With delivery of the message for the Westgrovian embassy in Kartok, Trixie completed her assigned job. The Crown would pay reasonable expenses for her trip back to Greatbridge, but it could claim no further demands on her time or on what she did with it. Her escorts, as members of the King’s Personal Guard, were expected to return as expeditiously as possible. Although the same requirement did not apply to her, she felt eager to return home, and she planned to accompany them when they left the next morning. A good portion of the day and all evening remained, and she planned to enjoy them.
The three men she traveled with for the last ten days technically no longer served as her bodyguards now that she had completed her mission. Still, they asked her permission before setting off to explore the city, and she immediately granted it. She welcomed the free time, and they seemed to be looking forward to theirs, too. Before parting company, she told them the location of the inn where they would be staying the night and told them not to worry if they did not see her there for dinner.
She wandered around many of the shops and stalls in the crowded market areas. She found several well made items, solid and sturdy like the stoutfolk themselves. Whatever they created, it seemed, they made to last. Their work possessed a certain beauty as well, a beauty born of utility and efficiency rather than of delicacy and form, though. She eventually bought a small piece of inexpensive but well crafted jewelry at one small shop as a gift for her landlady. Madame Brockwell kept an eye on Trixie’s room when she traveled, and she understood if she did not get her rent on time because of it. Besides, Trixie liked her.
She came upon a crowd of people gathering to listen to a storyteller at one of several plazas forming intersections for major roads in the city. He stood by a fountain made of stone carved to resemble an exotic bromeliad. Occasionally, someone would drop a coin in a box nearby.
The storyteller, of course, related his tale in Gotroxian, which made it a bit difficult for her to follow, but she recognized it as a familiar children’s classic she heard as a girl in Greatbridge. He spoke with a rich, resonating voice, and he used just the right inflections to carry the moods he described. Through sound and motion, he believingly conveyed scenes, emotions, and conflict. She found herself engrossed in the tale. He moved and made faces to act out the characters and events, effortlessly projecting his voice to echo off the buildings around the square.
After he brought the story to a dramatic conclusion, he made a deep, theatrical bow. The crowd applauded with enthusiasm. More money clinked into the box. Trixie shuffled through the crowd to make her contribution.
When she approached, the storyteller smiled at her. “I doubt very much you are from around here.”
Trixie smiled back. She did rather stand out, being at least a foot taller than anyone else in the plaza, except, now that she thought about it, the storyteller himself.
He could not have been more than a couple inches shorter than Trixie, making him too tall for one of the stoutfolk. His blue eyes might have labeled him one of the fairfolk, but they did not have beards, especially not full, bushy ones like the storyteller wore. And she never met a fairfolk man quite so wide. She could not recall ever seeing one she would consider overweight, let alone fat, and this man definitely carried a few pounds beyond what anyone might kindly call pleasantly plump. His shoulder length white hair, and, of course, the blue eyes, argued against him being one of the tallfolk. This left the notsos. He could be a notso, she supposed, but like their fairfolk cousins, they did not have beards, and they tended not to be quite so round either. Not that she found the shape unbecoming in his case, by any means. If asked to judge, she would have said it made him look cuddly. However, she could not nail down where he might be from just by looking at him.
She also just realized he addressed her in her native tongue. His command of the Westgrovian language carried no accent she could detect, which meant only that when speaking to her, he spoke with the same accent she used.
“No,” she replied. “My name is Trixie. I’m a professional messenger from Greatbridge.”
“I am very pleased to meet you, Trixie. To be honest, I suspected as much. Not your name, of course, but the rest. You are obviously one of the tallfolk, and I noticed the messenger guild tattoo on your ankle. That specific style is popular in Greatbridge. You may call me Nash or, if you wish, Grandpa Nash. It’s sort of an old nickname. So, did you like my story?”
“Yes! Very much. I remember hearing it when I was young. You do it wonderfully.”
“Why, thank you. I have had some practice.”
“Have you been a storyteller long?” After she said it, she realized how silly it must have sounded. The man could not be so proficient without years of storytelling experience. He probably first told this particular story long before her birth.
His smile broadened. “Longer than you can possibly imagine.”
She took his reply for a humorous, self-deprecating remark about his age. “It looks like it would be a lot of fun. I wish I could tell stories like that.”
“I don’t see why you couldn’t.”
“Well, for one thing, who would teach me?”
“I suppose I could.”
“You? I thank you for the offer, but there wouldn’t be time. I’ll be returning to Greatbridge soon.”
“Isn’t that a coincidence? I plan to go there myself. I hoped I might be able to secure a long-term position as a teacher. Maybe even at one of the universities.”
“A teacher? What do you teach?”
“Oh, pretty much anything. I suppose it depends on what needs learning.”
“Do you think you could teach me how to read and write?” She always wanted to do that—someday. When he mentioned he wanted to be a teacher, her aspirations toward literacy immediately jumped into her consciousness and asserted themselves.
“Certainly. I’ve taught much less likely students than you, I’m sure.”
The crowd thinned. The last coin likely to be dropped clinked into the box, and Nash stepped toward the fountain to collect the contributions.
“Besides,” he continued, “I really would like to get back to teaching, and there is no better place than Greatbridge for that. Teaching you along the way will ease me back into it.”
Trixie thought this made sense. She did not know much about such things, but she heard the schools in Greatbridge were well regarded by those who did. Her educational aspirations never extended much beyond a desire to learn to read, and she never seriously expected to have an opportunity to satisfy them any time soon. Now a chance to do so just fell in her lap, and although she just met Nash, she instantly liked and trusted him at almost an instinctive level.
“If you’d like,” she said, “you can come with me back to Greatbridge. It can be dangerous for someone traveling alone. Especially someone, uh, well, older. You know.”
She feared she may have insulted him, but he just smiled indulgently and waited for her to continue.
“Um, so it would be safer to travel together, and it wouldn’t cost you anything like it would if you went by coach or joined a caravan. That is, if you were going there anyway. And on the way, if you wouldn’t mind, you could give me lessons. I’d pay you, of course.”
“That sounds like a fine idea. I’d be happy to, but there is no need to pay me. Your company is more than enough to compensate me for the lessons. When would you like to leave?”
“I was planning to leave tomorrow morning, but I’d be happy to wait until you’re ready.”
“No need. Tomorrow would be fine. I don’t have many things to pack.” His smile widened.
“Thank you. That’s very accommodating of you. Are you sure it’s no problem?”
“None at all, I assure you. In fact, I should thank you for giving me a good reason to finally get up and go. I’ve been meaning to for some time now, but one day follows another with little things to do, and plans are put off until a great number of tomorrows have passed by before you realize it. I’m sure you know how it is.?
??
She nodded. She did. All too well.
“I haven’t been to Greatbridge in quite a while, and it will be nice to see how things have changed, if nothing else.”
There always seemed to be new buildings going up, old ones being torn down, and such things, but Trixie did not think much of any real significance had changed back home since her childhood. Perhaps it had been this long since Nash’s last visit to the city. Judging from his age, it might be the case.
“I was just about to go to dinner,” she said. “I know a great place not far from here that has the best authentic Gotroxian food. I’d be happy if you’d care to join me—my treat, of course.”
“You are too kind.” He smiled. “But I’m not hungry right now, and it seems I have some packing to do. I should get to it. Just tell me where to meet you tomorrow.”
She told him, and he promised to meet her there the next morning ready to travel.
She strolled with purpose to the little restaurant. The food tasted even better than she remembered.