Chapter 2-end

This ends Chapter 2. Most of the characters for the Act are introduced, at least in name or connection, and the setting should be fully defined sufficient for moving the action forward.

The Caplan’s go for a ride in the truck, from their home, to Truckee, around to Susanville, and back down 395.

Describe?

Up the Kingsbury grade, north on the east coast of Tahoe, around to Kings Beach, and north to Truckee.  Then up to Susanville, and down 395, through Reno and Carson, to home.

Dinner happened, and a new ranger showed up from somewhere else in the structure.  Probably had been up in the tower, Caspian figured.  After dinner, two of the rangers left in the vehicle that had brought Caspian here.  They did not return before the Judge finally showed up in his vehicle.

The time had not been a waste.  Caspian had remembered about clocks, and how time was reckoned.  He had remembered most of his language training in the native tongue.  And had received a communication from Cyrril that he was fine, and had Caspian’s staff nearby.

Judge Alistair Kevan, dressed in a three-piece suit and wingtips, stomped into the room from outside, in quite a huff.  Built heavy, he stood a head shorter than the average man.  Barely contained power accented his every action.  And he looked a bit more than slightly annoyed, spotting Caspian faster than he did the desk.

“I’m Alistair Kevan, here for him.”  He jerked his thumb over his shoulder at Caspian, who had stood up, and picked up his cloak and robe.

The ranger looked up from her book, over her glasses.  “Right.”  She put her foot off the desk and reached for her keys.  “Let me get his stuff.”

She opened the closet, pulled Caspian’s things out, and dropped them on the counter.  The other ranger just sat and watched, over his newspaper.

Alistair turned, pinning Caspian to the wall with a glance.  He then spoke in Caspian’s native language.  “Next time, give me some warning.  Fortunately for you, my schedule was easy today.”

He turned back to the ranger, and signed the release.  “Thank you.  Was he any trouble?”

“’Been quiet since calling you.  Have a good drive, and take the second mile easy.  The deer are near the road about this time.”

Alistair just turned and walked back out, leaving Caspian to pick up his stuff and follow.

Outside a large, low slung coach sat, lights on, motor running.  It was longer, and more massive, than some of the vehicles the rangers had parked nearby.  Alistair just climbed into the driver’s side, leaving Caspian to figure the door handle.  Shortly, Caspian was in the passenger seat, with his stuff piled on his lap.

They rolled out, Alistair expertly guiding the coach back onto the dirt road.  Caspian had paid attention to the operation of the vehicle this morning.  He noticed that Alistair seemed to drive with a total disregard for the conditions around him.

They drove out of the valley, and stopped.  Alistair turned on the internal lights, and turned to Caspian.  He spoke in English, evidently through speaking in their native tongue.  “Where’s that dragon of yours?”

Caspian called out to Cyrril’s mind.  The little beast was coming, but had been close by the station, and left behind.

“Cyrril is behind us.  He should catch up shortly.”  Caspian responded in his native language.

Caspian took the moment to put his stuff in the back seat, and to admire the interior of the coach.  The leather showed a fair amount of use, and good aging.  The wood trim had been well polished, if it was real.  The little shield with two sprigs of leaves wreathing either side was a symbol that Caspian vaguely remembered signified a fine quality vehicle.

“Quit using that language.  You need to get used to English again.”  Alistair unlatched his seatbelt, climbed out, and went around back to lean against the back of the car and wait in the cool mountain air.

Caspian followed, closing the door behind him.

Alistair Kevan had been living on this planet for most of the last thirty years.  He immigrated after attending school, married a local wife, and left Tywacomb behind.  His wife knew all about his history, and had even been to Tywacomb a time or two.  Now they sponsored ‘students’, and helped ‘tourists.’  As such, he had very little patience with trouble makers.  She was just as impatient with idiocy as her husband.  That he was a judge in a busy city was both advantageous, and threatening.

Caspian had worked with them years before, when he had come for a few years of schooling.  He had made some definite impressions then that had evidently not worn off.

“What brings you a sixth of the way across the galaxy, Caspian?”

“Elves, worked up about a prophecy.”

“Which one?”  Alistair had been a historian’s apprentice growing up.  He knew of most of the major happenings for several hundred years’ back.  Obscure prophecies were light reading to him.  For elves to get worked up was more of an oddity.

“The signs of the Chaos Bringer.”

Had he been drinking, Alistair would have choked and spit his drink all over.  “What!?!”

“The Sky Elves, of (name), believe that one of their clan is the line head of the fifth generation half-elf’s.  And that she immigrated here over a century ago.  Now I need to find the latest in that family.  I had a half-day lead on some guys from Krogg, until this morning.  Now, I don’t know where they are.  It looked like a warrior and a thief would be coming.”

“Great.  More strangeness that might have to pass before my court.  Everybody is after the same people I presume?”

“Yes.”  Caspian wanted to tell more, but felt too tired to deal with how Alistair would react.

For his part, Alistair could tell that Caspian was not yet recovered from his interstellar jaunt.  And might not even be awake for most of the trip home.

They just sat quietly, watching the stars, or the land.  A slight breeze played among the scrub.  Shortly Caspian alerted, and stood up.  He held his arm up.

“Here.”  He spoke in his native language.

In seconds Cyrril came flying up, and slapped the staff into Caspian’s outstretched hand.  The little dragon folded its wings and held on as the staff stopped, then crawled down to Caspian’s shoulder as the arm was lowered.

Alistair stood up, and walked back around and got behind the wheel.  Caspian carefully put the staff across the rear seat, and got in.  Cyrril bounced off the front seat back and into the rear seat as Caspian closed the door, and put his seat belt on.  Little more was said as they traveled.

The Caplan's get home, have dinner, and clean it up.  They then read from the Bible as a family, and talk about it.  They also pull out all the guns that were used the day before and clean them.

Also Diana and Alex get their things ready for school the next day.

Chapter 2 - Caspian needs to make a call.

Caspian had sat for a while, when the Ranger who had left came back into this area of the building with a plate of sandwiches, and pitcher of liquid.  The three of then started in on the food.

The first one turned to Caspian.  “You are welcome to one, if you like.”

He indicated the platter of sandwiches on the counter, and the cups next to the pitcher.

Caspian had to dig a moment to remember.  “Thank you.”

He then took one of the sandwiches, and poured himself a cup of red liquid.  The sandwich was two slices of a soft, light brown bread, with a yellow paste between.  In the paste, Caspian found bits of crunchy vegetable, some agreeable spices, and some small cubes of something he did not recognize.  Combined with his own food, it was quite satisfying.

Caspian felt that he had remembered enough language of the language.  And that he had spent enough time sitting.  He had a general idea of where he was, after looking at the maps, and listening to the language.  And that allowed him to call in an unexpected marker.  If he could just figure out how to.  Only thing to do was ask.  He leaned over the counter toward the first man, at his desk.

“How do I go about contacting a specific person?”

They all looked at him strangely for a moment.  Then the map man spoke.

“Ar’ya on something, pal?”

Caspian was not sure of what he had been specifically asked, but understood the general nature just by the tone.  “No.  I have been away for a while, and do not remember precisely how to contact my friend.”

“D’you know his number?”

“‘Number’?”

The man picked up one of the devices from the counter, and put it down in front of Caspian.  It had several arrayed sets of buttons, and a handle attached to a cord.  A different cord attached to the back of the device and disappeared through a hole in the counter.

“His phone number.”

Caspian remembered now.  “Ah, no.  I do not remember.  His name is Alistair Kevan.  He is an Adjudicator, if I remember correctly.”

“Where?”

“In a court of law, I presume.  That is usually where one does that.”

The man was obviously being a gentle as he could, but was loosing patience.  Caspian understood and felt the same.  If he had just reawakened his memory before coming to this magically dead place, he would be more able to get along.

“What city does he live in?”

Caspian had to think about this, wishing he had written down and kept this information.  “Um…  Sack…Sacro…Sacra…um…”

The woman looked up.  “Sacramento?”

Caspian looked at her.  “That is it.  Sacramento.”

Caspian just stood and looked at the man.  He could remember using the phone many times when he was last here, but its use in this case was still beyond him.

The man let out an exasperated sigh.  He then took the phone back.  He pushed one button, and the little box began to make a humming noise.  He then pushed a bunch of other buttons, causing various tones to be emitted.  He then picked up the handle and held it to his face, with one end over one ear and the other end to his mouth.  After a few moments he spoke.

“I need some numbers in Sacramento…Yes.  One moment.”  He picked up a pencil and pulled a pad of paper to write on.  He then looked at Caspian.

“What is the name of your friend?”

“Alistair Kevan.”

“And he’s a judge.”  He wrote this on the top of the paper.

“I think that is what you call it.”

The man turned his attention back to the handle.  “Yes ma’am.  I’m looking for the work and residence numbers of an Alistair Kevan…I’m told he is a judge…No, I don’t know which court.”  He made a face slightly exasperated.  Then listened again.  “You’re sure…Yes Ma’am.”  He then spelled out the name as he wrote it.  “Yes ma’am…I’m ready.”  He then began writing numbers on the piece of paper.  “Thank you.  Good afternoon.”

He pushed a lever in the spot for the handle on the box.  Then began pushing numbers, referring to one of the two sets of numbers on the pad.  He listened to it the handle for a bit.  “I’m looking for an Alistair Kevan.  Yes.  One moment.”

He then held the handle out to Caspian.  “Your friend’s home.”

Caspian took the handle and put it too his face.  He could hear a bit of static as something happened at the other end.  Then a vaguely familiar voice came on.

“This is Judge Kevan.”

Caspian spoke in his native language.  “Alistair.  This is Caspian.  How have you been?”

There was silence for a bit.  “Caspian?”  Then a familiar language.  “What are you doing on Terra?”

“I would rather explain that in person.  But I have no idea where I am, or how to get around.  I need your help.”

“Tell me from the beginning.”

“I traveled in along the ley lines last night.  This morning I was awakened by a young man in a brown uniform.  We walked to his vehicle, and he brought me to this house, where there are another man and a woman in the same brown uniform.  I have had a bit of trouble remembering the native language.”

“Let me talk to one of the people there.”

Caspian handed the phone back to the first man, as the map man had left.  “Talk.”  Caspian felt stupid for not bring more eloquent.  But the idea got across.

The ranger took the phone and put it to his ear.  “This is Ranger Smith.  Yes sir.  Yes sir.  Nothing so far, but we have not really been able to question him.  O.k.  (Name) ranger station…Take the (name) exit.  Once in town, take (name) street going east.  At the edge of town it turns into a dirt road.  Keep on it for about 30 miles.  Then take the left fork.  Five more miles and you are here.  Yes sir, we can do that.”

He held the handle out to Caspian.

Caspian took it.  “Hello again.”

“I will be up to get you sometime after dark.  Just stay put, and be friendly.  And keep your dragon out of sight.”  The line then went dead.

Caspian looked at the handle for a moment, then put it carefully back on the phone.  “I am to stay until he comes.”

“Yes.  Can you tell us your name?”  The man sat at the desk, his hands on the keyboard of the computer.

“Caspian.”

“Last name?”

“Not that means anything here.”

“Date of birth?”

“Fourth day of the month of Akil, seventh year of the reign of Sharius of Silvona.”

“In English.”

“That was in English.  I am not sure how to reconcile the calendars.”

“Skip it.  Citizenship?”

Suddenly Caspian remembered a similar scene being played out more than ten years prior.  And how he finally got that person satisfied.  “I am native of Silvona, and previously came to this land for study.  I learned your language then, but have not had cause to use it since.”

“Great.  Another kook.”

“Excuse me?”

“Pal.  There are only two kinds of people in this area.  Natives, and kooks.  You don’t talk like a native.”

Caspian took a moment to digest what he had just been told.  “I think it might be best if I just sit aside quietly.”

The Ranger punched a few buttons on his keyboard while looking at his larger box.  Then moved a smaller device around and pushed some buttons on it.  He then turned away from it, toward Caspian’s gear.  He looked it over a bit, picked at it a bit, and left it be.

Caspian was glad he did not carry anything particularly nasty.  For the rest of the day, he just stayed quiet and out of the way.  His stuff was hung in a closet, out of the way, but otherwise left alone.  As the afternoon progressed, the rangers came and went in several different vehicles, the dog moved a bit and went in and out at its leisure.  They all seemed to regard Caspian as an unwanted guest.  Too polite to cause trouble, but a nuisance just by his presence.

Chapt 2 continued: Roxanne's garage

Steven brought the dog’s home and found the garage open, with his car and Rox’s truck both gone.  So, he closed the garage and took the dogs around the side of the house, through the gate, and into the backyard.  Both dogs ran across the yard to the back fence, and the gate there.  Steven opened it and the dogs chased around to the main doors of the barn.

Both dogs were sniffing around, and making a nuisance of them selves in the shop.  They had long since been trained to stay out of things that could cause trouble.  The Camero was sitting on the gravel driveway, his Bonneville next to it, with the truck on the lift, Roxanne working underneath it.

Diana and Alex pulled off their jumpsuits and chased the dog’s back out into the backyard as quick as they could.

“Don’t go out of the yard.”

Other mechanics had posters of naked and nearly naked ‘tool-girls’ on the walls of their garages, as well as posters and diagrams of cars.  Most of Roxanne’s posters were from her various tournaments, or of the cars and trucks she had worked on.  Except for one, which always embarrassed Steven.

For whatever reason, Roxanne’s grandmother liked butt-naked baby pictures.  It was the classic pose, belly down on fur, from a ¾ view.  The few times that they had gone to Nebraska to visit, Steven had been embarrassed by the progression of pictures that Grandma had on one wall.  One of the rows was of Roxanne’s mother Margot, a butt-naked picture from each birthday until she had left for college, at 19.  Plus a few as an adult, including one of Margot and infant Roxanne, for a total near 30.  There was a similar row for Roxanne.  Hers counted 19, with two of her as an adult with each infant; last they had been there.  All this was besides the pictures of Grandma, and Grandpa.

Then, over Steven’s objections, there had been three butt-naked pictures each of Diana and Alex.  Steven couldn’t say they weren’t tasteful.  He just didn’t think they were appropriate.  What Steven did not know for some time was that Margot had a more complete collection, which she kept in storage in her own house.  It included all of Grandma and Grandpa; everyone of Margot’s from every year of her life, which Grandma was ever trying to get; and the complete set of Roxanne for every year of her life until she got married, that Grandma was also after.  At Roxanne’s request, in deference to Steven, Margot kept all of these put away.

When the last one of Alex had been taken, Steven had insisted that he take the picture himself.  So they had selected a spot on a beach at Lake Tahoe, that was secluded.  Once everything was set up, Roxanne sprung the trap on him, and proposed a butt-naked family portrait.

Steven had agreed to a single photo.  Himself, Roxanne, 5 year old Diana, and 3 year old Alex, all butt-naked on a large fur at Lake Tahoe, the dawn coming over the mountains behind them.  Steven had developed the pictures himself, to be sure to control distribution.  There was one 4x6 in a photo album.  But Roxanne had got hold of the negative, and sent a portrait size to Grandma and Margot, and had a poster size made, that now hung over the garage doors.  She had returned the negative.  Steven then burned it.

The kids did not seem to mind the poster and Roxanne thought it was a good joke.  Steven was glad it was here and not in the house on public display.  On the other hand, what he and Rox had done after getting the kids into their bathing suits and sent to play was still a fond memory.

Steven always glanced at the poster then ignored it, and just sat and watched as Roxanne brought the truck to the ground and finished servicing it.  She was still obviously sore, and would be for the next few days.  But she had been through this enough times that the aches were not worth noticing.  She finished and closed the hood, making sure to put the retaining pins in.

Of all the vehicles that Roxanne had built over the years, this truck was the only one she had kept for long, after finishing it.  It was the one that she had done the most work on.  And it reflected her personality the most of any of them.

Roxanne had always had a truck of some sort.  Mainly to use to pull the flatbed trailer that the incomplete vehicles rode on.  As time progressed, she noticed that the extended-cab trucks were becoming more prevalent.  But as she looked them over, the existing ones did not suit her.  Finally she read an article and followed its example.  She chose the make and model of truck she wanted.  She looked around for the right donor vehicles, and built herself a truck.  The hardest part was to construct the cab, having to weld pieces from two separate cabs together, and mount this on a minimally customized frame.  The rest was simply getting the pieces to fit.

She had decreed to herself that there would be no chrome on it.  It would show itself for what it was, not for its decoration.  It started as a 1986 square body 1-ton GM truck.  Roxanne had taken it apart to the frame, and began to rebuild it.  The additions started at a custom front bumper with winch, grill guard, push bars and more lights than a stadium.  These continued past the over-built step/nerf-bars, and the custom rear bumper with 8000lbs hitch, to the heavy duty drive train.  A moderately lifted suspension and oversized tires added to the additions, as did the custom built extended cab, modified bed with a light bar, and more lights finished the outside.  The thing was simple brute competence, with a gas-guzzling supercharged engine that Roxanne nicknamed ‘the toilet.’

Roxanne had rebuilt and restored other trucks since building this one, but had not ever considered selling it. She had begun to consider changing the engine to a modern diesel from the big-block gas engine.

Chapt 2 Cont.

Continuing, trying to post smaller chunks to make it more readable.

Roxanne woke up sore.  After a long soak in her whirlpool tub, she got out and stood before the full-length mirror examining the damage.  Every tournament she came home with a new set of bruises.  Tall, thin, and curved only because she worked out, with brown hair that was destined to turn white before she turned 45.  Just like her mother, and grandmother.

Still sore around her ribs, she skipped a bra and put on an old tee-shirt, panties and shorts, and a pair of sandals.  Steven had cooked breakfast and left it for her, before taking the dogs for their morning run.  The kids were up and watching television in the basement.  Roxanne took her breakfast, went down, sat with them, and finished her breakfast as they watched the Mormon Choir broadcast.  She then gathered the dishes, and her children, and went back upstairs.  The dishes went in the dishwasher, and the kids got dressed.  Not being very religiously inclined, watching the choir and reading from the bible as a family several times a week was all the religion they engaged in.

When the children came back, she led them across the backyard to the barn.  Roxanne took them in the side door, and turned on the lights.  Other women have a craft room, or sewing room, or some other private place to be alone and be creative.  Roxanne had a garage in the barn behind her house.  It doubled as a workshop and an auto shop where she kept the car she was currently working on, or getting ready to sell.

Alex and Diana opened the main doors, as Roxanne put on a jumpsuit and boots.  Shortly the kids were also in jumpsuits.  With their help she put the Camero onto the lift and set about changing the oil and filters.

The feeling about something happening to her children soon nagged at the back of Roxanne’s mind.  So she wanted to keep her children close.  Having them help her here was one way to do that.

Caspian listened as the people here talked back and forth, and quickly recognized particulars of the language.  The dialect was a bit off, as was the vernacular.  But the language was the one he had learned.  Caspian reached into another pocket in his vest.  From this he pulled a small stone big enough to pinch between his thumb and two fingers.  Nonchalantly he worked the stone back and forth in his hand, concentrating on his memory recall techniques, and on the time he had spent on this planet.

The rangers had evidently decided to just let him sit there until he did something.  After an hour of their banter Caspian was beginning to understand the conversations, and the script on the posters and maps that hung on the walls.  Then a need hit him.  Time to see if his recall was right.  He cleared his throat.

“Where shall I locate the lavatory?”

The rangers turned as a man and looked at him.  The german shepherd lifted his head in notice at the movement.  The one at the map returned to it.  The first one Caspian met went back to his paperwork.  This left the woman.

She pointed her thumb at a doorway.  “Second on the left.”  She then went back to the computer she was doing something with.

Caspian stood, took off his cloak, and coat, and cargo vest.  He left these all on the chair.  Then he walked into the indicated doorway.  It had five closed doors, two on either side with one at the end.  The dog followed.  Caspian was not fully sure of what he had been told, but guessed correctly.

The lavatory brought clear memories back, mainly at how efficient they were compared to where he lived.  He finished, then spent several moments washing his hands, and several days growth on his face.  Caspian found the fresh water quite enjoyable.

He returned to his chair feeling much better.

“Now, how about lunch.”  He reached over the counter to where his stuff was.  The paranoia of the world also had returned forcefully, earlier.  So he pushed his belt and things aside, and dumped his food sack out.  He quickly put what he did not want back in.  Then started into a piece of fruit with his fruit knife.  That reduced to a core, he picked up a meat roll and munched through it, while sipping at his water skin.

The rangers intermittently watched him as they worked.  Finally the map man rolled his map away and put his tools in a drawer.  He then disappeared down the hall, and through the door on the end.

Book 1, Chapter 2

Here, as per usual literary convention, in narrative omniscience, we get the full interchange of both languages, as Caspian has to over come the difference between his native language and that of where he has come to.

I hope, and want to put in enough detail for, an astute reader in reading this section will recognize that Caspian has landed in the fictionalized northern sierra area of California, without out saying it outright.

Caspian felt his senses gather back around him, as his body was put together.  If he had not been leaning on his staff, he would have collapsed, even with less of a pull from gravity.  Cyrril was draped across the back of Caspian’s neck.  Caspian shook his head, squeezing his eyes closed to clear the flash blindness.  A light breeze carried pine forest smells past him, as he took a few deep breaths.  The air was thinner than where he had left, but more humid.  Sounds filtered in, of night time.  After an interminable handful of eternity, Caspian looked around.

He stood in the center of a small clearing of trees, with a ring of short stones at the perimeter.  Looking farther he could see two more rings of stones.  To an untrained eye this place was unremarkable.  Adding to the stones, a few ash trees ringed the place.  Along with a loose circle of mushrooms.  The ash trees were remarkable, not being indigenous to the place.  A few large pine trees, a scattering of aspen, and miscellaneous forest growth finished the flora.

Caspian waited longer for his senses to clear.  Travel by ley line was always exhausting.  Finally, he noticed a bit of native fauna.  A young couple were wrapped around each other in just a bedroll, about ten strides away.  They were both looking blearily at him.  Probably disturbed by the sound of his entrance.  Caspian looked at them a moment, then looked at the few stars he could see through the trees.

Judging the stars against what he could feel of the ley lines and the terrain, and coming to no conclusion, he turned and started walking down the mountain.  He was not sure but thought he was moving toward the equator.  Shortly he would need to establish his terrestrial location.  Then figure where the descendants of the elf he was looking for are, relative to his location.  But first, he needed some rest.

He walked a ways, in the dark.  After tripping over roots for the third time, he found a small hollow at the base of a tree.  Wrapping his coat and cloak around him and hooding his face, Caspian leaned against the tree, and went to sleep.

Some time later a kick against his foot startled Caspian awake.  The sun was coming slantwise through the trees, from Caspian’s left.  A man spoke.  Caspian felt sure he should know what was being said, but was a bit confused by his surroundings.

The most immediate thing that concerned Caspian was the absence of his staff.  He looked around, and patted the ground briefly.  Noticing that Cyrril was also missing, as also any sense of ambient mana, Caspian suddenly remembered where he was.  The lack of mana and the scent of the wind brought everything back to him, filling in the gaps of his groggy memory.  As did the clear feeling of the mana stored in his staff, and Cyrril, about thirty cubits above in the tree.

“I said what are you doing here, buddy?”

Caspian turned and looked up into the top of his hood, in the general direction of Cyrril and the voice, still not paying attention to the man or language.  All he could sense was Cyrril’s agitation at being disturbed from sleep.  The man spoke a third time, and Caspian remembered that he had forgotten to refresh his memory of the language he had learned while he spent three years here in one of their colleges.  Now was not the time to do that either.  Caspian pushed his hood back enough to see out, and rubbed his head.  A young man in brown clothes and a round brimmed hat stood at his feet.

“I just traveled in from my home.”  Caspian doubted the man understood his language anymore than Caspian understood the man’s.  He stood and stretched, yawning wide, and tossing back his hood.  He then opened his cape and coat, and shook the opening back and forth to air it, and him, out a bit.

The man stood and watched.  A device on his belt squawked, and a voice came from it.  The man pulled the box from his belt, and held it to his mouth, talking into it.

“Looks like a vagrant.  If he speaks English, he is either too whacked right now to understand, or a good actor.  Doesn’t seem dangerous, though.”

“Bring him on in.  At least until we can determine for sure who and what he is.”

“Copy that.”

He put the box back on his belt.  “All right pal.  Let’s go for a walk.”  He took Caspian’s arm in a solid grip as he spoke, and gently directed him down the hill.

Caspian thought better of his instinct to argue.  At least until he knew where he was.  Better to be thought debilitated, than criminal.  They walked a distance on a game trail, then crossed onto a hiking trail.  This was narrow enough to cause them to walk single file.  Caspian was put in front.  After a bit of distance was covered, they came to a dirt road.  A large vehicle was parked just off the road, by the trail head.  Seeing this, Caspian was delighted.  By the general condition of the vehicle, he had a good idea of where he was.  And looking at the alphabet on the side, he was all but sure of it.  But it had been nearly ten years since he had been here, and his memory of the language was still a bit fuzzy.

The man opened one of the rear doors on the metal transport.  He helped Caspian in, and buckled him into a restraint harness.  As he did this, he noticed Caspian’s knives, and crossbow.

“Stupid.”  The man muttered.  He then pulled Caspian back out.

“Put your hands against the truck.”  He turned Caspian to face the vehicle.

Caspian had been searched rarely enough that he was not sure what to do.  The man was still being patient, but forceful.  He put Caspian’s hands against the side of the vehicle, and forced his legs apart, so that he was leaning over a bit.  He then pulled Caspian’s cloak and then his coat aside, and removed Caspian’s belt.  He patted the vest down, and dug into its pockets checking for weapons.  The man also removed Caspian’s food sack and water bag.  He then found the knife on Caspian’s wrist and removed it.  He left all this on the ground as he again put Caspian back in the vehicle.

The man put all Caspian’s stuff in the rear compartment, and walked around the far side of the vehicle.  He then climbed in and sat down at the controls.  Caspian watched with some interest, as his memories slowly worked their way back to him.

The man operated the vehicle along the road and off the mountain.  He crossed one valley and into a second.  Here he pulled into a small cleared area around a medium sized house.  A large sized tower connected to the house.

Caspian was helped out of the vehicle and into the house by the man.  He took Caspian into the main room and sat him on a chair against a wall.  The room was longer than it was wide, a short wall running across the long way with a counter on top of it.  This side of the counter had several pieces of domestic furniture scattered about it.  Two desks and a table were on the other side of the counter.  Several objects and devices were scattered across these.  Many of them duplicates of each other.  A women, doing something to a flat box of some kind while watching another box, sat at a desk.  A man stood at the table, and drew on a chart with several drafting implements scattered about him.  He appeared to be plotting something.  A large dog, with short brown and black fur sprawled under one of the windows.  It noticed their entrance, but made no other move from where it lay.  Its large pointed muzzle and triangular ears showed it to be quite alert, though currently harmless.

The people talked a bit, then the man that brought Caspian went outside, and came back with his things.  These were placed on a desk behind the counter.  The first man then began writing on a pad of paper.

Caspian still had not had breakfast, and was feeling quite dehydrated.  And looking at the sun, he figured it was mid-morning, or late afternoon.  Either way he was hungry and thirsty.

“Mind if I eat something?”  He spoke in his native language, knowing that he would not be understood.

The map man and the first man both looked at him.  Caspian reached carefully into one of his vest pockets, and pulled out a chunk of jerky.  Not filling, but enough to take off the edge.  He chewed on this while these people decided what to do.  He also carefully retrieved a water skin and quickly sipped it dry.