Alliance for Antrim Page 13

  Chapter 7

  Demonstration

  Nevin spent the rest of the morning packing his books and belongings. As he knelt to examine the contents of a box, he was startled by Anson’s tap on the shoulder. Even more startling was what this strange little man said. “Sir Nevin. My people and I need your help. Would you help us find a way to save Antrim?”

  Antrim? That was a different name from any this strange fellow had mentioned before. “I thought you were from Huxley?” Nevin’s response was a little curt, but he was not used to having any guests and had temporarily forgotten about Anson. He decided to delay packing and get to the bottom of this situation. “Let’s wait a minute here, Anson. I’m not sure just what is going on, but I need to ask some questions so we can figure out the best way to help you. Let’s go sit at the kitchen table.”

  Nevin was growing more concerned because Anson’s reference to the people of “Antrim” instead of “Huxley” could mean his delusion was deteriorating, a bad sign if he was truly mentally disturbed. It did not occur to him that Huxley might have been a village in the larger land called Antrim.

  Nevin seated himself and Anson followed suit. The way Anson seemed so deferential and respectful was a little disconcerting. All this Sir and High Mage stuff was really out there. Nevin studied the man’s face, seeing sincerity and the appearance of deep concern. “All right, Anson. Let’s start with what happened to you just before we met this morning. Tell me the whole story.” Over the next hour, Anson recounted the events leading up to their meeting. Nevin said little during this time, but sat poised to question any inconsistency that came out of the incredible story. By the time Anson finished, Nevin was astounded at the vivid detail and logical consistency in what had to be a massive delusion that required a great deal of effort to conceive. Despite the sincerity and likability of his strange visitor, the part about being a “mage” was too much to swallow. How could Nevin believe the existence of magic and mutable laws of physics? On the other hand, he did not want to profess the same failure of imagination that prejudiced other scholars. He leaned forward and said, “That is some story. I have to tell you that it is hard to believe without some evidence. . .”

  Anson raised a hand, nodding slightly. “I understand your hesitation in believing my tale, Sir. My skills in magery may be middling, but I will agree to any test you wish.”

  Nevin’s immediate reaction was not to encourage any further delusional thinking by consenting to a test that might precipitate hallucinations. If Nevin refused to believe Anson’s incredible story after the test, would Anson become agitated? On the other hand, Nevin thought, he seems so sincere. And he really may need help of some kind, if I can only be figure out what it should be. “OK, Anson. Let’s see, you referred to a spell of deliverance. What else can you do?”

  Anson hesitated and spoke with humility, “I have developed my skills to the level that I can achieve reversibility, at least with some of the basic spells like ustulation. Do you have a candle?”

  “Ustulation” was not a word used in everyday conversation, but Nevin knew its meaning. It was an obscure word for some type of burning, something like the ceremonial burning of wine, but not many people would likely know that other than a scholar or ancient history buff. Becoming a bit more anxious at the prospect of a demonstration involving fire, he would go along with this a little further. He reached over to a drawer and got out a stubby votive candle and placed it on the table in front of Anson.

  Anson took a deep breath. The mage then concentrated his attention on the candle and muttered some words that were barely audible. After a few seconds Anson raised his right hand, pointed two fingers at the candle and gave them a sudden flick. Instantly, the candle lit. Just as suddenly, the candle went out as Anson flicked his fingers in the opposite direction. He repeated this action two more times with the candle becoming lit and unlit with the precise timing of his finger movements. Still displaying the same tone of humility, Anson said, “Such a demonstration may seem simple play to you, Sir. Would you like me to do more?”

  “Huh. That was good, pretty good,” Nevin replied with as straight a face as he could muster. His mind worked hastily to try to explain the trick; he had done a lot of reading about debunking magic tricks and supernatural phenomena. Performing magicians used electrical wires and timed incendiary capsules to achieve similar effects, but this demonstration was happening in his own kitchen. The demonstration halted as someone knocked at the door.

  Nevin sported a quizzical look as he went to the door. Upon opening it, a short woman in her mid-sixties stood there smiling at him. “Hello, Mrs. Nelson,” Nevin said. “What can I do for you?”

  “Hello, Mr. Reasoner. I just thought I would check and see if you were still planning on leaving us. You’ve been such a good tenant, we hate to see you go. Do you know if you will be leaving?”

  As Nevin started to answer her question, he looked back as Anson murmured something in a low voice. The little man walked over to stand between them, looking straight at Mrs. Nelson’s face.

  Nevin acted a little awkward about Anson’s presence before answering. “Yes, I expect to leave by Sunday, Mrs. Nelson. I appreciate your kind words. This has been a pleasant place to live and your rent was very reasonable.” He looked at Anson again, who was smiling. “Um. . .Mrs. Nelson, let me introduce you to my guest, um, Anson Huxley. He is visiting us. . .on a foreign exchange program. Anson, this is Mrs. Nelson, my landlady.”

  Anson furrowed a brow, thinking this must be a joke on Nevin’s part. He was sure that Nevin must have understood the spell of indifference he just invoked. Furthermore, Anson had been careful to focus the effect only on the woman; he did not want to risk offending Nevin by making him the object of a spell.

  Mrs. Nelson responded with a gratuitous nod, looked directly at Anson and then ignoring him. She looked past Nevin, as if he had introduced someone else in the room. “Where is your friend? Is he shy? Well, listen, if you want to bring him ‘round for some tea and coffeecake, just give me a buzz. See you later, my boy.” She turned and left.

  Nevin, now totally confused as he closed the door, tried to apologize for her odd behavior. “I hope you are not offended, Anson. It is not like her to ignore someone like that. I don’t know what was wrong with her.” Seeing that Anson was still grinning, he added, “I suppose you’re going to say you invoked a spell of invisibility and only I could see you.”

  Anson gave a little laugh. “Not invisibility, Sir. I don’t think that is possible. It was merely a spell of indifference. I thought you might have heard me cant the words.” Anson’s face turned more serious. “Sir Nevin, if you would allow it, I have many questions to ask you as well. I am not certain whether we were fated to meet, but it is clear to me that you can help my cause.” Anson bowed slightly and pointed toward the kitchen table. “Please sit with me again.”

  No less confused, Nevin took a seat. His mind raced, trying to figure this out without allowing himself to believe that any of it could be true. Anson opened with his first question. “If you are not a High Mage, as you say, can I assume you are a High “Sage” in this land, and with your vast number of books you have more knowledge than others?”

  That was an odd way of putting it, but Nevin affirmed, “I guess that’s right, although you make it sound rather extraordinary. Maybe where you come from that’s the way you would explain what I am.”

  Looking sheepish, Anson forced another question. “Please tolerate my familiarity, Sir. As you can see, you are much taller and broader than I, and I am a common size for my land. Is it normal for humans here to be so large? Are your people the offspring of giants? Do you use your size and strength for the fighting arts, or do you rely on magery? Are there. . .”

  Nevin raised a hand and interrupted him, “Whoa! Those are pretty wild questions and I don’t know whether to answer them or not. This whole situation with the magic tricks is beginning to unnerve me a little!”

  Anson recoiled at t
his reply, shrinking in apology.

  Nevin tried to calm down. “Let me put it this way for you: I am above average in height and level of education but I haven’t been in a fight in a long time. I don’t like fighting and find nothing ‘artistic’ about it in any form. I don’t use ‘magery’ or any type of chicanery—no offense meant, Anson, but I don’t believe in it. As far as giants go, we don’t have any unless you want to count a few basketball players. Look, Anson, I’d like to help you if I can but I have some personal affairs to deal with and I’m kind of short on time. I have to move out of here and find another place to live, although I’d rather not get into my personal situation if you don’t mind.”

  Anson was further chagrined that questions proved intrusive. “I am sorry if I have offended you, Sir. It is just that my cause is so desperate! Constant warring in my land is causing its destruction. The latest events show that little time is left before Antrim will fall. Not just my village, Sir, but the whole kingdom may be threatened! I can see that you are a sage of high knowledge, perhaps with greater powers than a mage. And if you could abide me a little while longer, I need your counsel in seeking a deterrent which would persuade the Kings to stop their fighting.”

  The pleading look in Anson’s face caused Nevin to hesitate. Certainly, there could not be any truth to this story. Maybe Anson came from some small backward country where they have some sort of primitive war going on, but this magic stuff makes it all seem so weird. There must be some rational explanation. What could be the harm in going along with this a little longer.

  Nevin apologized for being so direct and said he would try to help if he could, for which the so-called mage seemed almost tearfully grateful. They talked a while longer, mostly with Nevin asking questions about the state of war between Gilsum and Antrim. Anson was so ready with answers that Nevin was astounded at such a monumental delusion. The story was so intricate and believable that Anson must have an enormous intellect or imagination, which had to be admired. Nevin finally suggested they take a break, offering Anson some tea. When he got up to make it, he turned and said, “Let’s move into the living room. I want to check on the progress of our own imminent war, if you don’t mind.”

  Anson wondered how someone could “check on the progress” of a war apparently nowhere in sight. He followed Nevin to the living room and they both took a seat, opposite a large rectangular item encased in a window of darkened glass. Anson watched as Nevin reached over to an end table and picked up a hand-sized object studded with buttons. After Nevin pointed the buttoned object at the dark window, Anson watched with amazement as a picture immediately appeared in the glass.

  Seeing Anson’s astonishment, Nevin blithely asked, “Don’t you have cable television where you’re from?”