Engines of Obsession: Chapter 23

Chapter 23: Old Town Roads

Visitors were often surprised at how advanced and developed Durocor was, for a frontier town, especially compared to the more 'civilized' Edsenburg.

Turner was no exception, no matter how many times he went to either city.

The stones of the main streets were ancient, worn down by centuries of foot traffic. Yet age hadn't diminished them. The layered stone, gravel, and fitted paving were so well-engineered that the city still used them, thousands of years after they were first laid.

A wider 'wagon road' ran alongside most of the major streets of the city, and Durocor still used the ancient Imperial method of building streets, leading to deep drainage and angled surfaces. The wagon roads were made with broader stones, with occasional drainage channels cut into them, to handle the heavier wear.

All this meant that the rainstorm last night had left the streets and city damp, but not particularly muddy or messy. Aside from the bustle of the crowd, Turner found himself enjoying the walk. The only real sign of the thunderstorm of the previous night lay in the damp, musty smell that drifted through now and again.

"You have that look on your face," Nora broke in, speaking louder than normal. The murmur of the morning crowds forced her to speak up, though it had yet to rise to the midday hubbub that would make conversation difficult.

Turner gave his companion a wry smile, but didn't answer. The clattering trundle of a carriage brought too much background noise to speak easily, so Turner merely paused at the crossing, waiting for the carriage and a wagon behind it to pass, before he replied.

"I can enjoy myself, you know," he finally said. Quick steps carried him across the wagon road, into one of the side streets that led toward his destination.

Nora sighed, "You do realize you could likely get a job at one of the Universities teaching history? You have the passion for it."

The statement earned an odd look from Turner. He straightened the travel cloak, adjusting it to hide the bulge of the revolver beneath. City ordinances wouldn't allow him to carry his sword, but a hidden weapon was allowed here.

"You know a lot more about that than I do," he replied, giving Nora a puzzled frown. "What brought this on, suddenly? Did Blakely rattle you that much?"

She shook her head, pausing only to hop over a small puddle in one damaged portion of the street. "No... well, it does still worry me, but that isn't why." She gestured with her walking staff back the way they had come, where Martin had stayed with his brother. "The Wellright kids... they're good boys, and have good heads on their shoulders. I think if you gave up this chase, they might settle as well."

Turner nodded slowly, mulling that over while another cart rattled over the drainage lines nearby. "Maybe," he agreed. "But I doubt it. That Black Tide they described... I think that gnaws at them. They're too deep into wanting answers. And this may be selfish of me, but I'm glad they're here. They're young and learning, and impulsive, but they have good instincts and they're great in a fight."

"Unlike me?" Nora asked with a smirk.

That got a snort from Turner. "You're welcome to leave whenever you like, nag."

Nora burst out into laughter for several seconds, before sending another smile over to Turner. "We both know you wouldn't last a month without me."

Her smile faded a moment later. "I need to stop by an apothecary while we're here," she reminded him. "I used the last of my willow on Milo's painkiller."

"Mmn..." Turner replied noncommittally. "That one is pretty cheap and easy to get, I don't see why we couldn't scrape some up here. This way," he said, pointing to another street.

It wasn't far into the mid-level services district. Only a few rowhouses down, Turner and Nora reached the storefront of Lanton's Scribal Services, the shop he'd been looking for. Turner noted the glass-windowed front, hinting that the shop did quite well for itself, in this part of town. Not too strange in a larger city like this, but not cheap either.

Turner opened the door and walked in immediately, before he could have second thoughts.

Like most of the storefronts, the front room was cramped but serviceable. A small sign offered tutoring sessions for the local school system - Durocor was rather progressive on that front, as well - along with other modest side-jobs for a well-learned notary. The shop, unsurprisingly, smelled of ink and a mix of rag and pulp paper, which immediately immersed Turner into a claustrophobic feeling similar to Grunthal's library.

Behind a desk covered in inks, quills, and papers arranged in a meticulous yet foreign organization, a slender man looked up from his work. Dark hair, a sharp nose, and with a balding spot upon his head, he was still recognizable to Turner. That severe look in his dark eyes was unforgettable.

"May I... help you?" The question came with a curious note, looking Turner up and down. A turn of his head saw Nora, and he relaxed slightly. The blonde was looking over the shelves of writing supplies with clear interest, and definitely looked more at home in this place than Turner himself did.

This brought an amused smile to Turner's face before he answered, "Hello, Mister Lanton. It's been a while." He paused, "Is Brigette in, or out with the kids? Your eldest is probably out of school by now, isn't he?" He cleared his throat, "I don't remember his name, sorry."

The man looked back at Turner, squinting suspiciously. His eyes darted to the ancient scar on Turner's cheek, and widened in sudden recognition.

"By the breath in my chest... Rowan? Rowan Turner? You were but a little boy last time I saw you!" Lanton laughed, rising from his seat and hurrying around to clap Turner on the shoulder. "Sorry, it's been so long! We named our second son after you, you know. Rowan Lanton. I was just thinking of you a month or so ago, wondering if you were doing all right."

That did take Turner by surprise. "Named after me? I'm flattered, sir. I haven't exactly been a good friend here."

Lanton waved away the concern, "You made an impression, my boy." He raised his voice, "BRIGETTE! COME DOWN TO THE SHOP AND SEE TO OUR GUESTS! YOU WON'T BELIEVE WHO IT IS!"

Turner had to flinch at the call. For such a thin and reedy man, Mister Lanton had a voice that carried, especially in the cramped shop.

The thumping of someone coming down the stairs told Turner that Brigette was on her way. Nora quietly moved up beside him, curious now, as the woman emerged from the back.

Age had been kind to Brigette, in most ways. She was shorter than Elina had been, and lacked the athletic, slender frame of the adventurer Turner remembered, but Brigette had never been the more active one. Several children and a more sedentary lifestyle had given Brigette a more rounded and soft figure, even a little plump in places. Yet her eyes were lively, her face gentle and soft, and her bosom matronly. Most probably considered Lanton a lucky man.

Unlike her husband, Brigette only had to blink twice before her pale blue eyes widened. Her plain cream-colored dress rustled as she scampered across the shop, pulling Turner into a crushing hug. "Rowie! I didn't think I'd see you again!" She huffed loudly, squeezing Turner.

Awkwardly, Turner felt his cheeks and ears heat up. He could feel Nora's eyes on him, the girl mouthing 'Rowie?' under her breath. Even Lanton smirked at this, while Turner gave her a reluctant - if quite genuine - hug back. "Hey, Mrs. Lanton. You're looking well."

"Call me Brig, all my friends do," Brigette replied, releasing Turner with a pat to his arms. "Hmm... you definitely look like you took after my sister. That's unfortunate," she sighed, stepping backward with a critical eye. Her attention turned to Nora, and she clucked her tongue. "I suppose it's too much to hope this is your future wife, and you're here to invite us to the wedding?"

The misconception was common enough that Nora merely smiled at it. "Turner is a friend. More like a brother, really. I'm not sure there are any women who could put up with him romantically for long."

The Lantons burst into laughter, and Turner sighed... but with a thin smile. "This is Nora Graves, my erstwhile travel companion. We're freelancers, as you've guessed."

Brigette's mirth faded into a sigh, "Yes, I was afraid of that. This isn't a social visit, is it?" She shook her head, before Turner even had a chance to answer. "Come on upstairs and I'll fix something to drink. My sister left something for you."

Mild surprise flickered in Turner's eyes as he glanced to Nora, then nodded.

At least Brigette wasn't angry. And if she truly had something from Elina… that meant answers.