"I'm slightly drunk," said the stout fellow who rather ungracefully plunked himself down on the stool next to Darius Lonewander. "I'd like to get drunker. Cheapest stuff you have."

The taverner produced a jug and glass, and set them before the man. "Half-piece by the glass, or five for the whole of it."

The customer took out a bag that looked rather full. Darius wondered idly why someone who apparently had so much coin should be drinking such cheap alcohol. The man fished a five-piece coin out of his bag, placed it on the bar beside the jug.

Although Darius didn't feel as if he'd been staring, the newcomer must have sensed his interest, for he suddenly said "Tom," apparently by way of introduction. The taverner had already picked up the coin and moved on, and so Darius assumed himself to be the one Tom was addressing, even though the man hadn't cast so much as a sidelong glance at him, as yet. He poured himself a glass, took a swig, and only after setting the glass down again did he turn to face Darius. "I do have plenty, for now. And I'll get more, soon enough." Tom returned the bag to his belt, then returned his attention to his glass, from which he took another swig.

"Sorry?" asked Darius, only half-turning to look at the man, just for a moment. He was never entirely comfortable being addressed by perfect strangers, especially when apparently apropos of nothing; nor was he particularly comfortable with more than an instant's eye contact. But then, truth be told, he wasn't always entirely comfortable looking at, nor talking with, close friends or family, either, unless in a context which made immediate sense to him. For a moment, now, his startlement confused him, and he failed to immediately recognize that what Tom had said actually might have been a reasonable response to what Darius had just been wondering about the drink. He didn't think he'd said anything aloud, but....

As suddenly as the man had unexpectedly introduced himself, he now responded to Darius' less-than-articulate inquiry with an explanation: "Oh, I read minds, some. That's what one of my old masters called it, anyway. Long time ago. I've had lots of jobs in this too-long life of mine, and a different master for each. Once I read minds, to entertain crowds at fairs. I've used the trick a few other ways, from time to time. It's not really reading minds, it's a slightly different art. About the same, though. Sort of like reading faces, actually. Faces usually say clear enough what you're thinking. Faces, and what you'd call body language, and such."

"That's a common enough observation," Darius replied, still a bit confused. It didn't help that he had to take a moment to allow the meaning of the alien subword 'language' to creep into his consciousness, and combine with 'body' to form a phrase he wasn't sure he'd ever heard. But as with anyone on the Land who heard an unfamiliar subword for the first time, the meaning quickly became clear to him, and in this case described a concept which, as he said, was common. Just not something he'd ever put a name to before.

Tom figured as much, and allowed a moment for full understanding to come to the other before responding to Darius' comment. "You're right, of course; most everyone can read nonverbal cues. But they tend to do it on a less refined level than my master and I. He taught me to take it a step further, along with a few other things, all of which add up to something in many ways closer to mind-reading than face-reading. Which is why he called it that, obviously. Well, maybe someday everyone will be expert at it. Then the trick won't work so good. Another teacher taught me the art of predicting the future, near and distant both. Someday everybody will know everything, he said. Then there won't be no work for nobody, 'specially people like me. I suppose you could collect all, or most of my old jobs under the heading of 'understanding things relatively few folks know yet, but that someday everybody will.'"

Darius felt slightly dubious about all of this mind-reading business; not that he doubted Tom's abilities, it was just that he'd always felt himself to have a relatively inexpressive face. For example, he felt that he probably looked slightly depressed most of the time, even when it a fairly good mood. Perhaps this was because of how often he was depressed; he expected his most common mood to be his default expression. Or at the least, he expected his face to be passive, displaying no strong emotions one way or the other.

Tom grinned slightly and said, "Well, like I said, I'm better at it than most. Though I will allow that your face is somewhat less expressive than most." At this, Darius' expression clearly registered a measure of surprise, for just a few moments, before he regained his normal composure. But he nodded, and his estimation of Tom's talents rose.

Tom laughed at Darius' moment of marvel. Then, after downing another drink, he continued. "But I digress. The point of all that talk about certain of my skills was, as I believe you have come to accept, I was reading your mind just a minute ago, when I first sat down and ordered. You were wondering why, if I have plenty of money, that I'm drinking cheap. Well, it's because I have to drink a lot. One bag," he said, lowering his hand to joggle the coin bag on his belt for emphasis, "keeps me right good and drunk just about till I fill it again."

"I see."

"Anyway, I'm not as drunk yet as I'd like to be, so till I am, maybe I could amuse myself with some talk. If you don't mind, that is. Some do."

Darius smiled, but only fleetingly. He never did do a great deal of smiling; life tended to bore him almost constantly. And normally, he felt he hadn't much skill at conversation, especially small talk. But if there was something of interest to him to discuss, his aptitude did tend to improve dramatically. He got the feeling this Tom fellow might be interesting to talk to, so he said, "Certainly. For starters, why don't you tell me why you have to keep drunk?"

Tom laughed, finished his first glass, and poured another. "Time's coming. Things change. Life ain't what it was. It's harder. Used to be so easy for me. I could get by. I was somewhat rich, you know, for a while. By which I mean I always had more than enough, and kept getting more, faster than I could spend it. Now I still have more than enough, but I don't get richer. Oh, I set up plenty of investments, when I was rich. But now about the only money I can find is interest. No really new money, you know. None of my jobs work so well these days, and it only gets harder as time goes on. So, I take my interest, when it comes, and get drunk. When I'm right good and drunk, my memories of how life was seem about as good as if it still was like that."

"And it's all changing because people are learning to understand your tricks, or rather your talents?"

"Some. Mainly, it's the Order."

"Ah, yes. The Order. I preferred how things used to be, myself. Although, I hardly remember before it. I couldn't have been more than thirteen, fourteen years when it came."

Tom once again turned to look at Darius, who averted his gaze. Looking around the room, Darius idly noticed a few changes in the look of the tavern, since the last time he'd been in. He was surprised it hadn't caught his attention when he first walked in. But he supposed it wasn't important; he shook his head, and once again faced forward, and took a draught of his own draught. He realized Tom had already done the same, and had said something while Darius had been looking about the place. To catch up on the conversation, Darius concentrated on processing the words he'd heard, but hadn't immediately registered: "Heh. Yeah, you look like that. Me, I was already into forty, a bit, a year or three. Each year since then, things change more. Much preferred before, as you say. Much preferred the chaos."

"The... chaos, you say?" Darius liked this word, 'chaos.' It suddenly took on such an importance to him, that he couldn't help being amused that he'd almost missed it. A smile spread across his face, and stayed there a while this time.

"Yeah, that's what I'd call it, how things were. Opposite of 'Order,' eh?"

Still smiling, Darius replied, "That's perfect." So perfect, he thought, so obvious, I can't believe it actually never occurred to me....

"Hmmm? What is?"

"The Chaos," Darius said, half to himself. "That's what I'll call it."

"Call what?"

He remembered himself, and stopped grinning. "I say, I haven't mentioned my name yet, have I?"

"Uh, no. I'm Tom." The man turned again and awkwardly offered his hand to shake. Darius had always disliked shaking hands, but always did so when someone offered, not wanting to seem impolite. Though he found it even more uncomfortable than usual, given their current respective positions at the bar, at least it was over quickly enough.

"Yes, you said that." With another brief and subtle smile, Darius added, "At least I assumed when you said 'Tom' earlier, that you meant it as an introduction. Anyway, my name is Lonewander. That's my chosen surname, anyway. My given name is Darius."

Tom snorted, and shot Darius a mildly scornful look. It was all Darius could do not to avert his eyes, but in spite of his normal reaction to being looked at for more than a moment, he didn't want to appear affected by the meaningful nature of this particular glance. As much as he disliked being looked at, he also disliked the thought of people thinking about the fact that he looked away, especially in circumstances where he felt it might be misinterpreted. In any event, Tom soon turned away again, and any indication of derision just as quickly faded from his countenance. Darius was grateful that throughout their conversation, Tom rarely looked at him, though he did wonder how he could keep reading his face without seeming to look at it. But that thought made him feel slightly squeamish, so he forced it out of his head, for now.

Meanwhile, Tom continued. "Chose an Order-name, did you? And go by it?"

"When it suits me," said Darius, now feeling more relaxed. "Mainly just for tax purposes, and other official business."

"I thought you said you didn't like-"

"No, I don't. Still, small enough price to pay, to avoid needless hassles. I suppose you choose the hassles?"

"Well, I'm lucky. I have a good accountant, takes his fee straight from my interest. He gets my money to me, and my taxes to the Order. I don't much have to deal with the Orderlies, personally. Very good accountant, and honest. Numbercrunch, his name is. Frank Numbercrunch. You need someone like that? I recommend him. Independent, don't have to deal with no firms."

"Thank you, no. I'm sure he's good, but I like to be more hands-on, myself. I'm okay with numbers. I may not like the Order much, but it does have some advantages. I like to enjoy those advantages as much as possible. I like to have some small contact with society, hmmm?" Though 'small' being the operative word, Darius thought to himself. Given that Tom seemed more sociable than he himself normally felt, he supposed he might actually have less contact with society than Tom did.

"Whatever," said Tom, not bothering to even try reading Darius' most recent thoughts. Darius wondered if Tom's not looking at him now was pointed; perhaps he'd noticed Darius' discomfort a few moments ago; on the other hand, perhaps he was merely lost in his own thoughts. Whatever the case, Darius hardly had time to wonder about it before Tom asked, "Now, what were you saying before about-"

"Help me save my master?" came a sudden, pleading voice from behind them. "Hmmm, okay, yes? Must save my master, been held away so long now, he needs me, I need good helpers, help me, please?"

Tom and Darius turned to him. "Shoo, get away, streetrat," Tom said. "You'll get no gold from us."

"No gold, need no gold. Have gold, I do. Need adventurers, good, strong, clever, brave adventurers, help me free my master."

Tom snorted and turned back to the bar, and his drink. "Don't pay him any mind, friend. He's just a crazy beggar. Been harassing good honest folks around here for years. Before I even moved here, I think. I don't believe he even has any master."

Darius was still looking at the beggar. "Are you crazy?"

"Crazy, yes," he said. He grinned, and laughed. "Crazy, yes, so many years now, can't be so sane like good would to be sane am crazy yes. Crazy but honest and true. Had master, I did. Still will do, if save him you help me. Please you will help me save my master?"

"What's your name?"

"Hmmm. Should I tell? Hmmm hmmm hmmm. Oh... oh... hmmm. Oh, yes, okay. Tiejo."

"Do you have an Order-name, Tiejo?"

"Order-name... um... no. Um, no, yes. Order-name. Don't need, am crazy beggar, yes. Um... call me Streetrat. They all do, yes. Streetrat. I have friends, I do, called Streetrat. Little um big nice sort of family, Streetrats. Not real family you know, but like family as how... um... hmmm."

Darius said, "Fairly new concept, what you're talking about. There must be a subword for it, but I can't quite think of it, somehow. Fellowship, maybe? No, something closer to family than that, perhaps... Ah, I'm sorry. Maybe it'll come to me later. Or to you; it's your concept. But I do understand what you mean."

Tiejo looked very much relieved. "Good, clever fellow. Adventurer, yes?"

Tom sighed, finished another glass, and turned back to the conversation, having resigned himself to the knowledge that Darius wasn't going to ignore the streetrat. "Yeah, that reminds me, how'd you come to choose the name Lonewander?"

"Lonewander good fine name for adventurer," said Tiejo.

"Yes, well... I like to wander a lot, and I like to do it alone, for the most part. Fairly straightforward."

"Not a proper family-name, then?" asked Tom.

"No." He paused. "My clan was wiped out a decade ago, during the Coming. Well, except my uncle. He goes by Lonewander, too. But it was my choice."

"Ah. I'm sorry. About the rest of your clan."

For only the second time since Tom had entered the tavern, Darius took a sip from his own drink. Then he knocked back the rest of it, and ordered another glass, which for now he left untouched on the bar. "Don't worry about it. I never much liked them anyway."

"Bad sort were they?"

"No. Very good sort, in fact. I'm not saying I didn't love them, by any means. It's just not easy for me to like most people, that much. Which makes it difficult for me to truly miss them." He sighed. "Still. They fought the Coming. Tried to hold on to the... the Old Chaos, let's call it, then. Yes, very good people. They just bored me. Most of the time, anyway. Most people do. Life does. I try to do some adventuring, now and then. Wander a lot, and write some. I still get bored easy, and often. But not nearly so much as I would if I stayed in one place, with the same people all the time."

"Good wandering adventurer help me save master?"

Darius looked at Tiejo, stared at him for several moments. Oddly enough, he found himself realizing, he didn't seem to mind looking at him the way it bothered him with most people. Perhaps he simply felt that someone crazy, or someone with a childlike mind, would be less likely to judge him; or at least, was less apt to trigger his paranoia about being judged. Finally he said, "Why not? Might not be too boring. Where is he, anyway, this master of yours?"

"Prison, yes. Prisoner of war, held away since near the end of the Coming. The Order holds him. They hate my master, yes. Must free him. Good warrior, my master. He can help you bring back your friend, if he is become free, you help?"

"What friend?" asked Darius in sudden bewilderment.

"Um, no. You like... ah, the Chaos. Group, good, rebels. He, master, be good group member."

"What group?" asked Tom.

With a grin, Darius replied, "Your crazy streetrat was obviously listening to our earlier conversation, and figured out something you didn't, mindreader."

"What's that, then?"

"I've been thinking of forming a group, a... rebellion." The corners of Darius' mouth jerked almost imperceptibly further upward, but then he forced the smile off his face entirely. The subject at hand was serious, and not one for open discussion in a public place. Still, there were few enough people in the tavern at the moment, and none of them seemed to be listening to this exchange. One thing Darius had always hated about people was how loud they could be, but there were times he had to admit that such an annoying trait came in handy. People talking loudly and laughing amongst themselves, with their doubtless inane patter, would keep them from overhearing things best... not overheard. Still, he had lowered his voice slightly when he mentioned the rebellion, and kept it low, now. "I've been trying for some time now to think of a name for such a group, and you yourself provided that name for me."

"Hmmm?"

"Chaos," said Tiejo. "The Chaos. Yes. Not the Old Chaos."

"No, 'the Old Chaos' is what I've decided to call the times before the Coming of the Order. The Chaos- the rebellion- will bring about the end of the Order, and bring about a new era, the New Chaos."

"Yes, good Chaos. I want to be in Chaos. Yes?"

"Sure, Tiejo. Now then, what's your master's name?"

Tiejo grinned. "Can't say, no. Secret, it is. You know maybe when we free him. Yes? Help?"

"Yes. I think I said that already. Yes. Tom... you seem like you could be a good fellow to have on the team. Would you like to join the Chaos?"

"The... Um, yeah, sure, I guess. I've got nothing better to do. Still, if you're letting a streetrat in the group, it seems pretty indiscriminate. Admission standards are low, sort of thing."

"Well, maybe. Maybe not. Hard to say; I haven't seen what either of you are capable of, beyond a little faux mind-reading. Anyway, I'm not in a position just yet to be a chooser, so I might as well let in a beggar. The group's just getting started tonight."

"Are you saying we're the only three members?"

"So far. I mean, I didn't want to start the group before I even had a name for it. But I feel it in my bones, that that will be changing soon enough."

"Whatever." Tom went back to his drink. "But for now, I'm just about drunk enough not to need more conversation. Talk to me again in the morning, see if I still want to be a member."

"I'm a member, still in morning," said Tiejo.

"Good," said Darius. "Now, run along, streetrat."

"Night, yes, good. Night." And he left the tavern.

Darius finished his drink, and went upstairs to sleep.

back to main index

All contents of this site © David A. Ward