Loadstar 184/184.d81/t.toys 1

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         TOYS AND OTHER WEAPONS

        by Daniel J. Robinson
           Kansas City MO


          A Broken Retreat

    Burton walked in, shaking the
door handle to be certain the latch
had caught. "Don't need any pests in
here," he mumbled to himself as he
crossed the room. He placed his staff
into the rack beside the door and
turned and walked into the large room
beyond.

    He had finished the planting, and
looked forward to several weeks of
rest before the fields would again
require long days of hard labor. He
stared a few moments at the cold
fireplace then turned towards the
hallway. "A cold meal's enough
tonight," he thought as he hurried to
complete the last chore of the day.
He walked down the hall past the side
rooms and up to the door at the end.
He placed his index finger into the
hole near its unused handle and
hearing a "click" pushed it open.
When he emerged from the room a few
minutes later the weariness in his
face had grown but his gait had
quickened. A few minutes later a new
fire spread among the kindling in his
fireplace and his staff had been
moved to the third slot of the rack.
Seven chairs were placed in careful
order near the fire. One centered
before the fireplace and three to
either side of that chair, to form a
semi-circle.

    "Just a moment," he answered the
knock. He was annoyed by his new
tasks. With darkness quickly
approaching, the visitors would be
here until morning. Still he would
not betray this feeling to his
guests. "Welcome Thomas, come in," he
greeted his first guest.

    The first figure nodded to his
host as he entered, "Sorry to disturb
your retreat," the older man said as
he placed his staff in the first
slot. "They insisted on a formal
meeting," he explained then passed by
and took a chair by the fire.

    "We have disturbing news," the
second figure spoke while entering.
He placed his staff and lingered as
the next man entered.

    "Yes, I know Joseph," Burton
acknowledged. "Nothing less would
bring you here so late." Burton
turned to the next guest and nearly
whispering asked, "How are they,
Victor?"

    Victor placed his free hand upon
Burton's shoulder and leaning forward
as if to hide the reply from the
others quietly explained, "They are
very concerned. Only yesterday the
sensor was tripped, and this morning
Joseph saw smoke on the mountainside
near the entrance." Taking his hand
away the man placed his staff, then
swung his hand widely to invite the
loiterer towards the fire.

    The host simply greeted the last
figures with a nod as they entered
silently, placed their staffs into
the remaining slots and joined the
others. Burton closed the door, shook
the latch, and took his place in the
first chair to the left of Thomas,
who sat in the center chair. Victor
sat beside Burton, and Joseph sat in
the first chair to the right. The
remaining guests filled the chairs
further from the center. Burton
stared into the building fire and
quietly spoke, "This is troubling but
not unexpected. It's most likely a
lost hunter or trapper."

    Joseph queried, "And if it isn't,
what are we going to do? This is a
threat! What are they hunting? They
might torture us for secrets or
treasure and kill us when they find
we have none. They will destroy all
we have, trying to find what isn't
here."

    "Only one bell sounded," Thomas
spoke calmly, "that's two people at
the most. We must find out their
intentions but we've no reason to
fear them yet. We don't have an army
of scavengers looking to remove any
useful bits they can find. This may
be no more than wide-eyed youths
seeking out some land told about in
an old legend. We can't panic every
time someone finds their way through
the tunnels."

    Fatigue from the day's work and a
warm fire had Burton staring at the
flames. The word "panic" brought him
back to reality. He knew some already
had the first tickle of fear in their
bellies. The intruder would
eventually spark panic if he or she
came too near before their purpose
was known. Each had his task. All was
decided long ago, though the role
each would play changed as time
passed, and their talents emerged.
First, someone would approach the
trespassers and determine their
intentions before they came too near.
Someone would take a chance and find
out if the intruder was a curious
explorer, or a scavenger looking for
new places to loot. Everyone in the
room had a their special skill. It
was his luck, or lack of it, to be
the scout. "I will leave tomorrow to
observe and, if I feel it is safe,
meet with our trespassers. When we
know their intentions we can decide
how to proceed. We have always known
this would happen. We have planned
for it so we don't have to destroy
every luckless traveler who happens
upon us and still keep the risk
minimal. Now we will test our
preparations and find out their
purpose. If they appear peaceful, I
will make contact." Raising his hand
slightly towards the guest to his
left he continued, "Victor will come
with me, but if I choose to make
contact, will remain hidden. He can
raise the alarm if I am detained or
killed."

    "Victor has acquired this skill
also?" questioned Joseph.

    "I have some skill," Victor
reported, "though I will be several
years learning before I can match
Burton."

    Their concerns noted, each rose
in turn, offered their encouragement
to their comrades who were about to
put themselves in harm's way, and
retired to a bedroom. At first light,
before the others had risen, Thomas
walked into the morning air and with
a quickness envied by the younger
men, was soon out of sight. After the
morning meal the others set off for
their respective lodgings. Burton and
Victor spent their morning gathering
their packs, preparing the house, and
working to free the large gate to its
enclosure. With preparations finished
they walked out towards the faint
treeline on the horizon.

    As the trail began to wind among
the trees the two were surprised by
the sudden appearance of the first
guest. "I see you've been practicing
your skills too, Thomas," Burton
greeted his old friend.

    Thomas smiled, "It has always
proved a useful tool." His expression
became serious as he continued,
"There is something you need to know
before you proceed."

    "And you didn't want the others
alarmed," interrupted Burton. "You
think our intruder knows where he
is."

    The elder smiled again and
scolded, "You have skills you haven't
shared. Then again with a stern
expression, "He passed through the
tunnels without hesitation. He knew
every turn and ignored every
deception, yet he is too young to
have been here before and his face
was never clear. If he is descended
from a wanderer, I couldn't tell. He
may indeed have learned of us through
an old legend, but as you know, the
route through the mountain is
complicated. Someone from this valley
taught him how to navigate it. No one
else would have so much knowledge of
the tunnels."

    "You can watch as someone passes
through the tunnels?" asked Victor
with astonishment.

    "I watch everyone who moves
through the tunnels," Thomas replied
then smiled as the young man's jaw
dropped. "Don't worry young one, we
all are curious about the outside."
Turning back to Burton he continued,
"Be careful. With luck he knows
nothing but the path. Stories,
however, could have all sorts of
distortions and promises. The stories
he's heard could portray us as evil
beasts or benevolent gods. Either way
he may attack to kill or to test you.
Take careful notice of any weapons
before you make contact."

    "I know my craft, Thomas," Burton
replied. "Thank you for your concern,
my friend, and for the information.
Rest at the house tonight and finish
your journey tomorrow morning. No
fires tonight though, since our
intruder may notice. Be certain to
leave everything just as you find it.
If all goes well I expect to have a
new guest tomorrow night, and I need
everything in place."

    The old man walked back into the
open valley. The other two turned
towards the trees and soon their
shapes merged with the shadows of the
forest.


           The Trespasser

    The young man looked about. He
had seen no sign of road or trail and
was surprised when the voice called
out. He squinted into the brush,
trying to recognize a form but found
none.

    "Where you bound for?" The voice
repeated.

    "I travel to the City," he
answered still straining to find a
figure among the trees. "Am I
trespassing?"

    "I live in this valley but I
don't claim it," the voice answered.
"Feel free to pass through if you
wish. However," it continued, "if you
would like some shelter for the night
and a meal, you can join me. We can
reach my home before sunset."

    He now saw a shadow moving
towards him. The voice had seemed
much closer, just out of reach within
the brush. This form was ten yards
away, and where the shape was, no
obstacle could have concealed it. How
had he overlooked it?

    The shape continued speaking as
it approached, "Your trip must be of
some urgency to bring you this way
with so little baggage," the voice
noted. "Have you time for a night's
rest?"

    The stranger stopped and stood a
short distance from him. Close enough
to tempt a fool to strike but far
enough to allow ample time to draw a
weapon if needed. He had not seen
cloth as smooth and thin before. He
looked him over assessing how great a
threat he might be. The stranger's
large staff would make a dangerous
weapon if he had the skill to use it.
He strained farther trying to make
out tell-tale signs of hidden
weapons.

    The stranger stood amused as he
watched the young man search for
clues. "You need not fear friend. The
staff is all I carry  to protect me.
The risk is all mine. I could have
let you pass and you would have never
known I was here. If I had wanted to
harm or rob you, I would have
attacked you from behind and now you
would be unconscious or worse. All
you need to decide is whether you
have time to spend an evening within
my shelter or proceed on your
journey."

    The young man choked back a
snicker when it was suggested he
could be so easily incapacitated. The
stranger's sudden appearance had
surprised him, but he was sure he
would have seen or heard him had he
been closer. Was this just a boast or
a clever trick? He would be much
easier to catch or kill if he were
sleeping soundly after a good meal.

    Suddenly the stranger's face lit
with recognition and he said, "You
are Stuart's son!"

    The young man's hand went to the
grip of his dagger at this surprise.
"What if I am?" he asked. "What do
you know of my family?"

    "I know nothing of your family
but I knew Stuart well," the stranger
replied. "Stuart showed or told you
how to come here. Didn't he tell you
to expect others here?"

    The young man's grip loosened a
bit as he said, "Stuart was my
grandfather. I was named for him."
The young man watched the stranger
suspiciously and added, "You are too
young to have known him before he
left the valley."

    With this news the stranger gazed
past the young man and whispered,
"Has it been that long?" Noting the
suspicion he quickly added, "I was a
small boy when your grandfather left,
but I still remember him as a great
man and a good friend. Life is a bit
easier here also. I suspect you think
me a bit younger then I am."

    "My grandfather left a map," the
young Stuart continued, "that told of
the passage and showed the way
through." The young man's hand
abandoned the knife and reached
behind him. He brought forth a
leather pouch and handed it to his
grandfather's old friend. "My
grandfather said only that there were
people here who could do great good
or great evil, and he should stay
away unless he could plead his case
for either."

    The stranger glanced at the map
and read a short note attached to it.
When he finished he handed the pouch
back to its owner and stretched his
hand out in greeting. "I am Burton,"
he said, "Welcome to our valley young
Stuart. You needn't worry so long as
your actions and intentions are
peaceful, and you have a guide such
as myself to lead you around any
pitfalls. If you wish to spend the
night at my home we must go now. We
don't want to travel the open country
at night."

    The young man motioned his
companion to lead and he followed,
curious that this man would trust his
back to a stranger who moments before
had threatened to raise a weapon
against him. He thought this must be
a test. He remembered the magic his
grandfather had spoke of, the
"technology." When he emerged from
the caves and saw no great city, no
buildings, no sign of people except
an occasional wisp of smoke on the
horizon his heart sank. He thought
his quest had failed. Now, he
believed his journey might not be in
vain.

    The forest thinned to savanna and
then to gently rolling plain. Then as
they topped a small hill he saw a
cottage face tucked into the shallow
hollow beyond. The face was built
into the surrounding hill with the
bulk of the house inside the hill. He
knew now why he had seen no
buildings. Along the hollow's floor,
but not too far up the sides so to be
visible from the passage entrance,
were plowed fields. Around the
cottage a large yard area was
enclosed by a tall fence of poles,
buried into the ground so they
slanted outwards. He taunted his
companion, "Well hidden and protected
for someone whose neighbors are
peaceful."

    Continuing his pace and without
looking back Burton answered, "It's
not hidden. This style was all the
rage when it was built. As for
protection, most creatures are too
small or too clever for this
fortress. However, this serves the
purpose it was built for."

    Young Stuart understood. This
wasn't to keep out humans. There were
no spikes, no towers. They would
simply let themselves down ropes or
ladders. This was for some sort of
animal threat.

    They passed through the large
gate and Burton hurried to close it.
The young man watched in awe as he
shifted the counterweight and the
large beam moved into position to bar
the gate. The same task at his
village required three strong men.
Here a child could move great beams.
"What great magic," he mumbled.
Burton concealed his grin and
continued quickly towards the house.


             The House

    At the house Burton pushed on a
flower box to the left of the door.
Stuart heard a scraping noise from
behind the door as the box moved.
Burton then moved to the door and
opened it, reached inside and after a
faint click, the interior of the
house was bathed in light.

    "You have electricity!" Stuart
noted.

    "You know of electricity?" Burton
mocked.

    With some contempt in his voice
Stuart explained, "Many villages have
it. It is not the first time I have
seen a house glow. I have never seen
it outside a village though, nor been
inside a house that had it."

    While Stuart was speaking Burton
closed the door and barred it. He
removed the small pin that secured
the bar to a lever that went to the
box outside. "Now no one else can
enter uninvited," Burton assured his
guest, then asked, "Why do you think
you are not in a village?"

    Stuart's body tensed as he
comprehended. The open grasslands
were great rolling hills. Beyond the
next could be any number of homes
built like this, out of sight until
you stood on the ridge above. This
could be just beyond some great armed
camp.

    "Relax young Stuart," his host
reassured, "I'm just teasing you. We
are not as remote as you might think,
but there is no need to fear those of
us who live here." Glancing at the
dimming light that shone between the
slats in his shuttered window Burton
added, "Besides, no one travels the
plains at night." Burton moved into
the large room and leaned his staff
near the fireplace. Taking a match
from his clothes he struck it and lit
the tinder. He remained noticeably
watchful of the young Stuart as he
worked.

     Stuart did notice and, still
suspicious of his host, suspected a
sinister reason.

    "Why do you watch me so closely
now?" Stuart questioned. "If I would
attack a man's back you would have
died in the forest." Stuart moved
across the room. His hand moved to
the grip of his knife. "You are
watching to see when I will turn
mine!"

             The Meal

    "That took some craftmanship,"
Stuart thought as he looked about the
ceiling of Burton's house. It was
perfectly flat, smooth and painted.
Stuart hadn't noticed it at first but
now it was all he could see. He
couldn't remember how he came to be
lying on the floor. He remembered
threatening his host and he thought
he saw the man's hand move towards
the staff. He moved his head a bit
and saw the fire was more coals than
flame and the smells that steamed
from a pot beside it told him that a
meal was nearly ready. He moved his
head and saw Burton busy preparing a
table for dining and paying little
attention to the lump on his floor.
Stuart suddenly realized how foolish
he had been. He had insulted his
host. He had threatened a man who
obviously could have destroyed him
anytime he chose. He had jeopardized
his quest by raising a weapon against
the man who could answer his
questions. Against a man who only
asked that he remain peaceful.

    "You might want to clean yourself
up a bit before dinner," Burton said
to the lump. "I'm guessing a man who
knows about electricity has also
heard of indoor plumbing," he said
pointing down the hallway. "First
door on the left."

    Stuart slowly stood and staggered
towards the hallway. His guest still
seemed friendly enough. He seemed to
ignore the attack. He looked across
the room and saw the staff now
setting in the stand by the door. His
mind started clearing and he realized
his knife was no longer in his belt.
He noticed his pack by the door was
partially open. His host had made a
thorough search. He entered the
hallway and continued his assessment
of the structure. Floors of wood,
walls smooth and painted, like the
ceiling. Hinged doors on every room
with shiney metal knobs for latching
and locking. He knew what all this
was from stories but this was the
first time he had actually seen them.
He looked inside the first door and
found the stem he knew must be there.
A slight movement, faint click and
the room glowed.

    Burton listened to the sounds of
Stuart's discoveries as he flipped
switches, turned faucets, flushed the
toilet. "The water won't last
forever," he yelled towards the
hallway as he heard it flush the
third time. His guest emerged from
the hall and explained, "I was trying
to understand how it works." The
stories were of a time long ago and
skills lost. I didn't think anything
like this still existed."

    Suddenly both guest and host
froze as a shriek from outside
interrupted. This seemed to Stuart to
be very close, just beyond the gate,
and Burton quickly crossed the room
to look out through the cracks in his
shutters. Burton reached across the
door. As his hand moved the switch,
Stuart saw a glow beyond the shutter.
With one last glance out Burton
returned to the table. "If the
fortress isn't enough, the light will
keep our predators away," he
explained. Burton set a large bowl of
stew down and motioned his guest to
sit down. Taking the seat across from
him, Burton passed the bowl across to
his guest. When he saw the young
Stuart's bewilderment he took the
bowl back and spooned some stew into
his own bowl and passed it back.
Taking the hint Stuart did the same.
Burton then took a biscuit, picked up
his spoon and began eating. The young
Stuart mimicked him, even stopping to
wipe his chin with the small cloth
whenever Burton did, then letting the
broth drip until the host wiped
again. Stuart, never catching the
point of this maneuver, didn't
question why Burton began wiping his
dry chin whenever his young guest
took too large a bite. The amused
Burton held back a smile. The young
man who had thought himself prepared
to do battle with him a short time
ago now struggled with simple eating
utensils. It was obvious he had never
seen a napkin or understood the
manners of a civilization long
forgotten.

    Stuart watched as Burton cleared
the dishes, stacked them into a small
cabinet, threw in a cup of powder and
shut the door. Turning a dial on the
cabinet's face caused a strange noise
to begin, soon followed by a swishing
noise. Burton smiled at his
fascinated guest and explained,
"Tomorrow they come out clean and
ready to store or reuse."

    Stuart looked at his guest with
the same amazement as when he closed
the gate. "If you can waste your
magic on such trivial tasks, how much
power do you have to do battle?"

    Burton's face became stern as he
sat back down and stared across at
his young guest. "Here we do not do
battle," he said in a slow deliberate
manner. Then with a slight grin
added, "And if our magic was so
great, we would use this power to
cook as well as clean. Now it's time
I knew what brings you to this
valley."

    His young guest gazed back and
collected his wits. Leaning gently
towards his host he began his tale.


            The Request

    "My village is on a fertile
plain, with plenty of water. Because
of this we can grow a variety of
crops and always have a surplus. Our
animals are well fed and also provide
a surplus of meat and wool. The
surplus we trade with other
villages."

    "Sounds like you've built a great
community," Burton observed.

    "It was," his guest continued.
"We had so much to trade that word
spread that our village was rich. We
feared that outsiders would be prone
to theft or vagrancy so we built a
fortress around our village to
protect against raiders. We trained
as warriors to protect our property.
We built a market just outside the
main gate with an area beyond where
traders could camp. The market was so
successful that we no longer had to
take long voyages to trade our
surplus. Now the goods came to us and
we had more time for improving our
village and for recreation. Of course
this meant we wanted even more goods.
The market grew, the camps became
buildings and grew again until the
market was a village of its own."

    "The making of a city," Burton
interrupted. "Don't tell me you've
come all this way to find the cure
for urban sprawl."

    "Unfortunately, the cure has
found us," Stuart continued. "Two
years ago a large caravan approached
our villages. They stopped just
beyond the croplands and made camp.
At the edge of the camp they placed a
large metal tube balanced on wheels
like a cart. The next morning two men
rode up to the gate and handed a
letter to the guards and rode back to
the camp."

    "It was a threat," Burton
interrupted.

    "Yes," Stuart continued, "They
called the tube a gun and said it
could destroy our village without
moving from the camp."

    "You hadn't heard of this weapon
before?" Burton questioned.

    "Only through old stories," the
young Stuart answered. "We didn't
know anyone still had one that would
work. It was thought that no one knew
the recipe for the explosive."

    "So they demanded your surplus,"
Burton noted.

    "They demanded much more," Stuart
replied. "They demanded all our
surplus food and wool. They demanded
half the goods the merchants had in
their shops and half the metalware
each house contained."

    Burton frowned as he noted, "They
were greedy. They should have kept
their request reasonable."

    Stuart was confused. "Should we
give in to thieves if their requests
are reasonable?" he asked.

    "Of course not," Burton replied.
"So they just walked right up to your
gate, proud as could be and demanded
all the fruits of your labors with
nothing more than an old piece of
metal no one really expected could
work."

    "Well, that is what we
suspected," Stuart replied, "until we
sent back our reply."

    "What did they blow up?" Burton
asked.

    "The first shop at the market
entrance," Stuart replied.

    Burton's face was serious again
as he continued his interrogation,
"Was anyone hurt? Could you see how
the weapon was fired? Did they strike
fire to one end or did they move a
lever? Were you able to see how they
loaded it?  Did the building actually
blow up or just get a hole through
it?"

    Stuart was puzzled at this sudden
burst of questions from his host, but
tried to answer as quickly as he
could. "By luck that particular shop
was vacant since the peddler had
moved to better quarters closer to
the center of the market. From the
guard tower it looked as if they
touched one end of it with a
smoldering rod and then the tube
exploded. They never loaded it while
we were watching."

    "Not even after they fired it?"
Burton questioned.

    "No" replied Stuart. "I suppose
if we had opened the gate and moved
to attack them they would have, but
we knew we could not defeat such a
weapon. We sent word that we would
pay their price and when we did they
left."

    "And the building?" Burton
repeated.

    "It blew up completely," his
guest answered.

    Burton's face betrayed a slight
smile again as he began to tutor the
young traveler. "It was a cannon not
a gun," he began. If you had pressed
them you would have found they took a
good long time to reload for a second
shot. Long enough that a large group
of armed men could have rushed up and
taken the weapon. How long before
they returned?"

    Stuart was beginning to wonder if
he needed to tell his story. This
sorcerer seemed to know most of it
before he could finish. "They were
gone a year. When they returned they
had two cannons."

    Burton's voice was nearly comical
as he said, "Well, you gave them half
the metal in your rich little
village. Didn't you know what that
tube was made of?"

    Stuart lowered his eyes. "When we
saw the new weapon we realized what
they had done with our metal," Stuart
acknowledged. "And this time the
price was higher." Stuart again
looked towards his host, "They
demanded all the metalware we had
remaining and so much food that we
now had to go hungry until the next
harvest. We had worked hard to have
more food than we needed, and now we
were going hungry. We know this year
they will return with even more
cannons and we fear they will ask for
so much that there will not be enough
left for all of us to survive. The
market is deserted now since there is
no surplus left to trade. We have to
find a way to defend against this
weapon or move away. Many of our
young men have been sent out to find
someone who can tell us how to do
this, or who will trade for weapons
that can match theirs. I had my
grandfather's map and stories to
guide me here, and if what he said is
true, someone in this valley can give
me the answers I need."

    "Or the weapons you need," Burton
added.

    "Or the weapons we need," Stuart
acknowledged.

    "And what will you trade if they
have taken all you can spare?" Burton
asked.

    "If you will wait one year for us
to rebuild our herds and restock our
grain, we will trade half of the food
we produce for the next five." Stuart
replied. "It is enough to feed a
village of five hundred people."

    "A handsome reward indeed,"
Burton replied with a grin once again
on his face.

    Once again a loud cry from
outside brought their attention
towards the windows. This time Burton
studied the shuttered window from his
chair for a few seconds, then
satisfied that it was sufficient
turned his attention once more to his
guest. "Tomorrow morning I will have
a visitor. Together we will journey
back to the valley entrance. By the
time we reach the mouth of the cave
you will have everything and know
everything you need to defeat this
enemy."

    Stuart stared a moment. He wanted
to praise his host for agreeing to
help but again grew suspicious. It
all seemed too easy to the young man
and who was this visitor? "You sent
for someone before you knew what I
wanted?" he questioned."

    "Relax," Burton assured him. "He
is a friend of mine who was coming to
meet the stranger that had stumbled
into our valley. Your grandfather
must have told you enough that you
know it wasn't chance that I met you
in the forest. Everyone in the valley
knew of your arrival a few hours
after you entered the tunnels. We are
capable of great evil, but we prefer
to do good. Since your request is
reasonable, and you are the offspring
of one of our own, you will get the
help you need. Your payment is
generous, but we have all we need.
Besides, when you find out how little
you need to know, you might feel
cheated if you had to pay so much for
it."

    Burton escorted his guest to his
bedroom and watched in amusement as
the young man marvelled at the great
cushion on it. Having already
explained enough for one evening
Burton wished his guest a good night
and then turned to his own room and
retired.

    Stuart had never rested on any
surface more comfortable, but the
day's events were so exciting he
could only manage a fitful rest. Near
what he thought was morning he was
awakened by a noise in the hall.
Listening for a while he heard a door
hinge squeak slightly and expected
his host was preparing for their
departure. He looked out, but the
hall was dark, and he saw only a
slight glow from beyond the great
room's archway lit from beyond the
shuttered window. Then looking the
other way he noticed another glow
flickering from behind a door at the
end of the hall. He moved silently
towards it and, just before he
reached it, was surprised by a faint
but clear voice that spoke beyond the
door. He turned the handle but the
door was locked. Then the glow went
out. He rushed back to his room and
lay waiting for his host to enter
with a scolding about listening at
keyholes. Later he awoke to a faint
click and realized he had fallen
asleep and missed his host returning
to his bedroom. He thought for a bit
about the voice and tried to make
sense of the words. He hoped it was
not a reference to the secrets he
would learn on the journey back. The
voice sounded so excited about having
mail. Chainmail was a common armour,
and if this was one of the secrets,
would the others be this
disappointing?


           The Next Morning

    Stuart awoke to the pounding on
his door. Finally having fallen into
a deep sleep he cursed his luck and
the noise. He saw the glow from the
hallway and wondered if this was
morning light or an electric bulb.
With only the great room having
windows, and those being shuttered,
he couldn't tell day from night in
the back rooms. Leaving his room he
saw the light was electrical and the
great room was still dark. Burton
emerged from the plumbing room and
greeted his guest.

    "Time to rise already?" Stuart
asked.

    "Sun will be up in about an
hour," Burton replied. "We'll need to
be on our way then. I want to be deep
in the forest before nightfall."

    Stuart remembered the screams
beyond the wall and hurried to get
ready. His pack was now sitting
beside the bedroom door and he took
it in and examined it. Only his knife
was missing. He checked deep within
the pack and found his grandfather's
weapon still within. "He couldn't
have overlooked it," he thought.
Another puzzle to add to the night
before. If this man was one his
grandfather had spoken of, why would
he fear a knife and leave this?

    Stuart was still pondering this
paradox later while sitting in the
plumbing room when a new voice in the
house diverted his attention. Moving
out to the great room he saw a man
about his own age sitting at the
table, with his host. As he walked to
the table, Burton held out his hand
and motioned him to sit with them.

    "Young Stuart," Burton explained,
"this is my friend, Victor. He is a
pupil of mine who will listen and
learn from the lessons I am going to
teach you."

    "Your village is also under
attack?" Stuart asked the new
companion.

    "No," Burton interrupted. "He is
here to learn so that one day he will
be able to teach the lesson
himself."

    Burton listened as he served the
cold breakfast. Stuart kept asking
his new companion about weapons and
defenses but Victor had been
prepared. His statements were
sufficiently vague to reveal no more
than what the young Stuart had found
through his own senses.

    As the three prepared to leave
the house, Burton brought Stuart a
large bag nearly the size of his
pack. "There's enough bread and dried
meat to last you three weeks beyond
the valley entrance," he explained.

    "Thank you," Stuart replied. He
lashed the bag as best he could to
the top of his pack and the three
walked outside. Burton shook the
handle as he closed the door, then
started to walk towards the open
gate. Stuart, who had paused to wait
for him to secure the house, asked,
"Don't you need to set the bar?"

    With a slight grin, and a wink
towards Victor, Burton replied, "I
won't need that today."

    Stuart noticed the dew on the
short grass within the compound. As
they walked past the gate he noticed
how it was a perfect silver sheet
everywhere within the compound.
Suddenly he stumbled a moment then
moved on trying not to give away his
revelation. If the gate had been open
just an hour ago the perfect cover
would have been swept aside. In fact
the evening was chilly when they
arrived at the house. Now he realized
he had never seen beyond the shutters
once the door was locked and wondered
just how much of the night this new
traveler had been there. Was that his
room at the end of the hall? Could it
have been his voice he had heard?

            End of Part 1