Discworld and Member Articles
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Written by TheJackal
Sunday, 28 August 2005 |
Old Man Adams looked wearily out of one of the windows at the front of his house. He was expecting a visitor, though he had hoped that this day would never come.
Mr. Adams had lived in Sleepy Falls for nigh on thirty years, yet in all that time he hadn’t had more than half a dozen different visitors call to his home. People avoided him; let him be. Adams preferred solitude and the locals were happy to provide it.
Now in saying this, it wasn’t as though the villagers were afraid of the old man. No, it was simply down to the fact that they rarely saw Adams in the village. In fact, the only time they did so was once a month when Adams ventured out to collect supplies that he needed for the following thirty days. When someone acted as oddly as Old Man Adams did, you knew that there was something wrong with him.
The village’s inhabitants had taken it upon themselves to fill in the blanks with regard to his past, and why he lived all alone up there in his house on the hill, far from prying eyes.
Rumours were widespread among the close-knit community. Some said Adams had murdered his wife in a ferocious fit of rage when he found her sleeping with another man. Others said he had stolen jewels from a wealthy foreigner and was hiding out in the village because there was a price on his head. There were many other tall tales and legends, each more wild and extravagant than the last. Old Man Adams had overheard some of these rumours in the past and was all too happy to let them continue to flourish. He knew that they kept people in quiet fear and awe of him, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.
Another element that added to the mystery of Mr. Adams was the fact that no-one knew just how old he was. When he arrived in Sleepy Falls twenty-nine years ago, Adams had been an elderly man, maybe three score in years. But those who had seen him then and now would profess that Adams hadn’t aged a day since then. They wondered how this could be, for average life expectancy in these parts was three score and ten. The odd person lived ten years or so more than that, but anything over fifty-five was stretching it.
Some villagers had come to conclude that they had simply been wrong about how old Adams was when he first arrived. They guessed Mr. Adams had had a hard, laborious life, which had caused him to seem older than he really was. Of course, that was a suggestion everyone could believe somewhat, for they knew all too well how hard life was, and the strain it took on the body.
In time, some older folks in the area whom had come to know him a little more over the years, began to think of Mr. Adams as being really rather harmless. He was just a senile, old man that liked to keep to himself. Yet, the villagers never liked to speak openly about those thoughts because the rumours of Adams’ past endeavours kept the town vitalised. Times were hard and winters even harder. In those deadly cold nights, when the wind howled unremorsefully and the rain battered the landscape, the stories and legends about what Old Man Adams had done gave people a lift of spirit, and made children open-eyed and wondrous.
Now, all of Adams’ work and effort over the years to settle himself into a peaceful existence, could be undone. Adams knew Ron was coming to find him, and whilst Ron knew it or not, he brought grave danger with him.
Brother Rubeus was busily making arrangements. So far things were going flawlessly and this made him extremely happy. Rubeus liked neatness and order and this plan had taken years of work to get to this stage. He wouldn’t allow the slightest mistake during preparations, so was overseeing each task personally. This had taken longer than it should have, but time was on his side. By now the preparations were nearly finished.
Rubeus had also just received some news from one of his many spies in the Order. A rumour had surfaced regarding a Mediator who had gone AWOL. This was a rare enough occurrence for it was against the Rules, and all Mediators knew that Brother Rubeus was getting more flamboyant all the time when it came to new punishments.
Rubeus knew immediately who had gone to the Mortal Realms without permission, and had set a search party to look for him. Running away had sealed Brother Ron Stevens’ guilt, although the investigation that had begun into the matter would have eventually led back to him anyway.
Yes, things were certainly falling into place. The puppets would soon be found and firmly dealt with. Times were indeed good.
In Southern Realm, it was slowly becoming evening and the sun would soon be heading off for the evening. Nemoy thought it best to book a room in the tavern for the night.
After haggling with the owner about the price of a room, Nemoy decided it was an excellent opportunity to ask about the events that took place on the night of the brawl. According to Mr. Boggs, there had been a “creepy looking fellow” in the tavern that night. Well, creepier than his usual clientele anyway.
‘Yes, I can still remember what he looked like,’ continued Boggs. ‘He stuck out, you see. One tends to notice a guy like him. All dressed in black, he was.’
‘So he wasn’t from around these parts then?’ asked Nemoy.
‘No, couldn’t have been. I knows because I noticed something peculiar about him when he was up at the counter: His fingernails were clean! Now as you know, people round these parts are all hard workers, with dirty hands and faces. So I says to myself that’s unusual and make no mistake about it.’
‘Interesting,’ replied Nemoy thoughtfully. ‘So did you speak to him at all?’
‘Oh yes, that I did,’ said the barman. ‘Let me see now if I can remember correctly…’
‘Ah,’ said Boggs after about a minute. ‘He came looking for me after the fight. Of which, I might add, I haven’t forgotten your involvement in.’
The old man looked Nemoy directly in the eyes but didn’t seem to hold to much anger towards him. This fact made Nemoy slightly curious.
‘Oh er…sorry about that,’ said Nemoy awkwardly. ‘I didn’t mean to start a big fight or anything. It was just that I caught this guy trying to pickpocket me…’
‘Yes, yes. I saw that actually. I don’t condone fighting in my bar,’ Boggs added. ‘Although, I must admit that he had it coming. And I’m pretty sure that you didn’t expect matters to get out of hand like they did. Just don’t let it happen again, do you hear me?’
Nemoy was relieved. He had thought the old man would have kicked him straight out the front door as soon as he placed his gaze upon him. Maybe the man was getting softer in his old age or maybe he saw the fear that had been in Ice-Man’s eyes earlier. Whatever the reason, it seemed Nemoy’s luck was still holding.
‘So,’ continued Nemoy after a while, ‘what did the guy ask about me?’
‘He wanted to know who you were, where you came from, lots of that kind of stuff.’
‘And what did you tell him?’ enquired Nemoy.
‘Not much really. I was in a bad mood about my bar being thrashed again. Besides, I don’t know that much about you, to be honest. That’s also when I came up with the idea for the fights out the back, by the way.’
Nemoy didn’t bother to argue about the ethics of such a blood sport.
‘Okay, so what did you tell him then?’ asked Nemoy. ‘I’m interested you see because somebody tried to murder me yesterday, and I’ve a feeling that it could have been him.’
‘Murder?’ exclaimed the man. ‘Jaysus, you’re not having a good time of it lately, are you?’
Boggs seemed mildly amused by Nemoy’s recent excursions but quickly regained his composure. Perhaps he had reminded himself that Nemoy was the only man to ever successfully stand up to Ice-Man (whose real name he happened to know was Larry). A man who had now seemingly survived two murder attempts was not a man to be messed with, no matter what size he was.
‘Well, you weren’t exactly my favourite person in the world at the time, so I told him your name and where came from. That is, I told him where you told me you came from,’ said Boggs.
‘And what did he do then?’ asked Nemoy.
‘Well, he was pretty annoyed that I couldn’t tell him more; accused me of holding back information. He probably would have pestered me even longer if I hadn’t reminded him that it was you who started the brawl which had thrashed my bar, and therefore I’d have no reason to help you.’
Nemoy also seemed satisfied with that answer. ‘Okay. I’ve just one more question to ask: Did you see where he went?’
‘No, I didn’t see what road he took myself, but a customer who came in a few minutes later told me about how a crazy man on a horse had nearly run him down on the way to Newchester.’
‘Ah,’ said Nemoy. ‘That was the road I left by. It must definitely have been him then.’
‘I thank you Mr. Boggs for the information. Think I’ll take my leave for the night. Can you have someone send a basin of water to my room in a while? I feel like having a wash before I go to bed.’
With that said, Nemoy made his way upstairs to his room. It had been another interesting day and he had a lot to think about.
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