Seas of Chaos

Chapter One: Hadrian

  He stared viciously at the page and mentally willed the words to remain still, and for a brief moment, they slowed. A sentence appeared for the briefest moment, and then the text continued in its frenzied dance. Hadrian closed the book and placed his head in his hands. Footsteps sounded behind him and a much younger man stood at the table.

  “You’ve been down here for hours, sir.”

  “I would have guessed days. Or months, or years. Wouldn’t make a difference. Not a damn.” He laughed dryly. “I suppose everyone else is itching to go.”

  The younger man, everyone called him Drex, had grown used to Hadrian’s temper. “In a word? Yes. What’s the problem anyway? Just some old books.”

  Drex had, accidentally or no, hit the nail squarely on the head. Hadrian, the old scholar, could read or translate any language known to man. For a time he had specialized in ancient writings. Not only dead, but buried and eaten by worms.

  “Enchantments my boy.” He said this without looking up, but was smiling slightly.

  “What?”

  “Magic, bewitched, e’spelled, cursed, I don’t know, whatever you people call it.”

  “You know magic?” Drex could not keep the astonishment, and fear, out of his voice.

  “I’ve learned enough. Enough to know why I can’t read these, but not enough to actually do anything.” Hadrian finally looked up at the younger man. “Close your mouth, there are moths down here.”

  Drex closed his mouth and looked around nervously. “So you are a wizard then? You can summon demons and converse with the dead?”

  “And shoot lightning bolts from my ass. Hadrian the wizard, sure. Keep it under your hat boy. People around here are damn superstitious.” He scoffed. “And with good reason.”

  “Why is that?”

  “It wasn’t so long ago that witches lived in the hills and wizards in their studies.” Hadrian pointed to the small mountain of books he had assembled. “I can only guess what is written in those, and I have a very active imagination. I think we can assume they not are recipe books.” He stood up suddenly, his mood somewhat improved. “Well, if I can’t read them, there is little danger of anyone else doing so. You say those rogues I hired are ready to go? Then let’s go. Hot food and a warm bed do not sound too bad.”

  Outside of the ruined watchtower, a dozen men were camped around a large cooking fire. There were half as many women: wives and whores. One man had even brought his scrawny twelve year old daughter. Hadrian had at first objected; the men were to ensure he was not robbed and gutted out in the middle of nowhere, but they were insistent. It was simply the way things were done here. So what was supposed to be a quiet journey became an entire traveling community. A local trader had even come along, packing up his mule and hiring a man to guard his wares.

  The girl ran up and happily danced around him. “Mr. Hadrian! You’re finally out! Did you find anything in the tomb?”

  “A tomb? Why do you think it’s a tomb?” He did not think the crumbling watchtower looked anything like a tomb. It hardly looked like a tower these days, but it was built on a hill, like it was supposed to be.

  “Everyone says so.” She said with blind trust.

  “Oh, well if everyone says so… what if everyone said the sky was green?”

  She laughed. “But it isn’t.”

  “Just so, sometimes you just have to see a thing for yourself.”

  “I think it looks like a tomb.”

  Hadrian sighed and shook his head. “A tomb would have been more interesting.”

  Some of the men stood as he came near, but most did not. They had killed one of the many animals that were brought along on the expedition and were eating happily. He raised his voice to be heard over their conversations and singing.

  “I expect that the journey home will take only half as long as it took us to get here. For some reason I agreed to pay each of you three silver dimes a day, so naturally you led me in circles for a week. And when we get here? A trip wasted it seems.” He paused and looked at the men. They were in good spirits despite the drizzling rain. “Let’s go home.”

  There was a cheer and the camp was packed up in record time. Hadrian rolled his eyes, but remained silent. Many of the men had families to look after, so he did not begrudge their “enterprising” nature. Of course, some would drink away their money as soon as possible. That too, was simply the way things were done. Not for the first time, Hadrian wondered what he might do next. It was springtime and the seas would be calm. Only the foolish, or desperate, braved the winter storms. He had spent the winter in the city of Snowy Down and came north when the roads cleared. There were places to go now that the sea was open to him. Cities of gold, misty mountains, and oceans of sand. Adventure was out there, certainly.

  The nearest settlement, a small town called Lordsburg, was three days away. It would have been faster to travel alone, Hadrian was the only one riding a horse, but far more dangerous. The group was slowed down by the animals that had made the journey with them: mules, goats, pigs, and even a milk cow. Once they reached the town, Hadrian would dismiss the thirteen men he had originally hired. The rest would go with them. Then, finally, he would be by himself on the road to Snowy Down.

  They were camped that first night on the edge of a stream. A few of the group tried their luck at fishing, but came back disappointed. Hadrian found a comfortable place next to the fire and wrote down a few lines in his travel journal.

  Day sixteen of this fool’s errand. The tower was there, and so were the books, but they were enchanted in such a way that made reading them impossible. So, in the tower they will remain, where someone else can fail to read them. I wonder how many others have written these same words? In any case, I am returning to my home in Snowy Down, traveling by way of Lordsburg.

  “Mr. Hadrian?” Drex was sitting next to him on the fallen tree.

  “What is it?”

  “Food, sir.”

  Hadrian took the bowl and poked at its contents. “What is it?” He asked again.

  “Oh, I don’t really know. Looks like, potatoes, some of that goat we ate earlier, and something green.”

  “Hmph.” He produced a wooden spoon from his pocket and tried a bite. “Tastes like pine needles.” Hadrian raised his voice. “My compliments to the chef!”

  Several women turned and scowled at him. He bowed his head and scowled back.

  “What’s wrong with pine needles, sir? My mam always said they were the best way to keep things moving, you know, down stairs.”

  Hadrian grumbled and ate another bite.

  “See? Not so bad right?” Drex happily finished his own bowl and went off to look for more. The rest of the camp was settling down to sleep. Someone was singing softly and Hadrian drifted off, thinking of their Northern speech.

  Snowy Down became a city because the ruling Lords said it was a city. The native tribes shook their heads, but came to visit anyway. Some were impressed by civilization, by its cobbled streets and docile animals. Some stayed, to work the fields or the docks, to become weavers and professional drunks. Most however, continued their lives in the same manner as before, only ignoring the place where “civilized man” chose to live. Even today, if you walk in a straight line long enough, you will meet these tribes. Hadrian had learned their languages and they had shared with him their lives. He liked them well enough, but he liked soft beds and books even more. That night he dreamed of one of those tribes, of one of the women in particular. She was lean and strong, with skin darkened by the sun. Hadrian had thought her a wild animal when he first saw her, but she spoke with the same eloquence as a Lady of the court. He sometimes dreamed of going back to that tribe, to see her again.

  The remainder of the trip passed without incident.
The camp rose early each morning and traveled until they were weary to the bone. Hadrian spent his third night in Lordsburg. He rented a small cottage, rather than sleep in the inn, which gave him more room to himself. There was a knock at the door.

  “Yes?” He asked the young man, his clothes dirty from travel.

  “Mr. Greenfield sends his compliments, sir. I heard you were back in town and so I raced over here as soon as I could.”

  “To do what?” Hadrian looked at him suspiciously. “And what does my lawyer want?”

  “I have a letter for you, sir.” The messenger handed him a letter and stood there politely.

  “Mr. Greenfield paid you for the delivery?”

  “Of course, sir, but I have been in town for a long time.”

  “How many days?”

  “Four, sir. I ran a few letters for the townies, but there was little work. Most people deliver their own mail around here.”

  “Of course. Four days gets a dime.” Hadrian reached into his pocket and fished out the coin. He suspected the young man had only been in town for a day, and spent it drinking in the tavern by the smell of him.

  “Thank you kindly, sir. Blessings of luck be upon you.”

  “Yes, yes, now get out of here.” Hadrian closed the door firmly and scanned the letter. “Oh hells! I’m being sued!” He said aloud, then read over the letter carefully.

  Mr. Hadrian,

  The couple, Mr. and Mrs. Carter, have filed a complaint against your person. As your legal representation, I stepped in and made certain inquiries. The city watch has taken into custody one of your household servants, the most serious of the charges leveled against him being burglary. The family pressing charges is looking to collect damages from you. I have stalled the proceedings until such a time as you can return, including the execution of the servant. Please return with all haste back to the city.

  Your servant,

  Mr. Robert Greenfield, Attorney at Law

  In the morning, Hadrian returned the horse to the merchant he had lent it from and hired a carriage headed back to the city. He was one of five passengers, all of whom assumed he was a merchant. It was a cover he used often. He had no natural distinguishing features, but dressed well enough to move in the higher circles. It made him naturally invisible. No spells or enchantments, just common sense, which had always served him much better than any magic.

  They stopped at the planned way-stations to change out horses and drivers. This gave the passengers a chance to stretch their legs. Hadrian used the time to make observations of the changing terrain. The brittle, flint hills gave way to grassy lowlands and leafy trees. He could smell the sea now, though they were still miles from the coast. Hadrian relieved himself and climbed back into the carriage. They drove throughout the night and arrived in the heart of the city by the late afternoon.

  Hadrian was dreading the dull business with the Carters, but could not help but feel excited to be back in the city. Human habitation tended to be a smelly affair, and Snowy Down was no different. There was the smell of the sewers, which were really just a pair of depressions on either side of the road that filled with garbage and rainwater. The freshly-melted snow helped to wash the year’s accumulated filth down into the lower parts of the city. As one could guess, these were the poor districts, where no sensible person would be found, even in broad daylight.

  People and animals filled the narrow streets, designed for only one third the traffic. Hadrian was caught walking behind a pig farmer driving his herd up the road. He thought about asking the man why he thought this was a good idea, but the farmer carried a big stick to dissuade such questions. As a result, Hadrian arrived home an hour later than he had planned. He was greeted in the courtyard by the two servants not in jail, the cook and the maid, both older women.

  “Welcome home Mr. Hadrian.” Mrs. Waters said happily.

  “Welcome home, sir.” Mrs. Blaine said, somewhat less excited. It was, after all, her youngest son sleeping in a cell.

  “Thank you, thank you. I hear there is some trouble with the young master Blaine, but that can wait a moment. First, I am about to collapse from hunger.”

  “I cannot imagine what sort of gruel you have been eating without me, Mr. Hadrian.” Mrs. Waters bowed her head and hurried off in the direction of the kitchen.

  Hadrian turned to Mrs. Blaine and led her inside. “Now that we have a bit of privacy, we can talk. How is Samuel?”

  “He seems well enough, I visit as often as they let me.”

  “I will meet with the owners of the house as soon as they will see me. Since they want money, I am sure that it will be soon. Are you aware of the punishment for thievery, Mrs. Blaine?”

  The woman nodded, and to her credit did not sob and plead. “Yes sir. Hanging.”

  Hadrian gave her a weak smile. “Or military service. He’s young and healthy, it shouldn’t be a problem. He will have to serve for a long time, however. Thirty years, if the recruiter is a mean bastard.”

  Mrs. Blaine nodded, but said nothing else. Hadrian sighed. “Well, that’s that, nothing we can do but face the present. Here, take my bag. See if there is anything salvageable in there.” His clothes were stained and ripped, no different than at the end of any adventure.

  The owners, the severe Mr. and Mrs. Carter, invited him to their home for an early lunch the next day. After being introduced, Hadrian decided not to start things off with a joke. They did not seem the type that laughed often. It was well into the meal, after what seemed like hours of boring small talk, when Mr. Carter brought the damages.

  “He broke two windows.”

  “Two?” Hadrian interrupted. “Sorry, I was just surprised, seems so unnecessary.”

  “We agree.” Said Mrs. Carter, although she was not at all amused.

  “The boy stole two candlesticks, a good pocket watch, and a very expensive sapphire necklace.”

  “All of which you have recovered?”

  “Ah, no. The stolen goods were not found on the boy. Or in his room.”

  “He wasn’t apprehended on the spot?”

  “No, the little rascal was very fast. I had only time to see him flee through the second broken window.”

  Hadrian frowned. “So you did not get a good look at his face?”

  “Of course not, it was too dark.”

  “Then how do you know it was Mr. Blaine who robbed you?”

  The man puffed up. “Are you calling me a liar, Mr. Hadrian?”

  “Of course not. I believe that you were robbed by someone.”

  “Not just someone, a man in your employ.”

  “Did you decide he worked for me before or after you were robbed?”

  The man was confused for a moment. “What could you possibly mean?”

  “Did you know young Mr. Blaine previous to the break in?”

  “I’ve seen him hanging around the wash girl.” Mrs. Carter said with disdain.

  “So that makes him a suspect? You’ve seen him before and so he must have done it?” Hadrian could feel himself losing his temper and tried to remain calm.

  “I’ve never liked the look of him.” Mr. Carter said, as if that made him guilty.

  “Well, lucky for the guilty looking, there are laws in this city. It seems I must bring the boy’s case to the magistrate.”

  Mr. Carter became red in the face. “Now just a moment. There is no need for a magister to stick his nose into our business.”

  “I agree. My lawyer is a very unpleasant man, I would rather not involve him.”

  “Nor I, sir.”

  Hadrian laughed. “You summoned me from a very important research project.” A lie, of course, but he smelled a bribe.

  “Well, for your time, I am willing to compensate you. Let’s say, very generously.”

  “How gracious of you. What an unfortunate mistake, the guards of this city should be ashamed.”

  “Arrested an innocent boy.” Mrs. Carter chimed in sarcastically. “Just disgraceful.”

 
Hadrian laughed quietly to himself. He had assumed that the boy was guilty, just as they had. The young man would have hung simply because the neighbors disliked him.