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DargonZine Volume 12 Issue 06
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D D A A R R G O O N N N Z I N N N E || Volume 12
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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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DargonZine Distributed: 6/20/1999
Volume 12, Number 6 Circulation: 716
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Contents
Editorial Ornoth D.A. Liscomb
Withstand the Flood Jim Owens Seber 10, 999
Talisman Zero 6 Dafydd Cyhoeddwr Winter, 2216 ID
Talisman Zero 7 Dafydd Cyhoeddwr Spring, 2217 ID
========================================================================
DargonZine is the publication vehicle of the Dargon Project, a
collaborative group of aspiring fantasy writers on the Internet.
We welcome new readers and writers interested in joining the project.
Please address all correspondance to <dargon@shore.net> or visit us
on the World Wide Web at http://www.dargonzine.org/. Back issues
are available from ftp.shore.net in members/dargon/. Issues and
public discussions are posted to the Usenet newsgroup rec.mag.dargon.
DargonZine 12-6, ISSN 1080-9910, (C) Copyright June, 1999 by
the Dargon Project. Editor: Ornoth D.A. Liscomb <ornoth@shore.net>,
Assistant Editor: Jon Evans <godling@mnsinc.com>. All rights reserved.
All rights are reassigned to the individual contributors. Stories
and artwork appearing herein may not be reproduced or redistributed
without the explicit permission of their creators, except in the case
of freely reproducing entire issues for further distribution.
Reproduction of issues or any portions thereof for profit is forbidden.
========================================================================
Editorial
by Ornoth D.A. Liscomb
<ornoth@shore.net>
If I had any more news, I'd need a wheelbarrow!
Well, the first thing to talk about is the recent vote regarding
whether to continue sending the announcements that precede each issue by
a week. In the final tally, 30 percent of the people who responded
wanted to keep the announcements, 27 percent only wanted them some of
the time, another 27 percent didn't care, and only 15 percent of people
did not want to receive them at all.
What this tells me is that the pre-issue announcements generally
don't bother people. With that in mind, we will continue sending
pre-issue "pings", although not for issues which follow one another in
rapid succession. In that particular case, sending a pre-issue ping
would clutter our readers' mailboxes, might delay getting the issue out,
and would be unnecessary for us, since few readers' accounts would have
expired since the previous mailing.
That appears to be what you told us through your feedback. I'd like
to thank everyone who took the time to vote. We try to produce the best
magazine we can, but it's hard to know how we're doing without hearing
feedback directly from our readers. Thanks for making the effort to let
us know your preferences!
The second topic is the 1999 DargonZine Writers' Summit, which took
place June 4-6 in New York City. Each year we encourage our writers to
get together to socialize and work on the future of DargonZine. This
year's Summit was hosted by Alan Lauderdale, and was attended by writers
from as far away as southern California and Aberdeen, Scotland! Our
working sessions included discussion of our ideal writing environments,
the things that energize or de-energize us about DargonZine, how much
benefit we derive from the project and how much we help one another, and
more ideas for common events in Dargon.
Social activities included a visit to Fort Tryon Park, which
overlooks the Hudson. While there, we also stopped at the Cloisters, a
medieval castle and museum, which was very interesting; highlights
included several small courtyards, famous tapestries, amazing
illuminated manuscripts, and lots of relics. In a less historically
accurate mode, we also ate at Medieval Times, a feudal dinner theatre
featuring jousts, falconry, and combats. We enjoyed the view from the
top of the World Trade Center, and took part in the usual billiards,
bowling, and mini-golf.
Overall, the Summit was great fun; we enjoyed meeting new friends
and renewing old friendships, and Alan did a great job coordinating
everything. If you're interested in a more detailed writeup or seeing
some of our photographs, check them out on our DargonZine Summits page
at <http://www.dargonzine.org/summit.shtml>!
Finally, as you will have noticed if you glanced at the table of
contents, this issue features the climactic final two parts of Dafydd's
seven-part story "Talisman Zero". This series is a major work, both for
DargonZine, as well as its creator, who has been with the project since
1986. I recently took the opportunity to speak with Dafydd about the
"Talisman" series, and he had some great things to say.
What follows is a transcript of that discussion. Please be aware
that this interview contains spoilers, so it is strongly recommended
that you read this interview only after reading the final two chapters
of "Talisman Zero" which appear in this issue.
DZ: Why is your story entitled "Talisman Zero"? Are there additional
parts which follow?
Dafydd: Yes, there are. The first story was called "Talisman Zero"
because that's where the talisman is built, but the series is
really about putting it back together. There's going to be five
more stories, with varying numbers of chapters in each one, and
that's where the real storyline is.
DZ: What is the storyline about, or what's the basic idea or theme
behind it?
Dafydd: Putting the Talisman back together! Each story, even the first
story, has a different purpose and a different tale to tell in and
of itself. In each of the stories after "Talisman Zero", getting
the talisman back together is more or less secondary to what the
story is about. I'm hoping to make "Talisman Five" be more focused
on the talisman itself, but the other four of them are their own
stories.
DZ: How did you get the idea behind the storyline?
Dafydd: I was watching television. There's a Highlander episode called
"Methuselah's Gift". It's about the Methuselah Stone, which in
Highlander mythology gives the holder of it immortality. But the
neat thing about it is that it was fragmented, and the genesis for
the story was that when they took all these pieces that were like
rods of crystal and put them all together, it became a ball, and I
thought that was really cool.
There were other influences as well. There was a song on the radio
going around at that time where the idea of the song was two people
trying to get together, but things kept happening to prevent it and
they kept moving on. And so that added a little bit to it, chasing
people through the ages.
And there's a series of novels called the Deverry cycle by
Katherine Kerr. This series is about a wizard who commits a crime
of passion, who is then doomed to live until the reincarnations of
those who were wronged are able to overcome their troubles. So that
was certainly another influence on the story.
DZ: What kind of things have you learned through the writing of the
series?
Dafydd: With this whole storyline I've been doing more plotting
beforehand. For "Talisman Three", which I've just finished, I did a
whole outline of it section by section, which I had never done
before. It made it very much easier to write, because instead of
having to figure out how to get from Point A to Point B, I knew all
the stops I wanted to make along the way. It was still some effort
getting to those stops, but it was much easier.
DZ: The series, or at least "Talisman Zero" takes place during what for
contemporary Dargon is ancient history. Will this series ever
catch up and integrate with the mainstream timeline?
Dafydd: Yes. Because we're following the fragments of the talisman
throughout time, each successive story is getting closer and closer
to present-day Dargon. Although the stories being told aren't
necessarily about the talisman, the talisman will become more and
more of a driving force as time moves on. What I'd like to do by
"Talisman Five" is have the talisman be manipulating events to get
these people back together, because it's tired of being fragmented.
It will eventually catch up with contemporary Dargon.
DZ: In "Talisman Zero" you've introduced a quartet of people in a
romantic situation. But it's far more common to see a "love
triangle" than a "love quadrangle". Why did you choose to write the
story with a fourth person trying to intrude on a triad rather than
the more familiar established couple with a third person intruding?
Dafydd: Well, I didn't think of it in those terms; it's not where I
started from. In fact, the original outline for the series had
three people creating the talisman and having it destroyed and them
chasing it. So the bad guy didn't come in until later. And it
wasn't supposed to be about that conflict. In the original idea,
the conflict wasn't there. I wanted to explore a bisexual
relationship, which is kind of hard to do if you only have two
people, so I had to set it up with three. It wasn't until later in
the creative process that I realized that there needed to be an
antagonist, and the easiest thing is like you said: having somebody
trying to intrude. But I didn't start with two people and add an
intrusive third; I had started with three people and added an
intrusive fourth. And that's how that happened.
DZ: What keeps you writing for DargonZine?
Dafydd: It's fun. It's a place to write where I know people will read
what I'm writing. A lot of people hand out their writing to their
friends and get almost exclusively praise back from them. One of
the benefits of being with the project is that while everybody is
friendly with each other, they will critique your work relatively
honestly. And then there's the readership itself. I can put my
stories out there and know that people have subscribed to
DargonZine with the intention of reading it.
DZ: Would you ever write on a professional level or for pay?
Dafydd: That's been a dream for a long time, and with all the feedback
I'm getting about "Talisman", it seems like maybe I'm getting to
the level where I am publishable. But a lot of my inspiration for
the kind of writing that I do comes from the Dargon Project itself.
So while it would be really cool to get published, I'm not sure
what stories I would write if the inspiration isn't there.
DZ: If you were to spell your name phonetically, how would you spell it?
Dafydd: It's D-A-V-I-T-H-E C-A-W-H-E-T-H-E-R.
DZ: Is there anything else about yourself or the "Talisman" series that
you would want to share with the readers?
Dafydd: Not really. I hope they enjoy it!
========================================================================
Withstand the Flood
by Jim Owens
<gymfuzz@yahoo.com>
Seber 10, 999
It was raining as Levy and Daisy trudged over the crest of the
ridge approaching the small hamlet where Daisy lived. Immediately Levy
was able to see the scope of the task facing him. He paused, arms cocked
on his hips, then turned to Daisy.
"How long has the water level been that high?"
"I don't know," she responded grimly. "It wasn't that high when I
left to get you. Perhaps a day, maybe less." She looked up into the
weeping sky, underscoring the urgency of their plight.
"Don't worry," Levy responded, staring down into the valley,
looking for what he hoped would be there. "I'll have the water level
down in no time. The dam will hold."
Daisy nodded, and they started down the slope into the village.
As they descended Levy continued to scan the valley. He could not
see what he was looking for, however, and the trees soon swallowed up
the view. The path moved now in gloom, tall pines rising up all around.
As they descended they passed two couples, trudging up the road, pushing
or pulling carts laden with household goods. Daisy greeted them by name,
but they merely nodded, saving their breath for the arduous climb.
The rain washed down and down, carrying the grey earth downhill
ahead of the pair. Mud squished out from under Levy's boots, and more
than once he stumbled as a foot slid out from underneath him. After
almost a bell the pair finally emerged into a clearing. Huts stood
around a central well made of stone. Two more carts stood in the
commons, as people packed to flee the impending flood. Daisy led Levy
across the commons to a larger hut, then knocked twice. The door opened,
and a burly man emerged.
"Well met, Daisy," he said, examining Levy curiously.
"Well met, Elder Tanner," she replied, greeting him with a hug. She
turned to Levy. "This is Levy, of Barel. I've brought him to save the
village."
Levy stepped forward. "Well met, Elder Tanner."
"Well met, Levy Barel," Tanner replied. His eyes examined Levy's
face appraisingly.
"I understand that Smith Balder built the dam," Levy said, "and
kept it up until his recent death."
"Yes, and for too long we took for granted that he would live
forever," Tanner replied ruefully. "Had we known how ill he was, we
would have sought your aid sooner. But now he is gone, and the secret of
working the floodgates is gone with him."
"I know something of smithy, and of Smith Balder's work," Levy
stated confidently. "I think I can discern how the gates work, and
relieve some of the pressure on the dam."
Tanner looked skeptical. "Then you'd best hurry. The gates are
closed, but the river's up anyway -- that means the dam's leaking, and
could go at any time."
Levy's stomach knotted at those words, but he smiled and nodded
nonetheless.
"I'll be leading him to Smith Balder's place now," Daisy said.
Tanner nodded.
"Best hurry. Your family has already sought high ground. You should
join them." He looked Levy in the eye. "Don't do anything foolish, young
man," he admonished. "If that dam goes, it'll wash away the whole
valley, Balder's place too."
"I'll be careful," commented Levy.
Tanner nodded. "If the water rises suddenly, don't wait. Drop
everything and start running uphill." He affixed Levy's eyes solemnly.
"I will," Levy assured him, and the two left.
Daisy had arrived in Barel two days before, in late afternoon. It
hadn't been raining then, but the ground was saturated after days of
showers. Fall always brought rain, and it had been raining for a
sennight. Levy had known about Balder's Dam, as both the village and the
dam were known, but had only been there once, five years before. He had
been traveling as an apprentice to Barel's former blacksmith, and had
visited to see the famed Balder smithy. Balder was already an old man,
with no children. Levy had been shown fantastic machines and wonderful
tools, but Balder had been very sparing with his secrets. Levy had
recognized some of them -- he had been to Dargon for schooling, and had
learned many secrets about water and iron, wood and rope. But many of
the combinations Balder made eluded the casual eye, and Balder would
have no snooping. Levy had left impressed, but little wiser.
As they made the long walk from Barel to Balder, Daisy talked of
the old smith. He had been found dead the week before the rain started.
He had always been the one to work the great sluice-gates on Balder's
Dam, and had allowed no one else to know their secrets. The townsfolk
just assumed that he would tell someone before he died, but that had not
happened. When the rain came, the gates were not open, and now the dam
was leaking. Daisy knew of Levy through Levy's sister, and had come to
seek his help. The new blacksmith consented to send him, and so Levy was
here now, to do what he could.
Before the pair even reached the Balder's smithy Levy knew they had
arrived. Towering above the trees was Balder's icon; a huge, skeletal
statue of himself. It had been there when Levy had visited before, and
it was the one thing that stuck in Levy's mind. Now it could be seen
through the treetops.
"... be going back now," Daisy was saying. "I've got to go meet up
with my family, on the ridgetop." She was staring at him intensely.
"Don't worry, I'll be alright. Hopefully I'll be up to bring you
all down soon."
"Be careful," she repeated, but her eyes sparkled. "The smartest
men in the village have looked at those gates, and they couldn't figure
it out."
"Don't worry, I will." Levy was troubled more by the look in those
eyes than by the immediate peril. She suddenly hugged him, then turned
and hurried away. He stood a moment, startled, and then headed for the
old smithy.
The smithy was actually a series of large barns and sheds, filled
with blackened metal and discarded machines. In the center stood the
great statue, blind eyes focused on a distant hill. Levy stared at it a
long moment, contemplating its massive, articulated limbs, then hurried
up the path to the dam. It was an earthen dam, constructed years before
either Levy or his father was born. To one side stood the sluice gates.
The path led directly to them. Below, at the base, Levy could see even
now that water was flowing out from the base of the great earthen dam.
The gates were large, wooden structures, strengthened with great iron
bars and bolts. Beside them, built into the face of the dam, was a shed.
In the gloom, Levy could not see into the shed until he was actually
inside. He stood for a moment, allowing his eyes to adjust.
In the center of the shed was a large, iron cylinder, man-high and
twice as wide. At its base was an opening. Levy peered inside the
opening, but could see nothing in the gloom. The sharp odor of ashes
pierced his nostrils. Scorn arose at the ignorance of whoever had tried
to use this as a stove. Levy clucked his tongue at all those who lacked
his own knowledge of mechanical things. When the thought occurred that
he also might not have the knowledge to work this mechanism, he pushed
it aside.
The top of the cylinder was a large iron plate, with two flanges on
either side. Iron chains were hooked to the flanges, and ran through
pulleys cemented to the floor, then out to the gates. On the floor were
three other sets of chains, one for each gate. This part was obvious --
somehow the cylinder was supposed to lift the plate, pulling the chains
and raising the gates. But how?
Levy walked around the cylinder, carefully examining it. In the
dark it was impossible, so he took a mene to light a torch from his
tinder kit. By the light of that flame, he circled the massive device,
looking for clues. There was a plug on the front that screwed into the
front of the cylinder, with a square hole to accept a key, which was
hanging by a cord off a post in the shed wall. When the well-greased
plug was removed, Levy tried to see inside, but only saw a few glimmers.
The cylinder was hollow, but Levy could not tell what, if anything, was
inside. He could feel his own frustration and anxiety rising.
Levy changed his tack. Perhaps there were other ways of raising the
gates. He left his torch in the shed and walked outside. Water was
running down around the edge of the thick doors, following the easiest
path to freedom. Levy quickly picked out the ratchet system which would
hold the gates up once they were raised, but no other clues existed to
show how to raise them.
An expression of sudden hope came to Levy's face, and he ran back
down the path to the workshops. He searched the wood pile and soon found
a maul and wedge. He chugged back up to the gates and set the wedge into
the crack at the base of the gates. He knew that the water pressure was
the only thing actually sealing the gates, and if he could release a bit
of that, he could get some water flowing. The first blow bounced the
iron wedge out of the crack, sending it skittering away on the stone
paving. Levy reset it, and struck again. A fountain of water geysered
up, drenching and chilling him. The wedge held, and he struck again
through the fountain of water. This time the blast of water knocked him
back and dislodged the wedge. The gate slammed shut again, shaking the
lintels. Levy gasped and puffed, shaking the water out of his hair. He
arose, realizing for the first time the enormity of his task.
He set the maul down and returned to the hut, where his torch still
burned. Getting to his knees, he examined the space under the cylinder.
Ashes were there, and the curved floor of the cylinder. To each side
were openings. Levy suddenly realized that the cylinder stood on three,
wide legs -- the opening was merely the space between the two front
ones. His face burned in unseen embarrassment at his own ignorance. He
sat for a moment and pondered, but could think of nothing. He got up,
extinguished the torch, shouldered his pack, and headed down to the
complex.
Balder's house was a mass of crude models with stacks of flat
wooden panels with hastily drawn images of parts and schematics. Levy
sat for a long time, examining everything. Some things he could
understand -- a multi-horse plow was simple, for example, as was a
wind-powered water pump. But others were mere shapes and symbols, made
by a mind that knew what it was seeing, and didn't need detailed
explanations to remind it. As the afternoon drew on, Levy rubbed his
eyes and propped his head on his hands, frustrated.
He could just see the man, in his mind, working on these parts.
Levy felt like he was looking over the smith's shoulder, seeing clearly
each movement, but not understanding how they all fit together. Levy
wondered if some day he himself would be leaving scratchings and doodles
behind for some poor apprentice to decode.
"If I had a son, I could teach him," Levy could imagine Balder
saying, "but I don't, and I'll not show those villagers anything! Can't
have them stealing my secrets!"
Levy shook his head. What use were secrets, anyway? Knowledge was
only good if it helped someone, or brought in money. His family had its
secrets, to be sure, but they were practical secrets, like where the
vein of gold ore was that had helped build the family wealth, or where
the source of the local stream was.
"Why couldn't you just get an apprentice, like me?" He wanted to
ask the old man. He could see those old eyes, suspicious and narrow,
looking back at him.
"You can't trust an apprentice," he replied, in Levy's mind.
"Always running off when something better or shinier shows its head. I
can't be chasing down some apprentice every time he runs away!"
"But a villager! Just show a villager! It's their village that's
threatened!"
"Bah! Ignorant townsfolk! They don't appreciate my work! If they
really wanted to know they could have come and asked me! I've been here
since before most of them were born!"
"It's no use arguing with him," Levy thought to himself. "His
mind's made up. I might as well go back home."
"You can't leave!" the old man shrieked. "You have to figure it
out! It's your job!"
"No it's not! My job is back in Barel! I don't belong here -- this
isn't my problem!"
"Of course it's your problem! Or aren't you smart enough to figure
it out?"
"I can figure it out!" But Levy could feel in his heart that the
old man was right, that for all his confidence, he would never figure
out how the machines worked, that all this knowledge was gone for good,
dead with the old smith.
"No!!" Balder was going wild, swinging his cane around like a crazy
man. He hit a shelf laden with plates, sending it crashing to the floor
with a loud bang.
Levy came to his feet as if struck, the crashing sound still
echoing in his ears. He had fallen asleep in the old smith's cabin, and
had dreamed the whole conversation. But the noise was real. There were
loud snapping sounds coming from outside. Levy dashed out the door just
in time to see a shed fold up and collapse. He ran toward it, then
stopped. The stream issuing from the base of the dam was now a torrent,
overrunning its banks. It had invaded the smithy, claiming its first
victim. Levy ran for the path to the dam, then stopped. The ground under
his feet was trembling. Levy turned instead for the cabin, grabbing his
pack. He then headed straight up the hillside beside the dam, trying to
put as much distance between himself and the coming flood as possible.
Levy had time to spare, once he reached the top of the hill. Below
the water was already pouring over the top of the sluice gates,
effectively rendering any possible solution moot. But the dam held for
several long menes more, until the stream of water cut deep enough into
the unprotected earthen face to undermine the dam's strength. Then, with
a deep rumble, the whole massive structure sagged, molten, and poured
down the valley. The lake turned from grey to brown to white, and the
rumble became a roar. A hill of water rushed down the valley, hiding
trees and boulders and buildings beneath a muddy froth. When it reached
the complex it smashed all the buildings, consuming them. The statue
stood a moment longer, then tipped on one leg and toppled. The last Levy
saw of it was one articulated arm, flailing above the swirling waters.
After that Levy just stared at the muddy rush in a sodden funk.
"Don't feel bad."
Levy started, spinning about. It was Balder's voice, but when he
turned it was Daisy's face. She was wet and muddy, but whole.
"What?" He blurted out, startled. "How did you get here?"
"When I saw my family was safe I came back for you. I couldn't find
you, though, so I climbed to safety." She looked out over the
destruction. "I said don't feel bad that you couldn't figure it out. My
father tried for days to figure it out, but couldn't."
"But your whole village is gone," Levy exclaimed, waving at the
brown wash below.
"Balder built most of that village," she replied. "We moved there
before I was born, but now we'll just move back to the old village in
the hills. It's still there -- I go there sometimes in the summer, to
tend the flocks and think."
"But your homes, your things, ..."
"We have our things with us, and we can build another home. The
most important thing is that we have our families. We can build again."
Levy stared down at the morass below. "None of this would have
happened if Balder had had a family, to tell his secrets to."
Daisy shrugged. "Secrets aren't everything. Your family is what's
important. That's what lasts."
Levy didn't entirely agree, but didn't respond. Instead he asked,
"So how do we get down?"
"We don't, until the water recedes. We'll have to stay here for a
while, unless we want to walk all the way around the back of the lake."
"No, we can wait. It's just as fast." So they sat and watched the
lake empty. As the shore gradually receded, Levy noted that a series of
rectangular patterns emerged, laid out on the lakebed. When the lake had
formed, a village had been flooded, only to reemerge as the lake now
died. The cycle continued despite him, despite them all. Birth and
death, creation and destruction. It was a small consolation, but a
consolation nonetheless. Their part in the cycle complete, Daisy and
Levy watched as the day ended, waiting for the sunrise and a chance to
move on.
========================================================================
Talisman Zero
Part 6
by Dafydd Cyhoeddwr
<John.White@Drexel.Edu>
Winter, 2216 ID
Part 1 of this story was printed in DargonZine 12-1
Part 7 of this story appears later in this issue
Orlebb sat in his bedroom and fumed. Nothing! Two weeks of trying,
and he had received nothing except a very nice wooden bust of himself
from Kendil, a kiss from Eldinan, and a flat out rejection from Nikkeus.
It shouldn't be working out like this. He thought that his meeting
with Kendil had gone well. There had been lots of sly innuendo; a good
connection on a basic level. He had been sure that an assignation was
forthcoming. But no, just the bust -- head and shoulders only, so why
had he had to pose like that for so long? It was fine artistry, and
those tools he had been storing away in his inventory had certainly
found the right hands to use them. But nothing more had come of the
gift.
And then there was Eldinan -- that model ship had obviously meant a
great deal to her. His informants had told him of her connection to the
captain of _Celene's Fire_, and he had put that together with the
identity of the sailor's son in the village. It had been a small matter
to put a little poison in the man's flour, and naturally the
distribution of the man's effects had been left to him. And she had
kissed him, only on the cheek, but still! Yet nothing more had come of
it: no invitation, not even a smile and a wink as they passed in the
halls.
Then there was Nikkeus. He seemed so much younger than the others,
though he knew the musician was a year older than Kendil. But there was
an innocence about him, maybe in those large so-green eyes.
The lute had been another item from Orlebb's inventory. He had
acquired it several years ago, when a skaldric had come to Wudamund and
had subsequently fallen on hard times. The lute had been collateral for
a loan, which had led to another loan when the man's 'sure thing' at the
backroom gambling tables hadn't paid off. And eventually, it had led
finally to a quiet knife in an alley -- none of Orlebb's doing, strictly
the result of excessive gambling debts. Orlebb hadn't recovered his
loans, but the lute itself was worth far more than he had lent to the
skaldric, so he didn't mind the loss.
Orlebb had had the lute tuned by one of the keep's musicians, and
then presented it. The Hrothgrim lute had seemed to belong in the young
man's hands, and Nikkeus had played it with consummate skill. That tune
had made Orlebb feel warm, happy, light inside. He hadn't planned what
happened afterward, but those eyes staring at him so openly, and the
good feeling inside of him, had prompted him to bypass all of his
schemes and just kiss him.
But it hadn't worked. It was his first direct rejection, but once
the boy passed the story around, they would all hate him. The time for
subtle maneuvering was over. But what could he do?
He decided, finally, to meditate, as he usually did when he was
confused.
He stood and walked over to the small table set against a wall of
his room. He knelt on the stool in front of it as if it were a shrine --
which it almost was. He took up the small clay jar of fragrant oil that
rested to one side, and poured a bit into the small brass bowl on top of
the contraption that seemed to be the focus of the table. It consisted
of a pole atop which sat the brass bowl and from which was suspended a
cylinder made of some kind of painted parchment wrapped around a brass
wire frame. Hanging from the bottom of the cylinder were tiny brass
bells.
With practiced ease, Orlebb took hold of the cylinder carefully and
spun it. The bells chimed softly, the seemingly random splotches of
paint on the parchment flowed together with the cylinder's rotation,
becoming pleasing and eye-catching patterns. A humming arose from the
object where the cylinder's supports came into contact with the central
pole. A delicate scent started to waft up from the brass bowl on top as
the oil within it was heated by something inside the pole.
Orlebb placed his hands flat on the table before the memory wheel
and stared at the patterns. As he let the patterns ease the confusion in
his mind, he mused that this was probably the last memory wheel in
existence. Twenty years ago, when a teraehran of Fretheod soldiers had
encountered his people's small village just to the south of the Darst
mountains, they had first made overtures of friendship to the somewhat
isolated group of people. But the Lord Keeper of Wudamund at the time
had harbored grand plans. It had been his dream that Province Drabethel,
as the Fretheod conquerors called the northern part of the continent,
would become more than just a remote outpost of the empire. Wudamund had
existed for hundreds and hundreds of years as just a tiny enclave of the
empire. That Lord Keeper had intended to conquer the entirety of the
north of Cherisk, so that proper colonization could ensue. So the very
next time a Fretheod teraehran had come to his village, they had come
not with trade goods, but with drawn swords.
Orlebb had been eighteen at the time, and had tried to help defend
his village at first. But his people were not used to fighting other
people. The wall around the village had been plenty to keep the animals
of the forest out, and of course they all knew how to hunt because they
needed to live. But hunting people had never been a sport they took to,
and so were unprepared for fighting against thinking beings.
Orlebb had seen the way the tide of battle was going, and he had
decided not to die with his people. He had gone back to his house,
gathered up all of his things, including the memory wheel, and slipped
over the wall on the other side of the village from the fighting. He had
hidden in the woods until the victorious Fretheod soldiers had started
marching back to their own homes. He followed, and ended up at Wudamund.
Orlebb closed his left eye, and the colors of everything he looked
at shifted, lightening and gaining a yellowish cast. He opened his left
eye and closed his right, and the colors darkened, taking on a greenish
cast. He stared at the patterns on the still moving cylinder with each
eye separately, and as usual, he saw different things with either eye.
He sometimes wondered about his mismatched eyes and the way they saw
things differently. Had the eyes he had been born with somehow foretold
the way he currently sometimes found himself two different people? His
upbringing in the village had been so different from the role he had
played amongst the Fretheod, a role he played well enough to attain the
highest rank possible to a native. Would his father have been proud of
his accomplishments? Did it matter? His father was long dead, and Orlebb
had this life to lead all by himself. Different colors, different lives,
but none of that was helping him work his way into the trio!
He opened both eyes and a blend of the two shadings, the two sets
of shapes he had seen in the spinning cylinder, took form before him. He
concentrated on the patterns, in finding the meaning in them. The
tinging of the bells and the hum of the inner pole soothed his thoughts,
and the scent of the burning oil made those soothed thoughts drift with
the shapes on the cylinder. He drifted for a time like that, the
cylinder spinning and spinning far, far beyond when it should have
stopped.
Finally, the oil scent dissipated, and the cylinder began to slow.
Orlebb started to blink as the swirling patterns became splotches of
paint again, and after a moment, he smiled as broadly as he ever did. He
knew what to do next.
That night he took a sack and started collecting things into it
from his bedroom. He chose small items mostly -- his metal comb, one of
the small round stones he had played marbles with back in his village --
but some larger ones as well.
One such was a statue that he kept on his mantle. As he lifted it
down, he recalled with fondness winning it from his best friend at
Ajee-ra, a game that was part gambling, part sport, and part puzzle.
Miffet's family had put great significance on the statue, using it as a
point of pride in the village. Miffet's father had supposedly found the
statue in the ruins of a vast city buried underneath the Darst
mountains. Everyone in the village held him to be a great explorer,
despite the fact that he had never been able to lead anyone back to
where he had found the city.
Orlebb had envied his best friend Miffet the acclaim caused by the
statue. So, he had set it up so that the Ajee-ra game had come out in
his favor. The statue had passed to him, but Miffet had told his father
that someone had stolen it. Orlebb had gained the statue, but Miffet's
family had lost none of the acclaim. His failure to discredit Miffet's
family bothered him, but the fact that he had the statue and Miffet
didn't pleased him more.
The statue was distinctly odd looking. It was in the shape of two
obelisks fastened base to base. A quartet of limbs projected from each
face of the lower obelisk and arched downward to form a four pointed
base of support for the object, while the four faces of the upper
obelisk had a bump on each one, as if further limbs were retracted
inside the shape. Strange markings -- writing? -- covered the upper
obelisk on all sides.
He lowered it carefully into the sack and continued around the
room. He thought about adding the memory wheel, but finally decided
against it. When he felt he had gathered up enough, he took his keys and
left the room.
He went directly, yet cautiously, to the small workroom that had
been reserved for the project that Eldinan's trio was working on. Zawk
had spent a great deal of time there, and though it wasn't common
knowledge, Orlebb had learned that the crucible the erlantrielk had been
commissioned to build was set up in there and had been activated. While
Zawk worked on creating the mold, the others were slowly feeding
materials into the crucible to be melted and merged into the single
substance that would form the basis of the talisman they were building.
Orlebb had no difficulty entering the room, and he looked at the
vat that was sitting within a lifting frame. It appeared to be made of
wood, but it was about half filled with a strangely glowing liquid that
gave off a lot of heat. Orlebb opened his sack and started to feed its
contents one by one into the magical crucible.
Item after personal item vanished into the glowing soup in the tub,
some liquefying completely as they fell unnaturally slowly from the rim
to the level of the contents. Orlebb was almost giggling, feeling a
resurgence of a little boy's 'playing with fire' glee, by the time he
pulled out that strange statue and slipped it over the edge carefully.
He watched the edges of the statue start to melt, the legs going first
as it slowly fell toward the liquid. He thought he saw the mixture glow
a bit brighter as the statue sank beneath the surface, and then flush
purplish before returning to its normal white-yellow glow. But he might
have imagined it.
He turned from the tub and started to walk back to his rooms. Now
everything was set. Items of personal importance to him had been mixed
into the talisman's substance, which made him part of the bonding. He
had a couple of months to figure out how to be there when the invocation
was made -- he figured that it would take his active participation in
the ceremony for everything to be finalized. But then, he would be part
of the group, and they would even like it, no matter how they felt now.
Eldinan had made the decision the night before. She had been toying
with it for a while, but it was a big step. Sacrificing her anhekova
meant acknowledging that a fundamental change had come to the empire.
Then again, she had just endured one of her most difficult ocean voyages
thanks to the failure of the Yrmenweald, so that fundamental change was
a fact whether she acknowledged it or not.
That was why she was reaching into her storage chest this morning
and lifting out her anhekova. She slid it out of the soft cloth bag
where she kept it in off-duty times like this and gazed at it fondly.
She ran her eyes over the slightly imperfect oval of milky stone, the
exquisite knot-work in the wood of the shaft bearing the slight wear
marks from being handled over the years. She made an attempt to remove
the crystal from the setting, but realized that she wasn't going to be
able to free it without damaging the shaft. It would just all have to
go. She mourned the imminent loss of this material tie to her
grandfather, but once it was part of the talisman, it would be with her
forever.
She carried the staff down to the workroom and knocked on the door.
Kendil opened it and she walked in. Without much ceremony at all, she
walked over to the magical vat that was almost full of glowing, molten
liquid. She held the anhekova out in front of her and placed her hand on
the cwicustan crystal. No contact, as usual. She silently bid it, and
all it stood for, farewell, and let it drop into the vat. As it passed
the lip of the vat, it slowed down as if it was falling through thick
oil, and the wooden shaft started immediately to flame. The shaft was
ashes by the time the crystal oval struck the liquid. Both elements sank
quickly under the surface, as odd as it was for ashes to sink. Eldinan
was turning away when she could have sworn that the liquid flashed an
eerie blue for a brief moment, but it went back to its normal color
quickly and she decided she had imagined it.
Kendil was just letting Nikkeus into the room. The musician was
carrying a basket full of odds and ends and he smiled at the others in
the room before going over to the vat and starting to throw the objects
in one by one. Eldinan watched him for a moment -- he seemed to be
enjoying his task, much like a boy might play at sticking different
materials into a fire to see how they burned. With a chuckle, she turned
and walked over to Kendil, who was standing next to a large domed
contrivance sitting on a table next to the vat.
"So that's it, eh?" she said.
"That's it all right," said Kendil. "The mold for the talisman's
basic form. Zawk assures me that it will hold perfectly."
She looked into the opening at the top of the dome, and saw that
the inside of the dome was shaped as she had imagined the talisman's
general shape would be. "How much longer?"
"Well, Nikk is adding what should be the last load of oddments.
We'll wait a bit once he's done, and then start pouring."
Nikkeus took his time, but Eldinan wasn't impatient enough to make
him hurry. Besides, it was fun to watch him play. In time he was
finished, and after waiting a while longer to ensure that everything was
melted and mixed, Kendil moved the table into position. Using the lever
on the side of the lifting apparatus, he hoisted the vat into position
over the mold. There was a bar attached to the bottom of the vat, and he
used this to tip the vat so that the molten liquid inside poured
perfectly into the opening at the top of the talisman's mold. The liquid
glowed brightly with heat, but Eldinan just squinted and watched it
pour.
Every last drop of the liquid ran out of the vat, revealing its
incongruous wooden sides. Kendil lowered it back into place on the
frame, and then dragged the frame into a corner of the workroom. "Zawk
says that by tomorrow the enchantment on the vat will dissipate. Until
then, we should all keep clear of it."
Eldinan looked at the domed form sitting on the table with the
small pool of glowing liquid showing at its top. Already the glow was
dimming now that the liquid had been removed from the crucible that had
kept it hot. "So, all we can do now is wait, right?"
As the three of them headed back to their room, Eldinan was very
pleased. The first actual step had been taken, and now the first
physical evidence of their talisman had been produced. The equinox was
weeks away and there was still a great deal of work to do, but finally
it was starting to look like their private krovelathan ceremony was
going to happen!
Kendil stood in the workshop and looked at the talisman on the
table in front of him. Their design was slowly being revealed in the
strange stone-like substance that the talisman was made from, and it
looked even more magnificent as it was slowly revealed in three
dimensions than it had on the parchment where it had been sketched.
The disk of the talisman had been divided roughly into three equal
sections, one for each of them. Three-banded Geronlel knot-work wove all
over the surface of the talisman and even though it was currently
composed of grooves indented into the surface to hold the metal and
glass bands that made up the complicated plan, it still looked intricate
and impressive. They had also worked totem beasts into the knot-work
design, two examples of each of their chosen totems in each section but
worked so that each of those examples blended with the totem animal of
each of the others' where the sections met. The result was both
beautiful and elegantly symbolic of the tripartite bond that the
talisman was supposed to represent.
The carving was going well, even though Elin had never carved
anything before and Nikk had only carved a few things into wood. Kendil
himself wasn't nearly as proficient with stone as he was with wood, but
somehow, the stone-like composite material that looked like heavily
veined marble carved like sandstone without that soft stone's actual
softness. Once Elin and Nikk had painted the sketched design onto the
talisman's surface, those parts of the stone that didn't belong to the
finished product just seemed vanish under the chisels borrowed from the
masons' workshops.
The carving was about halfway done. The three of them had set up a
schedule at Kendil's suggestion. He felt that if they did just a little
at a time, and worked in pairs so that someone with some kind of carving
experience was there at all times, they stood the best chance of not
making any hideous mistakes. And it seemed to be working perfectly. The
three sets of totem beasts were really taking shape -- Nikk's cats,
Elin's falcons, and his own foxes, each entwined with one of the other
totems. The reverse spaces for the knot-work were beginning to spread
out from the beasts since there was a little extra work going on with
them so that the two metal bands could be cast right on the talisman and
would lock into place. The third band, which would be composed of glass,
had been altered slightly from the original plan so that it could
accommodate wedges of wood that would hold it in properly once it was
created.
He was early this morning. Elin was taking her time in the bathing
room but he expected her down shortly. He was somewhat surprised when he
arrived that the room hadn't been cleaned as it usually was. Even though
they locked it up tight every night, when they came in in the morning,
it was swept and polished up perfectly. Of course someone else had keys,
but it wasn't normal for the workrooms to be cleaned regularly by the
cleaning staff.
He heard a key in the lock of the room and turned toward it. Elin
would have just knocked, so who could it be? The door opened and Orlebb
walked in carrying a mop and bucket, and rags. He closed the door behind
him and turned around, and let out a little gasp as he saw that the room
was occupied.
"Oh, ah ... You are here early, Kendil. I was just ..." Orlebb
lifted the bucket and rags with a shrug, then set them down next to the
door.
Kendil hadn't seen very much of the castellan since delivering the
wooden bust he had made for the man. He still recalled the vague
disquiet that he had felt while they talked. That the castellan himself
was performing cleaning services in their workroom only made him even
more uneasy.
Orlebb walked over to the table, saying, "I hope you and the others
don't mind that I undertook to keep your workspace clean myself. I
understand that this project of yours is something of a secret, and
thought that it would be more discreet to do it myself." He stopped by
the talisman and stared down at it. Kendil didn't like the almost
proprietary look that the castellan gave it. "Yes, this is an amazing
work of art." He looked up and asked, "So, what might it be for?"
Kendil thought that Orlebb looked smug as he asked his question,
but he couldn't imagine that the man knew what their talisman was really
for. "Oh, it's just something to keep Eldinan, Nikkeus and myself busy
over this winter. None of us are used to the kind of inactivity that
winter in Wudamund means and Nikk had this idea ... and, well, here it
is."
Orlebb nodded knowingly, and said, "Yes, I can understand how such
a backwater place as Wudamund might be lacking in excitement for folks
from the heart of the empire. And you can only stay in bed for so long
per day, eh?" He chuckled, and Kendil frowned slightly. "Well, you just
go ahead with your work and I'll clean up as usual. Don't mind me." He
walked back to his bucket and mop, grabbed some rags, and started
dusting down the table top.
Kendil stood still for a moment, but finally decided that he
couldn't take the humming, or the sidelong glances that were always
backed by the slightest of smirks. He said, "I think I'll go see what is
keeping Elin. We'll be right back." He hurried out, but he couldn't get
the thought out of his head as he walked back to the Green Tower. What
did Orlebb know or think he knew about the talisman?
Nikkeus found himself amazed by the results the three of them had
produced so far. The carving of the body of the talisman had gone
flawlessly, and the stone-like base was perfectly set up for the next
step. The tracks in the stone that would contain the interlaced bands
had been worked just right -- the two tracks for the metal bands were
flanged at the base, while the track for the glass band was dotted with
slots for the wooden wedges.
He was finishing up the preparatory steps to casting the first
band. Each metal band would to be hollow, as well as continuous. So, a
form had been constructed to take up space in the middle of each band
that would dissolve as the poured metal cooled. Also, the places where
the bands crossed required blockages and bridges so that each band would
keep its shape and cross properly.
It had been Elin who had figured out just exactly how to place the
bridges and blockages. She had said it was like a puzzle whose pieces
had just fit together in her mind, leaving her with the answer without
her even having to put much thought into it. Nikkeus thought that it was
something like his musical talent and Kendil's carving skill, just not
as well recognized. It had certainly proved useful with the talisman.
Once the solution had been found, the three of them took turns
working on the preparation -- there was only room for one to work at a
time. The other two worked on gathering and melting the metals for the
first band. This melting only needed a normal crucible and a very hot
fire, so it was done before he had finished the last details. But he
caught up quickly, and finally everything was ready for the first pour.
The crucible was moved into position carefully. All three of them
held their breath as they tipped it slowly over the track for the iron
band and watched the molten metal pour out and flow around the proper
grooves in the talisman.
Soon the track was filled properly, and Kendil and Nikkeus took the
crucible back to the fire. Then they all stood around the table,
watching the white-hot metal rapidly change color as it cooled. Even
when it had returned to its normal dull silver, the metal still radiated
enough heat to be felt a hand's breadth from its surface.
So, they waited longer, chatting about the design and discussing
the structural elements that would be needed for the next band. Nikkeus
found himself really enjoying their conversation, the way they were all
concentrated on the same thing, all bringing their different talents
together to produce a single object. It was so symbolic of their
relationship, that he felt himself filling with a tingling lightness
whenever he thought of it. The feeling made him just want to giggle and
jump, but he didn't want to seem childish in front of his lovers, so he
just savored the sensations and grinned.
Finally, the metal had cooled enough to handle. All three of them
carefully worked to remove the forms and ease the bridges out from under
the band. Then, Nikkeus tapped it with a small hammer and it rang with a
very interesting tone. They all smiled at each other, and Nikkeus said,
"Perfect!"
Kendil fetched some polishing cloths, and in short order, with
three sets of hands working on it, the metal band was soon gleaming
brightly. Even though it was only one third of the knot-work, it had its
own beauty as it traced a continuous path around the entire talisman,
beginning in the center of one of the cats and ending in the other cat.
Elin said, "It's already a work of art!" and everyone agreed with her.
Elin and Kendil went to work emptying and cleaning the crucible,
while Nikkeus went to work on the talisman again, starting to build the
same things into the track that would contain the next band. He had
barely started when Kendil came over and said, "We still don't have
enough brass and such to fill out the second track. Elin and I are going
out to scrounge. Would you like us to fetch some lunch?"
Nikkeus said, "Yes. Thanks."
Kendil hugged him, and Eldinan kissed him. "Don't work too hard.
I'll take the next session," she said as the two of them walked out of
the room.
Nikkeus was happy that the ambitious plan had worked, but there was
more to do, and the idea for the third band was even more ambitious. He
was working away steadily when the door to the workshop opened and
Orlebb walked in.
He was carrying a sack and a tray of food. He walked right up next
to Nikkeus and set both items down on the table. The sack clinked like
it was full of metal as it settled.
Orlebb said, "I heard that your project needs more metals of value,
and I just happened to have some lying around. You know, odds and ends
of fancy tableware, left behind jewelry, that sort of thing. And when I
saw Captain Eldinan in a hallway, she mentioned you were wanting some
lunch. I believe she and Kendil are taking their meal as they search for
more materials."
The castellan looked at the talisman, and said, "Oh, my health,
that looks fantastic! And, yes, I see how you set it all up, bridges and
forms and what's this? The bands are hollow then?" He tapped on the iron
band with his fingernail, and then with the hilt of his knife when his
first try produced nothing. At the tone the hilt produced from the band,
he laughed -- without smiling. "A work of art visually as well as
aurally. Not that I should have expected anything else from the three of
you, right?"
Nikkeus was not comfortable at all with the castellan in the room.
He didn't like the way the man was looking at the talisman, and how did
he dare rap on it with his dagger? But he liked it even less when Orlebb
looked up at him -- there was a look on the man's face that seemed ...
hungry? Nikkeus almost recognized something familiar in the look, but
not quite. Perhaps it was that unsmiling mouth that hampered his
recognition.
The silence stretched longer and longer, and Orlebb just continued
to look at him with that hungry stare. Finally, Nikkeus said, slowly,
"Um ... Thank you. For the praise, and the food. And the metal. And ...
ah ... I should get back to, well, work ..."
Orlebb nodded, and said, "Yes, yes, more work. It is all moving
along quite well, eh?. And I have work to do as well. Keep up the
amazing work, Nikkeus."
Nikkeus sighed with relief as the castellan left the room. He
pulled over a chair, and started nibbling at the lunch of meat, cheese
and bread, trying to regain his composure. Maybe once he and Elin and
Kendil were officially, if untraditionally, bonded, he would feel safer
around that strange man.
Maybe.
========================================================================
Talisman Zero
Part 7
by Dafydd Cyhoeddwr
<John.White@Drexel.Edu>
Spring Equinox, 2217 ID
Part 1 of this story was printed in DargonZine 12-1
Nikkeus ran the fine rasp once more over the edge of the small
wooden wedge and fitted it between the oval of glass and the stone in
the center of one of the carved falcons. There, perfect fit. He withdrew
the wedge with his fingernails, dabbed it with glue, slid it back home,
and tapped it with a small hammer that had a piece of felt tied around
its head. Done, finally! And none too soon, either.
Nikkeus sat up and looked at the finished product. The talisman
rested on the table in the workroom, every piece of glass wedged and
locked into place along the third band of Geronlel knot-work. It had
taken the three of them three weeks to make, shape, fit, and reshape
five score lengths of glass so that they filled in the track of the
third band on the talisman. Each piece was really three pieces of glass
-- one piece, the largest, clear, with two other pieces, one blue, one
red, attached to its underside. The work had been difficult and time
consuming, but the result was worth it all.
Eldinan had quickly seen the first problem with the proposal to
have each segment of the band span multiple intersections. For reasons
that made sense to her and ended up being absolutely accurate, each
segment of rolled, shaped, and fused glass had only been able to be
fitted from intersection to intersection. This had required carving more
wedge slots into the stone-composite of the talisman's base, as well as
requiring far more work just to shape that number of pieces. Each and
every piece had then required hand-crafting, and the wooden wedges the
same, which had all added up to it being the spring equinox with the
talisman being unfinished.
But now, it was done. It lay in front of him in all of its
splendor, and he could hardly believe it was finished. He removed the
felt from his tiny hammer and rapped on the metal bands. The crossings
of the bands turned them into collections of individual lengths, much
like the glass band, instead of one continuous length, so that when he
tapped them in different places, he got all kinds of different notes. He
deduced that the variation was caused by the varying lengths between
each crossing, plus the different materials that composed each crossing,
plus slight variations in the carving of the tracks themselves.
The musicality of the talisman seemed to draw Nikkeus, who had been
awake since yesterday morning, into a trance. Elin and Kendil had also
stayed up the night, and into the afternoon helping with the last stages
of construction, but he had sent them back to their quarters to get some
rest so that someone would be fresh for the ceremony.
His mind fogged by lack of sleep and somewhat giddy at having
finished the talisman in time, Nikkeus slipped into a strange state. He
started tapping methodically around the talisman, slowly at first, and
then faster and faster, learning the notes, figuring out how to play
this new instrument. On a whim, he wet a finger and stroked it along the
glass band, and was surprised by the ringing vibration that rose from
each segment. That result he couldn't explain at all, but he cataloged
the tones produced and added them to the developing musical range of the
talisman.
Nikkeus thought he had learned more than half of the possible notes
when the door to the workshop opened. He stopped and turned, shaking off
his trance-like state. He expected that this would be Elin and Kendil
come to see if he had finished.
But it wasn't them, it was Orlebb. Before the still somewhat dazed
Nikkeus could tense up, the castellan said, "It is growing late,
Nikkeus. The sun has set already. You will need help getting your
talisman, your krovelathad, to the roof of Green Tower, will you not?"
Nikkeus took the revelation that Orlebb knew their secret in
stride. He nodded -- the castellan was right. The talisman was somewhat
heavy, and they had planned that the ceremony take place not very long
after sunset.
"I must fetch El--"
"No, no. I'll help you carry it up there. Why should Eldinan and
Kendil come all the way down here just to retrace their steps all the
way back to your quarters, and then beyond to the roof? Come on, get a
good grip and let's go."
Orlebb strode over to the table and latched onto the talisman.
Swept along by the castellan's plan, Nikkeus grabbed the other side, and
they started toward the tower.
Their progress through the keep was swift and surprisingly
uneventful. Nikkeus was almost too befuddled to notice, but they met no
one in the corridors they passed through.
In the anteroom to the tower, Nikkeus finally saw someone -- a page
standing by the door. The young girl opened the door for the laden pair,
and Nikkeus saw Orlebb nod to the girl, who turned over the sand-glass
she carried in her other hand, causing the sand in the upper bulb to
start to flow into the lower bulb.
Nikkeus wanted to stop when they reached the sixth floor landing
and fetch Kendil and Elin, but Orlebb said, "No, no. Why don't we get
everything set up up there first? That way you can get started as soon
as they arrive. I'll send a page to let them know everything is ready.
It'll be fine."
Nikkeus shrugged and followed the still climbing castellan. Two
more flights of stairs, and Orlebb opened the door onto the roof.
Nikkeus trailed the castellan out onto the chilly, rainy, flat platform
at the top of Green Tower and looked around. A low wall surrounded the
platform, and the only other structure was the stairwell hood itself. In
the center of the platform, a low table had been set up, and Orlebb was
moving in that direction. Three lanterns had been set up against the
parapet wall, providing just about enough illumination from their
magically glowing interiors that he wouldn't trip over the table or run
into the walls.
They reached the table and set the talisman onto it. Nikkeus
shivered as chill rain blew across the platform, and Orlebb said, "Not
the best of nights for an important ceremony, is it? Come, I've brought
you a robe. The page will make sure your companions bring theirs as
well. It's over here behind the stair hood."
Nikkeus followed Orlebb into the narrow area between the stair hood
and the parapet wall. He looked over the edge and took in the view out
over the keep and the village beyond. He looked left and saw the faint
lights of the ships moored at the docks on the other side of the
Coldwell. He looked back toward the village, and saw the circle out on
the edge of the village where t
he more traditional krovelathan ceremony
was getting ready to take place. Large bonfires ringed the circle of
people, and smaller ones dotted the space inside. He had no idea how
many people were getting bonded in the ceremony below -- he had been far
too busy the last few months to listen to keep gossip about that sort of
thing. With a little sigh of happiness at the fact that their own
ceremony was really going to happen in just a little while, he turned
back toward Orlebb, wondering where the robe was.
He just about had time to notice that the robe was on Orlebb when
the castellan's knife hilt caught him in the temple. As he crumpled into
darkness, a flash of lightning lit up the top of the tower, the crash of
thunder following soon enough that he heard it as he dropped into
unconsciousness.
Another bolt of lightning illuminated the storm-dark night as
Orlebb rose over the prone body of Nikkeus. He sheathed his knife as he
watched the trickle of blood at Nikkeus' temple wash away in the driving
rain. He had judged the blow of the knife hilt properly: hard enough to
render Nikkeus unconscious, not hard enough to kill the young man.
Everything was going smoothly. He had lured Nikkeus to the roof,
and had taken his place. The others would be up at any moment, and the
rites could begin. All he needed to do was take up his place by the
table, standing in for Nikkeus in the ceremony, and wait.
Orlebb took a step and looked down at the splashing sound he made.
The drainage up here wasn't as good as it should have been. He took a
moment to stoop over Nikkeus and turn the young man onto his back.
Another lightning flash revealed Nikkeus' pretty face framed by blond
hair. "I'm sorry, but it all will be well very soon," he whispered to
the unconscious young man.
Orlebb walked over to the table and the talisman and stepped up
onto the low pile of lumber he had placed on one side of the table. When
he was on top of the lumber, he gained the two inches that Nikkeus had
on him. Next, he fished a small wooden token out of his belt pouch and
looked at it. It was a flat oval etched with runes of a sort that he
wagered no one in this keep could read, except for himself. He touched
the token to the blood that was still on his knife hilt, and then placed
the wooden oval into his mouth. He clamped it between his teeth, closed
his lips over the outer edge, and touched his tongue to the inner edge.
Then he subvocalized, concentrating on the token, and the words, "Time
to begin." issued from his closed mouth in the exact tones of Nikkeus.
Lastly, he pulled the hood of the robe up to cover his face.
Fortunately, Nikkeus didn't wear rings, and with the rain and the
clouds, and the dim lantern light, he was pretty sure that the others
weren't going to be able to tell that his hands weren't quite as
long-fingered and graceful as the musician's.
Now all he could do was wait. His plans were finally working out.
Nothing could go wrong. The page he had signaled downstairs would climb
to the sixth floor when her sand-glass ran out and inform the residents
of the master suite that Nikkeus was ready on the roof for them. She
would also inform them of the weather, and tell them to bring cloaks.
Then all that would remain would be some blessings and the
invocation, and the group binding would be finished. And he knew that
the results would surprise everyone involved. Except him, of course.
The door across from him opened, and the remaining two members of
the group stepped out onto the rooftop platform. Their greetings to the
one they thought was Nikkeus were drowned out by another clap of thunder
that followed almost on the heels of a bolt of lightning striking the
ocean.
The thunder also drowned out the laughter that Orlebb couldn't
suppress. Soon, soon, soon!
Eldinan felt well rested and relaxed as she sat in the main room of
their quarters that evening. Her state made her feel a hint of guilt,
since Nikk hadn't taken the break he said he would, and so must still be
down stairs working on the talisman. But when she had started fumbling
with the precisely crafted glass pieces, and had actually dropped one --
it hadn't been damaged -- she decided that she was in no shape to
continue the delicate work required. Kendil had agreed, but Nikk assured
them that he had the stamina to continue. She knew about his stamina, so
she reluctantly left him to work, returning to their bedroom with Kendil
and falling almost instantly asleep.
Kendil had just finished dressing and joined her in front of the
fireplace. She snuggled up next to him and just sat that way for a bit,
excitement building inside her at the impending event. Finally, she
said, "It is getting pretty close to time for the ceremony, don't you
think? Nikkeus hasn't returned -- I hope he has finished by now."
Kendil kissed her forehead, and said, "Of course he has. It just
took longer than expected. We should probably head down there to make
sure, and help get everything ready upstairs."
Eldinan nodded and was just rising when a knock came at their door.
Kendil called out, "Yes?"
The door opened, and a young page was standing there. She said,
"Nikkeus sent me to tell you that everything is ready upstairs, and to
come up. He also said that it is raining and chilly, and to be sure to
bring your cloaks. Thank you." And she turned and left.
Eldinan looked at Kendil with astonishment, and said, "Our boy's
been busy, hasn't he? How nice that he took care of everything. I guess
his stamina really was up to it." Kendil laughed in response, and they
both fetched their cloaks and started for the stairs.
Two flights up from their sixth floor quarters they came to the end
of the stairs and the door to the roof. Kendil opened it and they
stepped through into a dark, stormy night. In the center of the watch
platform that occupied the top of the Green Tower was a low table, upon
which rested the completed talisman. The light from three lanterns set
against the parapet of the platform was just enough to illuminate the
scene, and even from over here the talisman looked fantastic. Also
revealed was Nikk, standing on the opposite side of the talisman from
the stairway door. He wore a grey cloak, not his usual one, draped over
his frame, its hood up and shadowing his face completely.
Eldinan waved and called a greeting, but her words were drowned out
by a clap of thunder that followed hard on the heels of a huge bolt of
lightning that slashed down out over the ocean behind Nikk. As the
rolling boom faded away, she and Kendil walked over to the table. She
stood at the side of the talisman which bore the two falcons that
represented her, and stared down at the thing of beauty the three of
them had created. She reached out and traced the bands, especially the
glass band, the one that hadn't been finished when she had gone to bed.
It was finished now, those last few segments just as perfect as all the
other ones that had been crafted and fitted over the last two weeks. But
the final product was definitely worth the effort -- it was magnificent!
Another bolt of lightning flashed, not quite as close, and Eldinan
looked around. From the center of the tower nothing was visible but
distant flashes of lightning -- she knew she was standing on the tallest
thing around. Eldinan asked, "Do you think this is totally safe?"
Kendil shrugged, and said, "It should be. The lightning wards
should be in place. Orlebb might be a number of unsavory things, but he
is certainly efficient when it comes to taking care of this keep. A
lightning strike up here might not start a fire, but it could still do
significant damage to the structure of the tower. He must have had the
wards activated as soon as the storm approached."
"Ah ..." said Nikk, sounding nervous. Then he continued, "Right.
Still, we should hurry. It is cold ..."
Eldinan laughed and said, "That it surely is. And I'll feel safer
back in our quarters, wards or no. Is everyone ready?"
They each reached down and touched a hand to each of their totem
beasts, then nodded. Eldinan began chanting the traditional words of
invocation, words that had been said over krovelathads for centuries.
She forgot about the lightning flashing around her, and the chill wind
trying to bite through her cloak. The two people standing around her
were all that mattered just now, that and the bond they were cementing
here, and the relationship that had grown over the past months to this
milestone.
She finished with, "In the name, and under the eyes, of Reesera,
god of love, I pledge my life and love, from this day forward, to both
of you. Kendil, Nikkeus, by virtue of our love and through this
krovelathad, you both become part of me from this day, until there are
no more tomorrows."
She looked at her two lovers, her two loves, and smiled. And then
she looked down at the talisman, and gasped when she saw that her
falcons were glowing, as were the glass segments of the knot-work band
that stretched from one raptor to the other. Purple light that sometimes
flickered to red or blue shone along the winding, weaving trail around
the disk of the talisman, and the falcons themselves radiated a faint
greenish-yellow light.
This certainly wasn't a normal part of a krovelathan ceremony!
Kendil listened to Eldinan recite her part of the ceremony, and the
faintly queasy sensation in his stomach that he had felt in anticipation
of this bonding faded away. It was the right thing to do. The three of
them belonged together. They were already bonded; this ceremony just
made it official, as far as that was possible, considering the nature of
what they were doing and how it ran against tradition and law. But it
was official to him, anyway.
Elin pledged her life to him and Nikk, and then her falcons and
glass band began to glow. They shouldn't have done that! The talisman
hadn't been given any inherent magic. Then again, some of the odds and
ends that had gone into its making might have been magical, and Elin's
anhekova was made of an innately magical substance, even if it no longer
had any powers.
But to stop now would mean that the ceremony was broken, and he
didn't want that. So, Kendil started reciting his part of the ritual.
The words flowed, and their familiar nature calmed and soothed him.
He came to the last words, and said, "In the name, and under the
eyes, of Reesera, god of love, I pledge my life and love, from this day
forward, to both of you. Nikkeus, Eldinan, by virtue of our love and
through this krovelathad, you both become part of me from this day,
until there are no more tomorrows."
And his two foxes began to glow with the yellowish green light,
while his goldish, brassish band began to glitter and sparkle as if the
metal was glowing.
Kendil barely had time to register and react to this change in the
talisman before Nikk began to speak. Kendil stared at the gold band
circling around the talisman, and the glass band where it glowed in its
path. Where the gold and glass bands crossed, there was an odd
combination of glows that resulted in a different color, a combination
of red-purple and gold-yellow that wasn't a color he could name, but
that looked very pleasing to his eye.
And slowly, he realized that something was wrong. Something seemed
... different, not as it should be. Kendil concentrated on the words
that Nikk was saying -- maybe the musician had misremembered something.
And as he concentrated on the words coming from Nikk, he slowly realized
what was so strange.
It was a subtle thing, but for some reason he was sure about what
he was hearing. The voice was Nikk's, but the style of speaking was not.
The way the words were inflected, the pronunciation, the *accent* ...
were Orlebb's!
The ersatz Nikk was almost finished with his part of the ceremony
by the time Kendil came to this realization. He was saying, "In the
name, and under the eyes, of Reesera, I pledge my life and love, from
this day forward, to all of you. Eldinan, Kendil, Nikkeus, through this
krovelathad, you all become part of me from this day, until there are no
more tomorrows."
Several things happened almost at once: Nikkeus' section of the
talisman began to glow, the two cats a greenish yellow, the grey metal
band gaining a peculiar cold luster; the hood of Nikk's robe blew back
in a gust of wind, revealing not the blond Nirmalel face of the musician
but the squarer, raven-haired and moustached, pale face of Orlebb; and a
groan was heard, carried perhaps by that gust of wind, coming from the
direction of the stair hood.
And as the realization of what had happened sank into Kendil while
he stared in shock at the blue and brown eyes of the Cherisk native, a
lightning bolt struck the center of the glowing talisman.
The rat reached the top of the tower and scurried from the drain
pipe into the rain, cold, and noise. People were talking, but that
didn't bother it. It knew that if it was careful, the people would never
see it.
It made its way around the tower by following the wall, sliding
through the shadows there with ease. It came to a lantern and climbed up
over it, rather than move in front of the beam of light and cast a
shadow.
It happened to be looking toward the center of the rooftop, where
the three people were standing around a table, when the lightning bolt
hit. It saw the way the bolt caused the thing on the table to glow
fiercely. It saw the tiny bolts that leapt from the thing to each of the
three people standing around it, making them glow as well. It also saw
the fourth tiny bolt that snaked off to one side, striking a person that
was beginning to sit up behind the stair hood.
Then, it saw the object on the table fragment into six pieces,
which flared an intense blue and vanished. Moments later, the four
glowing people also vanished. The thunderclap that followed was so loud
that it just overwhelmed the rat, which raced for the drain pipe and
vanished back down it.
The lightning strike could be heard by everyone in any proximity to
the keep. The people in the krovelathan ceremony circle outside the
village looked up, eyes drawn by the flash of the explosion atop the
seaside tower of the keep.
When those guests reached the tower, they first noticed that the
lightning wards had not been set. Upon reaching the top of the tower,
all that they saw was an empty watch platform, three glowing lanterns,
and some charred sticks of wood that had been the legs of the table. But
there was nothing else to be found; no talisman, no bodies, nothing.
Which left no clues for the mystery of the disappearance of the
castellan, Captain Eldinan, Alkant Kendil, and Terant Nikkeus.
At the moment that the lightning bolt hit the talisman, six people
around the world were struck by a prophetic vision. In the midst of
their fits, they each came out with the same words. "The three make the
one, which then binds the four. Cataclysm falls, and the one becomes
six. The six must be one again; to this are the four yet bound. Only
when six is one will four be none."
Four of these prophets were alone at the time of their vision, and
so it was lost. The recordist of another jotted the words down on a
parchment, but did not live to produce an official copy, and the
parchment was scraped and reused, destroying the record.
The last prophet's words were properly recorded, and transferred to
an official scroll, which was then filed to be distributed to the other
churches for study. But before that could happen, the village wherein
that church resided was attacked and burned, and with it the document.
And so the prophecy was lost.
A moment after the lightning bolt struck the talisman, the
cwicustan crystals atop six anhekovel around the world flared with a
bright light briefly. When the flash faded, each anhekova had, lying
beside it or near it, a roughly wedge-shaped piece of carved and inlaid
stone.
Only one of these occurrences was noted as it happened, but the old
drunk in his shack full of odds and ends was never believed when he told
his story.
Approximately nine months after the lightning bolt struck the
talisman, there began a series of four births over two months in a small
village in the south of the continent of Cherisk. The first one born had
one blue eye and one brown eye. The next happy parents' child was blond,
with grass-green eyes and what promised to be a prominent nose. The next
baby born had brown hair and eyes, and a somewhat swarthy complexion.
And the fourth birth resulted in a child with chestnut hair and grey
eyes.
The blond child died within a week, having been sickly from birth.
About nine months later, in a town two hundred miles east along the
coast of Cherisk, a baby was born with blond hair, grass green eyes, and
what would one day be a prominent nose.
The baby girl with black hair and the mismatched eyes died in an
accident when she was five. Nine months later, in the imperial city of
Frethemak, a baby was born to a very happy couple. It had black hair,
and one blue eye and one brown eye.
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