Saving Solace

CHAPTER 7

"Hereby call this meeting-"

Gerard caught the speaker in mid-sentence as he rushed in late to the town council meeting. He hurriedly found an empty seat and slumped in it, trying to avoid the curious stares of the council members and others present. Vercleese was already there, Gerard noticed, seated well back in the room.

The speaker, having paused in his words, glared at Gerard. "-call this meeting of the Solace town council to order," he concluded, scowling around the room as if challenging anyone else to interrupt him.

No one did.

The speaker, a thin, nervous-looking young man, rapped the gavel gravely before turning it over to Palin. Then the thin young man sat and proceeded to take minutes of the meeting, never uttering another word until it was time to adjourn. As secretary to the mayor, he considered calling the meeting to order and adjourning it two of his most important duties.

From the general rolling of eyes, Gerard gathered this sense of importance wasn't shared by the elected members of the council.

Gerard let out a deep breath and tried to relax. At the last minute, he had decided to shave, and that had made him late for his first council meeting. So much for making a favorable impression, he concluded grimly. He was still groggy from a troubled night's sleep, complete with the strange dream.

Palin, who looked as though he hadn't slept well either, mustered up a smile and seemed to take in each individual personally before he began to speak. "We have a full agenda today, starting with an item concerning a cock Petric Jameson claims is crowing well before dawn-"

"And waking my whole household!" grumbled someone in the room.

"We'll get to that, Petric," Palin said easily. "After that, we have an item regarding the procedure for obtaining a merchant's writ to sell goods in the marketplace, followed by a dispute involving ownership of, and ultimate responsibility for, a dead cow…"

Palin continued through a daunting list of tedious topics, with Gerard's introduction as sheriff appearing as item number twenty-nine.

Gerard groaned. He scanned the council table, noting Kedrick Tos, whom he had met previously on his tour with Vercleese. He didn't recognize three of the other men, merchants he judged from the cut of their clothes, although at the far end of the table sat a fourth man, a gray-haired, sophisticated-looking gentleman whom Gerard decided must be Cardjaf Duhar. The gentleman bore some resemblance to Kaleen. Duhar was listening in deferential silence as Palin spoke, occasionally nodding in response to something the mayor said.

One item on the agenda, a call for a referendum on the matter of accepting "foreigners and others of that ilk" into Solace, caused a considerable stir.

"I'm as tolerant as the next man," announced one councilman who had requested the floor, immediately alerting Gerard to the likelihood the man's remarks would be anything but tolerant. "But I say we're allowing too many questionable types into our town, many of them not even human. Why, just the other day I spied a minotaur walking about in the marketplace as bold as you please." He paused while a gasp of indignation rose from several of the listeners. "I say we have to get back to good, traditional human values," the councilman went on, "the kind of values that made Solace such a desirable community in the first place."

There were cries for and against the speaker's remarks among the spectators, and a barrage of comments from a couple of the councilmen. Palin banged the gavel and waited for silence. Duhar gestured discreetly for the floor. When he received Palin's nod, he rose, the only councilman thus far to deliver his remarks while standing, Gerard noted. A near hush fell upon the room as everyone waited to hear what a successful businessman from Palanthas would have to say about the situation.

"You all know that I'm a relative newcomer here in your fair town myself," he said in a measured, resonant tone. He nodded to several of those present. "You have given us a new home, taken us in as members of the community, and even granted me the privilege of lending my meager voice to the governance of your civic affairs.

"But I am troubled to hear that not all newcomers to Solace maybe so warmly welcomed in the future. True, some individuals may be causing problems, but we have statutes and ordinances for dealing with troublemakers. Most others, and I count these as the great majority of those streaming here, are sincere, law-abiding folk who only wish to share in the many benefits with which Solace is blessed. I say these individuals, human and otherwise, have uncounted skills and qualities to contribute to the common good, and that we should open our doors to as many of them as will come. Why, even a minotaur should find ready acceptance here, provided he obeys the laws governing all. We can only progress to the extent that we continue to grow. Not to grow is to become stagnant. I believe no one in Solace wants that."

He resumed his seat with an air of gravity that held the room gripped in silence. Then a clamor erupted as numerous people strove to air their opinions. Palin banged the gavel furiously. At last he achieved a semblance of order and turned the floor over to a short, chubby councilman who was practically apoplectic with bottled-up emotions. Indeed, the man was red-faced and shaking with urgency, so that he could barely force coherent words from his throat. "Wanton women," he managed to gasp. "Gambling. Fistfights in the street." He stopped, glaring around the room as if to daring anyone to refute him. Abruptly, he sat down, apparently satisfied he had made his point.

Whatever his point might have been, Gerard thought to himself.

And so it went. Eventually, Palin interceded in the debate, quietly urging moderation in the council's decisions and laying out a case for controlled growth. Such was his influence that everyone present listened respectfully, whether they agreed with him or not. In the end, the council voted to defer action on the measure and proceeded to the next item on the agenda.

Two hours later, the council had dealt with only nineteen of the items on the agenda. Gerard jerked awake at one point, having started to doze, and glanced around to see if anyone had noticed. A couple of those around him appeared to be in similar states of semi-

consciousness. One Man had actually begun to snore

Gerard inhaled deeply and tried to pay attention as the council took up the matter of Goodwife Wilks, who was said to have been selling dark magic charms to both sides in a neighborhood squabble. Not that anyone had a problem with the charms themselves, apparently, but it seemed Goodwife Wilks was also quietly stirring up both sides in the long-running dispute, thereby doubling her business.

At long last, the council reached item number twenty-nine. Choosing his words carefully, Palin introduced Gerard, giving an elaborate account of his service during the war and making much of his having been a Knight of Solamnia. Gerard squirmed self-consciously throughout the glowing address. He had thought that sitting quietly during the council's endless deliberations was excruciating enough, but being the center of their attention was worse. He would gladly have battled a dragon rather than have to endure another moment of this torture.

When Palin finished, the chubby councilman who had spoken so pithily about wanton women, gambling, and fistfights in the streets signaled for the floor. Again, he opened and closed his mouth several times, trying to form his words. His head bobbed vigorously with the effort. "Temporary," he blurted at last. "Serving until… qualified candidate chosen… duly appointed search committee… answering to this council." Then he looked around at all the other council members, scowling fiercely, his somewhat mysterious remarks apparently concluded.

"Yes, well, of course the points made by my esteemed colleague should be taken into due consideration," the next speaker said, as if the first man had made some sense. "In the meantime, Gerard uth Mondar will be serving as temporary sheriff of Solace, and in order to familiarize himself with all the relevant statutes, regulations, and civil codes, should take it upon himself to, uh, familiarize himself with all the relevant…" He stopped, tangled up in his own words. "Here," he began again, after an awkward moment, producing an enormous stack of books, scrolls, and codices, and handing them over to Gerard. "These will tell you everything you need to know. See that you study them." He narrowed his eyes, looking as though he wanted to add that Gerard would be tested on his knowledge of same in due time, but refrained from saying more.

Gerard accepted the stack of documents gingerly, concerned lest it topple and scatter. Across the table, Palin gave Gerard a sympathetic grin.

Before Gerard could leave the room, Cardjaf Duhar rose again and bowed slightly to him. "We are most grateful for your services to our fair town," he declared in his measured voice. "I'm sure Solace will remain the safe, peaceful community we have all loved as a result of your good efforts."

Gerard nodded to Duhar and turned, catching a vaguely hostile look on Blair's face. Evidently the man did not approve of Duhar, or more likely he didn't approve of Duhar and Gerard starting out on such amiable terms. He privately vowed to keep a watchful eye on Blair. Like so many citizens of Solace he had met lately, there was more to the man than met the eye.

A guardsman burst into the council chamber, puffing for breath. He hurried over to Blair and whispered something to the sergeant. Blair scowled, leaped up, and made for the door, then, apparently recollecting himself, turned and rushed over to Gerard instead. "There's some kind of problem down at the jail," he hissed in Gerard's ear, as the others looked on concernedly.

Gerard stood and addressed the council members. "If you will excuse us, gentlemen, it seems duty calls." He bowed as well as he could, considering the stack of documents tucked in his arms, and hastily followed Blair and the other guardsman from the room.

Vercleese trailed Gerard, following Blair and the other guard to the northeast corner of town, where the jail was located. As they hurried along, Gerard pictured every sort of dangerous miscreant and cutthroat confined in the jail, raising havoc and possibly threatening insurrection. So he was surprised when he and Vercleese arrived at the low, solidly built log building, to find the main cell inside filled with a half dozen gnomes. The gnomes were rattling the bars, though not apparently in an effort to get out or attract their jailors' attention, but rather with an eye toward determining the strength and suitability of the bars for some arcane purpose. They were measuring the bars' lengths and diameters, arguing loudly over whether they could serve as rails for some contraption that Gerard gathered was best described as a "rail-directed, self-propelled, steam-powered, multipassenger conveyance," whatever that might be. At least it didn't sound like the device constituted a threat to the town's safety, and the gnomes had served to extricate Gerard from the unendurable town council meeting. For that blessing, he felt grateful.

"Excuse me," shouted one gray-bearded gnome over the general commotion, when he noticed Gerard and the others had arrived. He pointed at Gerard. "Excuse me, are you the new sheriff, the one in charge here?"

Gerard stepped forward, nodding that he was.

"Well, I wish to protest our unfair incarceration. We were peaceably going about our own business when we were unlawfully detained and placed here. Not that it isn't a very pleasant jail, though of course I have no real basis for comparison."

Gerard mentally counted them: right, six gnomes. Well, at least they weren't kender, he thought with relief. Six kender in jail would be a real threat to the general welfare.

He turned and addressed Blair. "What's the charge?" he asked the head of the town guard. "Why are these fellows being held?"

"They've got the road into town from the north completely blocked off," Blair asserted vehemently. Then he appeared to recollect himself, for he added hastily, "Sir."

"Blocked off? How?"

"It's some contraption of theirs, sir-"

"Our rail-directed, self-propelled, steam-powered, multipassenger conveyance," put in the gray-haired gnome, whom Gerard gathered was the leader of the bunch. At any rate, he was the most soot-stained, begrimed member of the group, as well as conspicuously the oldest.

"Their rail-directed… whatever," Blair continued, narrowing his eyes. "It's taking up the whole road, and merchants and farmers alike are unable to get in or out of town from that direction."

"How far from here is this?"

"Just a couple of miles or so."

"Hmm," Gerard glanced out the window, where dusk was gathering. It was too late to go out there now. He would have to wait until tomorrow morning to see this gnome contraption for himself.

"I say, we should be permitted to get back to our invention," put in the gray-haired gnome. "We were in the midst of conducting some Very Important Business."

"And what might that be?" asked Gerard.

The gnome took a deep breath, swelling up for what promised to be a long-winded answer, so Gerard quickly added, "The short version. Twenty-five words or less, please."

"Twenty-five or less?"

"That's four already."

"Four?" The gnomes counted on his soot-stained fingers. "Oh, you must be counting hyphenated words separately. They really should only count as one."

"You're up to twenty."

The gnome looked ready to argue, then apparently thought better of squandering his remaining five words. "Testing our steam-powered-self-propelled-rail-directed-relocation-device." Then, seeing Gerard was about to protest, he blurted out, "Hyphenated-words-really-shouldn't-count-as-more-than-one!" He did a quick tabulation on his fingers. "Twenty-five!" he exclaimed with satisfaction.

Gerard pursed his lips but didn't argue. Given the nature of gnomes to extend any technical description into the next millennium, he felt he was getting off lucky to have held it down to this length. "And where are you going in your rail-directed thingamajig?"

"Haven," declared the gnome in a rare one-word reply.

Gerard frowned, puzzled. "Haven? But that's in the heart of Samuval's domain. Why are you going there?"

"Lord Steppenhost, a Very Important Person in Que-Kiri, has contracted with us to develop a mobile transport system for moving people and specified races between Que-Kiri and Haven for the purpose of increased trade and general stimulation between territories." He made vague motions to the east, in the general direction of Que-Kiri. "The rails we've secured to the ground stretch all the way there, allowing us to travel from there to here and back, at will."

"Mm," Gerard said noncommittally. He had his own suspicions about this Lord Steppenhost's motives, which probably included enticing the gnomes to leave Que-Kiri as expeditiously as possible. "Then your business doesn't explicitly involve Solace, I take it."

The gnome shook his head, flinging dust and soot up from his hair and beard in a small cloud around his head. "No, no. In fact, we were engaged in honest debate, trying to decide whether to go through Solace or around it, when we were interrupted by this good man here, and summarily arrested!"

"I say go around it," piped up one of the other gnomes.

"Through it!" hotly declared another. "Right through this jail!"

The lead gnome scowled at this intrusion and went on, "Going through town would entail some decided complications, such as trees and buildings that would be in the way. Of course, we could level these, but that would be unnecessarily destructive. Instead we might raise the entire town hydraulically and set it to one side, providing us with a clear access to Haven."

"And why not just go around Solace?" Gerard asked. "Wouldn't that be, er, challenging?" he added hopefully.

"Oh, going around Solace would involve considerable bother."

"No it wouldn't!" objected the gnome who had spoken up before, precipitating a renewed argument among his fellows.

"More trouble than moving the entire town to one side?" Gerard asked over the ensuing din, forgetting for the moment that it was a gnome he was talking to, and not a rational creature at all.

"Oh, yes, considerably." The head gnome glared at his colleagues to prevent any disagreement, but the other gnomes were now arguing loudly with each other and ignoring their leader.

"I see." Gerard paused, edging away from the argument in the background about flywheels and gears and transfer of momentum, and conspiratorially beckoning the head gnome a few steps closer to him. "And who might you be? The short version."

"Conderammenthlurpbrackennob."

"Well, Nob, you're going to have to trust me. I'm interested in your problem, and would like to inspect your magnificent invention myself. Maybe I might have an idea how to help. But I'm going to have to hold all of you here until I can check this matter out tomorrow."

"Uh. All right."

"All right? That's it, just 'all right?'»

The old gnome shrugged his thin shoulders, and lowered his voice. "We get to sleep indoors and have some free grub, right? Any chance of some of Otik's spiced potatoes?"

"Blair!" Gerard called, turning around and nearly bumping into the guardsman. "We'll hold them here until tomorrow, when I can check this thing out. Meanwhile, Vercleese, I want you to go to where their device is parked and direct anyone trying to get into town from that direction to take one of the more roundabout routes. Blair, you'll stay and watch over our guests."

Blair scowled. "But you know I was planning on seeing Kaleen at the inn-" Abruptly he stopped, grinding his jaw with displeasure.

"Yes?" Gerard said, raising an eyebrow.

"Nothing, sir," Blair said unhappily. Meanwhile, the head gnome had rejoined the others and the debate had resumed noisily. Gerard ground his own teeth at the cacophony. Gnomes were worse than the town council. He headed for the door.

"And where will you be?" Blair asked. Then, when Gerard spun around, the sergeant added petulantly, "In case anyone should come looking for you. Sir."

"I'll be at the inn," Gerard said, softening the blow by adding, "I'll try and send Kaleen over with some, er, grub."

It had turned full dark outside. The hubbub that enveloped Solace during the day had quieted somewhat, although the sounds of music were now added to the mix that fell upon the ear. Gerard picked out the notes of a viol playing somewhere with mournful solemnity, while elsewhere a piper and fiddle wove a spritely tune. Laughter spilled from two or three of the arboreal houses as parties got under way, and small clusters of well-dressed townsfolk strolled along the streets and bridge-walks, enjoying the balmy night air.

Smells of cooking also wafted on the air, reminding Gerard that he hadn't eaten for several hours. The aroma of a roast swan from one house played upon his appetite. He hurried faster toward the inn, his stomach growling in anticipation of some tasty-but mild! — dish for his supper.

"Sheriff!" someone called. "Oh, Sheriff!"

Reluctantly, Gerard paused, allowing a huffing Lady Drebble to catch up with him. Gerard nodded a greeting.

"I wish to register a complaint," Lady Drebble said, panting as she came abreast of him. "A most serious and formal complaint."

"And whom or what do you wish to complain about?" Gerard asked when she had paused at length without continuing.

"Why, my neighbor, Goodwife Gottlief, of course."

"Ah," Gerard said, still waiting to be enlightened. "And what exactly has Goodwife Gottlief done?"

"Nothing. She's done absolutely nothing, and that's the problem."

"Lady Drebble, I'm afraid you're going to have to explain." When she gave him a look of scathing disdain, Gerard hastened to add, "Remember that I'm new to the community. I'm not aware of whatever history of difficulty might exist between you and Goodwife Gottlief."

"Of course," Lady Drebble said, instantly mollified and happy for the excuse to tell her story. "Well, it all began when I first moved to Solace. Right from the start, Goodwife Gottlief was jealous of my status, you know. She likes to take on airs, pretending she is better than she is, while I have never been anything but gracious to those beneath my station. Anyway, as I say, Goodwife Gottlief resented my rightfully displacing her in Solace society…"

Gerard listened with as much patience as he could muster while Lady Drebble recited a lengthy history of wrongs and slights she had endured from the ungrateful Goodwife Gottlief.

"But what exactly is the problem now?" he was finally obliged to interject when Lady Drebble chanced to pause for breath. It was extraordinary how long she seemed able to talk on a single lungful of air, he reflected.

"Why, she didn't even acknowledge me when I went out today, although I purposely passed right in front of her garden where she was busy tending her flowers. It's disgraceful! I bid her good morning, as I always do to my social inferiors, never having been one to hold poor breeding or bad upbringing against one, whereupon she merely sniffed and turned the other way. She should be reprimanded severely!"

"Perhaps even put in jail for the night to teach her a lesson," Gerard added dryly.

"Yes, that's it exactly! I'm so glad you understand the seriousness of her offense."

"Lady Drebble, perhaps you should set the example and adopt a more conciliatory spirit toward your neighbor." When Lady Drebble drew herself up to object to this astonishing remark, Gerard hastened to add, more slyly, "Think how such an approach would bedevil her, as she tried to determine what you were up to." He winked to underscore his point.

"Oh! Why, yes. True, true. It would drive her to distraction, trying to figure that one out."

"Exactly."

Lady Drebble leaned close, placing a conspiratorial hand on his arm. "Sheriff, you are a genius." With a swirl of skirts and petticoats, she swept away to put her revenge into effect.

Gerard let out a deep breath and resumed his own course toward dinner.

The inn was crowded, as always. Gerard slid into a seat as an elegantly dressed couple finished their meal and stood up. He saw Kaleen serving tables across the room and settled back to wait for her but was startled when Laura stormed over to him instead. She plunked a heaping platter of Otik's spiced potatoes down in front of him and glared, challenging him to object.

Gerard forced a thin smile. "Mm," he managed to murmur.

Laura waited.

Gerard picked up a spoon, thrust it into the pile of potatoes, and drew out a dangerously large mouthful. As Laura continued to watch, he shoveled the spoonful into his mouth. He tried to grin, then chewed slowly under her steadfast gaze. His mouth tingled from the peppery flavor. His stomach was already churning in protest.

Seeing him chew, Laura's expression softened. She smiled and turned away, heading back to her kitchen. When she was a safe distance from his table, Gerard discreetly spat the mouthful out into his napkin and pushed the platter of potatoes aside, his appetite ruined. He glanced around the room to see if anyone had noticed his indiscretion. A group of swarthy men in one corner of the room caught his attention. He squinted, trying to see them better, but their cloaks and cowls obscured their faces. One, however, looked familiar; Gerard knew he had seen the cloaked man before, but for the life of him he couldn't remember where.

Then his eyes came to rest on Kaleen and he froze. She was glowering at him from across the room, having apparently witnessed him spitting out the potatoes. Gerard withered under her condemnatory gaze. Reluctantly, he drew the platter of potatoes toward him again and began nibbling on tiny spoonfuls, swallowing with difficulty over the increasingly violent objections of his digestive tract. Presently, the seats in Gerard's immediate vicinity emptied as people sniffed the air and chose to move elsewhere.

Gerard felt himself flush with embarrassment as he shoveled in another mouthful of the spiced potatoes.