the hilt of his wand. It was the day after his twenty-second birthday and so he was still young enough to look eagerly about him as he set off through the bustling streets of New Landern.
Nicholas was of medium height, black-haired and grey-eyed, with an air of composed self-assurance which seemed to stem from the hand he rested on the hilt of his wand. He avoided being handsome by a deft sideways step that made his nose slightly too long and his mouth slightly too wide. His square chin, high cheek bones and strong eyebrows were features which struggled manfully to attain pleasing proportions, but as the Leaning Tower of Hambron keeps its distance from the perfectly vertical, so his face kept handsomeness at arm’s length. However, in his favour it had to be said that he walked with an easy grace. His shoulders were set square, his step was light and vigorous, his posture was erect and his good health shone like the sun. His clothes were of good quality but not new and his boots of good leather but cracked and worn, comfortable but getting old. No-one looked twice at him as he walked through the streets of New Landern, the great Metropolis of Anglashia, but Nicholas himself looked more than twice at everything around him. There were the flying carriages passing by overhead, so numerous that they had to be allocated lanes. There were the houses which reached four or even five storeys high on occasion. Above all else there were the people, shouting, jostling each other, laughing and complaining. Everyone seemed to be up to something.
Nicholas found his way to Norell Street in Dejaville and knocked on the door of his uncle’s house. It was opened by a maid who looked at Nicholas without saying a word. Nicholas announced himself and she let him in, still without saying a word.
Counsellor Lanford Clark, Mrs Clark, the three children they had had together and Nicholas’s cousin Mr Benjamin Clark were waiting for him in the living room. They all greeted each other and Nicholas found them all very formal and stiff. Mrs Clark especially seemed to hide her joy at having Nicholas come to stay with them.
Nicholas was shown to his room by Ben where he put down the bag he had carried over his shoulder, which contained all his earthly possessions, including his only change of robes, and emptied it onto the bed, after which he threw various items here and there around the room and then he was done. This for Nicholas was unpacking. Ben watched this in silence.
‘What are your plans for today, Mr Raspero?’ asked Ben.
‘Could you show me around a bit?’
‘Naturally, I would be delighted,’ Ben said, sounding anything but delighted.
So they set off through the streets of New Landern.
First of all, Nicholas wanted to see the Bridge of Nerian, where young Adrastos Haddon had been betrayed and trapped, hopelessly surrounded by the Heloise Regiment, but fighting them nonetheless. He had fought the good fight to the very end.
‘So what’s all this Mr Raspero business about anyway, Ben?’ Nicholas asked as they walked along on their way to the Bridge of Nerian. ‘You always used to call me Nicholas or Nicky when we were children.’
‘We have not seen each other since then.’
‘Yes, but we’re seeing each other now.’
‘That is not an argument that sustains your point.’
‘We’re cousins, Ben. Your mother was my father’s sister. That puts us on first name terms, at the very least.’
‘No, it does not, Mr Raspero. It is a mere accident of biology and nothing more.’
‘It’s your stepmother, Mrs Clark, isn’t it? She doesn’t like me, I can tell.’
‘I am sure that her opinion of you will improve over time in accordance with the measure of your conduct.’
‘Well, that’s nice, isn’t it? I look forward to seeing the measure of my conduct. What’s the unit of measurement, by the way? Is it line or volume?’
‘You may well choose to be facetious, Mr Raspero, but you cannot expect to receive affection merely because you have just arrived.’
Nicholas laughed merrily. ‘I suppose not. I mean, just arriving is only to turn up safe and sound, and what’s the good of that? You don’t think much of that yourself, I take it?’
‘Naturally,’ Ben said very stiffly, ‘we are pleased that you have safely arrived in New Landern, but it is a presumption on your part to expect a greater measure of affection than that which you have received.’
‘Yes, you’re all heart, I can tell,’ Nicholas said, still amused. ‘Well, who knows, Ben, one day we might be friends again and then you’ll be pleased to see me when I turn up. How about that? Does that sound good?’
‘Indeed, nothing would please me more,’ Ben agreed, his tone of voice and the expression on his face suggesting that he found it extremely unlikely that he would ever be friends again with his country cousin. ‘It does indeed sound very pleasant.’
Nicholas threw back his head and laughed again as merrily as before as they walked along, which Ben found very annoying though he didn’t say anything. They arrived at the Bridge of Nerian, and Nicholas, who had read Humfrey’s account of Haddon’s last stand, excitedly wandered around matching the account he had read with the plaques positioned here and there marking key places of the narrative. Ben swallowed his exasperation as best he could and nodded in response to Nicholas’s cheerful comments, a false but polite smile on his face.
Nicholas now wanted to go and see The House of Display and Records of Wands. Hoping that it was closed by now Ben took him there but it was very much open and Nicholas wandered eagerly around looking at the exhibits and reading all the display notices, drawing Ben’s attention to certain comments that Nicholas either disagreed with or thought needed further emphasis. Ben continued to do his best to be polite. Wandlore enthusiasts irritated him and it was clear to him by now that Nicholas was a wandlore enthusiast, which doubled his already existing irritation with Nicholas.
The origin of wands was a mystery, and that in itself was a debating point of the day. Wands had emerged around about five or six centuries after the Fall, how or where no-one knew for certain, although there were, of course, various competing theories. Wands were made of a silvery-grey metal called magneterium formed in a long, thin rectangular shape, with the edges and corners of the rectangular shape being rounded; as the metal was soft, it was encased in wood, with an open end to form the hilt of the wand, which pressed into the palm of the wand-wielder. By use of the wand, objects which had magnetised metal in them could be made to move under the influence of the combinations of the wand-wielder’s focused thoughts and bodily movements. Furthermore, the wand could be activated in such a way as to produce an image of the surrounding world in the mind of the wand-user by a process called macchato.
Nicholas next wanted to see Lanston Square. This was the scene of public executions where condemned prisoners were taken to be impaled and beheaded. They sat in the Lanston Box, which closed on them. A metal stake went through their heart while a circular whirling blade, like a very large disc, sliced their head off in one smooth motion. Their now headless bodies were dropped through a trap door and into a coffin, while their heads rolled down a chute, to be picked up by the executioner and impaled on a stake standing nearby. The pole with its head on it was guarded all day and night by soldiers. A lamp on the ground lit up the impaled head during the night just to make what had happened perfectly clear, and then the next morning after sunrise the head was taken down and placed in the coffin with the rest of the body; the coffin was then taken away and buried in the spookiest graveyard in the metropolis. Lanston Square was a very popular destination for visitors to New Landern.
