Alliance for Antrim Read online

  Chapter 6

  Delusion

  “You have been delivered? Here?”Nevin looked down at the man, not sure what to make of him.

  Nevin was a little over six foot in height but never thought of himself as tall. Yet he towered over this much smaller man, possibly intimidating him. Many thoughts ran through Nevin’s mind to explain this person’s unusual size. He was perfectly proportioned, so his small size did not appear the result of a genetic anomaly. Perhaps he was a foreign exchange student or maybe a visiting faculty member from another country where physical stature was uniformly smaller. But his reference to a “delivery” seemed odd. And he looks as though he has been injured. “Do you mean that you are making a ‘delivery?’ A package or something?The service entrance is at the rear of the building.”

  “No, S-Sir. . .,” the man stammered. I am what has been delivered here. My name is Anson. I had to escape from the attack in my village. Now, I fear I am in need of aid. The deliverance spell seems to have sapped my strength. . .”

  The odd little man started to reel, using a hand to brace himself against the doorframe. Nevin reached out again to catch him and then led him into the office. “Come in here and sit down.”

  Nevin was perplexed. It was evident this man had been through some kind of traumatic experience. Not sure how to help him, it seemed best to start at the beginning. “Anson, is it?Just what happened to you?What kind of help do you need?”

  After Nevin succeeded in getting Anson into a chair, he seated himself in the swivel chair by desk. For a minute he looked over his strange visitor, once again noticing his injuries. “Let me take a look at your arm, Anson. It looks like we need to take you to the infirmary.”

  Nevin started to stand, but Anson put up his hand, “No. Please indulge me, Sir. I just need to rest a bit and collect myself before I can proceed any further in this strange place.” Anson patted the cut near his left temple with his fingers. Confirming that the wound was neither grievous nor bleeding, he leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes as if to gather his thoughts. Nevin shook his head in puzzlement, still no closer to understanding this curious situation.

  “How did you hurt yourself?” Nevin asked.

  “I’m not sure, Sir Nevin. . .if that is the proper way to address you. Either a Gilsum pike or maybe the fall on the hedge. . .”

  “Pike?You mean a spear?You were injured by a spear?Did somebody attack you with a spear?”

  Anson nodded.

  “Someone was chasing you with a spear and ran you into a hedge?”

  “Well. . .turn it around and that would describe the basics of it, yes.”

  “Where did this happen? Here, on the campus?”

  “Oh…no, Sir. In Huxley. My village was besieged by Gilsum soldiers and they had me marked for death.”

  Nevin abruptly sat back in his chair, studying the possibility that this man was delusional. If so, his delusion seemed rather well detailed. Too detailed to be caused by the minor head wound. Could this behavior be drug induced?“I see,” Nevin said. “Maybe I should call Campus Security so they can look for your attacker.”

  “No, please. There are no attackers here. I was delivered here from Huxley and I believe I am safe now. My wound is not serious and I have ample skills to care for it, but I must rest first if you can indulge me. My head is spinning so. . .May I rest here briefly—and ask you questions?”

  Nevin nodded, but not without a look of apprehension.

  “Sir,” Anson asked timidly. “Is it you who is titled ‘Nevin the Reasoner’ and is this your chamber? Are you…a High Mage?”

  Nevin did not know whether to be amused or fearful at these unusual questions. A closer look at his visitor’s face revealed eyes that were red and highly irritated, but they still conveyed a compelling mien of sincerity and innocence. It was difficult to know whether to reinforce the man’s delusion or reinforce the reality about their time and place. Nevin did not know a lot about psychology, having long dismissed that field as a pseudo-science. It might have been instinct or a quick analysis of observations, but Nevin decided that this man was not a threat.

  “You said your name is Anson, right? Well, Anson, there are no mages here. I am not a ‘High’ anything. That’s why I got stuck with a small basement office.”

  “But all these books,” questioned Anson, glancing around with a look of amazement. Pointing to the shelves, he asked, “Could this be your village library?”

  “These are my books, part of my personal library. The ‘village library’ you asked about is a much bigger building with a lot more books than this. Hundreds of thousands of volumes.”

  Nevin’s mind raced to consider the possible explanations for Anson’s unusual choice of words and references. Hempstead was a college town, often visited by persons from diverse cultures anywhere in the world. This fellow might be a visiting relative of a foreign student or faculty member, and maybe arrival by plane or taxi or some mode of transportation was viewed as a “delivery.” That was plausible. It was also plausible that such a visitor might have no experience with a real library. But what the hell is a “gilsum pike?”

  “As far as me being a ‘mage,’” Nevin continued. “I suppose I’d rather think of myself more as an ‘aspiring sage.’”

  “A ‘Sage’? Oh yes, of course,” Anson nodded. He weakly closed his eyes and started to totter in his seat.

  “You’ve got to get some help, especially for that bruise on your head,” Nevin said as he stood up. “It looks like you’re becoming a little woozy. Do you have any friends or relatives I can call?”

  Anson gave a sudden look of dismay as he tried to steady himself. “Please, Sir. I do not wish to become a ‘woozy’ of any size. I would be in your debt if you could show me to a place where I can rest. I am sure I know no one in this place.”

  Nevin had to do something to help this person. He got out a small first aid kit from one of the desk drawers. “OK, Anson. Let me try to help you. The first thing we have to do is take care of this cut on your arm.” Using some hydrogen peroxide and cotton gauze, Nevin cleaned the wound. “This cut is not bleeding any more, but it might be a good idea to get a tetanus shot or some antibiotic treatment. Since you say you don’t know anyone here, I’ll take you to my apartment so you can rest for a while. Then we’ll take it from there. Is that all right with you?”

  Anson nodded, obviously grateful for the aid. Nevin helped him to rise and led him out of the office into the corridor. Several feet away walked one of the building maintenance staff, a man dressed in gray pants and shirt, hands on his hips, obviously piqued. Using a mop handle to steer a large wheeled pail, he pushed the pail down the corridor. The small metal wheels made a surprisingly loud combination of squeaks and grating sounds, fitting the man’s mood. Anson eyed him apprehensively, taking notice of the name “Al” embroidered on an oval patch just above the right pocket.

  Al was quite a bit older than either Nevin or Anson, and midway between them in height. Once he recognized Nevin, Al slightly altered the course of his pail and stopped directly in front of them. After giving a brief quizzical look at the unusually short man dressed in odd-looking clothes, Al blurted, “You know what those bastards did this time, Professor? They peed in my sink! A bathroom is only fifty feet away and they have to pee in my damn sink!” The irate maintenance man turned to Anson and said pleadingly, “Can you tell me where the hell somebody would have to come from to do something like that? Do people do that where you come from?” It was a rhetorical question as Al walked off, muttering “bastards” repeatedly. A little mop water spilled every time he gave the pail a vigorous push by the mop handle.

  Nevin shrugged his shoulders and Anson smiled weakly as they resumed their progress toward the exit. Anson sent a wary glance back at the man dressed in gray, fairly certain he was the alchemist from the deliverance room; he must be on his way to use the stringed staff on the illegitimate youths that had so angered him.