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DDDDD ZZZZZZ //
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D D AAAA RRR GGGG OOOO NN N Z I NN N EEEE ||
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D D A A R R G O O N N N Z I N N N E || Volume 10
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-=========================================================+<OOOOOOOOO>|)
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D D AAAA RRR G GG O O N N N Z I N N N E || Number 6
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DDDDD A A R R GGGG OOOO N NN ZZZZZZ I N NN EEEE ||
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\\
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\
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========================================================================
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DargonZine Distributed: 09/14/1997
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Volume 10, Number 6 Circulation: 655
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========================================================================
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Contents
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Editorial Ornoth D.A. Liscomb
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Quadrille 2 Alan Lauderdale Sy 7, 1012
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Friendships of Stone 1 Mark A. Murray Naia 5, 1015
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Pudlong and the Beanstalk 2 Jim Owens Late Spring, 1016
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========================================================================
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DargonZine is the publication vehicle of the Dargon Project, a
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collaborative group of aspiring fantasy writers on the Internet.
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We welcome new readers and writers interested in joining the project.
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Please address all correspondance to <dargon@shore.net> or visit us
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on the World Wide Web at http://www.shore.net/~dargon. Back issues
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are available from ftp.shore.net in members/dargon/. Issues and
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public discussions are posted to the Usenet newsgroup rec.mag.dargon.
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DargonZine 10-6, ISSN 1080-9910, (C) Copyright September, 1997 by
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the Dargon Project. Editor: Ornoth D.A. Liscomb <ornoth@shore.net>,
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Assistant Editor: Jon Evans <godling@mnsinc.com>. All rights reserved.
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All rights are reassigned to the individual contributors. Stories may
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not be reproduced or redistributed without the explicit permission of
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the author(s) involved, except in the case of freely reproducing entire
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issues for further distribution. Reproduction of issues or any portions
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thereof for profit is forbidden.
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========================================================================
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Editorial
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by Ornoth D.A. Liscomb
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<ornoth@shore.net>
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Keep it brief.
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Well, the biggest news since our last issue has been an update to
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the Subscriptions section of our Web site. Not only can new subscribers
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sign up online, but existing subscribers can now change their email
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addresses and subscriptions types, and even sign off (heaven forbid!)
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online, without human intervention. So if you ever need to change your
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subscription to DargonZine, the Web site is now the first place to look!
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The only other announcement is that our next issue, which is due
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out before the end of October, will be a special issue, devoted to
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Dargon's dread "Night of Souls". Be watching for that one -- we hope
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you'll like it!
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But for now, we've got the second installments of Alan Lauderdale's
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"Quadrille" series, as well as Jim Owens' "Pudlong" series. These
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stories are accompanied by the first installment of Mark Murray's
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"Friendships of Stone" series.
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That's all for now, but keep your eyes peeled for our next issue,
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as the "Night of Souls" approaches!
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========================================================================
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Quadrille
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Part II
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by Alan Lauderdale
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<lauderd@phadm1.cpmc.columbia.edu>
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Sy 7, 1012
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Author's note: This story builds on material presented in Winds of
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Change (FSFNet 8-2), A Scent in the Air (FSFNet 11-1), and A Sudden
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Storm (FSFNet 11-2), by Becki Tants, and also The Dream (FSFNet 6-3,
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6-4) by John White. The first part of this story was in volume 10-5 of
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Dargonzine. Therein was explained the purpose of Mouse Kervale in coming
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to Dargon.
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II. Kittara Smells a Rat
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Sy 7, 1012
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Since it was fairly close to the wharves, only a short way inland
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from Commercial Street along Traders Avenue, the tavern named the Rogue
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and Quiver might've been expected to be a rowdy and raucous place.
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However, the owner, Malcolm Shortclip, had several close personal
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friends amongst the City Watch, not to mention off-duty members of the
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Watch among his employees, so order usually prevailed. In spite of this,
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Kittara and Sylk occasionally stopped there for the above-average ale.
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"That was interesting." Kittara Ponterisso brought the two mugs to
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the table where Reyakeen Sylk waited. It had been her turn to buy and
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Sylk knew better than to try to be gallant with her.
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"Jastrik's health," he toasted perfunctorily, taking one of the
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mugs and quaffing a third of the contents. "What was interesting?" he
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then asked.
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"You know Rales Spinner?" Kittara preferred to sip her ale.
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"Who?"
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"Also referred to as Onions."
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"You've mentioned him before, haven't you?"
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"He's City Watch. He's also been trying to bed me ever since I
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settled here."
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"So he has good taste."
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Kittara smiled. "Flattery will get you everywhere. Onions hasn't
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tried that approach though -- at least not that obviously. He prefers
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just to tell me everything about what he's up to and hope that I think
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he's interesting."
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"How's it going for him?"
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"Come on, Sylk. He's Watch."
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"Silly me." Sylk quaffed some more ale. "So why are we talking
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about him?"
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"Because tonight he is doing something interesting."
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"He's off Watch tonight?"
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Kittara pushed her chestnut hair back. "Actually the interest is
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Watchwork."
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"Are you sure we should be talking about this?" Sylk drained his
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mug.
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"He's been assigned to watch a warehouse."
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"Sounds like typical City Watchwork."
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"All night. They're watching the warehouse one back from the wharf
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on Division Street."
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"Makes me glad I'm -- did you say -- ?"
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Kittara nodded. "That's Duke Jastrik's warehouse."
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"All right," Sylk admitted. "Now I'm interested. Why's the Watch
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watching our Duke's warehouse all night?"
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"Onions had no idea," Kittara said. "The way he saw it, he was just
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glad he wouldn't have to walk around the docks all night the way he
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usually does."
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"So the rest of the dock area won't get patrolled tonight?"
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"I suppose not," Kittara admitted. She shrugged and drained her
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mug. "Still, that's hardly our problem. Think we should know what's so
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interesting about Jastrik's warehouse?"
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III. The Queen of Air and Darkness
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Ariel lay in bed, covered by a blanket and gloom. She had been in
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Dargon only four days but, running from crisis to crisis it seemed like
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much, much longer.
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Stefan was dead. That was how it began. No. It began with Stefan
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alive and visiting her town and the inn where she worked for her father.
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Yes. That was how it began: with her breaking away from everything she'd
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known for nearly eighteen years. Stefan was exotic -- not in appearance,
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perhaps. But he'd strolled around her old town and seen everything new.
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And he'd talked to her about all of it, asked her about the stabler's
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wandering, unfocused eye, wondered why the cobbler's son walked with a
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limp. He had captivated her attention, focussed her interest on himself.
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Wings! She'd already fallen in love with him and was willing to go
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anywhere he wanted -- and then he'd invited her to come along with him
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when he left. The suggestion had been casual; a flicker of surprise
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sprang up in his eyes when she'd accepted immediately. But she could not
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possibly have stayed in that same small town after Stefan departed. So
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of course she'd gone away with him. And she never said a word to her
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father before leaving.
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Then, on the road, her story began again. And it was a wondrous
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tale, because it was filled with magic. Stefan was an air mage. He'd not
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mentioned that outright in the town, but the news didn't surprise Ariel.
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She'd known already that he was special. And he explained that it was
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prudent to be circumspect. Mages of the air often had enemies that they
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didn't know about, so it was best not to mention that profession unless
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in trusted company. But he trusted her, and Ariel, of course, wanted to
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know more about air wizardry. So he taught her a few basics and she
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mastered them easily. Impressed, he began to teach her more seriously
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and more thoroughly and those days on the road were bliss. There was the
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work of absorbing these new thaumaturgical intricacies every day. But
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there was also Stefan's touch and his smile and his flashing blue eyes
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and his commanding voice and sparkling sentences. There was love and
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magic; it began well. Twice, Ariel's story began well.
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She had to hold onto that: It did begin well.
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Then, Haargon intervened. Rather, priests of Haargon -- or
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followers or goons. There was no difference among the terms, not where
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Haargon was concerned. Agents of Haargon all, they shattered Ariel's
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happiness.
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Stefan, while teaching her the disciplines of air magery, had
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described to her the rivalry between the Air Mages who worshipped
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Iliara, and the Earth Mages who worshipped Haargon. He'd warned her that
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the conflict was turning deadly and had even mentioned a few instances
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of murder. But those cases, he'd said, had been far away and, when she'd
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shivered at the gory details, he'd soothed her fears with kisses and
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assurances that they themselves were hardly significant targets for the
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lumbering god of earth.
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Nonetheless, there came a night that proved she and Stefan mattered
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more than they thought. They'd set a camp in a grove of pines and bedded
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down together as usual after a typically full day of walking study. They
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were both asleep when the dirty, shambling men attacked, grabbing Stefan
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and then herself, pulling her away from her lovely beloved.
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If they said anything to Stefan before they killed him, it was very
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brief and she didn't hear it. But it was perfectly clear to her what was
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going on when the knife flashed in the light from the single torch and
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Stefan screamed. These were the grotesque followers of Haargon and she
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could expect the same treatment from them that Stefan had received.
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She expected it and they no doubt expected to administer it. But an
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angry mist seemed to cover her vision and a furious rage welled up
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within her even though two of the filthy men were restraining her arms.
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She screamed with Stefan and a whirlwind swirled up, stirring the pine
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needles and flinging them about -- at everything and everyone save her.
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Men shouted and covered their faces and eyes against the showers of
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needles. And Ariel was free.
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She ran to Stefan, but he was still. Needles struck his wide open
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eyes, but he ignored them. Life was no longer there in him. Ariel
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shrieked at him to come back to her; she shook his corpse. But only her
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whirlwind answered her. The goons of Haargon, though, were calling to
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each other; her whirlwind pleaded with her to flee them. Acceding to it
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and to Iliara, she ran away into the night.
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After that came the sad time. She'd run that night until she
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collapsed. Then, after she recovered consciousness again, she'd
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continued her flight, though not with any clear plan nor with more than
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tatterings of arcane energies. The magical power she eventually
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regenerated after weeks more on the road, but all her plans had died
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with Stefan. They didn't regenerate, except that she knew what she
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didn't want to do: Any interest in staying in her father's inn in her
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father's town had died in her life with Stefan. Though he was now dead,
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Ariel's former life remained still moribund in her mind.
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She had no plan, only a solitary misery and a sense that Haargon
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wasn't finished with her. But one had to decide on awakening or
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encountering a crossroads what to do next. Since Stefan had talked some
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about a place named Dargon and she thought perhaps there would be
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priests of Iliara there who could shelter her, she steered more or less
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toward that city. It wasn't a plan, only a direction.
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The minions of Haargon had dogged her all the way across Baranur
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until she'd finally come to Dargon. They'd not clung close to her heels,
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but she knew they were trailing her. It was nothing obvious, but she
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knew they were still after her. She recognized the lingering stares of
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disheveled passersby on the road, the muttered exchanges of other folks
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with innkeepers after she passed by, the murders of crows that she saw
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with ominous frequency on the roads as she came closer to the city. They
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were after her; she knew it.
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But she did get to Dargon, and she did find an inn that was
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pleasant though too expensive. To pay for her lodging, she'd managed to
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find work quickly at Camron's Trading House as a bookkeeper. A good air
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mage, Stefan had said, took copious notes of all the manifestations of
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Iliara in the world, and it had been well for her that she had also kept
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accounts for her father's inn before Stefan spirited her away from that
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old life. Camron's books were complex, well-nigh unfathomable, but she'd
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been better qualified than most to sort them out and make sense of them.
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They still held some puzzles, though.
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But the work at Camron's didn't worry Ariel. It was the rest of her
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life that was perilous -- even in the city. She'd found cheaper lodging
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easily enough. Camron had happened to have a cousin, Karina, who was
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looking to rent a spare room in her house. The landlords, Karina and her
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husband Marcus, were very nice, the price was low, and the location was
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convenient. Ariel had taken the place readily.
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The new home was pleasant but the trip to it after Ariel's third
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day of work at Camron's office was not. She had encountered a trio of
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ruffians who, she felt sure, were in the employ of the priest of Haargon
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she'd seen near them. She'd managed to evade them and, with the help of
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air magery, outrun them in a flat-out sprint home, but the incident did
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serve as a reminder to her that Haargon's minions were still after her.
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The next evening, Camron had sent her home with an escort, Johan.
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Johan turned out to be a nephew of Camron's and Ariel concluded that
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Karina was attempting to put into instant effect her belief that Ariel
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should be finding herself a husband as quick as she could. Johan was
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nice and Johan was large and muscular. Ariel had no trouble on the way
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home, except in making it clear to Johan that Karina's opinion did not
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necessarily match Ariel's. Johan, however, didn't act as if Ariel's
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opinion was of any importance to him at all. Even after she pointedly
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dodged an attempted embrace, he was suggesting a picnic lunch the next
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day. Ariel managed to get home to Karina's house, though, without saying
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anything entirely insulting. But she doubted she'd be able to come up
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with any message for Johan that would be both subtle and discouraging.
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He was just that kind of man and she didn't want to be coarsely rude to
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her employer's nephew. It was a mess. Johan was handsome but he just
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wasn't what she wanted now.
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And the whole matter went completely out of her head anyway, when
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she got to her room in the house and found a priest of Haargon waiting
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for her. He'd attempted, with crude magical manipulation, to turn her
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from her allegiance to Iliara and Stefan's memory to worshipping
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Haargon. She'd managed to resist but the experience had left her even
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more shaken. And since the sounds of her argument with the priest hadn't
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gone unnoticed by landlord Marcus, she'd had to tell him and Karina all
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about her involvement in the war between Haargon and Iliara. All about
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it, including the fact that she had been herself a practicing student of
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the Art.
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But they didn't throw her out of the house immediately for
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concealing that tidbit of information. Indeed, Karina and Marcus had
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offered all kinds of suggestions of help. Karina had been sure that
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Johan would be willing to stay by her all the time. (Ariel sighed,
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wishing she could work up any enthusiasm for that idea.) Marcus had
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mentioned some sage named Corambis and suggested that if they just knew
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a little bit more about this Haargon cult, they could probably break it
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up thoroughly. Oh, they had lots of ideas. They just didn't understand.
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Ariel sighed again and softly got out of the bed that Karina had
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tucked her into not too long before. She'd told them what Stefan had
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made clear to her, if not by his words then by his example. These
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minions of Haargon were not playing. They killed. Ariel could not stand
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the idea of anyone she liked, like Karina or Marcus, coming to any grief
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through association with her. It had been bad enough with Stefan, but at
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least there, her lover had been a target for Haargon on his own. Karina
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and Marcus, Ariel knew, were otherwise bystanders to this conflict
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except because of their sheltering Ariel. The air sorceress also was
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sure that, if the couple did continue to involve themselves in her
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troubles, then the minions of Haargon would certainly punish them for
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intruding on this private little war.
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Quickly, Ariel loaded her pack again. She moved quietly, having had
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some practice at moving around quietly while still at home working in
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her father's inn. Taking her cloak, she went down to the kitchen and
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added a simple breakfast to her pack. She found a scrap of parchment and
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quill and wrote Karina and Marcus a quick note:
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I'm sorry, but I can't stay here. My presence puts you in
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danger, and I care too much for you to do that. I am going to
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find myself somewhere to live where I won't be hurting anyone.
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You can reach me at Camron's, as I still have to work for at
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least the next couple of days. Thank you for everything.
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Ariel.
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On her way out the door, Ariel wondered whether either Karina or
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Marcus could read. But that, she told herself, was silly: If neither
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could read, why would they leave pen, ink and parchment lying around
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their kitchen?
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IV. Ariel In the Dark
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When you're assigned to watch someone and report all her movements,
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Alec reflected for the thirteenth time since grabbing supper from a
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street cart, you spend a lot of time watching buildings the person is
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in. Right now, as he'd done the last couple of nights, he was watching
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the house of Marcus and Karina from his post in an alley he was
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beginning to grow fond of. And that was something to worry about: The
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noisome alley was hardly a place he'd've thought to become comfortable
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in, let alone taking pleasure in its familiarity.
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Alec loitered there, fairly close to Dargon's Main Street and more
|
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or less in the neighborhood of Atelier Street, so that he could almost
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consider the digs he was watching respectable. He assured himself that
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he was merely making sure that Ariel wouldn't be coming out again
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tonight. He was tired. It had been a long day. He'd come to this house
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early in the morning and followed the girl directly from there to
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Camron's mercantile house where she had clerical work. Then he'd put in
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bells and bells of tedious time loitering outside that place. Every gull
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in the area recognized him by now, he was sure.
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The only excitement of the day had been the large young man who'd
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come out of the shipping office at the same time as Ariel and, it was
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soon obvious, was accompanying her. Since the boy's size made trailing
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her almost pitifully easy, Alec had practically sleep-walked the return
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trip to Marcus' house, only having to make sure that he saw Ariel go in
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the door. After that, he'd settled into the vantage at the mouth of his
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favorite alley and waited for a reasonable amount of the evening to pass
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so that he could call it a day.
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He was just about to do so when the door he'd been watching for
|
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those many counts of bells moved. Instantly, Alec mustered the best
|
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semblance of alertness he could manage under the circumstances and
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stared through the darkness to see if he could go home anyway.
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No such luck. It was the girl, wearing the usual dark blue cloak
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over the same pale lavender dress with white edging that he'd seen far
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too much of lately. She couldn't even keep him amused with a varied
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wardrobe -- or even dress her hair differently. As always, it was rolled
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back from her face with a circlet. She was just the way he'd seen her
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before.
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In fact, she was exactly the way he'd seen her before. She was
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carrying the same baggage she'd borne when she first came to this house
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the day before yesterday. So now she was running away from -- home?
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Hardly. And it was too soon to be skipping out on the rent, wasn't it?
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Alec shrugged. It wasn't his to question, only to follow. He
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watched the girl creep out into the street and look around the quiet
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neighborhood for someone to tell her to get back inside where she
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belonged. No one did, so she pulled the hood of her cloak forward and
|
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then shuffled away past the uncaring houses. Alec was about to pursue
|
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her when the door of her house moved again. In his mind, Alec recited an
|
|
elaborate curse that he'd spent his lunchtime earlier in the day
|
|
formulating, one that involved Haargon's backside, the lips of Erida,
|
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and a large circlet of peacock feathers. The image had amused him but
|
|
he'd not quite dared utter the thing out loud. It was just as well since
|
|
he was trying to remain unnoticed.
|
|
Camron's brother-in-law, Marcus, emerged into the street. He
|
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apparently had no difficulty picking out Ariel in the darkness, since he
|
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immediately started off after her. Alec, taking his turn after Marcus,
|
|
had to assume that the other man hadn't had any lights on wherever in
|
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the house he'd been. Marcus' eyes were already well accustomed to the
|
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dark. Alec mused about what that meant: That he'd been most likely
|
|
waiting up in a dark room for Ariel to do something, and that caution
|
|
would be needed while following him. The reverie broke off when Marcus
|
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reached the end of a row of houses and stepped around the corner.
|
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Alec cursed a much briefer imprecation and hurried ahead to make
|
|
sure that he would still have at least Marcus in sight. He reached the
|
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turn just in time to see his quarry up ahead along the road. Breathing a
|
|
small sigh of relief, Alec settled into a routine solution to the
|
|
problem of tailing someone through deserted streets late at night. He
|
|
almost relaxed too much. Marcus (and, Alec hoped, Ariel) appeared to be
|
|
tracing again Ariel's route to Camron's office, so Alec decided he could
|
|
hang back a bit more to be sure that Marcus didn't notice him. A couple
|
|
of turns before Ariel would actually have gotten there, though, Alec
|
|
came around a corner and discovered a completely empty street.
|
|
Still not wasting breath or noise voicing aloud the curses he was
|
|
thinking, Alec hurried forward. He paused at every alley to peer within,
|
|
hoping that he would spy the familiar lope of Marcus. After a couple of
|
|
failures, he was rewarded with that comforting vision. The alley was
|
|
narrow and dark, but the silhouette was right. Alec eased into the alley
|
|
and made his way along it. He was only halfway along it when the man
|
|
ahead emerged from the other end and walked briskly away to the right.
|
|
Lightly, Alec ran forward, quickly reaching the end of the alley.
|
|
He peered around the corner in the direction Marcus had gone.
|
|
A fist smashed into his face.
|
|
|
|
V. A Most Dangerous Profession
|
|
|
|
Jarvis was working late in Camron's Trading House. There was, after
|
|
all, plenty of work to be done, especially after Camron had brought in
|
|
that new girl. Of course, she'd been hired to help Camron get his
|
|
records straightened up and clear so that Jarvis, among others, could
|
|
examine them quickly. But, in fact, she was only creating more work for
|
|
him.
|
|
First of all, she was a definite distraction -- far too pretty to
|
|
be fluttering around his office all day and not have his gaze
|
|
continually attracted to her movements. Which it was, terribly often,
|
|
because -- dammit -- he was male and her figure was far more desirable
|
|
to look at than his ledger figures were.
|
|
He smiled at the little, old, bookkeeping joke -- and then frowned.
|
|
Even when she wasn't there, she was distracting him from his work. That
|
|
was so annoying.
|
|
He bent to his papers again. He simply had to get them completed
|
|
tonight because -- well, that was the other problem with Camron's new
|
|
girl. Jarvis was actually here working for Duke Jastrik, who had a large
|
|
investment in Camron's business. From time to time, Jarvis examined
|
|
Camron's books for the Duke to make sure that the profits and losses
|
|
Camron reported were genuine. With the addition of Camron's pretty
|
|
little bookkeeper, though, Jarvis was obliged to spend some time
|
|
learning her methods and satisfying himself with her competence at
|
|
neatening up the books. And thus far, his studies had not left him
|
|
convinced. There were some discrepancies, some potentially large
|
|
discrepancies. He pulled his lamp a little closer, dipped his pen in the
|
|
well, and stared again at the parchment.
|
|
The parchment rattled. No, that wasn't it. The rattle was coming
|
|
from downstairs. But there shouldn't have been any noise downstairs. It
|
|
was long past the time for any shipments to be received or dispatched.
|
|
Indeed, only Londron the night watchman ought to have been active down
|
|
there and he, Jarvis knew, moved no more than he absolutely had to.
|
|
"Something wrong, Londron?" Jarvis called. No response came up the
|
|
stairwell. Jarvis hadn't expected any, not really. Londron was as silent
|
|
as he was static. But Jarvis had now made the mistake of calling to the
|
|
man. In some way, he now felt honorbound to go and look for the
|
|
watchman, to prove that he hadn't been calling to a void.
|
|
And besides, he could use the break from thinking about figures
|
|
(and figures).
|
|
He got up from his desk, loudly scraping his chair on the floor.
|
|
The noise he made felt necessary and comforting as well. "Londron?" he
|
|
called again, still not expecting any response. The watchman, he felt
|
|
sure, was going to make him come all the way downstairs and see him if
|
|
the auditor wanted to verify his existence. With a heavy tread, since he
|
|
didn't want to hear just that soft rattling, Jarvis walked over to the
|
|
stairs and clumped down them.
|
|
|
|
Below, Londron was sprawled in his favorite chair. He was asleep.
|
|
This was his favorite way to pass the long, dull sands of supervision
|
|
over the quiet building. It also, he reasoned, assured that he would be
|
|
awake and alert come the morning when Camron would arrive and expect him
|
|
to be able to report that everything was in order. How could he be
|
|
expected to be sharp and clear, speaking briskly and firmly to his
|
|
employer at dawn, he asked himself nearly every night, if he'd spent all
|
|
night moping about the place. His answer was always the same; hence the
|
|
long and regular naps.
|
|
And Londron was blessed with the ability to sleep through nearly
|
|
anything. The scratching inside one of the barrels that had been stacked
|
|
in the receiving barn hadn't disturbed him. Neither had the presence of
|
|
someone standing close beside him, someone dressed in a hooded cloak
|
|
over a pale lavender dress and looking pensively at his regular
|
|
breathing.
|
|
Nor, of course, did Jarvis' ponderous descent, though it did cause
|
|
the other person to seek the shadows. Jarvis, grumbling to himself, had
|
|
brought his lamp with him into the darkness below. Now, he set about
|
|
looking for the uncooperative Londron. He'd find the man, thank him most
|
|
sarcastically for his efforts to foster others' ability to concentrate
|
|
on their lamplit work and then get back up to his damned books. Then,
|
|
perhaps he'd be able to get out of here himself within a bell. He strode
|
|
from the staircase toward the front of the building; the front seemed a
|
|
reasonable place to start.
|
|
He was walking past the doorway into the receiving barn when he
|
|
heard something break. The noise was muffled some, but he was quite sure
|
|
he'd heard something untoward in that receiving area. Pottery, perhaps,
|
|
but it sounded as though it might have been knocked off a closet shelf
|
|
by a careless cat. Yes, that was it, except that the barn didn't have a
|
|
closet. He stopped and peered at the dark doorway, aware that the door
|
|
should have been closed.
|
|
"Londron?" he called, standing at the open door. "Are you in
|
|
there?"
|
|
"In here," a very faint voice, which sounded nothing like Londron,
|
|
responded.
|
|
"Where?" Jarvis demanded, taking several steps into the barn.
|
|
"In this barrel," the faint shout replied. Jarvis walked over to
|
|
it.
|
|
"What are you doing in there?" he asked.
|
|
"How about 'Trying to get out'?" the voice suggested. "Are you
|
|
going to help me or just stand there?"
|
|
Unpacking a barrel was not, strictly speaking, part of Jarvis' job.
|
|
He was there to examine books of numbers and verify in some obscure way
|
|
that they were "true." However, his charge was also more generally, he
|
|
told himself, to safeguard the Duke's interest in Camron's business.
|
|
This gave him authority to poke around in any aspect of shipping that
|
|
excited his curiosity. And if Camron was moving people around in
|
|
barrels, the Duke ought to know about it. Furthermore, Jarvis had seen
|
|
nothing on the ledgers about this transport of people and that would
|
|
indicate another serious oversight. Jarvis set his lamp on the closest
|
|
neighboring barrel, found a crowbar hanging on the wall of the barn, and
|
|
began prying loose the lid of the barrel.
|
|
The lid soon came off with a crash. Jarvis peered at what lay under
|
|
the lid. Mouse, blinking at the lamplight, peered up at him. The auditor
|
|
dropped the crowbar with another crash. "He's shipping faeries?" he
|
|
asked.
|
|
"I am *not* a faerie!" Mouse declared, as emphatically as she
|
|
could. "I am Mouse." While Jarvis continued to stare at her, she began
|
|
extracting her sack of possessions from the hay. She also offered the
|
|
story she'd spent the journey composing: "I was traveling with this
|
|
shipment of preserves to ensure that this valuable food reached its
|
|
destination safely. One of the jars seems to have broken against another
|
|
though. Sorry about that. But there's someone I have to see now, so I'll
|
|
be -- Hey!"
|
|
Her speech was interrupted by the heavy thud of something smashing
|
|
against the back of Jarvis' skull and then the heavier thud of Jarvis
|
|
falling against the side of the barrel and then the floor. She looked up
|
|
and repeated herself: "Hey!"
|
|
Someone else was holding the crowbar now. The someone was wearing a
|
|
deeply cowled cloak with the hood pulled up and forward keeping the face
|
|
completely shadowed.
|
|
A third party echoed Mouse, "Hey!" and the figure instantly broke
|
|
the tableau: The crowbar clattered to the floor. A hand shot out and
|
|
seized Mouse at the waist, pinioning one arm. The hay she'd been wading
|
|
in had made it difficult for her to dodge. Then, the assailant sprang
|
|
away through the darkened barn as Londron -- the latter having finally
|
|
been roused by the clattering barrel lid and crowbar -- lumbered in
|
|
pursuit.
|
|
Mouse shouted and pulled ineffectually at the closest finger she
|
|
could reach -- obliging her captor to change grips -- as she was carried
|
|
to the other end of the room. Then, Mouse almost crashed against the
|
|
ground, as the girl -- judging by the dress she was wearing under the
|
|
cloak -- reached down to grab something before racing out a small door
|
|
of the barn.
|
|
|
|
VI Breaking It Up
|
|
|
|
"Kittara," Sylk asked, "how can you say that wasn't a waste of our
|
|
time?"
|
|
After having spent a bell poking around Duke Jastrik's warehouse on
|
|
Division Street, another unsounded bell watching her converse with
|
|
Onions and his colleague, Carver, and who knew how much more time
|
|
discreetly watching the Watch watch the warehouse, Sylk had persuaded
|
|
Kittara that the tip was false. Not wishing to chance a late ferry
|
|
across the Coldwell, the two were walking the long way around back to
|
|
Jastrik's quarters via the causeway. They had only gotten as far as
|
|
Commercial Street, somewhere between Ramit and Layman and the prospect
|
|
of the long remainder of the walk did not improve Sylk's mood.
|
|
"We have a pretty good idea now what the layout is of that
|
|
warehouse," Kittara said.
|
|
"That is something I neither need to know nor want to know," Sylk
|
|
said. "If that's the best you can do, I rest --"
|
|
"Sh!" Kittara ordered. "I hear a brawl."
|
|
"Not our problem," Sylk reminded her.
|
|
"You're not even curious?"
|
|
"No."
|
|
"Then buy your own beer." Kittara ran lightly forward and
|
|
disappeared into an alley. "Now, now, what's all this then?" Sylk heard
|
|
her shout in her most officious manner. This was followed by "Hey, what
|
|
the hell?" in a surprised but more usual tone. "Sylk!" she shouted.
|
|
Sylk grumbled to himself but sprang forward. As he did, a figure
|
|
emerged from the alley, paused an instant to absorb the sight of the
|
|
approaching Sylk, then shot off in the other direction. Though tempted
|
|
to give chase, Sylk decided first to check on Kittara. He ran into the
|
|
alley.
|
|
"Are you all right?" he asked.
|
|
"Of course not!" Kittara shouted, already getting to her feet.
|
|
"I've just had that jerk run right through me. Nobody pushes me out of
|
|
the way like that! Nobody! Now, come on! Let's get him!"
|
|
"Why?" Sylk asked.
|
|
"Why?" she repeated. "Because he was fighting with this other guy
|
|
and when I made like I was the Watch, they both cut and ran. That's
|
|
*got* to be interesting."
|
|
"Maybe," Sylk admitted. "Where'd the other one go?"
|
|
"Other end of the alley. Why? What do you care about him?"
|
|
"He could probably tell us as much as the one who flattened you."
|
|
"Yeah, but he isn't the one who knocked me down."
|
|
Sylk took a moment to recall and admire his mental picture of what
|
|
Kittara looked like and how physically fit she was. "I know," he told
|
|
her, before running down the alley after the less obviously dangerous
|
|
fighter.
|
|
"Coward," Kittara muttered, going after the real prize.
|
|
|
|
========================================================================
|
|
|
|
Friendships of Stone
|
|
Part 1: Matthew & Ben
|
|
by Mark A. Murray
|
|
<mmurray@weir.net>
|
|
Dargon, Naia 5, 1015
|
|
|
|
Silence pervaded the alley until two boys entered it. The boys
|
|
chatted constantly as they walked to the end of the alley and turned
|
|
left onto Thockmarr. The echoes of their conversation softly faded away
|
|
as they continued walking to the marketplace.
|
|
"I'm glad William let us go early," Matthew, the taller boy said.
|
|
"Even if the day's mostly gone."
|
|
"Yeah," Ben replied. "The barkeep's a grump. He'd have us cleaning
|
|
the inn all night."
|
|
"Did you see his face when William told him we didn't have to work
|
|
tomorrow? Or for the rest of the week? I thought his face was going to
|
|
burn up as red as it got," Matthew said, laughing.
|
|
"And when he started to say something back, he stuttered and spit
|
|
on William," Ben laughed. "I thought William was going to get rid of him
|
|
right there."
|
|
"I never saw David apologize so much."
|
|
"You know," Ben said, "that he's going to take it out on us really
|
|
hard when we go back to work."
|
|
"I know. But we have the rest of the week to forget about it,"
|
|
Matthew replied as the two turned right onto the Street of Travellers.
|
|
"I wonder what's new in the marketplace?"
|
|
"I don't know, but that group of men in the inn kept talking about
|
|
a lot of the stalls being used. I tried to listen to their conversation
|
|
as I was gathering up dishes, but it was too loud most of the time."
|
|
"At least you got to go out into the main room," Matthew said,
|
|
frowning.
|
|
"I had to wash dishes all day. And when I wasn't doing that, I had
|
|
to clean the kitchen floor and walls. *And* take the garbage out away
|
|
from the inn. It stunk and was drawing lots of flies and bugs. Skarlin
|
|
was cooking when he got a whiff of the garbage outside the back door. He
|
|
told me to quit cleaning and take the garbage far away from there."
|
|
"I wondered why you smelled so bad, but I was too busy to ask. When
|
|
I came back in the kitchen you were gone again. And the next time I saw
|
|
you, you didn't stink anymore."
|
|
"I know," Matthew laughed. "Skarlin told me I smelled as bad as the
|
|
garbage after I was done moving it. He told me to go and get the smell
|
|
off of me, and he said he didn't care if I jumped in the Coldwell to do
|
|
it."
|
|
"We're getting close," Ben said, changing the subject. "I can see
|
|
some of the stalls from here."
|
|
"I see them, too," Matthew said. "Look, see that stall that's
|
|
broken in half? The one next to it is where mom used to buy bread. The
|
|
vendor's not there now. I don't know what happened to him."
|
|
"How do you know that's where he was?" Ben asked. "And how do you
|
|
know he isn't on the other side of the marketplace now? Vendors change
|
|
stalls all the time."
|
|
"He never did," Matthew replied. "He was always there when mom took
|
|
me with her to the marketplace."
|
|
"Oh. Well, if there are new stall holders here, where do we start
|
|
looking first?" Ben asked.
|
|
"I guess we just roam around and look. I don't want to look at
|
|
anything with food. I've seen enough of that for today."
|
|
"They might have sweets," Ben suggested. "That'd be worth looking
|
|
at."
|
|
"I guess."
|
|
"Look," Ben said, pointing. "That's new." Matthew looked to where
|
|
Ben pointed and saw a booth displaying rugs. They walked over to get a
|
|
closer look. It was one of the outlying booths and not many people were
|
|
around it.
|
|
"Don't touch them," warned the merchant. "Keep your dirty hands
|
|
away from my rugs."
|
|
"We weren't gonna touch them," Ben said. "We just wanted to get a
|
|
better look. Besides, my hands are clean." He held up his hands, palm
|
|
up, to show the man.
|
|
"I don't care how clean your hands are. Don't touch my rugs. Some
|
|
of these rugs are delicate and can be ruined by a hand print."
|
|
"What's the use of having a rug like that?" Matthew asked. "You
|
|
couldn't put it on the floor."
|
|
"The *floor*?" the merchant repeated in a high voice. "You don't
|
|
put my rugs on the *floor*!"
|
|
"Why not?" Ben asked. "What else do you use a rug for?"
|
|
"Go away!" he shouted as he pointed away from his booth.
|
|
"Come on, Ben, let's find something more interesting. Who cares
|
|
about useless rugs, anyway?" As they turned to leave, they heard him
|
|
curse and ramble on about kids, respect, and his rugs.
|
|
"I hope the rest of the new stall holders aren't like that one,"
|
|
Ben said. "And there aren't that many people here. I expected to have to
|
|
push our way through crowds the way those men talked. There's lots more
|
|
people in the summer when the farmers bring crops in to sell."
|
|
As the two walked from the outlying scattered stalls of the
|
|
marketplace to the more closely grouped central stalls, the amount of
|
|
people increased.
|
|
The whole marketplace covered several streets and alleys when it
|
|
was full, but now, in early spring, only the inner area seemed
|
|
populated.
|
|
"Look," Matthew said, pointing. "There's Corambis' booth. We could
|
|
get him to tell us about our future. What we'll be when we grow up."
|
|
"Do you really believe he can do that? I mean, that he can tell
|
|
people's futures?"
|
|
"I don't know, Ben," Matthew answered, stopping to stare at
|
|
Corambis' booth. "But lots of people go to him. Look at it now, there's
|
|
people waiting outside his booth for their turn."
|
|
"Yeah. I guess he knows what he's doing or he's good at foolin'
|
|
people.
|
|
Now, come on," Ben said, tugging on Matthew's arm. "I don't want to
|
|
stand here all day. There's got to be more new merchants here than just
|
|
that rug man!" Ben pulled Matthew a few steps before Matthew turned and
|
|
walked on his own beside his friend.
|
|
"Okay, I'm coming. We've been through the marketplace lots of
|
|
times. I doubt we'll find many more new -- Hey, what's that?"
|
|
"Where?" Ben asked.
|
|
"What's that in front of the small tent?" Matthew pointed towards a
|
|
small tent down the street. The tent stood next to several empty stalls.
|
|
"I don't see what you're pointing at," Ben told him.
|
|
"That one," Matthew said, walking toward the tent. "There's
|
|
something in front of the tent. It looks like animals."
|
|
"I see it," Ben replied. "One of them looks like a cat. I don't
|
|
know what the other one is." As the boys got closer, they noticed that
|
|
the two animals they saw never moved.
|
|
"They don't look right," Matthew said as they neared the tent.
|
|
"They're stone!"
|
|
"They looked like real animals from back there. You sure they're
|
|
stone?" Both boys were in front of the tent. There were two small tree
|
|
stumps placed in front of the tent, one on each side of the opening.
|
|
Upon each stump was a stone sculpture. Matthew reached out and felt the
|
|
cat figurine.
|
|
"They're stone. But they look real. Like something turned a real
|
|
cat into stone."
|
|
"You don't suppose that's what happened, do you?" Ben asked. "And
|
|
what's the other one supposed to be?"
|
|
"It's a shivaree," a female voice said from inside the tent. "A
|
|
smaller version of one," the young woman said, stepping out of the tent.
|
|
Her hair was long and black, and she had dark eyes to match her hair.
|
|
She smiled as she looked at Matthew, whose hand was still resting on the
|
|
stone cat.
|
|
"I didn't mean to touch it," Matthew said, pulling his hand away
|
|
quickly.
|
|
"It's alright," she said. "They are stone. You would have a hard
|
|
time breaking them. My name is Sharin, and I sculpted those."
|
|
"You made them?" Ben asked, eyes wide. "How'd you get them to look
|
|
so real?"
|
|
"That's my secret," she replied. "If I told everyone that, then I
|
|
wouldn't be the only one to make them this real. I have others inside.
|
|
Would you like to look at them?"
|
|
"What kinds?" Ben asked.
|
|
"I have some of people and some of animals. Come inside and see
|
|
them," she said opening the tent flap. Ben looked at Matthew, who
|
|
shrugged and went inside. Ben followed him in. Two lamps lit the inside
|
|
of the tent to show two rows of stone figures on the ground on the left
|
|
side. On the right side was a table with various rocks and stone blocks
|
|
upon it. A hammer and several chisels were on a smaller table in the
|
|
back and were next to an unfinished figurine.
|
|
"See, Matthew," Ben said, "I told you there would be new people
|
|
with interesting things to sell."
|
|
"New?" Sharin asked. "I'm not new."
|
|
"Not new? How long have you been here?" Matthew asked her. "I don't
|
|
remember seeing you before."
|
|
"I've been in Dargon for a few years now," she explained.
|
|
"Although, I only started selling my sculptures about a month ago."
|
|
"These look almost real," Ben said as he studied the figurines on
|
|
the ground. Most of them were of animals in varying poses, while a few
|
|
were busts of people. "I don't recognize any of these," he said,
|
|
pointing to the busts.
|
|
"I had some nobles come here to have a likeness made of them in
|
|
stone. The ones you see there are the ones that have not been picked up,
|
|
yet. I only do them when asked, because it takes a lot of effort and
|
|
time to do them. And I don't get paid for them until they've been picked
|
|
up."
|
|
"Have you ever sculpted a dragon?" Matthew asked.
|
|
"A dragon? No, I have never made a dragon. I don't even know what a
|
|
dragon looks like. There to your right," she said to Ben, "is another
|
|
shivaree. And three from that is a wolf. I have seen both of those here
|
|
in Dargon."
|
|
"You only sculpt what you see?" Ben asked.
|
|
"Mostly. I can sculpt what I have not seen, but it usually does not
|
|
look as life-like."
|
|
"How much does one of these cost?" Ben asked.
|
|
"The smaller ones, I sell for 10 Scrod. The larger ones can go up
|
|
to two Sterling."
|
|
"We don't have enough, Ben," Matthew said.
|
|
"Enough for what?" Sharin asked.
|
|
"For a dragon figurine," Ben answered. "But you don't even know
|
|
what one looks like, so it doesn't matter."
|
|
"Do you know what one looks like?" she asked. "If you could
|
|
describe it well enough, I could sculpt it."
|
|
"But we don't have enough money," Matthew stated.
|
|
"Would you work for it?"
|
|
"Work? What could we do?" Ben asked, his eyes lighting up with the
|
|
idea.
|
|
"I could sculpt the dragon for you, and you could take it
|
|
throughout the marketplace and tell people about me. You could show
|
|
everyone you see the dragon and tell them about what I do."
|
|
"How long?" Matthew asked, shrewdly.
|
|
"Say four days? Since this is near the end of the day, and it will
|
|
take me some time to sculpt it, you could work for four days -- starting
|
|
tomorrow."
|
|
"Done," Ben replied, looking at Matthew. Matthew looked at his
|
|
friend and saw the glint of hope and expectation in his eyes.
|
|
"Done," Matthew said, turning to look at Sharin. "But please make
|
|
it look as real as you can."
|
|
"I do my best always. Now let me get a sketch of this dragon. What
|
|
does it look like?"
|
|
"It's got scales all over its body," Ben told her. "And a
|
|
triangular head with big round eyes. Two horns above its eyes that curve
|
|
back behind its head. When it opens its mouth, there are rows and rows
|
|
of sharp teeth and --"
|
|
"Wait, wait!" Sharin pleaded. "I can't draw that fast, and I need
|
|
to get the details down before I start on sculpting it."
|
|
Ben slowed down on his description as Sharin sketched the dragon on
|
|
a piece of slate. Matthew added his thoughts on what a dragon looked
|
|
like, and when Sharin was done, they looked at the drawing. Ben wrinkled
|
|
his nose and shook his head. He pointed and made more suggestions on
|
|
what a dragon *really* looked like.
|
|
Sharin smiled and made the changes. Matthew stood watching, while
|
|
Sharin drew another sketch of the dragon. This time she got it close
|
|
enough that Ben was happy. She looked at Matthew, and he smiled and
|
|
nodded his assent.
|
|
"Now that I have the drawing, you'll have to go," she told them. "I
|
|
don't let anyone watch me when I sculpt. It's a family secret that has
|
|
been passed down from generation to generation." She ushered them out
|
|
amidst pleas of wanting to stay. "Come back in a bell or so," she said
|
|
as she closed and tied the tent opening.
|
|
|
|
"A bell?" Ben cried. "What are we going to do for a whole bell?"
|
|
"Whatever you want," came the answer from within the tent.
|
|
"I want to watch you," Ben said, but there was no reply.
|
|
"Come on, Ben," Matthew said, pulling his friend away from the tent
|
|
by his arm. "We'll go look for some more new stalls. And I'm hungry."
|
|
"Okay. Let's eat first. I'm hungry, too." The two boys wandered the
|
|
marketplace looking for something to eat. They found some dried, spiced
|
|
meat that they bought and ate. When the fire started burning their
|
|
mouths, they bought a mug of cider. Unfortunately, it didn't help, and
|
|
the two tried to fan their open mouths with their hands, all the while
|
|
gasping for air.
|
|
"Hot, yes?" The vendor asked, smiling. "I warned you it would be!
|
|
Do you believe me now?" They nodded their heads emphatically as the
|
|
continued to fan their mouths. "Too hot, yes?" Again they nodded. "Here,
|
|
then," the vendor replied, filling two mugs with an off-white liquid.
|
|
"It's milk, drink!"
|
|
Matthew and Ben drained the mugs in one long drink. The milk cooled
|
|
the fire in their mouth, but did not get rid of it entirely.
|
|
"I normally charge for the milk, but, ah, you two reminded me of
|
|
when I first ate the spiced meat," the vendor told them, grinning.
|
|
"There was lots of hollering that day."
|
|
"That was hot!" Ben said.
|
|
"Hot? Huh, you don't know hot until you try Simon's sun-sweet
|
|
stew," the vendor replied. "That is hot. Don't know anyone who's
|
|
finished a bowl of it. Makes that meat you ate taste like water, it
|
|
does."
|
|
"Why make something so hot you can't eat it?" Matthew asked.
|
|
"Why? People want it. They buy it. I don't ask why they want it --
|
|
don't know, don't care. They want it, and I sell it," the vendor
|
|
answered.
|
|
"Yeah, but if you knew why they wanted it, couldn't you give them
|
|
more of what they really want?" Matthew asked. The vendor looked at
|
|
Matthew in a quizzical fashion. Moments later, he smiled.
|
|
"You mean if I knew why they wanted spicy, I could give the right
|
|
kind of spicy. Many more people would buy, yes?" he asked Matthew.
|
|
Matthew nodded. "Huh, if that were possible ... I'd be a rich man. You
|
|
find that answer, tell me. I'll share the profits."
|
|
"Has it been a bell, yet?" Ben asked.
|
|
"No," Matthew replied. "I don't think so. But we can go check,
|
|
anyway." The two thanked the vendor for the milk and left. They walked
|
|
back to Sharin's tent, but the flap was still closed.
|
|
"She's going to take a whole fortnight to make it," Ben whined.
|
|
"Ben! The next bell hasn't even sounded. Give her time. You want it
|
|
to look real, don't you?"
|
|
"Yes."
|
|
"Well, you don't think she can just take a stone and mold it to a
|
|
dragon in her hands, do you?"
|
|
"No."
|
|
"You saw the hammers and chisels on her bench. Give her some time
|
|
to make it."
|
|
"I wish she could just mold it out of stone. It wouldn't take so
|
|
long, then," Ben sighed. "Let's go see if we can find anything else
|
|
that's new."
|
|
The two of them turned away from Sharin's tent and once more walked
|
|
through the marketplace.
|
|
|
|
A bell echoed loudly through the marketplace. Ben stopped walking
|
|
suddenly and turned towards Sharin's tent. "Let's go," he told Matthew
|
|
impatiently.
|
|
"I'm right behind you," Matthew said, turning. The two hurried
|
|
through the marketplace, and when they came into sight of Sharin's tent,
|
|
they saw that one flap was blowing open by a small breeze. Ben broke
|
|
into a run, and Matthew had to run to keep up with him. Ben came to a
|
|
halt as he heard voices inside the tent, and Matthew almost ran into him
|
|
before he could stop.
|
|
"What are --" Matthew started to say.
|
|
"Shhhh," Ben said. "Someone's in the tent with her. And he sounds
|
|
mad."
|
|
"... is wrong with you?" they heard a man inside the tent ask. "You
|
|
could have nice clothes, better tools, and a real place to work -- not
|
|
this pieced together tent."
|
|
"I like working on my own," Sharin replied. "I don't need anyone's
|
|
help."
|
|
"J'Mirg's bones, girl! I'm offering you a life of luxury."
|
|
"I don't want your life of luxury!"
|
|
"I need your sculptures. My business is not doing well, but with
|
|
your sculptures and my customers, we could make a fortune. We would be
|
|
helping each other."
|
|
"No," Sharin replied.
|
|
"I could make life very unpleasant for you," the man threatened.
|
|
"Even cause you to go out of business."
|
|
"Get out," Sharin said, her voice slightly higher than normal. "Get
|
|
out now!"
|
|
"I ask you again. Will you work for me?"
|
|
"No, I will never work for you!"
|
|
"You will!" the man said, loudly. "You will work for me one way or
|
|
another!" The man stormed out of the tent and came face to face with
|
|
Matthew and Ben. He didn't slow his pace as he told them to get out of
|
|
his way. The boys quickly moved aside, and the man went his way.
|
|
"Kind of mad, wasn't he," Ben stated, matter-of-factly. Sounds of
|
|
crying could be heard from inside the tent. Matthew was the first inside
|
|
the tent, closely followed by Ben. Sharin was leaning against her
|
|
workbench with her face buried in her hands, tears leaking out from
|
|
around her hands.
|
|
|
|
========================================================================
|
|
|
|
Pudlong and the Beanstalk
|
|
Part II
|
|
by Jim Owens
|
|
<gym@ncweb.com>
|
|
Late Spring, 1016
|
|
|
|
It was a late afternoon when Levy and his family arrived at the
|
|
keep. Lord Farley, the local landowner, welcomed them, and squinted
|
|
carefully at Clifton Dargon's letter of recommendation. The names and
|
|
titles meant little this far south, but the gold in the seal spoke
|
|
volumes. Farley allowed Levy's band to spend the night, then released
|
|
them in the morning with permission to go and study the great beanstalk.
|
|
It wasn't even a day's journey to Pudlong's small farm. Their
|
|
arrival found Pudlong and Thully busily at work in their field. Pudlong
|
|
hurried over and bowed subserviently when Levy and his entourage
|
|
arrived; no doubt the presence of the lord's captain helped. The captain
|
|
left after it was clear that nothing untoward was going to happen. By
|
|
this time Pudlong was busy recounting the tale of how the beanstalk had
|
|
come to be. Levy listened, fascinated, and Bren took copious notes.
|
|
"Do you fertilize it or anything?" Levy asked, shielding his eyes
|
|
with his hand as he stared up into the verdant heights.
|
|
"No, lord," Pudlong replied, following a step behind as Levy and
|
|
Bren slowly walked around the trunk of the amazing sight. "It all just
|
|
grew. I rekkin' it's all due to that wizard, what put 'is spell on me
|
|
land."
|
|
"Wizard?" Bren asked, his hand unconsciously slipping a little
|
|
closer to the hilt of his sword.
|
|
"Yes, it was a wizard what stowed a treasure hereabouts somewhere,
|
|
no one knows where," Pudlong's eyes grew big and his hands animated as
|
|
he lapsed back into storytelling mode. "An' to guard it, 'e put a spell
|
|
on it, a spell that makes anyone what comes close to the treasure," he
|
|
straightened up and waved a hand at the ground the beanstalk grew from,
|
|
"to pop up here, in my bean field."
|
|
Levy and Bren stared at him, then glanced at each other, then back
|
|
at Pudlong. There was a moment of quiet.
|
|
"Okay," Levy said. They stood a moment longer, then Levy again
|
|
looked up into the leaves above.
|
|
"I'd like to stay a while and study your beanstalk. Lord Farley has
|
|
said I may. My family and I will sleep in our wagon. Is this alright?"
|
|
"Oh, yes, m'lord." Pudlong nodded vigorously, ducking his shoulders
|
|
in a slight bow.
|
|
"And we'll need some food. I can pay for what we eat."
|
|
"Oh, that'll be fine, m'lord." Pudlong continued nodding.
|
|
Levy glanced at the peasant, a quizzical look on his face.
|
|
"I don't want to be a burden to you. I and my family can help out
|
|
here, while we're staying with you."
|
|
"Yes, yes, that'll be quite nice," Pudlong continued, his head
|
|
still bobbing up and down, his hands clasped.
|
|
"We shouldn't really be a problem to you," Levy explained,
|
|
carefully watching the man's expression.
|
|
"Oh, no trouble, no trouble," Pudlong replied, smiling. "Any guest
|
|
of m'lord's is a guest of mine. Most happy to help you, m'lord. Anything
|
|
you want, just ask me or the missus."
|
|
"Yes, fine," Levy replied, almost softly. "If we need anything,
|
|
I'll call. You may go back to work now."
|
|
"Yes, thank you, m'lord." Pudlong nodded and bowed, turning and
|
|
walking back to where Sarah and the children were clustered around
|
|
Thully. Levy watched him as he departed. When Bren started to follow the
|
|
farmer, Levy seized the former herald by his cloak.
|
|
"Bren." Levy ignored the sharp glance of indignation the younger
|
|
man threw at the intrusive clutch. "We must be careful that our stay
|
|
does not harm the farmer in any way."
|
|
"I have no intention of harming the old sod," Bren replied,
|
|
twitching the cloth from Levy's hand. His eyes were cold.
|
|
"This is a peasant. One needn't intend harm to cause it." Bren's
|
|
uncomprehending stare made Levy continue. "These two will float a
|
|
boulder to make sure we're happy and well cared for -- they'll see that
|
|
as their lord's will," Levy gestured over his shoulder toward the
|
|
distant keep. "They'll work night and day to serve us, neglecting their
|
|
crops, their house, everything. But their lord could care less if their
|
|
crops wither, or that their winter's wood doesn't get cut, something
|
|
that will happen if we allow them to spend all their time on us."
|
|
"They're peasants," Bren shrugged. "Peasants survive."
|
|
"And you're my hired sword," Levy's voice grew quiet, "and you'll
|
|
do as I say."
|
|
Bren stared at Levy for a moment, then nodded curtly and walked
|
|
off. Levy watched him a moment, then followed him, thoughts about the
|
|
current situation churning in his head. Levy had been born free, a
|
|
member of the Barel clan. The Barel's were originally from the South,
|
|
but had moved north when one of their number had been granted a title by
|
|
the Duke of Dargon. They had not brought many of their southern ways
|
|
with them to the colder north. Each man was now considered to be born
|
|
free.
|
|
Levy had not considered himself wealthy or special growing up, but
|
|
in his travels he had come to realize that not all men were free.
|
|
Indeed, most people were mere property, owned by their lord and used as
|
|
any other cattle would be. To Levy this seemed strange, but he had grown
|
|
accustomed to it. There was little else he could do. But what he could
|
|
do, that he would.
|
|
|
|
The novice lay on a large rock in the middle of the stream, eyes
|
|
closed, as the sun warmed his skin. The sound of the master's chanting
|
|
and splashing was soothing, calling him to sleep. He sighed happily,
|
|
stretching. No need to draw water for the morning bath; the stream
|
|
provided that in the form of a deep pool, filled to overflowing with the
|
|
summer's warm rain. With no supplicants begging for blessings there was
|
|
no need to don ceremonial robes, or any clothing at all, for that
|
|
matter. In fact, there was no need for anything but to lay here and rest
|
|
and soak up the sun.
|
|
When the master climbed out of the pool, water streaming from the
|
|
hair matting his thin chest, the novice rolled off the stone and took
|
|
his place in the soothing embrace of the stream. For long moments he
|
|
just floated underwater, listening to the song that roared in his ears.
|
|
He then planted his feet on the sandy bottom and flung himself into the
|
|
air, a fountain erupting around him. He landed back in the water and
|
|
just wallowed there a moment longer, until the master's voice summoned
|
|
him. But even that wasn't enough to draw the slight smile from his face.
|
|
They rode all day, as usual, trading for fresh horses at the royal
|
|
stables halfway through the morning and halfway through the afternoon.
|
|
The novice sneered at the lavish expense. After the war the price of
|
|
horses had risen hellishly. The amount of coin the pair had spent on
|
|
fresh horses thus far could have bought several largish villages. It was
|
|
not a new thing, however, for the novice to see such profligate waste at
|
|
the hands of the masters. They were quite willing to expend great effort
|
|
to achieve their goals, especially if they themselves did not have to
|
|
make that effort.
|
|
How many novices had died in foolish strivings over the years, the
|
|
novice wondered to himself? Just last month two had died trying to
|
|
capture a piece of lightning for some particular incantation. And what
|
|
of that young novice lowered into that cave for bat dung? No one saw her
|
|
again. Then there were the supplicants. How many poor peasants had
|
|
poured their meager wealth into the greedy hands of the masters in
|
|
exchange for cures that were easily procured, if one only knew where to
|
|
go, and for blessings that were nothing more than words and gestures
|
|
granted the ignorant? The novice began to burn inside as he thought
|
|
about the great, heavy inequalities he had seen in his brief life inside
|
|
the sanctuary. It had housed him, but it was no home.
|
|
The only image he had of his parents were of huddling forms,
|
|
pushing him along a dark path in the rain, the walls of the sanctuary
|
|
looming ahead. He had learned later that he, as most of the novices, had
|
|
been payment for a cure for an older sibling who had been dying of the
|
|
cough. This knowledge came from the sanctuary's ledgers, It didn't say
|
|
whether the older child had lived or died, or even what the novice's
|
|
name was. Not that it mattered -- the master only referred to him as
|
|
'boy', and the other novices didn't get much chance to talk among
|
|
themselves. Only the raven-haired novice ever referred to him by a name
|
|
-- she merely called him 'Yellow', as his hair color was an unusual
|
|
blond.
|
|
They were drawing near to the target of their journey. They knew
|
|
now that the fabulous plant grew in a northern province of Mandraka, on
|
|
the land of minor lord named Farley. The master had a parchment that
|
|
described the land, and even mentioned Farley, though not in great
|
|
detail. The master was careful to listen to any rumor and gossip
|
|
regarding Farley, and had instructed the novice to do so as well. No one
|
|
seemed terribly anxious to speak to the young servant, however, and he
|
|
had gleaned little.
|
|
|
|
Bren stood on one of the leaves of the beanstalk, several hundred
|
|
handbreadths above the ground. Pudlong at first had been very anxious
|
|
about anyone climbing the beanstalk, relating horrid tales of giants
|
|
flinging careless adventurers to their ill-timed deaths, but Bren had
|
|
insisted that he only wanted a better vantage point from which to scan
|
|
the countryside. That had been several days ago. When no ill-effects
|
|
came from the climb, Bren repeated it every day, and had actually
|
|
established a small lookout in the leaves of the plant.
|
|
Levy had also climbed the stalk, with Eli, his eldest. They had
|
|
been fascinated by small things, such as the shape and size of various
|
|
leaves, the size and type of the insects found on the stem, and other,
|
|
mundane things. One of those largish bugs now crawled toward Bren. It
|
|
was the length of his boot, but not very bright, and quite sluggish. He
|
|
kicked it off the leaf and watched it tumble to the ground. He directed
|
|
his gaze upward at a cluster of mammoth beans that hung like fat swords
|
|
over his head. Levy had drawn black lines in ink on the fruit, to chart
|
|
how they grew. Bren cared little for such things, but it was interesting
|
|
to watch the lines draw further and further apart. He was not up today
|
|
to watch beans grow, however.
|
|
Bren turned his gaze outward, scanning the land. This was not his
|
|
home territory, but it was very near it. Seaport was only a hard
|
|
three-day ride away. The plants and landscape were frustratingly
|
|
familiar. He remembered the feel and flavor of home, and this was so
|
|
like it that it burned not to be able to actually return home. But his
|
|
duties here prevented that. He had been hired to protect Levy and his
|
|
family. Besides that, the order for his exile was surely still in force.
|
|
Even as he was busy keeping watch, planning escape routes, and noting
|
|
strong points in the land, his black despair still threatened to engulf
|
|
him. With an effort, he pushed it down. His home was in Dargon, now, and
|
|
nowhere else.
|
|
His gaze dropped to Levy and the others, out in the field. He shook
|
|
his head in bewilderment. Levy and Sarah were born free, of noble blood.
|
|
Yet there they were, working and talking side by side with these
|
|
peasants. Their children played in the dirt, like a litter of dogs,
|
|
while they themselves grubbed in the ground like chattel. If Bren had
|
|
not given his word to Bartol to protect them, he might have walked away
|
|
in confusion and disgust. If those of noble blood did not behave as
|
|
their stations demanded, it would give the lower classes ideas beyond
|
|
*their* stations.
|
|
Even more disturbing was Levy's insistence that Pudlong and Thully
|
|
be treated as if they too were free. This worried Bren. Bren doubted
|
|
that Lord Farley had a soft heart or head to go along with his soft
|
|
belly. Peasant uprisings were few precisely because they were so
|
|
ruthlessly put down. Bren hoped that Levy would have the sense not to
|
|
put all their necks in jeopardy for some strange principle.
|
|
As Bren brooded he continued his vigil, hopping from leaf to leaf
|
|
in order to see around the massive trunk. As he did a dark clot on the
|
|
distant road caught his eye. He studied it. There appeared to be a group
|
|
of people approaching from the keep. He narrowed his eyes to see more
|
|
clearly. As they approached the cluster resolved into the Lord and some
|
|
other men riding on horses. Bren leaned over the side of his perch and
|
|
yelled down to Levy and the others.
|
|
"Levy!!" An upturned face looked in Bren's direction. "Someone's
|
|
coming!"
|
|
Levy stood up and walked to the road. After peering down the
|
|
highway for a long moment he returned to where his wife and the others
|
|
were working. He paused to snatch up his clothes, having stripped for
|
|
work like the others, then proceeded to climb up the stalk to join Bren.
|
|
They watched the approaching group.
|
|
"You may wish to have your wife and children move away from the
|
|
road," Bren cautioned. Levy nodded, and after another long look, moved
|
|
down the trunk. Bren studied the approaching group. He could now count
|
|
four people on horseback, with six troops on foot. By Bren's
|
|
calculations it was either a small raiding party or the newcomer was a
|
|
dignitary of sorts. He glanced down to see Sarah and the children moving
|
|
across the field to where a shallow in the land led to the distant
|
|
trees. He watched until they reached the hollow and turned, using it as
|
|
concealment from the road. Levy was climbing back up.
|
|
"I'll stay here and stay hidden for now," Bren cautioned Levy.
|
|
"This might be a state visit, but it never hurts to have a hidden
|
|
dagger."
|
|
Levy merely nodded and watched the newcomers draw closer. Finally
|
|
he started down. Bren saw him conference for a moment with Pudlong on
|
|
the ground, then Bren had to move to a different leaf to keep the trunk
|
|
between himself and the approaching party.
|
|
"Greetings, Pudlong," Bren heard as the group stopped at the small
|
|
hut.
|
|
"G'day, m'lord," came the dutiful reply.
|
|
"Good day, Lord Farley," came Levy's reply.
|
|
"I have brought a new guest, who also wishes to study the great
|
|
beanstalk." Bren hugged the trunk a little tighter, envisioning Farley
|
|
looking up at the plant as he talked. "This is the great wizard
|
|
Mon-Haddar. He has traveled far to see our great sight, and wishes to
|
|
learn from it, just as you do, Levy Barel."
|
|
A different voice spoke now, at once both resonant and feeble. "I
|
|
had heard of your great wonder, Lord Farley, and had come to pay homage
|
|
to it and you," Bren could not hear the lie in the man's voice, but he
|
|
knew it was there, "but the legends do not keep pace with the reality.
|
|
With your forbearance, we will stay here a while."
|
|
"By all means, Mon-Haddar. All I have is at your disposal."
|
|
Farley's voice grew quieter, more conspiratorial. "And perhaps later we
|
|
will speak of this fabled treasure that is reported to be hidden
|
|
hereabouts."
|
|
"Indeed, indeed." Now Bren knew the snake was hissing. Mon-Haddar,
|
|
if that was his real name, was not here to help Farley. Life had just
|
|
gotten more interesting.
|
|
|
|
Later that night, Bren and Levy sat by the fire, looking at the hut
|
|
where Mon-Haddar could be seen chanting and gesticulating by the light
|
|
of a lard candle. Behind them, in the wagon, Sarah and Eli snored
|
|
contentedly, while to their left Thully made similar sounds as she lay
|
|
beside Pudlong. The two men sat silent, watching. A sound in the dark
|
|
caught their attention. Bren's hand moved to the hilt of his sword,
|
|
relaxing only when the novice came into view, carrying a load of
|
|
branches on his back. He set them down beside the fire with a loud and
|
|
theatrical gasp. Levy and Bren both looked at each other, unimpressed.
|
|
"My master has instructed me to build a fire in the hut for him
|
|
tonight, so he might do some scrivening," he hesitated, "and to stay
|
|
warm, of course." Levy glanced quickly at Bren. It had been blisteringly
|
|
hot that afternoon, and the heat would last until morning. They said
|
|
nothing as the youngster continued. "I wonder if I might have some coals
|
|
to start it with."
|
|
After a moment Levy nodded. "Of course. Take your wood inside. I'll
|
|
get a potsherd to carry the coals in." The novice nodded and re-hefted
|
|
his load, while Levy levered himself up and stepped over to the wagon.
|
|
He returned a moment later with the potsherd and stooped by the fire.
|
|
"Why should we care if the old man is scrivening?" Bren asked
|
|
dourly.
|
|
"I don't suppose it's any business of ours," Levy replied
|
|
carefully. As he straightened, he and Bren exchanged a meaningful
|
|
glance, then Levy slowly carried the coals to the hut.
|
|
The wizard had completely taken over the small hut. The couple's
|
|
meager possessions were shoved to one side, and the master's own gear
|
|
piled in its place. When Levy arrived the novice was piling the wood in
|
|
the crude fireplace.
|
|
" ... down to the stream for my evening ablutions. Do not talk ...
|
|
" The man stopped as Levy appeared, cradling the embers carefully. The
|
|
wizard scowled at him, then continued roughly. "Do not talk to anyone or
|
|
rest until you have everything unpacked and my food set out." He
|
|
glowered at Levy as he finished. "I will return shortly."
|
|
Levy stepped aside and allowed him to pass, then carefully poured
|
|
the coals on the pile of tinder the young novice had prepared. While the
|
|
boy blew on the smoking sticks and shavings, Levy glanced about the
|
|
room. Several parchments lay on the small table. The script was ancient,
|
|
but Levy, trained by several scribes over the years, was able to read
|
|
it.
|
|
"So, where have you come from?" Levy asked the young man casually.
|
|
The novice started to look up, but instead leaned closer to the
|
|
fire. "My master has told me not to speak to you until I have finished."
|
|
"Ah, yes. Right." Levy studied the papers a moment longer, then,
|
|
when the boy started to get up, he scooped all the papers off the table.
|
|
"Here, let me help you clear the table for your master's food."
|
|
"Thank you," the boy replied gratefully. He stepped outside. Levy
|
|
quickly scanned the pages, then set them on the small cot when the boy
|
|
returned with a sack of food and dishes. Levy helped set the table,
|
|
helped set the small stew pot on the fire, and then helped unpack, all
|
|
the time sneaking glances at the pages that lay on the bed, until the
|
|
boy gathered them up as well and set them carefully on the table beside
|
|
the waiting bowl.
|
|
"Well, when you're finished, why don't you come out and chat with
|
|
us for a moment before sleep?" Levy invited, sidling toward the door.
|
|
"Thank you, I will," the boy replied, stirring the stew. Levy left,
|
|
returning to the fire.
|
|
"Well?" Bren asked as Levy returned. Pudlong was sitting beside
|
|
him, rubbing his legs. Levy sat down beside them and began speaking in a
|
|
low voice.
|
|
"It seems that this beanstalk of ours is not a new idea," Levy
|
|
began. "That wizard has an old parchment that discusses the legend of a
|
|
giant beanstalk that would spring up in the South, and of what to do if
|
|
it appears."
|
|
"What to do?" Both Pudlong and Bren cast uneasy glances at the
|
|
ebony bulk that loomed over them, blocking the stars from view.
|
|
"It seems that the legend states that the beanstalk is a
|
|
repository, a storage place for great magical power. With the right
|
|
magics, the beanstalk can be induced to yield some of that power, so
|
|
that whoever receives that power can direct it at his will, to do
|
|
specifically what he wants."
|
|
Bren uttered an oath and spat. "And so Mon-Haddar is here to
|
|
extract that power for himself. Just what we need, one more bastard
|
|
throwing his weight around, telling us to do this and do that, building
|
|
up a following of hangers-on who leech off the hard work of others." He
|
|
scowled at Levy, almost as if Levy were to blame.
|
|
"There's a catch, though," Levy continued. "The power comes in the
|
|
form of a talisman, an object of some sort. Whoever holds it wields the
|
|
power. The parchment was very insistent that you have to be ready to
|
|
grab it as soon as it appears."
|
|
"What does it look like?" urged Bren.
|
|
Levy shrugged. "Unfortunately, it didn't say, just that you need to
|
|
be ready for it when it appears. Also, there is some sort of guardian,
|
|
watching over the beanstalk. We need to keep an eye open for him, too."
|
|
As he said this the wind kicked up. The leaves above rustled
|
|
loudly, and there came a loud snap. Just off to the left, between where
|
|
the men sat and Thully slept, a giant bean came crashing to the ground,
|
|
splitting open and tossing squash-sized seeds about. They all jumped to
|
|
their feet, while Thully sat up and stared bleary-eyed at the
|
|
apparition.
|
|
"And what does *that* mean?" asked Bren.
|
|
"Wha', I guess it mus' be time ta pick 'em," Pudlong said simply,
|
|
staring upward.
|
|
|
|
The next day presented an unusual scene. While Levy and Bren
|
|
climbed the stalk to continue their study of the plant and the land,
|
|
Mon-Haddar and Yellow, as he was calling himself, chanted and built
|
|
fires and made smoke and disemboweled small animals, all in an attempt
|
|
to study the strange phenomenon themselves, with Pudlong shuffling
|
|
between the two parties solicitously, and with Thully, Sarah, and the
|
|
children working the beans, casting occasional glances up at the
|
|
madness.
|
|
After making his measurements and notes, Levy returned to Sarah's
|
|
side in the beanfield. As they worked their way down the long rows they
|
|
talked in low voices, casting the occasional glance up at the
|
|
gesticulating wizard.
|
|
"Certainly is a lively fellow," Sarah commented after a
|
|
particularly wild outburst from the man.
|
|
"Probably the most activity he's had in years," commented Levy
|
|
wryly as he laid the uprooted weeds up against the base of the beans.
|
|
"What is he saying? Can you tell?"
|
|
"He's using an ancient dialect from the east. It's not used much
|
|
any more, except for dark incantations and weird magic. I studied it
|
|
some when I was young, but I don't really understand it."
|
|
"Can you make out any of the words?"
|
|
"Some." Levy cocked an ear toward the wizard and listened for a
|
|
moment. "Gold. Power. Praise. Evil. Power again." He shook his head.
|
|
"Not real comforting, I know."
|
|
"Perhaps we should leave," Sarah said quietly.
|
|
"Perhaps."
|
|
They weeded on for a ways.
|
|
"Is there anything we should be doing?" Sarah asked.
|
|
"Well, we don't actually know that he's up to no good," Levy
|
|
cautioned. "Just because he looks mean, smells bad, talks funny, and is
|
|
a wizard doesn't automatically mean he's up to no good."
|
|
Sarah just looked at him. He put his head back down and continued
|
|
weeding, until a set of shoes suddenly appeared before his downturned
|
|
face. He looked up to see Bren standing before him.
|
|
"Yes?"
|
|
Bren was frowning, hands on his hips. "The wizard wants to hire
|
|
me."
|
|
"What?" Levy got up to a kneeling position. "But I'm hiring you."
|
|
"He insists that he talk to you. He wants to hire me to climb the
|
|
beanstalk for him." Bren lowered his voice. "I think he's after the
|
|
talisman. He may know where it is."
|
|
Levy stood up, brushing off his knees. He voice was raised just the
|
|
slightest bit. "Sarah, I think you and the children ought to go down to
|
|
the stream to cool off. I wouldn't want them to overheat."
|
|
Sarah accepted Levy's outstretched hand and got up also. Hers was
|
|
an expression of worry as she studied Bren's frown. "I think that's a
|
|
good idea."
|
|
"Let's you and I go and talk to this wizard, eh?" Levy commented to
|
|
Bren as Sarah hurried away. They headed over to the beanstalk, Levy
|
|
stopping to snatch up his breeches along the way. Pudlong hurried over
|
|
to greet them, then accompanied them to where the wizard and the boy
|
|
stood.
|
|
"I understand you wish to hire Bren to climb the tree for you,"
|
|
Levy started in.
|
|
"Yes." The man's eyes were keen and hard.
|
|
"I have already hired him," Levy began, "but if there's something
|
|
you wish to know about the beanstalk, I too can help you." Levy resisted
|
|
the urge to glance at Bren. "Bren and I can both climb the beanstalk,
|
|
and find ... out whatever you wish found out."
|
|
"I require only Bren," the wizard replied, turning away.
|
|
"I cannot hire him out. He is still doing work for me," Levy
|
|
ventured to the retreating back. The wizard stopped, and looked over his
|
|
shoulder at Levy.
|
|
"No matter. I and my assistant will climb the stalk."
|
|
"He's onto me," Levy thought to himself. "He knows that I know that
|
|
he's up to something, that he's looking for something."
|
|
Levy started to look over at Bren, hoping for something to say.
|
|
Just then there was a faint whistle and another of the giant bean pods
|
|
crashed to the ground, squarely in the middle of the five men, splitting
|
|
open. As each jumped back, startled, each one saw the gleam of something
|
|
shiny inside the pod. The halves fell apart, and there, among the other
|
|
green squash-sized seeds, lay one seed which was not green, but instead
|
|
a warm, gleaming gold. There was a long moment as each man stared at the
|
|
seed, then another long moment as they stared at each other. Then, as
|
|
one, the men dove for the seed.
|
|
Levy was never sure just whose hand it was that was wrapped around
|
|
his belt. Looking back it seemed preposterous that it could have been
|
|
the wizard's, and too strong to have been the boy's. Nonetheless,
|
|
someone had his belt firmly in their grasp and was trying to pull him
|
|
away from the bean. There were arms and legs all over the place and even
|
|
someone's belly pressing into his face, as Levy strained to reach the
|
|
bean, and pulled it from someone's hands, only to have it taken from
|
|
him. He tried again to take it, and managed to touch it, when suddenly
|
|
something as if from underneath him lifted him up and rolled him away.
|
|
He found himself on his back, staring up at the sun. He blinked, and saw
|
|
a man, standing, with the golden seed held firmly aloft. The man's face
|
|
was a study in self-knowing satisfaction and expectant pleasure, like a
|
|
two-year old who has done something special and expects to be praised
|
|
for it. It was suddenly an amazing face. That face belonged to Pudlong.
|
|
|
|
========================================================================
|
|
|