Neston

Paul had been studying late, and he fell asleep at his desk and dreamed a very intense dream.
   He was lying on the deck of a wooden sailing-vessel. He could hear the creak of oars, and above him a white sail strained in the breeze. Raising himself on his elbow, he saw he was sailing up a mighty river. The sun, shining over the stern of the boat, was hot. Presently a man came over to him and spoke to him in a language of which he understood not a single word. A feeling of intense loneliness swept over Paul, and he awoke.
   Some time later, Paul dreamed the same dream again, but this time with more certainty. As he lay on the boat-deck, he knew who he was and where he was. Men called him Neston (not his real name, but he accepted it), and he was journeying up the River Nereth. He supposed he was about forty years old, though he had never known the year or place of his birth. His body held many scars, for he had been a warrior and adventurer for all his adult life. But recently fortune had deserted him, and he had nothing left but his sword and a few gold coins concealed in his belt. He was tired of adventure, and sought a quieter life; so he was on his way to the Twin Cities, the centre of a great empire, hoping to take service as the bodyguard of some lord. This time,when the man approached him, he recognised the Twin Cities language.
   "Not far to go now. We'll be docking this evening. Have you been tot he Twin Cities before? If not, you'd better know that no weapons may be taken inside the walls without authorisation, so you'd better find somewhere to stow your sword". 
   Neston was still pondering this problem when Paul woke up.

(To be continued)