Alliance for Antrim

  ***

  Despite the length of his bed, Nevin rested well that night. The trip from Huxley was physically and mentally demanding, not to mention the rigor of the deliverance from Hempstead College. With the excitement of their arrival at Sartell, the altercation with the drunken soldier and the full dinner, both men slept a long night and well into the morning.

  Grogan had arranged for their clothes to be cleaned and a chambermaid left them in neat piles on their packs, tidily arranged at the foot of each bed. It was an easy task to determine one man’s clothes from the other. The two men stirred themselves awake as the time moved toward noon. After dressing, they gathered their belongings and went downstairs.

  They seated themselves at the same table as the previous night. Only four other patrons were in the room, but Nevin still chose to sit with his back to them to avoid their inevitable eye contact. His eye and face still hurt and he wanted no repeat of last night’s unpleasantness.

  “Orris will want to know all the details behind your blackened eye.”

  “I think I’ll tell him I mistakenly hit one of his fellow soldiers in the foot with my face. This is not a very presentable appearance for the King, is it?

  “I am more concerned that we get to see the King in any manner. I do not like the way we were rejected yesterday.”

  “Maybe things will go better today. Let’s have breakfast. What do you think we should order?”

  “Why, whatever the innkeeper decides to cook for us.” Anson’s response indicated surprise to think there would be any choice. Nevin caught on, realizing there would be no menu.

  Grogan approached them and apologized for the disorderly behavior of last night’s patrons. “The King’s soldiers have gotten very testy as their numbers dwindle. It seems to them that the war will only end when the last soldiers are killed, and they fear that end is not far off.” After wiping off the table, Grogan paused to expound on his words. “If that be true, who would patronize this inn? Would any travelers venture about, even in the city?” The innkeeper shook his head at these unanswerable questions and returned his attention to Anson and Nevin. “Shall I serve you this morning, Sirs? We have eggs, ham and bread. I am sure you want a warm drink as well. Yes?” Both men nodded, Nevin more eagerly than Anson, and the innkeeper left them for the kitchen. Several more patrons had wandered in, all eyeing Nevin as if they came to see if the rumors were true.

  Nevin ignored the stares and said little while they waited. He mused on fleeting questions about the geological implications of cobalt mixed with marble, and how long it took to build over the mile of sandstone walls. His private thoughts were broken as Orris walked in.

  Orris entered the pub with a grand announcement that he had returned to the delight of Sartell’s women. He boasted he was still the bane of any rogues who would want to test him, despite his “serious injury, valiantly incurred while defending the King’s honor in pitched battle.”The innkeeper embraced him like a lost brother and they talked for several minutes with many backslaps and hearty laughs. Orris pulled up a sleeve on a new uniform to proudly display his most recent wound.

  Orris stopped to talk briefly with the patrons at one of the other tables before joining Anson and Nevin. Grogan cleared the breakfast dishes and asked Orris if he wanted food. With a broad grin, Orris responded, “I have eaten breakfast enough for two men, served to me in bed with other tasty delights.”He winked at Nevin and mocked a frown as he noticed the black eye and facial bruise. “It seems to me, Sir Nevin, that you also chose to sample offerings of another sort in this fair city. I feel prideful, Sir Nevin, from what I have heard, that the sage of our alliance can make a good account of himself if provoked.”

  Nevin was still abashed at having been involved in a fight, but Anson quickly turned things serious. “Orris, do you know whether we will get to see King Lucan today?”

  “We have a problem with the Chancellor, my fellows. He thinks the Gilsum bounty on mages is partly to blame for the recent attacks, especially the attack on Huxley that was so decisively won by Gilsum. He also thinks that mages do not compensate with sufficient military advantages for the added peril they pose for Antrim. You will have to speak well, Anson, if we even get to the King’s reception room. But if he learns that you are a mage, you may not get to speak at all.”

  “We must get in. We must see Lucan!” Anson pounded his fist on the table, upsetting a tankard of tea.

  “Take it easy. We’ll get in,” Nevin said, trying to console his friend. “This country of yours is in trouble and we’ll just have to find a way to convince this King of yours. Isn’t that what you brought me along for? We’ll find a way.”

  The three men, who had come together from diverse pursuits to form a self-claimed alliance for Antrim, looked at each other with faces of determination and conviction in their purpose. Without another word, they rose in unison and left for the castle.