The Warden Threat

  ~*~

  The fireplaces of the thousands of homes, shops, and businesses comprising the vast city of Greatbridge did their best to stave off the damp morning chill of early autumn. From her vantage point on one of the many tree-speckled country hills, Trixie could easily see the smoke from the chimneys serving those fireplaces as a large, low hanging gray cloud off in the distance, although they remained a day away.

  “When was the last time you were in Greatbridge, Grandpa Nash?” Her words made little clouds in the crisp air as she spoke before the breeze carelessly dispersed them.

  “Oh, it’s been several years. I can’t really say how many.”

  “That long, huh? I’ve lived there all my life. I grew up in Neardocks. You know it?”

  “By the river past the stockyards, right?”

  “Yeah, that’s right.”

  “I believe it was a bit on the rundown side the last time I was here. Has it improved?”

  Trixie laughed without humor. “It’s a slum. The only way to improve it would be to burn it down.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “I don’t live there now, of course. I’m still in Greatbridge, though. I have a room not too far from East Market Square. I travel a lot, but I’ve never been gone for more than a few months.”

  The two friends jogged past a slow moving wagon on its way toward the orchards. By the end of the day, it would be filled with ripe redfruit.

  “Good day, friend,” greeted Grandpa Nash, as they passed by.

  “G’day,” the wagon driver replied. An expression of mild surprise emerged on his face when he noticed the portly build and white beard of the fellow running past him at a respectable pace.

  “What will you do first when we get there tomorrow?” Grandpa Nash asked her some time later.

  “I’ll need to report in to the Messengers’ Guildhall right away. Then I’ll go home. I need to pay my landlady the rent. She’s really nice about being patient when I’m away. I bought something for her in Kartok. I’d like to give that to her too. After that, I’ll take care of a few things—you know, laundry, a bath, that kind of thing. Then I’ll go to bed early in my own bed with my own clean blankets and sleep late the next day. I know it all sounds painfully dull, but I’m really looking forward to it. What about you?”

  “I was thinking I’d go up to the university and see if I might be able to get a position there. If not, I’ll probably check in with the lower schools.”

  “What if you can’t find anything?”

  “Not to worry. My needs are very simple, and I can make a pretty good living as a storyteller for as long as I need to.”

  “Of that I have no doubt at all. You are easily the best storyteller I’ve ever heard.”

  “Why thank you. I do my best,” he replied, with a smile of feigned humility.

  “Hang on a minute. I think I have a pebble in my boot.”

  They stopped while Trixie undid the laces of one of her soft, low boots and extricated an offending bit of rock.

  “Do you know any stories about Greatbridge?” she asked, as they resumed their pace.

  “Oh, a few I suppose. What would you like to hear?”

  “Something about its history, I suppose. I really don’t know much.”

  Grandpa Nash told her more about Greatbridge and the Kingdom of Westgrove in the next hour than she could ever hope to remember. Apparently, the relative peace it now enjoyed did not reflect its more turbulent past. “I never knew there had been so many wars. But it sounds like we won most of them.”

  “The only wars you win are those you avoid.” He sighed.

  She thought about this for a moment and appreciated what he meant. “It all upsets you doesn’t it, Grandpa Nash? People having wars and things like that, I mean.”

  “Upset? I suppose it does. I don’t like it when people harm one another. It’s contrary to my nature. I can’t really explain it to you, but that’s how I was made.”

  “That’s just how people are. There’s nothing you can do about it,” Trixie said comfortingly.

  “That’s what bothers me the most. I can’t do anything about it.” He paused. “But then again…” He became quiet and his gaze turned inward. A few seconds later, he whispered almost to himself, “Can I?”

  “Grandpa Nash?” his friend said with concern.

  “Oh, nothing, Trixie. I was just thinking.”

  He still seemed pensive, if not troubled, and Trixie did not wish to disturb his thoughts. “I understand,” she replied.