Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: spider@zk3.dec.com (Spider Boardman) Subject: [Jac] Encounter at the East Gate Message-ID: References: Date: Sun, 25 Jul 1993 05:43:26 GMT Guardsman Hugh Bain was tired, and his head hurt. He was standing his watch at the East Gate of the city, but his mind kept drifting in the mid-morning sun. He was thinking about his late night before, cursing himself for a fool now that he was having trouble staying awake. He'd been gambling, even winning a bit. After the drinking that had followed, however, most of his winnings were gone. What was left was not enough to make up for his misery now. He shook his head again, trying to clear it, while bringing himself back to his surroundings. As he looked out along the roadway leading into the city, he rubbed his eyes to make sure he wasn't seeing things. Where Hugh could have sworn there had been no one just a moment before, now there was a lone rider coming toward Generica. He was armed like one of the northern barbarian fighters, but he didn't really look like one of them. Something seemed strange about the horse, too. Hugh stood up straight, and forced his eyes to focus. The horse looked like a Morgan, and the rider sat easily in the saddle. Hugh squinted, trying to see what had caught his attention. Then it came to him. The horseman was still on the other side of the milepost! They had to be half again as big as they had looked! Hugh's mouth opened in surprise. He noticed, and closed it again. Finding nothing better to do, Hugh watched them as they approached the gate. He tried to figure out what their sizes would turn out to be. He guessed that the horse would be 24 to 26 hands high. The rider looked to be about 8 feet tall. As they neared, he kept watching for details. He told himself that it helped him to stay awake. The horse was black, except for a white star and a white sock on the right rear leg. It had relatively short and thick legs, and a broad body. Its powerful build showed that it could handle quite a bit more weight than it was carrying. Hugh decided that it had to be a warhorse, and not just an overgrown palfrey. For some reason, the horse did not seem to be kicking up any dust from the roadway as it walked. The saddle was also black, decorated with silver studs. It had the high back favored by knights, but the front of the saddle was not in a style with which Hugh was familiar. It was formed into something of a platform with a knob at the front, from which the reins hung loosely. The horse didn't seem to mind the lack of direction from its rider. Of course, Hugh reminded himself, warhorses are used to being guided by knee pressure and verbal signals while the knight's hands are full. The rider's boots, breeches, and cloak were also black. The boots were of polished leather. The cloak had a silvery lining. His shirt was of a loose-fitting style, which laced up the front. It was creamy-white, and partly open at the throat. He wore a crimson sash for a belt. He had a big sword hung back over his right shoulder, and a smaller one hanging from his belt by his left hip. One end of a metal-shod quarterstaff stuck out from under the cloak by his left shoulder. There was some sort of crossbow strapped along the right-hand side of the saddle, along with a quiver holding a score of bolts for it. Neither a lance nor a shield was in evidence. Hugh estimated that the man weighed at least 30 stone, with no signs of fat. Comparing the rider's size and corded muscles with the size of his swords, Hugh decided that the lack of a shield, at least, was explained by a two-sworded fighting style. As the stranger rode nearer, Hugh got a better look at his features. The man's hair was medium brown. It was cut short around his face. It seemed to be longer in back, tied in a warrior's braid. He wore a braided red thong as a headband. He had a dark beard, which he wore combed in a forked style, showing a prominent dimple in his chin. He was smoking a briar pipe. He was well-tanned, but his coloration left it obvious that he had started with fair skin. The man appeared to be about 30 years old. He was handsome, with the dashing look of a pirate. Hugh figured him to have a way with the ladies. The rider's clothing seemed to be of the finest commercial spider silk. Each sword had a large ruby set in its pommel, with gold wire wound about the hilt. Based on this evidence of wealth, Hugh upgraded his idea of the man's station from "knight" to "noble". He was, however, bothered by the lack of any retinue. As the horse approached the bridge, Hugh winced in anticipation of the coming assault on his aching head. However, the bells under the bridge did not start ringing. In fact, he noticed, there wasn't even the usual sound of hooves clopping. The horse was walking silently along the span. Hugh was still wondering at this when the horse came to stop in the opening of the gate. Hugh felt an aura of authority coming from the rider, now that he was so close. This man was surely either a noble or a general. However, there was also an aura of another kind. Peace, maybe, or safety? No--it was sanctity. Hugh vaguely remembered hearing that some kinds of paladin had vows of poverty that amounted to "own nothing you can't carry on your horse." He was suddenly sure that this man must be a paladin. As he was thinking this, part of his mind noted that the horse's shoulder came halfway up the second hinge, which meant that it stood 24 and a half hands high. That made it the biggest horse he had ever seen. Finally, he noticed that the rider was looking at him. As Hugh met his eyes, the man took his pipe out his mouth and spoke softly in a deep, pleasant voice. "You don't look like you feel too well." Hugh was suddenly a bit embarrassed. Complaining of a hangover to a paladin would probably be good for a lecture, at least. "Beggin' y'r lordship's pard'n, sor, 'tain't nothin' t'be worryin' such as y'rself." The rider chuckled. "Be that however it may, it can't be good for a city when a guard at its gate isn't feeling as he should." He pulled his right leg around and sat sideways in his saddle. He put his hands at his sides and snapped his legs out straight in front of him, and then pushed off with his hands. Once he was in the air, he managed to twist around so as to land softly on the balls of his feet, standing a foot away. The effect made Hugh think of a cat. Somehow, he'd even managed to leave his pipe sitting on that platform at the front of his saddle. "Now, then, let's have a look at you." The stranger bent down to look closely at Hugh's eyes. As he did so, Hugh noticed that his hair had a pair of tawny stripes running along the top. "So, you had a bit too much partying last night, did you?" Hugh nodded sheepishly. "Well, let that teach something about the virtue of moderation." The man smiled kindly for a moment. His face then turned serious, and he held Hugh's head between his hands as he bowed his own head and whispered in a language that Hugh did not recognize. Hugh felt a Presence about him, and it seemed to promise him comfort. As that presence withdrew from his awareness, he felt refreshed, and his head cleared. The other man released Hugh and straightened. The guardsman was at a loss for words. He wondered whether he dared to speak to such a person, even to thank him. The stranger solved that dilemma for him by speaking first. "By the way," he said with a twinkle in his eye, "My name's not `your lordship.' I am Jacob William Benson, at your service. Most people call me `Jac.'" He cocked his head a bit to the side, and looked expectantly at Hugh. "Uh, uhm, Hugh Bain, sor, at y'r sorvice. Ah, um, thank you, y'r lo--uh, Jac. I, uh, that is..." "It comes with the territory, Hugh. Just try not to repeat the mistake." A smile played at the corners of Jac's mouth. "Uh, I, right. I will. I mean I won't!" Jac laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. "Good lad. So, tell me, Hugh, where's a good inn around here, anyway?" "Well, if it's r'lly an inn y'r wantin'?" Jac nodded. "The best f'r those th't c'n afford 't, I s'pose, 'd hafta be th' Dragon's Inn, sor." Hugh pointed west, along Dragon Lane. "It'll be on y'r left, sor, jus' afore y'come t' the Plaza 'f Glitt'rin' Steel." "Thanks, Hugh." Jac stepped a bit closer to his horse. That part of Hugh's mind that noticed such things saw that Jac's head was just a hand shy of the withers. Jac leapt up and slightly to the side, splaying his legs, and eased his landing in the saddle with this hands, placing them just before and behind himself. Having settled in his seat again, he picked up his pipe. The horse resumed walking, passing the rest of the way through the gate. As he started down Dragon Lane, Jac called back a farewell. "Take care of yourself, Hugh." Hugh watched them for a bit, then turned and checked the roadway on the outside of the gate once more. "'t least, I won't be fallin' t' sleep on th' job t'day!" he said to himself. -- Spider Boardman spider@zk3.dec.com DEC OSF/1 development ...!decvax!spider I don't speak for DEC, and vice versa.