Thaddeus Nowak's Blog: Thoughts and Observations, page 14

Smallville Comiccon

This weekend is coming up fast and I will be at Smallville Comiccon June 20th and 21st!When I was at Planet Comicon earlier this year, a number of the other authors there spoke very highly of Smallville and so I am really looking forward to the show.  It’s not too far away—just a short drive to Hutchinson Kansas—and there will be several celebrities (Billy Dee Williams, Katrina Law, Lee Meriwether, …) well as a number of artist and creators (Rick Stasi, Neo Edmund, …).

And at 3pm on Sunday, I will be part of a Writer’s panel.

If you are in the area, come out and partake of the fun!

 

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Owin #48 — Another old man

Check out the start of the series.

Photo ©Depositphotos.com / Oleksandr Minyaylo

Gwen walked toward the manor house at the end of a gravel path. While the grounds were protected by a stone wall topped with iron spikes, the actual entrance to the property was not guarded beyond the presense of an iron gate.

The stone building reminded her of every large and overbearing building she had ever seen. It stood three stories tall in the center and had a wing on each side that rose a modest two stories.  However, the wings boasted walkways and perhaps open terraces on their roofs.

Windows covered every exterior wall and the stone work surrounding the expensive panes of glass included numerous carvings. Although she was still too far away to clearly see what they depicted, it was obvious the carvings were done with great detail.

The gardens around the house held some sense of minor neglect. Several sections appeared somewhat overgrown and others had a scattering of weeds, but the overall size and scale of the flowering plants still amazed Gwen. However, she could see at least four people working in the beds to restore order to the grounds.. And to think, Owin said this Duchess is not all that wealthy compared to the others.

Gwen turned her attention back to the house as the door opened before she could climb the wide steps and knock. “May I help you?” Said a young footman who had obviously been watching the path from inside the entrance hall.

Gwen bowed her head slightly to the man that might be three or four years her senior. His tightly trimmed brown hair touched the top of his ears and his dark green uniform showed no signs of wear. “I have a message for Lord Walis. It is of a personal nature,” she added as the footman’s hand started to extend toward her.

“My Lord is a busy man. You can trust that I will bring him the message.”

Gwen felt the condescension of the young man and did her best to keep her irritation from her voice. “It is a verbal message.”

She watched the footman frown. The young man hesitated for a moment and then straightened to add height. “Remain here. I will fetch the Steward.”

Gwen nodded her head, but the young man had already turned away. Looking past him as the door slowly swung closed, she could see a large entrance hall with marble floors and at least one grand staircase on the right. She felt the temptation to move to the top of the stairs and peek in through the windows, but instead took a moment to straighten her shirt and vest. Even though Owin had paid decent money for the clothing, she could tell the footman’s uniform had better quality in the crafting.

Several moments later, she heard the sound of hard soled shoes on stone and looked up once again as the door opened. This time an older man with grey-hair stood in the doorway. She returned his stare, looking at his wrinkled face and slightly sunken eyes. The apparent frailty of his form did not show in those eyes.

“I understand you have a verbal message for my Lord.”

“Yes, Sir,” Gwen said with as much baritone as she could muster.

She watched as the man pursed his lips. Finally he nodded his head. “Come inside.”

So far, so good, Gwen thought, keeping the smile from her face.  She quickly ascended the stairs and followed him into the middle of the entrance hall; the door slowly closing behind her. The room held even more grandeur than Gwen had imagined from what she had seen from the outside. The floor was not only marble, but inlaid with colored stone to form a geometric pattern. The ceiling stood three stories high and the windows that filled the outer wall allowed a lot of light to come inside.

Her appraisal of the room ended as the old Steward turned around suddenly in front of her. “Who are you and why are you here?”

“Sir,” Gwen said quickly. She knew her voice had squeaked. “I am Cator. I am just a messenger who was asked to deliver a private message to Lord Walis.”

The man stared at her for a moment and then took a step closer, lowering his head closer to hers. “You are a girl pretending to be a boy. Which means you are no messenger.  You—”

“I am protected,” she blurted out.  The expression that now filled the man’s face left her feeling exposed and worried.

After a moment, the old man straightened, but did not move away. “I ask you again, who are you and why are you here? What protections you have will not be enough if I decide you are an assassin. Convince me otherwise and you better do it in your next statement.”

Gwen glanced to the left and noticed two men who had been standing motionless a moment before. They were still over twenty feet from her, but the polished leather armor and the swords on their hips spoke of their purpose. She lowered her voice in the hopes it would not carry to the men. “Sir, I have come with a warning for Lord Walis. I am aware of a plot that he needs to hear about.” She glanced back at the guards and then to the old man again. “I would rather few people hear of it, but it could impact the Duchess.”

The Steward looked over her again, visually checking her sides. He reached out quickly and pulled her eating dagger from her belt before she could react. He looked at the blade and then moved his hand and the weapon behind his back. “Turn around. Are you carrying any other weapons?”

Gwen shook her head. Her breath had caught in her chest. She did not want to get stabbed in the back, but at the current moment, she knew she would be vulnerable regardless. Quickly, she turned in a circle so that he man could see she had no other visible weapons.

“Very well, we will go someplace slightly more private and you will continue to convince me of your merits. If you fail to do so, you will not like the consequences.”

 

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Owin #47 — Time to deliver the message

Check out the start of the series.

Photo ©Depositphotos.com / Oleksandr Minyaylo

The next morning Gwen and Owin retrieved her clothing, further transforming her from a scrawny boy into a scrawny servant boy. The vest fit snugly, and in addition to the binding around her chest, helped to mask her femininity. The only bit of apparel that had a somewhat shabby appearance was her shoes. The worn fabric was stretched and stained, but the shoes were serviceable enough for her to use for her role and the lack of time prevented their replacement.

“You can carry an eating dagger, but no other weapons,” Owin said as he handed Gwen a folded piece of parchment and the small dagger she had been carrying since they left Rhyl. “You may get a chance to speak with Lord Walis, but it is more likely that all you will get to do is deliver your message to a steward. If you think you can push the issue and speak to the Lord, do it, but don’t risk yourself.”

“I understand,” Gwen said, slipping the wax sealed parchment into a pocket inside the vest. “And the parchment is only to be used in case I can’t speak with Lord Walis.  I won’t tell the steward anything directly.”

“Yes. The less written proof we leave, the better.” Owin smiled. “And if they decide to hold you, they can expect a visit from me. So don’t start to panic, okay?”

Gwen returned Owin’s smile, but her’s held more confidence. “I have complete faith in you.” She could tell her statement did more to worry Owin than reassure him. “I mean it, Owin. I won’t panic.”

“Good.” Owin handed Gwen several small coins. “And after you deliver the message, you need to go to one of the three public houses we passed yesterday. If they have someone follow you, I don’t want them trailing you back to this room.”

“I will wait at the public house until you come and get me. If you don’t, then I go to the next one and wait. I definitely don’t come back here until you come and get me.”

Owin nodded his head. “Exactly.”

Gwen reached out and put her hand on Owin’s arm. “I will be fine, Owin. Really. I am ready for this. I won’t let you down.” She watched as a smile crossed his lips; this time, it held more warmth than his prior ones had.

“I believe you. I just want to make sure nothing goes wrong.” He shrugged, “Which is not possible, so I guess I should just quit worrying and get on with this and sort out the details as they come.”

“Yes,” Gwen said, with a small laugh in her voice. She knew the longer they waited, the more Owin would torment himself. “I’m ready to go. Let’s get the message to Lord Walis and get things moving in our favor.”

Owin laughed as well. “Can’t argue with you, can I?”

 

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Owin #46 — Finding new clothes

Check out the start of the series.

Photo ©Depositphotos.com / Oleksandr Minyaylo

Gwen kept pace with Owin as he led her through the busy streets. His hurried pace kept her from asking questions as they progressed through what she assumed was his mental itinerary for the day. The focus he projected worried her, but she did her best to hide her own concern under a mask of ignorance to his anxiety. However, she knew the effort was futile when the iron taste of blood appeared on her lower lip.

They had already stopped at three tailors, the first just as the heavy-set man opened his shop for the day.  She knew the hope of finding something ready to wear, or even close to being ready, would be difficult.  Her skinny frame meant most men’s clothing would hang like a bag from her shoulders and would look at best pieced together.

However, they managed to order a heavy fabric vest from that first shop. The second tailor gave them nothing, as the older lady would not expedite an order for pants even with the offer of extra money. The third one, a younger man, had agreed to make her a new pair of pants that day, but only after they agreed to buy a cap.

She had to work to hide her smile as Owin had played at being exasperated by the tailor’s request. However, she had known with a glance that Owin had planned to buy the cap to cover her rough cut hair before the man had demanded it.

“You look good in the cap,” Owin finally said, drawing her attention back to him as they passed through another city square. “It will fit the role nicely.”

Gwen adjusted the baggy headpiece once again.  She knew it did make her look more masculine.  The dark brown material had gathers and a bit of tan trim, but the cap lacked any hint of feminine ornamentation. “Will they have the clothes made in time?” She asked in as husky a voice as she could.

Owin shrugged. “We can only hope. To be honest, if things fall apart, I will not offer myself up as a sacrifice. We’ll just have to disappear and then find a way to get to your mother and free her.”

Gwen nodded her head. The tone of his voice told her he had already spent a fair amount of time thinking on that possibility.

“But,” Owin continued, “they should have the vest and pants first thing in the morning. We agreed your current shirt should work under the vest.  The sleeves are in good enough condition.”

“Where next?” She ventured to ask as Owin’s eyes kept darting to the shingles hanging above the shops they were quickly passing. “A cobbler?”

“No. What you have will have to do. Something like that we don’t have time to have made.” He paused at an intersection and then turned onto a side street. “I am heading for a tanner I remember is somewhere in this section of town. At least the shop is, even if the skins are prepared elsewhere. I need some parchment and ink,” he added after she raised her eyebrows.

“So you can write the message I am to deliver,” she stated.

“Yes,” Owin said and then grabbed her hand to pull her through a group of people gathered around a bakery.  When they made it through the crowd he released her hand. “I hate sending you in on your own, but you should be safe enough.”

Gwen smiled up at him when he turned back to look at her. “One of these days you’ll need to teach me to really use a sword.”

“If we survive, I don’t care what Elsin says, I’ll teach you everything I can.”

Gwen heard the confidence in his voice and exhaled sharply as a small amount of relief filled her. She knew he did not conceive of the possibility they would die and that warmed her heart and put a little more energy into her step. “In that case, can we grab something to eat if we pass another food stall? I’m starved.”

 

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Owin #45 — Found it

Check out the start of the series.

Photo ©Depositphotos.com / Oleksandr Minyaylo

Brent stopped by the small flat and delivered Gwen and Owin a large loaf of bread, some salted meat, and some cheese. He left almost as quickly as he arrived.

In the name of caution, Owin ate slowly before he and Gwen started searching the room.  Initially, they did not turn up any indication something had been planted. “It has to be someplace obvious enough to be found,” Owin explained quietly to Gwen. “But not too obvious.”

“Unless they have someone in the Guard who will ‘find’ it when they search,” she countered.

Owin frowned. “Great, now you are sharing your happy thoughts with me.” With a shake of his head, he pushed the bed back against the wall.

Gwen smiled at him. “It’s only fair that I make you worry as much as you often make me.”

Owin did not return her smile. “Oh, I worry a lot more than I show.”

Gwen nodded her head and then narrowed her eyes. “Pull the bed back out,” she said as she knelt on the floor. As Owin complied, she crawled forward and pushed on a board next to the wall and grinned when it shifted, leaving one end rising up slightly above the level of the floor.

With her dagger, she jammed the point into the end of the board and used the extra leverage to work the board out of the floor. The board fit tightly against its neighbors, but once she lifted the end enough to get her fingers around it, she pulled it free.  After taking a glance at the end, she commented.  “Someone’s used a dagger on this one before.”

“What did you find?” Owin asked, coming around behind her.

“I saw the end of the board sticking up after the leg of the bed moved across it.”  She handed the board to Owin and then leaned forward to look down into the narrow opening. She wrinkled her nose and peered into the darkness.

“Anything in there?”

Gwen moved her head from side to side and then turned back to Owin. “I can’t tell, it’s too dark in there. There might be spiders.”

“What?” Owin asked; his eyebrows raising on their own.  He knelt down himself and gently pushed past her. “Really? Spiders?” He slid his right hand into the opening and fished about for a moment before pulling out a leather bag.” It clanked and shifted as coins slid across each other inside the pouch.

“The rest of our payment?” Gwen asked, sitting back on her heels.

Owin turned and dumped the contents onto the top of the bed that he had dragged out of the way. Numerous small coins spilled across the blanket. Included in the pile sat a fragment of parchment.

“What does it say?” Gwen asked.

Owin picked out the parchment and frowned. It held a single name: Lord Natheniel. Handing it to Gwen, he turned back to the bed and spread the coins out as he counting their value. “It looks to be almost ten crowns here. I see coins from a variety of cities, but mostly from Rhyl and further south.” He looked over at Gwen. “Which will implicate the Duke. Even the leather is stamped with the mark of Warnek.  A very popular tailor in Rhyl that I worked with in the past,” he added for clarity.

“So we are certain of the setup,” she said. “What do we do now?”

Owin flipped through a few more of the coins and then picked up a larger one and shook his head. “A mark from Duke Ravigar. They are pouring it on thick.” He held the roundish coin out to Gwen. The crest of the duke stood out plainly on the bronze coin. “You won’t see many of these about. The Duke doesn’t like to give out favors to people.”

Gwen pursed her lips. “What’s it worth?”

“Not much to us. If one of the Duke’s men came across us and we needed to buy some time or a favor, we could present it. However, once they reporting it up to the Duke for confirmation, we’d be had.  Depending on the situation, they might even hold us until they were able to confirm we were in the Duke’s favor.”

Gwen slid forward and looked at the pile of coins on the bed. “Well, the rest would double our money and then some. Do we take it?”

Owin considered the odds. The money was planted early to make sure they would not have to do it later. However, someone might still come by to confirm it had not been removed, and if it was, they would know we were on to them. Plus, the fact that there is so much here would incline people to check to make sure it wasn’t gone.  “No, we’ll leave it for now, but we will take it before we are done in Solva.” He gathered up he coins, the mark, and the paper and returned it all to the pouch. He put it back into the hole and then pushed the board back into place.

“Good work,” he told her as he stood up. “Now, let’s go spend some of our other money. We need to get you some nicer clothing. Hopefully, a tailor might have something on hand that will fit you. Then we will purchase some paper and ink and I’ll write you a note to take to Duchess Emilia’s man in town. It’s time we were on the offensive.”

 

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Owin #44 — Waking up in Solva

Check out the start of the series.

Photo ©Depositphotos.com / Oleksandr Minyaylo

Owin woke first. Gwen had curled up into a ball with her back pushing him towards the edge of the small bed. They had both fallen asleep quickly after the efforts of the previous day…many days, Owin corrected. Now morning had come and with the limited light coming in through a small window on the back wall, he looked around the room, only he had no desire to get out of the bed. But we can’t waste time. We don’t have much if we are to get ahead of Denton and his scheme.

It had been too hot to use a blanket and so Owin rolled off the bed and stood up. Gwen did not make a sound at the change.

Carefully, he moved across the floor, testing each board before he committed his weight and potentially made noise. From moving around the prior night, he knew the floor was fairly quiet with only a few board that squeaked. This morning, he frowned as he rediscovered several of the noised spots.

“Do we have to get up already?” Gwen asked as she slowly rolled onto her back.

Owin turned and met her eyes; her cropped hair and masculine clothing still looked off to him, but he suspected most people would not notice. “Afraid so. After Brent shows up, we need to really search through the room. I’ll also set up a few tells to see if anyone comes in while we are out. I don’t trust our situation at all.”

Gwen rubbed her neck and rolled her head. “What’s not to trust?” She sighed. “Why is it people like us are always meant to die for someone else’s whims?”

Owin did not like the certainty of resolution in her voice. Coming back across the room, he sat down next to her so that he could keep his voice low. “We’re not beaten yet. We’ll get out of this and get your mother out of Rhyl. We’ll beat them.”

Gwen nodded her head and pushed herself into a seated position with her arms extended behind her. “Yeah, but that’s because you’re not really like us. You’ve got skills and know what’s coming.” She shrugged. “If not, we’d have been just another bunch of people who die namelessly in the alley. No one would care.”

Owin patted her calf with his hand. “Gwen, people need to step up and take charge of their lives. I know most of them have been beaten into submission and no longer aspire to something better, but they can’t rely upon someone else to fix everything for them. You have to decide on your own to get out of your situation.”

She looked at him with raised eyebrows. “Owin, without your help, I’d have no chance of figuring out how to get myself out. Yeah, I have to step up, but someone has to stop those who work to keep me trapped where I am. People don’t want me to succeed. They want me to die a laundress.” She frowned. “A lot of that is because I’m a girl—and too frail to do anything—but that is not all of it.  Mostly it is that people are expected to keep their place and anyone who tries to change their caste is pushed back down.”

Owin bit his lip. Both he and Gavin had tried to make Gwen independent and strong-willed. Although his initial reaction was to disregard her statement and demand that these people just needed to try harder, he knew how intelligent she could be. “Perhaps,” he finally said. “But I see too many people who don’t try at all.”

Gwen shifted her legs to cross them so she could sit upright. “People need to see something different is possible. I’m not saying people aren’t lazy or even that people are good—too many aren’t. But, without someone to lead the way and show people how to survive, it is hard to escape the caste we are born to.”

Owin smiled at her. “I don’t disagree.” Standing up, he rolled his shoulders and changed topics. “I don’t want to tear things up until after Brent comes by. No use in letting him know we are checking for things. But once we get the chance, we look under everything and make sure there is nothing here that incriminates us.”

“Then what?”

“Then,” Owin said, still uncertain he wanted to risk sending Gwen out on her own, “we need to see if we can make contact with one of the parties involved. We need to find a way to warn them of what is happening and see if we can’t get them to change the location of the meeting.”

Gwen raised her eyebrow again. “What for?”

“Well, if Urel already has people in place, we won’t be able to counter it at the current location. However, if we get the meeting moved, then that may draw Urel out into the open–assuming his people are not on the staff and would move with the location change.”

Gwen nodded her head. “Will they even believe you?”

Owin took and deep breath and exhaled. “Not likely. In fact, if any of them have heard the rumors about me, then they might kill me on sight. So, I think that means sending you in to deliver a message. I’ll get some paper and write something up.” He crossed the room and sat down in one of the chairs by the small table and motioned for Gwen to join him. He continued as she sat. “The only question is, who do we approach?”

“The ambassador has a lot to lose,” Gwen said, “but he’s not in town yet. At least that is what they’ve said.”

“Right,” Owin agreed. “And this Lord Nathaniel might be too hard to reach. Especially if Urel has people watching. We might have to get Duchess Emilia’s person involved and have him contact Nathaniel. The request to move would have more weight coming from a peer. And the Duchess is at risk for getting accused, so her agent would have motivation to help.”

Owin sighed and looked toward the door and then back to Gwen. He still saw her as a girl, but in truth, she’s a young woman, who looks to be a young man. “You up for that?”

She nodded her head. “It’s that or remain stuck as I am and die a laundress.”

 

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Owin #43 — Home for the night

Check out the start of the series.

Photo ©Depositphotos.com / Oleksandr Minyaylo

Little conversation occurred as Brent led Owin and Gwen through the city streets of Solva on the way to The Morgan House. Owin made note of the major crossings, but quickly concluded Brent led them on a direct route. While at this time of night, they would draw little attention, Owin had hoped to learn some of the back streets.

Owin avoided looking at Gwen. He felt Brent’s continued appraisal of himself and dared not risk drawing more of his attention to her. The man would undoubtedly be looking for indications Owin suspected his precarious situation.  Hopefully, that will keep attention off Gwen.

“Well, just over that wall,” Brent said, inclining his head toward a tall wall further down the cobblestone street, “is The Morgan House.”

Owin could only see the outline of the four-story building in the darkness, but the crenellations along the roof made him think it was made of stone. “How many guards?” Owin asked softly.

“There are at least a dozen on the grounds that watch the walls. But Lord Nathaniel comes and goes as he pleases and normally has an active lifestyle. It means he has people coming and going.”

Owin knew that Brent hoped to bolster his hopes at an easy entry to the compound, but Owin knew that would mean Urel would also be able to use that to his advantage. If Urel is not already in the compound.

As they grew closer, Owin made a closer appraisal of the wall.  He noted the vines and flowering plants that had grown up the outside. Inside their confines, numerous trees grew near the edges of the wall. While not overly tall, their canopies touched the top of the ten-feet of stone and even hung slightly over the edge. Even with a dozen men inside the grounds, getting over that would be easy in the dark.

“Come, let’s turn down this side street,” Brent said before they actually reached the wall. “Wouldn’t do to draw attention to ourselves.”

Owin followed Denton’s man down a narrow alley between a series of shops. Several lamps lit the path, extending the area’s sense of security. Most of the shops had closed for the night, but they did pass a small few that had remained open. Unlike other sections of the city, these late night businesses were actually respectable. There must be some place in the world where people can live without all the evil we bring to it. I will find it and I will take Elsin and Gwen there.

 

Brent’s route through the city to where they would spend the night included several more twists and turns. As they moved from the higher traffic areas to parts of the city with less illumination and protection, even Brent became more guarded and cautious of movement and noise.

By the time they stopped in front of a worn two-story building, Owin guessed they were in the far western part of the city.  With The Morgan House situated in the northern center of the city, considering where they started, Owin and Gwen had walked through a good portion of the city.

Brent led them up the front steps and into a long hall with several doors on either side. He walked past the stairs leading to the second floor and took them to the last door on the left-hand side of the hall. “This will be your room while you are here. We’ve rented it for your use. No one should bother you.” Brent turned back toward the door and fumbled with a key.

Owin glanced at the door, but he could not make out any markings without a lamp. After a moment, Owin heard the sound of the lock opening and waited as Brent pushed open the door and went inside. The man came back out with a lamp in his hand.

“Wait here, I’ll get you some light.”

Owin watched the young man head back to the front of the building and out the front door.  The cocky tone of Brent’s voice grated on Owin’s nerves.

“What do you think?” Gwen asked softly.

“I think I am going to need you to take care of some things on your own. At least one person in this building is going to be watching our comings and goings.”

Gwen did not say anything; Brent had come back into the hall, the lamp lit. When the man approached, he handed the lamp to Gwen and ushered her into the room with a nod of his head. “I’ll be back in the morning to check on you. There is an icebox in the corner if you care to buy some ice, though with this heat, good luck with that.” Brent pointed to the bed against the left-hand wall. “It should be big enough for the two of you. I grew up with one half that size and there were three of us.”

Owin glanced at the bed. The size was reasonable, but he doubled Brent’s claim.

“There is a well down the street and some buckets under the table. I think there is some wood next to the stove, but you might be better just eating at the market down the street.”

Owin was impressed that the room contained a cast iron stove. The cabinet standing against the wall likely had pans and plates, but he could examine that later.

“Here’s the key. Try not to draw too much attention. Denton asked that we set you up reasonably well and we’d rather not have to give up this room if we don’t have to.”

Owin smiled. “We tend to be rather quiet.”

Brent smiled in return. “In that case, I’ll let you get settled in for the night.” Without another word, the man turned and left, closing the door behind himself.

When Owin felt it was safe to speak, he walked over to Gwen and kept his voice low. “Tomorrow morning, we will tear this place apart. If it was me, I’d have planted evidence here to incriminate us. If it was hidden well and we weren’t looking for it, it would save having to try and get it in here after we’re caught.”

“Great,” Gwen said. “A treasure hunt we can’t afford to lose.”

 

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Writers: Where are we?

I get a lot of positive comments about my maps and while I do enjoy making things my readers really like, I must confess that my maps are as much for me as they are for my readers.

When I want to know how long it will take Stephenie, Henton, and Kas to travel to the next city, I can pull up the map and measure the distance. When I want to describe the terrain, I can look at the map and get an idea if the land would be rocky or swampy based upon the features I have drawn. When I want to know if my beloved characters are traveling through hostile lands, I can look at the borders and get an idea for what kind of political issues might be a factor.

Yes, I put a bit of thought into those details before I drew the lines of the map, but the map helps to record those details and later provide ideas for things I had not considered. For example, Midland was the only country on the map that has borders on both the Sea of Tet and the Endless Sea. Based on that fact, I concluded that Midland held significant strength with regard to trade and so therefore it should be a fairly wealthy country.

Salzen, a couple of countries to the north is landlocked and has a mountain range along its northern border. As a result, Salzen is far less populated and the lands near the mountains are more arid and sandy.

Having the map available not only provides my readers with a frame a reference (and many people do enjoy having maps) but it provides me with a way to keep my world consistent in my writing. It also gives me insight the struggles the people of my work may face.

I have always been fascinated by maps and love looking over old documents that contain even just a crude drawing of someplace. Even as a kid, I would crinkle up large sheets of paper and soak it in tea to create something with the appearance of old parchment. Then I’d create maps that I could use to find buried treasure in the woods at the end of the street. Later I learned the acid in the tea would destroy the paper, but it was great fun as a kid.

History can be a great source of inspiration when creating a map. The social and political pressures that shaped our own world’s borders may also be occurring in your world. I have found great enjoyment and numerous ideas from shows like How The State’s Got Their Shapes. The factors that created the borders for the United States can often be lifted directly into your fiction (sometimes because fact itself is stranger than fiction).

I have been working on my maps for years. I started with graph paper and pens. But a few years ago, I moved my work into Photoshop, which has helped me produce materials that are useful for my readers, as well as myself. However, even if you do not have tools like that, don’t let it stop you. Pick up some paper and get you ideas down in a visual form. Having a map will really help to frame your world in your mind and when you truly know your world, that will allow you to make the place where your characters live clearer for your readers.

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Owin #42 — Dinner at the pub

Check out the start of the series.

Photo ©Depositphotos.com / Oleksandr Minyaylo

Solva was one of Andra’s oldest cities and its age was evident. While many buildings had been rebuilt over the years, many more limped from generation to generation.  The old relics, or in many cases, decaying structures, lived sandwiched between newer buildings of varying age. The once fine cobblestone streets were in many places fill over with debris and sediment. The missing stones leaving holes and dips that most people simply stepped around and ignored.

Without a King, the city, which remained part of the King’s holdings, had suffered from increased corruption in the leadership. Monies that would have slowed the decay, now disappeared before they reached those who would have once done the work.

However, the disruption had not caused an uncontrolled growth in crime. Powerful trade groups continued to push for the policing of the streets and the punishment of criminals. Only, their justice tended to be swifter and less forgiving.

Owin led Gwen down the sparsely lit street. The narrow lane he followed was straighter than many in the city, which made it a good reference for him. It’s been too long since I’ve been here, he admitted. Too long to remember this place as well as I need, but not long enough to forget what I was, he immediately corrected. The fact that Denton had roped him back into this life bothered him greatly.

After two more blocks, Owin turned onto a major street that was wide enough to allow horse traffic; though, not wide enough for buggies and carriages. After passing three shops, he stopped in front of a waddle and daub building that stood three stories high. The building leaned slightly to the left, but since it shared walls with its neighbors, Owin considered that it might just be a factor that the whole block leaned.

His own stomach growling, Owin walked up the couple of wooden steps and entered the Green Leaf Tavern. The weathered door stuck a little as he pulled it open, but the intricate carving on the thick boards appeared crisp and undamaged by time. The inside of the tavern was a little overly warm and stuffy, but the dozen people scattered about the tables did not seem to mind.

Owin held the door as Gwen moved around him. He watched her as she quickly made her appraisal of the room and its patrons. Her calm and casual appearance only betrayed by a slight fidgeting of her hands around the straps of the pack she carried. She has potential, he thought, but if I have my way, she will never have to use it.

With a nod of his head, he directed her toward an open table near the back of the room and away from the stairs leading to the second floor. The sounds coming from above them led Owin suspected there may be gaming or other distractions there. Instinct told him there was also likely rooms below ground as well, but he hoped to avoid any of the private parts of the public house.

“Can I get you something?” A young man carrying a mug asked as he passed them while walking toward another table.

“Some dinner and a couple of mugs of ale,” Owin replied. In a place like this, there would not be many choices for dinner. Holding out a chair, he had Gwen sit down, and then he chose the chair that put his back to the wall. The young man handed the mug to a sailor and then turned back toward the kitchen.

“So, how do we find Bent?” Gwen asked as she leaned in close to him.

“I’m not sure what he looks like. I’ll ask about him after I get something to eat myself. I don’t want to end up with going the night without something if I can help it.”

“You should have eaten at Tam’s.”

Owin shook his head. “Tam wouldn’t have poisoned the food he was eating, so I wasn’t worried. However, his offer to you was because you’re a girl. Not because he is nice.”

The young waiter emerged from the kitchen with two plates and two mugs. He brought them over and set them on the edge of the table. “That’ll be five marks,” the young man said, hovering protectively over the food.

Owin quickly paid the man and then dug into the meats and vegetables on the plate. Gwen did not let her prior meal dissuade her and started eating as well. They had barely finished when a dark-haired man who had been sitting in the far corner rose and then approached their table.

“The two of you wouldn’t happen to be from Rhyl, would you?” The man asked.

News travels fast. Rumors about me arrive before I do, even though I didn’t even know I was coming. Now our contact can identify us on sight? “Might I ask your name?” Owin responded carefully.

“Most people call me Brent.” The man sat down across from Owin. “You got something for me?”

Owin dug into his pouch and fished out the marker Arn had given him. He purposefully avoided looking at Gwen, though he knew this man’s appearance bothered her as well. Setting the wooden disk on the table, he pushed it over to the man.

“Owin and Gwen I presume.”

“Our reputation precedes us,” Owin said before he could stop himself and then decided to press the question. “How’d you know what we look like and that we’d even be here?”

Brent’s lips cracked into a smile, revealing a set of straight teeth. “My good man, Denton does the work of the gods and they will let neither time nor distance prevent their will from being done.” The man glanced at Owin’s plate. “Have you finished your dinner?”

Owin nodded his head. “I am glad to hear Denton has managed to inform you of our journey. I trust he also informed you what our fee is when this is done.”

The man’s smile deepened. “I’m not the business man, just a worker. If you are done with your meal, let me get you someplace where you can sleep and rest up. I imagine you’ve had a long journey.”

“That we have.” Owin finished the little bit of ale left in his mug. “On the way to where you are taking us, can you show me where I am to do my work?”

“It is a bit out of our way, but I can take you past it.” Brent turned his attention to Gwen. “You up for the extra walk. Don’t want to wear you out.”

Gwen shrugged and Owin caught her eye, hoping she would not mistake the warning he wanted to convey. The man across from him set his instincts on fire and he wanted this man to ignore Gwen.

“I don’t know,” Gwen finally said. “If you insist we do it, I guess so. I’m not used to this kind of thing.”

Owin hoped Brent was not a priest; his pleasure at Gwen’s slightly whiny tone would be obvious to someone with the power of the gods. Aloud he said, “Don’t bitch about it; we’re just going to walk past it.”

Brent’s amusement could not be hidden. “Then let’s go so we can get you to where you are staying.”

 

The post Owin #42 — Dinner at the pub appeared first on Thaddeus Nowak.

Owin #41 — The forming of a plan?

Check out the start of the series.

Photo ©Depositphotos.com / Oleksandr Minyaylo

Owin watched Tam smile, though the old man’s scared face held a trace of irritation under the amusement. Owin knew the man did not like to have information withheld from him, but Owin could not share his plans with a man who was likely to repeat them. “I’ll let you know the plans as they come together. Right now, all I’ve got is a few random ideas.”

Tam chuckled and seemed to accept the statement. “You better get something better than that pretty quick. I’d say someone is out to have your neck.”

Owin nodded his head. “A number of people would say it was for a worthy cause, but I kind of like my neck unbroken. If you keep quiet on what I am doing, you’ll likely see some interesting things unfold.” The old man nodded his head and Owin glanced once at Gwen who had slowed her eating. “Can you tell me if the Uvarian Ambassador has arrived yet?”

Tam shook his head. “He’s not here yet. Probably will be soon. A Lord Tarrin. I understand he’s a younger man. Uvar needs the trade deal. They need money and have too much grain and lumber. I’d guess they sent a junior person so they could use his inexperience as an excuse for what they will in a few years call a bad deal. But they need the deal to go through.”

Owin pursed his lips. “It’s logical; don’t send your hard negotiator when everyone knows the deal will happen. If you send a hard one, people might think he’s holding back and might demand more than from someone who gave too much away to start with. Then you might think you got a great deal and want to close it before he realizes what he gave up.”

“Those are just rumors, of course,” Tam said, picking up his mug and drinking from it.

“What about Duchess Emilia? Does she have anyone from her household in town?”

Tam glanced down at the coins on the table and then back to Owin’s pouch. Owin grinned and pulled a couple more coins from his pouch and placed them on the table.

“This is Solva, everyone has a presence here. And if she had her way, they would give Solva back to her. But the dukes aren’t likely to do that, are they?”

“No. Not with them all fighting for position.”

“Her family has a house in the city. It’s in the east quarter near the Garden of Roses. A Lord Walis is living there. He’s a younger cousin. Likes to go drinking and play dice, but he’s not much of a threat. Skinny boy who’s too afraid of his own shadow.”

“Well, that is still something.” Owin leaned back in the chair and glanced at Gwen. She had stopped eating. Because the food is gone. He smiled at her; she knew when to take advantage of a situation. “Gwen, I think we need to get going. We still need to find our contact and get situated for the night.”

Owin rose to his feet. “Tam, it was a pleasure speaking with you again. It’d be best for me if people didn’t know we stopped here. I want to let people keep thinking I don’t know anything for a while longer.”

Tam shrugged. “A man’s got to eat.”

Owin pulled out a couple more coins and put them on the table. “Just for a few days at least. I think you’ll find it more interesting if I don’t get killed right away.”

Tam smiled, this time his scared face could not hide the mischievous thoughts in his head. “That might make it all worthwhile.”

 

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