and glad of a personal break – a relief from the unending stream of amazing revelations and awe-inspiring stories he had learnt during this day’s morning and early afternoon.

The young women who had been there when he twisted his ankle had helped him into a disrobing room where they had then helped peel off his wet weather clothing. They had all remarked on how small and ill-fitting it all was. They got a strong young man in from the barn to lend a hand and support when they ushered him hopping into a comfortable sitting room. He looked around in awe. Never in his life had he been in such a room. He, his brother and his mother all lived together in a tiny hut with one communal room and where they sat on rough wooden benches and stools.

The girl with a withered arm had then smiled at him and asked: “How should we call you, young man? We wouldn’t want to be unfriendly. My name is Davabet and these two are Prevet and Toria, two of the maidservants here. We have sent for a healer. Mistress Dilvia lives close by, so should not be long.”

He had been practically inhibited by his shyness and sense of awkwardness, a sense that had been drummed into him all his life by his mother and brother. He knew he was a failure and always would be, never being able to elevate himself into this sort of company. Stumblingly, murmuringly, he had said: “Nim is my name.”

“Very well, Nim. Now the healer will need to examine your ankle, so you must disrobe enough of that appendage for her to be able to inspect the damage closely. Would you require assistance to do that, and if so, should that assistant be a man, to make you more comfortable. Remember though that the healer is a woman and she might be accompanied by another woman, so eventually your leg will be exposed to females whatever happens!”

Nim had blushed deeply and had been struck silent as his tongue had seemed to swell in his mouth and he had wished the floor would open up and swallow him.

Davabet had kept silent for a good long moment, before she had made the decision for them all.

“Very well! Toria and Prevet shall remain here to help you disrobe while I just wait outside the door until one of them fetches me back in again. The sooner it’s done, the swifter shall your pain be alleviated.”

Numbly, Nim had allowed himself to be manhandled. He had been amazed that the two women had been so calmly … disinterested in the gradual exposure of some of his flesh.

They had smiled politely when it was over and Toria had popped her head round the door. The young woman came back in, this time accompanied by an older one who was introduced as Mistress Dilvia, the promised healer.

“Well then, Nim,” had said that Mistress Davabet brightly, “explain why your wet weather wear is far too small for you to be able to do its job properly.”

His resentment at his brother had at that point suddenly boiled up to the surface and he had spat out: “This is the third time my elder brother has stolen my rainwear. I’m sure he sold the other ones and is probably going to try to sell my latest issue.” He did not realise that his emotions had made him sit straighter and generally act far more forcefully than was usual. His voice was far less diffident too. He had not noticed the significant looks all the women gave each other.

“Issue?” had asked Mistress Davabet, but whom all the others called Davvy.

“Indeed so, Mistress Davabet. I work – worked -” he had added bitterly, “for the Palace and ’tis they who gave me the rainwear. When they knew I was to drive over here the first thing in the morning, they issued me with a comprehensive set of wagoneers protection to take home so I could make an early start. But my brother, being the head of the family now Father has gone to his pyre, commandeered the items this morning. In fact, he got up first and had gone to his work in MY clothes before I had even broken my fast.”

“And do I suspect that your brother, although the elder or perhaps eldest, is in fact slightly smaller than you?”

Nim’s mouth had dropped open. “How on Anmar did you …?”

“’Tis simple, Nim. The clothes you were wearing were too small for you. So I assumed you had to use your brother’s protective equipment to get to your employment. But I fail to understand why they did not reissue you with a better set.”

Nim’s entire body had collapsed at that remark. Sniffing back a few tears, he had quietly and haltingly explained: “They said that this was now too often that I had not looked after Palace equipment, and that once I had delivered the new wagon here and returned their frayen, I should make my own way home as I was no longer employed.”

He had looked up from his defeated posture only to be amazed as he saw Mistress Davabet’s face cloud with anger as she spat out: “We will see about that!”

His senses had been driven awhirl as the other girls and woman had all pursed their lips and nodded agreement with the handicapped girl. Mistress Davabet made a hand gesture and the one called Toria had bobbed a small curtsey and rushed out of the room.

“Right then, young Nim, we must relate this tale to a wider audience.”

Barely had the ensuing silence fallen, and well before it had got in any way awkward, had then come an astounding (to Nim) alteration involving the group dynamics.

Almost immediately Toria had returned and ushered in another young girl who was introduced as Mistress Julina. She had strikingly noticeable red hair and also had a sweet and welcoming smile who greeted all the women nicely. Mistress Davabet had quickly summed up Nim’s story to Mistress Julina, whom the others simply called ’Lina. Her posture had suddenly changed before his very eyes from that of a simple pleasant greeting into a forceful leader.

“And pray tell us the name of your department and your supervisor at the Palace!” It was as though she had suddenly become a mother to them all.

Such was the forcefulness of her demand that Nim, being so used to obeying his own mother, had answered without thinking further. “Why ’tis the General Labour Pool, and the supervisor today is Master Forlan.”

The new girl had then turned to the one with the problematic arm and said: “Davvy, you have an appointment today with Mistress Shelda. I assume you shall be going there with Prevet?”

“Indeed so!”

“Very well, see if you can go a few minutes early and find Mistress Milsy. Tell her that young Nim here has sprained his ankle and, according to Mistress Dilvia, will require three day’s rest before putting too much weight on it. So we have an extra guest in our house for a while. Tell her to see if somehow she can find this Master Forlan and explain a few matters to him.”

“Yes, ’Lina. A good idea. In fact, I must go and get ready about now, so Prevet and I will discuss this as we do so.”

“Very good!” She swung round on the amazed Nim and with a more gentle tone, but nevertheless tones that brooked no objections, she asked: “Tell me about yourself, if you would, Nim.”

One part of his brain had been amazed as he found himself telling this girl – no, not girl, this young woman – his life story; somehow she had a motherly air about her.

It was only later, in that lengthy pause after lunch when he had been left alone for a little while, that he became aware that Mistress Julina had extracted a great deal more information from him than he had realised at the time. But even then, he had not fully realised the complete extent. That realisation came a lot later.

There had been a constant stream of people who had come to see him after he had been installed in the pleasant room and bidden to sit in the most comfortable chair he had ever seen or indeed felt under his bottom. Mistress Julina, he soon discovered was basically the one in control, but she had to go off to supervise the midday meal. A slightly older woman, Mistress Waxerwet and her daughter Mistress Gyth had spent the most time with him, and there were occasional visits from young men in working clothes who apparently worked out in the back they sometimes called the ‘Workshop’, the big barn-like building to where he had delivered the new wagon; the young men were busy there developing something or other. Knowing he was too stupid to be able to understand it, he didn’t even concentrate on what it was they were doing.

He had at first been amazed that they could so easily summon a healer through the downpour, but Mistress Dilvia explained that there was something they called a Walking Canopy which made life a lot easier for many in the City, and so it was no great imposition for her to attend. He wanted to get up to see such a wonder for himself, but the healer had forbidden it. She had tightly bandaged his ankle after declaring that nothing appeared to be broken. “No putting weight on that for a good while yet, young Nim. You will require assistance to get about.” So saying, she had then taken her farewells of everyone and disappeared once more.

It was whilst the healer was investigating his injury and wrapping it up tightly that he had had his next big shock. This house, known as the Blackstone Hotel, he discovered was owned by none other than Princess Garia, the future Queen! Everyone here, in their way, worked for her and therefore for the Royal Family itself.

He had been a little confused though as there were also some distinct foreigners here.

As the day had worn on, he had learnt more and more and more.

He had found out that Mistress Julina and her group had come down from somewhere called Blackstone (Ah hah! Hence Blackstone Hotel!) and had been trapped here by the rains. That Mistress Julina was going to teach Questors no less the language of Princess Garia, but first had to learn it from some Jothan military officer. (How does a Jothan know this language when no-one else nearby does?) That she was a well-known and respected cook. That she had invented several things for which she owned the Exclusivity Licences, and that she owned several hotels and inns, even a brewery. She ran a haulage company. She was also connected somehow to something they called a railroad. His mind was reeling as all this information came at him and blew a lot of his built-in prejudices away.

There had been also some references to a somewhat strange Mistress Milsy, who they claimed was a Guildswoman, but he knew that couldn’t be right - whoever heard of a woman in the Guilds? That was like referring to a female Questor! But she, this Mistress Milsy, apparently lived in another Blackstone building – Blackstone House. It seemed that Princess Garia had left the running of all things Blackstone to this Mistress Milsy when she went off on her mission, the return from which was presumably delayed by the rain.

He swiftly picked up some of those new words that everyone here seemed to bandy about with ease – hours, minutes and so on. He didn’t actually understand them and he filed away in his head a request for clarification to be uttered at a more convenient time. When he could summon the courage to speak up, that was. Privately he doubted such a summons would ever occur.

He further learnt that some of the people were foreigners from a country called Einnland. That they had arrived in Palarand with ANOTHER Princess called Eriana in a ship called the Visund. She, Princess Eriana that is, had then sailed that ship with most of her men up the Sirrel now the war was over to discover more about the Great Valley further upstream. They weren’t however certain of that vessel’s whereabouts as the rains had seemingly prevented them from getting all the way back here to Palarand City in time; certainly communications were always severely interrupted at this time of year.

It took a long while for Nim’s brain to connect the rumours he had occasionally heard of whilst working round the Palace about a foreign Princess with the now-named-to-his-ears Eriana. With so much new information flowing in, ’twas scarce surprising that some delay occurred.

But Nim’s mind had mostly been distracted since he had become fascinated by these mysterious ‘Walking Canopies’.

He was totally oblivious of the fact that everyone he spoke with had been impressed by his grasp of the concept and his questions about the difficulties of making them and also using them. His enthusiasm for the subject was a direct contrast to his normal shrinking and down-trodden demeanour, a manner which made him out normally to be extremely retiring and almost scared to ask questions.

And his gratitude was immense for what had probably been the best luncheon in his life when he had been half-carried into a huge dining room with a table larger than the entire hut in which he normally lived, down in Scullery Alley. There, the dining room that is, he had been introduced to nearly everyone who resided or worked in the Hotel. He was surprised that everyone ate together, even some of the equally astonishingly present guards. Why on Anmar do they need guards here?

His ankle throbbing, his belly full and his forced idleness made him extremely somnolent particularly so once he had been helped back to that sitting room. He leant back in that all too comfortable chair and thought and dozed and wondered and dozed some more. He was just vaguely aware that some people who had come in to keep him company had tiptoed out again when his eyelids had drooped.

… … …

His reverie was broken by the door opening and Mistress Julina and then Toria came in. They were swiftly followed by that Gyth and her mother, Mistress Waxerwet.

And then came in, in dribs and drabs, some of the other domestic ‘staff’.

“We hope we do not disturb you, Nim? We have been requested to attend here for a surprise.”

Gathering his scattered wits, Nim thickly mumbled a reply: “Of course not, Mistress Julina! Er … of course!” He spluttered into silence again, embarrassed by his own confusion.

Just then, Prevet came and stood in the doorway.

“Good, you are all here now. We thank you.” She paused before taking a deep breath and speaking loudly as do the announcers of street players: “My Lords, Ladies and Gentlemen, be pleased to welcome the new Mistress Davabet!”

She flung out her hand and then immediately scuttled into the room, out of the way.

A blushingly self-conscious Davabet came in somewhat hesitantly, her posture showing a curious mixture of embarrassment and pride, concern and even some joy.

All the women gasped in surprise and delight, squeaking out things like; “Oh how brave!”, “It suits you so well!” and “How lovely you look!”.

Mistress Julina also said feelingly: “Truly lovely, my dear! Added to which, I must point out that that will definitely be a lot easier to manage, what with your arm!”

Davabet’s waist-length hair had been shorn into a Garia-length style that framed her pretty face. She flushed with pleasure at all the compliments.

They came from everyone but Nim, who had gasped in shock. Before he could stop himself, his mouth uttered: “Are you all prostitutes, then? Am I going to die?”

---

Nim finds he is almost drowning in a bewildering expansion of his horizons

---

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.

---

“Are you all prostitutes, then? Am I going to die?”

His agitation brought him unthinkingly to his feet, but the pain in his ankle made him thump back down into his chair.

A shocked silence hit the room.

Everyone was staring at Nim who once again shrank back down into the chair and actually quivered at the unwanted attention. On top of that, he wanted to squirm as far away as possible from any of these dangerous women.

Davabet was torn between the desires to laugh or to cry. The maids clamped their mouths shut – this was surely not something they should react to, but they were shocked at the apparent thoughtlessness of the remark. Gyth’s first reaction was one of anger; raw, seething anger.

But both Waxerwet and Julina, almost simultaneously, had a flash of an inkling towards what was going on. Their eyes locked onto each other’s and messages were conveyed in a heartbeat by means of eye-speak. The former’s hand shot out and held her daughter’s, demanding eye-contact through which she forced her to remain quiet.

Julina went over to Nim’s chair and squatted down to his level, but keeping a certain respectful distance away, before speaking in the gentlest of tones: “Nim, dear. I admit I do not understand why you would have associated anything we said or did with prostitution, but I strongly suspect that you have had warnings, probably from your mother, about prostitutes. I can assure you that none here gain their coin from any remotely connected activities. I can help you – no, we ALL can help you – if only you would tell us what you so fear.

“But at the same time, we respect your privacy, and should you wish to remain silent, we will not press you further. I would remind you that earlier in the day, we all spoke freely and that you found you could, after all, relax somewhat in our company. Now, will you help us to help you?”

She sat back on her heels, slightly increasing again the distance between her smiling and tender face and the scared and cringing young man. She hoped her coaxing tones might break through the barriers that had been erected by his terror.

… … …

Nim cringed once more into the back of his chair. But this time he was again seated at that large table and far more people were looking at him. He did not know that Julina and Waxerwet had asked some of them deliberately to come to this evening meal just to hear his story. And that everyone else had been warned that he was very unconfident in himself and also very sensitive to negativity.

No-one actually ignored him but all allowed him to make his own mind up as to whether or not to join in on a conversational topic, unless he was asked a direct question like: “How do you find the food?”

Waxerwet had waited until everyone was either seated or leaning on the back of their chairs before beginning the mealtime with a little speech: “I would like you all to please welcome a new guest this e’en. Nim here has unfortunately sprained his ankle and will be with us for at least the next few nights – so it behoves me to tell you a little about him in the hope that we might thus refrain from pestering him with repetitive questions.

“He is the younger of a pair of siblings, his elder brother brother is named Sim. Nim tells me that sometimes this brother affects a different name but his real name is in fact a simple Sim.

“Their father has gone to his pyre and young Nim has been told forcefully by both his mother and his overbearing brother that he is quite stupid and not worth wasting any precious time upon for educating. He is unable to write and can barely do basic arithmetic.

“The family live in a small hut in Scullery Alley, a dwelling in which there are few comforts. He knows no other way of life.”

At this point, Nim was wriggling in embarrassment and yet also feeling a little angry that his life had been almost dismissively summed up to so many people. He had however learnt that afternoon to trust Mistresses Julina, Davabet and Waxerwet the former of whom now gentled him with a smile and a hand gesture. The afternoon had indeed begun to teach him the value of gaining full facts before reacting in any grandiose way.

Waxerwet also smiled at him before continuing in a voice that hinted strongly at subdued anger: “However, we have become determined that Nim is in fact an intelligent man who simply needs the right guidance. This is something that has plainly NOT been available at home. His elder brother …” she glanced significantly then at Jenet and used her eyes to get Jenet to nudge her husband for special attention “… treats anything and everything in their home as his own personal property. Sim has now three times stolen the Palace-issued wet weather dress from his brother and Nim suspects him of having sold these sets of clothing for profit. This last occasion has proven to be too much for Nim’s supervisor in the General Labour Pool and Nim has now no job to go to in the mornings. Both the mother and the elder brother treat Nim as an unpaid servant and feed him but scraps after they themselves have eaten their fill.”

Waxerwet took a breath as she gathered her thoughts and then plunged on, this time her voice suggesting a mixture of anger and mirth: “Now, before we all tuck in to another splendid Julina dinner, I must, however strange it may seem, touch upon the subject of prostitution.”

There was a small giggle from Davabet and Gyth at this point. Nim tried cringing further down whilst Julina and Gyth clamped their mouths shut. Feteran looked confused as did Senidet and her husband who was off duty this evening. Only Gullbrand remained impassive.

“You should all,” continued Waxerwet, “be aware that apparently all prostitutes are diseased and pass on deadly strains of all sorts of dire illnesses to every man who even gets near them! Few men are strong enough to survive such an encounter.

“As neither Nim nor his mother have frequented any prostitutes then naturally their view of these - how shall I term it? - these ladies of negotiable virtue is somewhat distant from the actuality.”

Feteran, Tedenis, Gullbrand and the other men in the room were all suddenly struck somewhat rigid and were hastily suppressing grins.

“Indeed, his mother has firmly instilled in Nim the belief that all those women who are bold enough to go about with short hair …” all eyes turned to Davabet, who waved gaily “… then those dreadful women are each and every one a prostitute.”

A chorus of gasps and coughs erupted, almost drowning out Waxerwet’s next words: “I wonder what Her Highness and Milady Milsy might have to say about that!”

She looked around as the room settled down once more.

“And now, I deem, we have talked sufficiently enough about this young man that we can commence to indulge ourselves in a more normal dinner. Toria please signal the staff that they might begin to serve us.”

Finally, over the clatter of the standing diners now dragging out their chairs, she turned to another seated close to her and addressed her directly, obviously throwing out a topic with which to start a conversation: “Senidet, Julina and I deem you should ask Nim about his idea he had earlier, an idea which, coupled with other indicators, convinced us that he is far from stupid. We both, ’Lina and I, leapt to the further idea that maybe your wheel-barrow could be adapted, but of course the lad himself had no idea what we were talking about.” As she was saying this, she also swept her skirts under her behind and sat down elegantly upon her dining chair.

She graciously smiled at all and decorously settled onto her chair. Gullbrand smiled privately to her his congratulations, which elicited a return one.

Nim however had largely ignored this last. He found himself more worried about how he would try not to disgrace himself using this weird fork thing.

… … …

These life-defining days in the Blackstone Hotel changed Nim and his family forever. Later on, he often wondered why he was unable to recall every little detail. Just some significant moments came readily to mind, so he was coloured in his reflective perceptions by a certain feeling of disconnectedness ...

… … …

“But Nim, that is a splendid idea. What would you call it?”

Diffidently, he replied: “Mistress Senidet, if you have called your barrow on wheels a wheel-barrow, then could it not be a wheel-chair?”

“But we would need some way of steering it properly. Fixed wheels on a fixed axle would be difficult to get round corners.”

“Oh! I hadn’t thought of that.” His face dropped. “There you are you see, my family are indeed quite right. I really am too stupid to be …”

“Don’t ever let me hear you say you are stupid again. You are NOT. Look at the sensible discussions we have just had. All you need is a bit more education. And, let me tell you, you are in the right place for that. Mistress Julina is also a very talented teacher.”

… … …

“Well, yes, Commander. Sim works for a factor in the city, just a block or so from our home. He is a warehouse manager I understand. That is why he is always so busy and is often away from the home, even now in the rains.”

“And your mother? What does she?”

“She stays at home, Commander. She hesitates to emerge in public since Father died. Just occasionally to the anonymity of the market where she may mostly pass unremarked. She is however obsessed with cleaning. Everything has to be clean, herself, her clothes, her house, her furniture, her … things. Which word includes as well all of that stuff for her two sons!”

“Your father. How old was he when he came to his end?”

“He was then a year younger than Mama is now.”

“Maker! How long ago was this?”

… … …

“Oh! That’s funny!” laughed Nim loudly and delightedly as Gullbrand finished his story about a letter Princess Eriana had sent from upriver to some of her men. It did not take away from his amazement at the many and varied dinner table conversations. Who would ever have thought that he would be able to dine with people who bandy words with and about Princesses?

… … …

“You are using that fork as though you have had one all your life!”

“Suddenly, I somehow fail to understand how I have ever managed without one.”

“Well, I am not certain I have seen anyone become so adept so quickly. You are basically a first-timer and yet you use it as well as any of us.”

… … …

He looked around the room he had mostly been in since his painful arrival. They had pulled in a bed from somewhere to save his having to negotiate stairs at the end of the day. When not in use, it was hidden from general view behind a clever foldable screen and had been positioned across the servant’s doorway into this room. A clever bedside cabinet had a door in it which closed upon a chamberpot, provided in case he might have a requirement for it during the night.

As he lay down on what was the most comfortable bed he had ever had, he could not get to sleep immediately. A great list of wonders continually cycled through his head. The bathing facilities here, the toilets and their flushing mechanisms, the food, the togetherness, the acceptance that he had a point of view worth listening to, the descriptions of railroads, wires, electricity, walking canopies, wheel-barrows, even bakeries and inns, then there was the hours/minutes/seconds thing. And he was shocked at the surge of hope inside himself when they promised to help educate him. His automatic feeling of unworthiness had been severely dented in the day and the evening he had spent in company of a young and vibrant group of strangers. People had actually listened to his ideas and discussed them with him.

He had even begun to learn to read, which Mistress Julina assured him, would lead to his beginning to write within days.

Let me see. Tomorrow I will … zzzzzzzzz

He was unaware of the servant who crept into the room and extinguished most of the lamps and banked the fire.

… … …

“Enough! ’Tis surely enough!” moaned Nim as he wrung both his hand and his wrist which were now aching from abundant unaccustomed use of muscles.

“Nim, ’tis but late in the forenoon. Tenant Maralin is due to arrive soon and so I shall then have need to desist with these lettering lessons with you and continue with my own learning. In fact, I shall get him to let you also sit in, just for you to see what it’s like. I shall not be involved with the meals today.

“Now, let’s go a bit further forward, your wrist will last yet a while and will soon get a rest,” she explained as she settled once more next to him.

“Remember what I said, each letter has a body which is both the larger and the middle of our three zones – all the bodies are always lined up evenly and written with even heights. Then there are sometimes one or both of the tops and/or tails to letters, each of which are smaller in height than the bodies. This is why I have lightly drawn two lines across this page to create the three zones ….” *

And so it went on, Nim struggling at first with the concept, but suddenly it all seemed to click. His weariness was swiftly forgotten as a delight swept through him. He started demanding more and more information from Julina, as well as demanding more paper and spare reedlets ‘just in case’. He failed to notice the amused glances Julina and Davvy were giving each other.

… … …

“Pardon me,” said Sarjant Verran insincerely after gently but audibly burping. Which produced several indulgent smiles from around the table.

Which was something that shocked Nim. Yet ANOTHER something. His mother would have slapped him if he had burped aloud. Hard. And she would probably have withheld his next meal.

But his attention was dragged back onto other subjects as he continued with a conversation he was having with the Tenant.

“Right then,” said the tall Jothan, “there are two things that could be of help. One I call crutches and the other is indeed a chair on wheels.”

“But,” spluttered the now-confused Nim, “aren’t crutches awkward things that are rammed right up under the armpit and generally get in the way?”

“Those are indeed a sort of crutch, but not all crutches are like that. Although it must be said that every type of crutch gets in the way at some time. Mistress Senidet? Mayhap you could produce a sketch from my description once we rise from table?”

… … …

Once again, ’twas just after the midday meal and Nim had been assisted/carried back into the ‘withdrawing room’ as he had now learnt to call it. ‘It makes sense,’ he thought, ‘for we have just left the dining room to give the staff access for the clearing up and have consequently withdrawn from there to here.’ Mind you, at present everyone simply referred to it as Nim’s Room.

He had declined to stay with Julina and the Tenant Maralin after getting far too confused in the short half-bell session prior to the once-again excellent repast. But he was certain that he would never forget some of what he had managed to pick up – for instance that ‘drawing room’ was a contraction of ‘withdrawing room’ and that ‘lunch’ was an abbreviation of the word ‘luncheon’.

He reflected again on how much he had gained from learning to write, albeit that he had only just started, and how proud he was of his progress even managing to connect the sounds of some of the letters to the sounds of some words.

He was just starting to feel a little dozy when the door opened and in came Senidet and Molleena. Senidet’s face was a little flushed, showing unwittingly an element of excitement.

“Nim! Nim! I deem I have it. Tenant Maralin made a few suggestions and Havelin, the young man you delivered your wagon to, deems he can make a swift, but very crude, working model for us to test on the morrow!”

“So soon! I am astounded!”

“Well he doesn’t have a great deal to do right at the moment. His project is on hold for a while, at least until we can design something else to help him progress.”

The two women turned to each other and started giggling.

“Why the delay?” asked a very puzzled Nim.

“’Tis something best explained by himself, really. You should ask him when you can, but I would suggest you wait until dinner tonight.”

Nim filed away this very tantalising response and hoped that he would remember to ask Havelin later. As Havelin was the man most often assigned to help him move about, Nim knew that he would have plenty of opportunity. But why on Anmar should he wait until dinner?

His thoughts however were dragged back to other matters by Senidet’s next words: “Now, I have a spare bell or two, so Julina suggested I continue with you and your lettering exercises. We shall start with how to write the new numbers and then also do some numbering. These new numbers are called the ‘Garian numbers’, which are SO much simpler.”

… … …

He didn’t have time to doze for the rest of the day, nor did he actually want to for he was so eagerly busy learning and taking the vast (or so it seemed) amount of information in. First he learnt to count, then he learnt to write each symbol. As soon as he started to write down double-digit numbers, the concept of the counting became clear to him – a vast blinding flash seemed to illuminate every nook and cranny in his head.

In an awe-filled voice, he asked Senidet: “So when I get to the end of the two-number numbers, which I guess would be nine-nine, then do they go to numbers with three whatjacallits?”

“Three digits, exactly. So what would be the highest three digit number?”

Hesitantly at first, but with noticeably growing confidence, he replied: “Nine … er … nine, yes, nine.”

“Correct! Nine-nine-nine it is. Do you want to try to write that down?”

He did so with an almost sneer, an attitude that said ‘Duh!’ and ‘Of course’ and ‘That’s easy’ and ‘Do you take me for a fool’ all at once. Which then made him blush furiously when he remembered how grateful he was for this much-needed education and he didn’t want to be as arrogant as that brother of his, a brother that appeared more and more disreputable with every heartbeat – no wait, with every second – that Nim spent in this company. The entire group staying here, and including the ones that had sometimes appeared from Blackstone House, supported each other, laughed with each other, had arguments with each other that never descended into resentment, and so on. Nim found himself being jealous of them all ever more frequently.

… … …

“Errrrm, Havelin? They …” he waved a vague hand at the two girls responsible “… suggested I ask of you what your project is and why I needed to deliver a fresh wagon to you?”

There was a ripple of mirth amongst many seated around the dinner table that evening and Havelin himself grinned a most infectious grin as he began his explanation: “Well the thing is … Ah! Hold! I know not the depth of your knowledge just now! You are, I deem aware that there are things called steam engines used just about round every corner?”

Nim nodded, already wondering where this was leading. All the steam engines he had seen were under some sort of weather protection and yet were open to the winds as the smokes were apparently dangerous if you breathed them in.

“And you have seen them working? Belching out smoke and steam and the like? And whirling that great big wheel around?”

Again Nim nodded as Havelin continued:

“Well, one day I was watching a steam engine and I saw the big wheel keeping on turning and it reminded me of a wagon wheel rolling along. And then I had a thought – what if I could harness the steam engine’s turning wheel to the wheel of a wagon? Surely then, I reasoned, the wagon would drive along the road with need for neither a frayen nor a dranakh!”

Nim’s mouth dropped open. In tones of wonder, he breathed out: “Of course! How clever of you! So that wagon I delivered is to be the one you use for this?”

Again came the grin and a few giggles. “Well yes and no, really,” said the young journeyman. “You see, I have already used a wagon and have shown that it indeed works as I suspected.”

Nim’s brow furrowed as he tried to make sense of all this. Havelin continued then: “Think you on a steam engine, Nim. What makes it work?”

“Steam?”

“Indeed so. And wherefrom comes that steam?”

“From water?”

“Exactly that. And how do we convert water into steam?”

“By heating it of course.” Nim was beginning to get irritated but he wasn't exactly sure why.

“No, don’t get upset, I am not teasing you. I am merely showing you what an idiot I was.”

“Huh???”

“To heat the water, we have to have a fire, right?”

“Of course.”

“What do you think happens if I light a fire and then let it rest upon the wooden bottom boards of a wagon’s belly?”

Nim thought about it and then suddenly he pictured what had happened. He too started to giggle.

“Yes, I ruined not only a steam engine but also a wagon when I burned a large hole through the floor and it all crashed to the ground. It nearly set the entire barn afire too! Saved by the rains as it happens. We wheeled the burning wagon outside as swiftly as we could.”

… … ...

“Oh no!” said Nim determinedly. “That’s not really practical. When a four-wheeled wagon comes to a corner, then the frayen or dranakh and the front part of the wagon point off to one side. If a canopy is attached to the BELLY of the wagon, then the canopy would be pointing off in a different direction. Why, that would make it impossible to even enter some gateways.”

“Good point, young Nim. I guess we should have consulted a real wagoneer earlier in this process,” said Senidet with a kind grin. Nim felt himself swell a little with pride as she described him as a real wagoneer. This was probably the first time he had ever earned praise!

… … …

“Well, young Nim, you have given us much to ponder upon. Most grateful. Most grateful indeed. Young Havelin here will assist you to your chair in the other room or mayhap ’tis time you wish to retire to your bed? Should we arrange for it to be set up there?”

Everyone started to rise amidst a great clatter as chairs were scraped back and the last dregs in mugs and goblets were hastily swallowed. A few more private conversations were commenced as the diners that could rose to their feet. The first of them filed out into the hallway.

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

*(You should, as a reader, perhaps be aware that much of this method of writing was explained and illustrated in JoB #26) - JDP

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Nim has a shocking experience after dinner

---

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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