Copy Link
Add to Bookmark
Report
DargonZine Volume 18 Issue 06
DDDDD ZZZZZZ //
D D AAAA RRR GGGG OOOO NN N Z I NN N EEEE ||
D D A A R R G O O N N N Z I N N N E || Volume 18
-=========================================================+<OOOOOOOOO>|)
D D AAAA RRR G GG O O N N N Z I N N N E || Number 6
DDDDD A A R R GGGG OOOO N NN ZZZZZZ I N NN EEEE ||
\\
\
========================================================================
DargonZine Distributed: 10/15/05
Volume 18, Number 6 Circulation: 656
========================================================================
Contents
Editorial Ornoth D.A. Liscomb
The Darningfly Caper 1 Dafydd Cyhoeddwr Yuli 24-Sy 4, 1018
Idol Hands 2 Jon Evans 2-5 Sy 1018
========================================================================
DargonZine is the publication vehicle of The Dargon Project, Inc.,
a collaborative group of aspiring fantasy writers on the Internet.
We welcome new readers and writers interested in joining the project.
Please address all correspondence to <dargon@dargonzine.org> or visit
us on the World Wide Web at http://www.dargonzine.org/, or our FTP site
at ftp://users.primushost.com/members/d/a/dargon/. Issues and public
discussions are posted to the Usenet newsgroup rec.mag.dargon.
DargonZine 18-6, ISSN 1080-9910, (C) Copyright October, 2005 by
The Dargon Project, Inc. Editor: Ornoth D.A. Liscomb <ornoth@rcn.com>,
Assistant Editor: Liam Donahue <bdonahue@fuse.net>.
DargonZine is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-NoDerivs-
NonCommercial License. This license allows you to make and distribute
unaltered copies of DargonZine, complete with the original attributions
of authorship, so long as it is not used for commercial purposes.
Reproduction of issues or any portions thereof for profit is forbidden.
To view a detailed copy of this license, please visit
http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nd-nc/1.0 or send a letter to
Creative Commons, 559 Nathan Abbott Way, Stanford CA, 94305 USA.
========================================================================
Editorial
by Ornoth D.A. Liscomb
<ornoth@rcn.com>
Yes, we're back again. After a three-month dry spell through the
summer, our September issue broke open the flood gates. Our writers have
been busy finalizing new works, and we hope to bring you several new
issues before the end of the year.
This issue continues the second section of our ongoing Black Idol
story arc. These new stories feature two journeys that converge in the
village of Kenna, which is located at the head of the Coldwell River,
several days' travel upstream from the city of Dargon. We begin with the
first chapter in Dafydd's three-part "Darningfly Caper", and conclude
with the second chapter of "Idol Hands", written by Jon Evans.
I'd like to take a second to reintroduce you to Jon. He's one of
the project's longtime leaders, having served for years as assistant
editor, treasurer, and archivist. Jon led the push to get the Dargon
Project incorporated, and has continued to work hard to secure our
non-profit status. DargonZine's success is thanks in great part to his
contributions over the years.
Jon first joined the group back in 1989. During the thirteen-year
span from 1989 to 2001, he had at least one story printed in DargonZine
every year except one. That's an incredible record of consistency.
However, his last story appeared back in July 2001, and Jon hasn't
printed a story in more than four years. That is, of course, until last
month, when he returned to print with the first chapter of "Idol Hands",
his three-part contribution to the Black Idol arc. This issue includes
part two of Jon's story, and I'm delighted to be able to use this space
to welcome Jon back to the pages of DargonZine. Part three will follow
in a few months.
Jon has undergone a lot of change in the past year, including
buying a house, getting married, and the impending birth of his first
child. Although he's building a family of his own, he's also a firm part
of our family too, so we hope to keep him engaged and actively writing
for the magazine. We're happy to have him back, and pleased to present
you with his contribution to the long-awaited Black Idol story arc.
========================================================================
The Darningfly Caper
Part 1
by Dafydd Cyhoeddwr
<John.White@Drexel.Edu>
Yuli 24 - Sy 4, 1018
Rancin Fer slammed open the door of the office and strode
confidently up to the desk. Rancin was tall, with wide shoulders and
thinning hair. He was dressed in his best leather vest and breeches,
complete with studded belt and baldric. He said, "I c-c-came as s-s-soon
..."
Rancin faltered to a halt, but not because of the scowl on Tyrus
Vage's face, which he hadn't yet noticed. He fished a small object out
of a pocket in his baldric, and then slipped the smooth agate he held
into his mouth, where it soon found its normal place in his left cheek.
Speaking somewhat slower than before, he said, "I came as soon as I
got your message, boss." The agate had done its work, stopping his
stutter. Satisfied, Rancin finally looked Vage in the face.
"Haste was not called for," said Vage, his scowl deepening, "nor
was such a loud entrance. Be thankful your rude intrusion caught me
dipping my quill. Had you made me waste this parchment, the cost would
have come out of your wage." He pointed with the quill and said, "Now
close the door, quietly, and then wait until I am finished here."
Vage resumed scratching at the parchment before him with his inked
quill while Rancin walked softly back to the door and closed it
carefully. He knew that his boss could afford a new piece of parchment,
being an important merchant in the city of Dargon, but it was normal for
the man to be so frugal. By the time he returned to the desk, Vage was
dumping the sand off the letter he had finished. Rancin stood patiently
while Vage folded the parchment, dripped wax onto it, and pressed his
ring into the hardening blob. The merchant eyed the impression closely,
then set the letter on the far side of his desk next to a small black
pouch and a block of metal that Rancin was very familiar with.
"I called you in today to give you your next assignment, Rancin,"
said Vage. He pointed to the three objects and said, "I want you to take
these three things and deliver them to Troril Hancot in Kenna. In the
pouch are ten Marks for materials, manufacturing costs, and payment for
Hancot. The mold you know about, having acquired it for me. The letter
outlines our deal; be sure to get Hancot's signature and bring it back
to me."
Rancin picked up all three items and cradled them as Vage
continued, "There's no need for speed, so no need to be extravagant. A
barge will serve perfectly to get you to Kenna. It will take a season
for Hancot to manufacture his complete lot. Today's the 24th of Yuli.
Allowing plenty of time for manufacturing and adding more for shipping
means we couldn't possibly take delivery of the fakes before winter,
when they will be of no use. Come next spring, though, Sferina will find
her little monopoly crumbling around her ears!"
Rancin took Vage's preoccupied laughter as his signal to leave. He
had a smile on his face as he walked out the door, shutting it quietly
behind him. He didn't know exactly what the man was planning, but if he
was in good spirits then he wasn't heaping abuse on his employees. So if
Vage was pleased, then Rancin was happy as well, and he would make sure
that he did his part to keep him that way.
"Bet I can beat you to the door," said the rangy, red-haired man to
his taller, bulkier companion.
"Don't wanna race, Murlak," said Darrow, his straight blond hair
falling over his bright blue eyes yet again.
"So?" asked Murlak, his black eyes twinkling. "Can't win if you
don't race." With that, he bolted down the hallway, his boots pounding
loudly on the wood.
Darrow shook his head, pushed his bangs off to one side again, and
muttered, "Can't win if you race alone." He followed his friend more
sedately down the corridor, using the time to check himself over. He
brushed his long hair back away from his face, then pulled at the hem of
his tunic, trying to straighten the keyhole neck. He checked his
breeches, craning his neck over his shoulder to examine as much of his
clothing as he could see. His garments were clean and had no holes, or
even a patch, which made him feel presentable. His shadow boy roots
weren't all that far in the past. Sferina, the woman whose office he was
approaching, knew about that past, but he still tried to remove himself
as far from it as he could.
Darrow rounded the corner and found Murlak standing before a plain
wooden door with a crooked-armed starfish hanging on it. Murlak was
grinning like a fool and bouncing from foot to foot, looking more like
he was seven than seventeen. Darrow, who was several months younger than
his red-haired, full-bearded friend, felt more like twenty-seven as he
said, "Control yourself, Murlak. Sferina is not going to hire us if you
are acting like a child experiencing a call of nature."
Murlak stuck his tongue out at Darrow, but settled down
immediately. As Darrow knocked at the door, Murlak leaned over,
whispered, "I won," and straightened back up, putting on his serious
face. Darrow suppressed his sigh and waited for the door to open.
A short moment later, the door swung away from them. Standing in
the opening was a willowy figure, her modest curves accentuated by the
way she wore her dress. She had long black hair, high cheekbones, and
bright red lips. Her eyes, though, were the most striking aspect of her
face: very large and luminously emerald, like the purest of gemstones.
She also had a stripe of white hair that ran from her left temple around
toward the back of her head.
"I'm glad you've arrived, Darrow, Murlak," Sferina said. "Come in
and have a seat. I need to ask you to do something very important for
me."
Sferina turned and walked through the cozy, cluttered room to her
desk and stood behind it. Darrow followed her, making sure that his
friend was keeping up. He watched Murlak's eyes dart around the room as
usual. He saw the small, glass-eyed animal that peeked from behind a row
of books just as Murlak began to veer in that direction; a gentle tug
put the redhead back in line. Darrow's attention was drawn to a
delicate, intricate silver sphere on the other side of the room, but he
didn't give in to his desire to examine it more closely. He noticed that
the entire room smelled of lilacs. He looked around, even though he knew
that lilacs didn't bloom in Yuli, but couldn't see real flowers of any
kind. He finally noticed a silver figurine of a single lilac flower,
somewhat larger than normal, in the corner of one shelf, and realized
that Sferina was using one of the magical trinkets she created and sold.
He sat in one of the chairs in front of Sferina's desk, and drew
Murlak down into another. He noticed that Murlak seemed distracted; he
followed his friend's gaze and noticed the wire-wrapped oval of amber
before pinching Murlak's leg and frowning at him.
Sferina sat and folded her hands on the desk in front of her. She
looked both of them in the eyes, one after the other, and then said,
"Boys, I have been robbed."
Murlak bolted to his feet, his hand going to his belt where his
knife would have been had not Sferina's door warden taken both their
weapons upon entering the building. "Who did it?" he said. "I'll gut
'em!"
Darrow pulled down on Murlak's tunic while Sferina, a gentle smile
on her face, said, "Thank you, Murlak, for your loyalty, but that isn't
the job I have for you today. It would do no good anyway, as the goods
have already been passed on."
She opened a drawer, removed an object, and set it on the desk. It
was a silver figurine of a darningfly, a finger's length from iridescent
eyes to barbed tail, slightly larger wingtip to wingtip. Darrow
recognized it as one of Sferina's bug warding charms. He wished he could
afford one to keep the flies and mosquitoes out of his house in the
spring and summer, especially living next to the causeway swamp as he
did.
"I have learned," Sferina said, "that one of the molds that produce
this charm was stolen by Rancin Fer. I have also discovered that Fer is
currently on a barge to Kenna with the mold. I don't know who he is
working for in this, but he wouldn't be taking it to Kenna for his own
purposes."
Darrow shivered at the mention of Fer. He knew the man from his
shadow boy days, both by reputation as a ruthless thug who liked dealing
out punishment, the more severe the better, and personally by how Rancin
had crippled a friend of Darrow's for simply resting against the wall of
a warehouse Fer was guarding.
He pushed those bad thoughts away and contemplated the trip that
Sferina was proposing. He glanced at his friend, wondering how he would
take to the journey. He found Murlak grinning vacantly and stretching a
finger toward the shiny silver figurine. Darrow poked Murlak hard. His
partner flinched and drew back, holding his arm and scowling at Darrow.
"Boys!" Sferina scolded, though she was looking at Murlak. The
redhead dropped his hand and his scowl, looking attentively at the
trinket manufacturer.
"I want you two to ride to Kenna; you should have no trouble
arriving before Rancin's barge. I need you to retrieve the stolen mold
and find out what he is up to.
"Do you think you can do it?"
Murlak leaned forward and drew in a breath. Darrow pinched him yet
again, and he sagged back like a deflating bladder.
Darrow said, "That seems within our capabilities. What compensation
might you be able to provide?"
"One Mark above and beyond normal expenses such as horses and
food." She reached into another drawer and pulled out a stack of copper
coins, and then laid a larger, golden coin next to it. She pushed the
stack forward, and then set her fingers over the gold coin. "Payment on
delivery, of course."
Darrow struggled to keep his elation off his face. They had never
before been offered so much for the occasional under-the-table work
Sferina had asked of them. It sounded like easy work. He knew who Rancin
was, so they would be able to spot him when he stepped off the barge.
Then, it was just a matter of a cosh to the back of that balding head,
and he and Murlak would just float back down the river and into a few
seasons' worth of wealth. He didn't have to weigh risks or consider
complications.
He said, "We're on it." He stood and extended his hand across the
table. Murlak popped up beside him and reached for the stack of copper
coins and Darrow quickly knocked the hand aside. When Sferina rose, he
shook her extended hand to close the deal. As Murlak took his turn,
Darrow grabbed the stack himself and pocketed them.
Sferina said, "Safe trip, boys. Please see yourselves out. Oh, and
good luck."
Darrow stood on the periphery of the activity around Kenna's docks,
watching the latest barge from Dargon ease into its slip. He was
seething at Murlak, who stood beside him bouncing from foot to foot,
tapping his truncheon against his leg. Darrow gripped his own club
tighter and entertained the fantasy of testing it out on the redhead to
his left.
He and his partner had departed Dargon on Yuli 27th, the day after
Sferina had hired them, using the time between to buy supplies. They had
ridden southeast, roughly parallel to the Coldwell, for five days,
arriving on the first of Sy, two days ago. That first night Murlak had
spent the remainder of their advance in a red velvet room, using a bed
without sleeping in it. The next day, just yesterday, while Darrow had
been watching the docks, Murlak had sold their horses for a stake at the
gambling house, and had lost three quarters of it. When Darrow had found
out, he had administered a bit of a beating to his friend to get the
rest of the coins away from him. Then, of course, he'd been forced to
listen to Murlak whine about being bored for bell after bell until
finally a threat to his manhood had gotten him to shut up.
Darrow wasn't so much upset about the whoring and gambling, which
he indulged in himself, but about the irresponsibility of losing both
all of their money and their transportation. The remaining coins would
pay for a barge journey it was true, but the danger of fleeing an angry,
mugged man down a very clear trail in an easily tracked vehicle was
obvious, to him at least. There was the option of killing Rancin, but
Darrow wasn't a murderer, despite his current daydreams.
The barge had settled against the dock, and the crew was busy tying
it off and preparing to unload. Darrow focused on the short line of
passengers queueing for departure. His fantasies of bodily harm vanished
when he saw the profile and balding head of Rancin Fer, their target.
The broad-shouldered man didn't seem to be in any hurry, waiting
patiently as the queue walked across the gangplank and onto the dock.
Darrow nudged Murlak, perhaps a little hard to judge by the resulting
grunt, and subtly indicated Rancin to his partner. Murlak's "What?"
prompted a sigh and a muttered, "Stick close," in response.
Rancin left the dock area without pausing, and Darrow followed,
tugging Murlak along. Once he saw the street Rancin chose, Darrow began
planning their move. He had spent his own idle time getting to know the
small town, and now he pictured the likely ambush spots along this
street. Making his choice, he leaned close to Murlak and whispered, "Rat
three."
Murlak glanced around at the gutter and shadowed doorways before
looking back at Darrow with a sheepish expression. He nodded then, and
darted toward a side street. He halted just a step into it and turned, a
lost expression on his face.
Darrow, expecting it, mouthed "rat" clearly, and Murlak's face lit
up. He nodded and mouthed it back, so Darrow next held up three fingers.
With a confirming nod and a returned three fingers, Murlak resumed his
dash.
Darrow sped up slightly and soon had Rancin back at a comfortable
trailing distance. He glanced around, pleased that there were few other
pedestrians on the street. Rancin approached the spot he had designated
as rat three, where Murlak was to be waiting. Darrow could see no one
ahead of him but Rancin. He glanced behind him and saw only a few
walkers heading away from him. His luck was holding.
The ambush spot was just ahead. Darrow hurried a bit as Rancin
approached the intersection. Murlak leaped out at just the right time,
putting his truncheon into Rancin's gut, doubling him over. Darrow
rushed up and pushed the bent-over man toward Murlak and into the
alleyway. Once out of direct view, Darrow brought his club down
precisely across the back of Rancin's neck. The broad-shouldered man
collapsed like an undermined parapet into a heap on the ground. Darrow
and Murlak looked at each other and grinned. "Well done," Darrow said,
and Murlak's face lit up even brighter.
Darrow pointed over his shoulder at the mouth of the alleyway, and
knelt beside the balding man as Murlak moved to keep an eye out. The
goods were in the most obvious place to look: the haversack slung over
Rancin's shoulder. Darrow found a small wooden box which, when opened,
revealed a black bag, a metal block, and a folded, sealed piece of
parchment. He checked the items to be sure. He found ten Marks in the
bag; the metal block was really two plates that fit together, with a
reverse image of the darningfly charm in them; and he recognized the
seal on the parchment as belonging to Tyrus Vage. He knew Vage's
reputation as an underhanded merchant, willing to do anything for
profit. He recalled his own run-in with the man five years in the past,
when he had helped Tanner, a Rhydd Pobl, rescue his foster-sister from
the merchant. Sferina would be very interested in this proof of Vage's
involvement.
Murlak said from the mouth of the alley, "Did you find it, Darrow?"
Rancin stirred at the sound of the voice, and then stilled again.
Before replying, Darrow poked him with the club, but only got a normal
involuntary movement out of him.
"Yes, Murlak," he replied, "I've got what we came for, and more.
Sferina will be pleased, I think." Darrow busied himself with filling
the chest with some rocks and a wad of cloth, then wrapping the three
items he had taken from the box in another square of cloth. He dropped
this bundle into an oilcloth bag and tied it securely shut, then slipped
the bag back into his carryall.
As he was standing, Murlak said, "So how are we getting back to
Dargon, since I sold the horses?" The worry was evident in his voice,
but Darrow knew that this was the first time that question had crossed
Murlak's mind.
Darrow considered the problem. The ten Marks would buy them both
very fine horses, not to mention a retinue to make their journey home
one of comfort and luxury. But the money didn't belong to him. After
helping Tanner against Vage, the two had become friends, and the Rhydd
Pobl boy had taught him things about responsibility and honor that the
streets of Dargon had never hinted at. His shadow boy past was behind
him, and now he owed Sferina more than just his service for her wage.
The way Fer had bundled the three things bound them together in Darrow's
mind. The Marks were Sferina's to dispose of, along with the mold and
the parchment. Not to mention what kind of trouble Murlak could get into
with that much gold!
"Barge," he said, walking up behind his partner. "Let's get back to
the inn and get our things. Then it's straight to the docks for the next
flat-boat to Dargon."
As they left the alley, Darrow heard a rustle behind him. He turned
and saw that Rancin had simply turned on his side. Cautious, he went
back for another poke, but the man didn't stir. As he began to walk away
with his friend to arrange transportation, though, he wondered whether
he had been thorough enough. If Rancin had heard their plans ... Darrow
was sorry he hadn't given the man a kick just to be absolutely sure.
"None until morning? Straight?"
The man in the booth at the docks said, "Nothing 'cept logs and
drowned animals travel the river at night, son. First barge tomorrow is
at about third bell. You'll be in Dargon by the eighth."
Darrow decided to save his scowl for later, keeping a calm face for
the official. "Passage for two, please, that barge," he said. The man
took the coins, jotted the names they gave him, Jekk and Birl, in a
register, and handed Darrow two wooden chits Immediately, the man went
back to checking log books.
Darrow led Murlak away from the docks. He didn't have to wait long
for the expected whine. "What are we going to do, Darrow?" Murlak asked.
"Rancin is going to be looking for us soon!"
"I know, I know," Darrow said, letting his scowl and mounting
annoyance out, hoping the latter would overwhelm his rising panic. "Come
on. Maybe we still have some of that luck we had earlier."
The two of them raced back to the ambush spot, but Rancin was gone.
Darrow stood there in the mouth of the alley and thought hard.
Finally he said, "We need to hide somewhere Rancin can't look for
us. We'll worry about tomorrow once we are safe tonight. Since they
already know you there, Murlak, why don't you lead the way to the Taut
Sheets?"
Murlak's grin only made Darrow frown deeper.
Darrow was pleasantly surprised by how comfortable and tasteful the
back room of the Taut Sheets was. He knew the front rooms of several
whorehouses well, and the bedrooms were usually rather uniformly bare,
but he had never before been in a back room where the girls gathered to
do makeup and chat and wait for enough custom to fill the front rooms.
The erotic wall hangings were somewhat threadbare, and the lamp shades
with their suggestive silhouettes were several other colors than red.
The couches were well-padded and covered with fantastic brocades, and
the floor was buried by wildly-colored cushions. Darrow thought he
wouldn't mind having a room like that in his own apartment.
Kenna was a crossroads town, and the Taut Sheets had six employees
who were at times all busy simultaneously. Early Sy wasn't one of the
town's busy times, though, with Darrow and Murlak being the only custom
in the place and none more expected. Even so, the establishment's owner,
big, beefy, bearded Chanik, had wanted a price too dear to spend the
whole night with one of the women. Darrow had paid for the usual
half-bell and quite enjoyed his time in the lovely blonde's bed despite
his worry about what to do when their time was up. Shortly after Chanik
had stomped by and slammed open the door to Darrow's room signaling that
the rental period was up, a cute, young, skyclad brunette had come up
and gestured for both him and his bed-partner to follow her. He had
ended up in the back room with all six of the Taut Sheets' female
employees along with Murlak, whose pillow talk had led to the suggestion
that they stay in the back room, which had no rental rate anyway.
After a little while in the back room, being fussed over by six
women in various states of dress from not-at-all to nearly-naked, Darrow
was ready to continue the bedroom activities. Unfortunately the girls
all had very strict rules about that sort of thing, not that they minded
teasing the two men mercilessly anyway.
To get his mind off of the temptations around him, Darrow started
discussing his plans for the next morning's trip with Murlak. His
red-haired companion, however, seemed much more interested in going as
far as the girl in his lap would let him. So he was very surprised when
Murlak hopped up suddenly, dumping his lap-girl into a pile of cushions,
and said, "We can dress up!"
"What?" asked Darrow after making sure that the former lap-girl was
giggling and not crying in the cushions.
"Dress up. Disguise! If Rancin doesn't recognize us, we won't have
any problem riding the barge home, straight?"
"How? As what? We've got to stay disguised for four or five days,
Murlak!"
The naked brunette said, "We could help."
They both looked at the brunette, and then lifted their gaze to her
face. "Really?" Darrow said.
"Sure. We're good at disguises. We do it all the time. I'll bet we
have some customers that think there are a double-dozen girls who work
here!"
All six employees eagerly joined in, pulling clothes out of chests
and out of storage rooms, chattering away with suggestions to the two
men, and questions to each other of where a specific item of clothing
was. Darrow quickly vetoed Murlak's idea to dress as girls, not having
any stomach for the idea himself no matter how good the disguise, but
also knowing that they couldn't possibly keep the masquerade up for the
entire barge trip. The other ideas, though, he listened to attentively.
The first action taken was to dye his own hair black. A bowl and a
pitcher, plus a small clay pot of some black paste was all that was
needed, and soon the brunette's revealed charms were distracting Darrow
as she plastered the paste all over his head and even onto his eyebrows.
She took another clay pot and brushed a green goo all over his face with
a wooden stick, being careful not to get any on herself nor to drip
anywhere. Darrow couldn't feel the hair dye do its work, but the goo
made his face tingle, then itch, and when he looked down he could
actually watch the hair growing right out of his skin. Soon, he had a
full, bushy blond beard that the brunette was rubbing the black paste
into.
On the other side of the room, Murlak had two girls shaving his
face expertly with what looked like very sharp knives. As Darrow
watched, the beard he had always seen Murlak in vanished and a
stranger's face was revealed.
Next, the blonde lap-girl settled down next to Murlak and unwrapped
some moist leaves to reveal a blob of nearly clear material. Darrow
wondered what that stuff was made of, as it looked rather unsavory from
where he sat. The blonde scooped the blob off of the leaves with some
difficulty and brought it up to her face where she whispered something
to it. Then she laid it onto Murlak's nose where, instead of running
down his denuded face as Darrow expected, it sat like a lump and rather
quickly took on the coloration of Murlak's skin. The blonde's fingers
began pulling and poking at the lump, and soon it became part of
Murlak's nose, making it larger and giving it a hook and a bump. She
leaned in and whispered to the thing again, when next she poked at it,
it didn't change shape.
She said, "That should last you for half-a-dozen days, maybe a few
more. After that, it will dry up and fall off. Until then, however, it
will be like part of you."
The brunette said to Darrow, "For you, the hair dye will last much
longer, though your roots will begin to show blond in about six or eight
days. That beard is all your own, just fast grown, but it too will start
to show blond roots eventually." She leaned back and smiled, and said,
"You look good like that, dear. Maybe you should dye your hair all the
time."
Darrow said "Thank you," in a distracted manner. He was beginning
to worry about the cost of these items compared to the few coins in his
pouch. He said, "Um, girls, I'm afraid we can't pay for such magical
disguises ..."
The brunette laughed, and said, "Don't worry your black-haired head
about it! The hair-grower's ingredients are grown right in our back
yard, and Herina, the owner's wife, magics it herself. The nose putty is
more exotic, true, but Herina has made more of it for us than we'll ever
need. We've got enough to make little Jeri's chest look and act like
mine!" The girls all laughed, even flat-chested Jeri. "Now, we need to
find you both something to wear, and don't even begin to think about the
cost of a few scraps of cloth!"
The choice of clothing was hard, considering the mismatched and
piecemeal array they had to pick from. The girls suggested forgoing
anything too ordinary as well as too outlandish. Darrow settled on a
brown robe belted by a red strap of leather, and sandals instead of his
favorite boots. He added a string of red wooden beads to the costume,
and practiced pulling them through his fingers until he could do it
without thinking about it.
Murlak, difficult as usual, cobbled together a garish outfit
composed of a bright green tunic, an orange vest, and purple pants. He
scrounged three juggling clubs and made a sling to carry them in. Darrow
made Murlak demonstrate that he knew how to juggle before letting his
friend pretend to be a jester. By the time the demonstration was over,
the redhead had juggled just about every loose object in the back room,
including the blonde's remaining scarves. As a reward, the girls broke
their "no customers in the back room" rule, and the rest of the night
was spent accordingly.
Darrow walked across the gangplank feeling very much not himself.
He had yet to get used to his new look. He now wore his dyed hair bound
with a twisted cord headband, and he missed pushing his bangs out of his
eyes. He was also continuously being startled by the dark strands on his
shoulder. He could see that Murlak, walking beside him, seemed to have
no qualms about his own new role, just striding along and grinning like
a simpleton.
Darrow handed the wooden chits to the crewman at the barge side of
the gangplank and walked over to the opposite edge of the deck to keep
an eye on the other boarding passengers. As he stood there with his eyes
fixed on the end of the gangplank, he hoped with every pass of a bead
though his fingers that Rancin would not show among them.
He watched a merchant board with a guard who carried an ornate
chest. Once that was stowed, the merchant went right back to the dock
side of the barge to supervise the loading of the rest of his cargo,
judging by his gesticulations.
A commotion disrupted the boarding process as a shepherd brought
her sheep over the passenger gangplank and not the livestock board, so
that they had to be herded off again.
A party of four strangely mismatched people walked down the dock.
There was a well-dressed man who looked on the young side of middle-aged
who seemed to have an air of importance about him. A bard with black
hair and blue eyes and lips came next. She was older than Darrow, but
younger than the important man. Close by her side was a man of her age
dressed in brown leather. Behind those three was a shabbily dressed man
much closer to Darrow's age who seemed their servant as he led a
well-laden mule. At the gangplank the well-dressed man gestured to the
mule tender, who continued on to the livestock board. The other three
crossed the plank and went right to the front of the boat, claiming some
room there.
Several crafters came on board with their tools of the trade on
their belts: chisels and mallets, both wooden and metal.
Activity began to slow as the cargo on the docks was finally all
loaded and the crew went through the final preparations for departure.
Darrow was all ready to let out a deep sigh of relief when Rancin
strolled down the dock and stepped onto the gangplank just as a crewman
was about to lift it away. He held out his chit as he walked from dock
to boat, his eyes scanning the people on board as he came.
Darrow's breath stopped in his throat when Rancin's eyes locked on
his, and the beads stopped moving through his fingers. The balding man
stared at him, then the eyes moved to Murlak. A moment later, the gaze
continued its sweep, causing Darrow's knees to go weak and making him
gasp in a breath he was afraid Rancin could hear all the way across the
barge.
He looked sideways at Murlak and met his partner's returned gaze.
They smiled at each other and resumed their original poses. Darrow
thanked his luck, the remaining coins spent at the red house, and the
satiated, or more likely bored, ladies of the Taut Sheets. He believed
that he and Murlak were going to make it back to Dargon after all.
Assuming their disguises, and their luck, held up for the next four
days, anyway.
========================================================================
Idol Hands
Part 2
by Jon Evans
<thegodling@comcast.net>
2-5 Sy 1018
Part 1 of this story was printed in DargonZine 18-5
"What do you think they're doing out there?" Edmond heard Kal ask.
Kal was referring to his lover, Simona, and the magus, Anarr. Anarr and
Simona had gone off into the woods "to work on a spell," they had said.
Edmond was only a hired guard for this trip, but he could tell that
Anarr had more than a passing interest in Simona. He wasn't sure if she
reciprocated. Certainly, this wouldn't be a very polite time to broach
the idea, as they were all traveling to Dargon together, and Simona's
lover was with them. Then again, Edmond's recent experience had taught
him that Anarr was anything but polite. Edmond thought Kal looked
nervous. If Kal decided to cause trouble with Anarr, Edmond might have
to intercede. Not that Anarr would need assistance: he was a magus of
great power and fame, and could more than handle himself against a
scrawny ex-sailor.
"I have no idea," Edmond replied. Then, with a teasing smile, he
added, "And I don't care to guess." Edmond immediately regretted the
remark; instead of lightening the mood, it put Kal into an angry
depression. Kal paced the edge of the firelight, the frown on his face
shadowed by the flickering flames.
Edmond watched Kal, appraising him, wondering what it would take to
knock him down if trouble arose. Kal was dressed in common clothes and
did not have the look of a warrior, nor did he carry a sword. He was a
tall, thin man, an ex-sailor who had fallen in love with a bard. Edmond
decided his own strong arms, forged from beating iron with a hammer
while intense heat blasted his chest and face, were all the weapons he
would need.
"Bloody, rotting, pain in the arse," Kal swore. "Stupid, pompous,
self-important cow." Kal kicked dirt.
Edmond gazed momentarily at the mule they had brought with them on
this trip, making sure it was still tied down. Sure enough, Kal's
ramblings and nervous energy had not fazed it a pinch. Its long gray
nose nuzzled the branches on a tree, looking for something to eat.
Edmond then surveyed the rest of their small camp. Rain was lightly
falling, largely inhibited by the conifer forest that grew along the
mountainside. The ground was damp and soft from the precipitation, but
had not turned to mud. Old needles padded the earth, providing a prickly
barrier between the travelers and the moistened soil. The fire was
magical in its inception, thanks to Anarr, but burned naturally now that
some of the local wood had dried near its heat. Sitting next to Edmond
was a bundled object, never to be out of his reach or control: an
ancient statue of Gow, the Beinison god of war.
The statue was the real reason Edmond was here. According to Anarr,
it had been cursed by Amante, another god. The curse caused ill luck to
all those within its range, and until recently that had included
Edmond's home in Northern Hope. That settlement had been famous for its
sudden quakes, floods, droughts, sickness, falling buildings, and
general malaise. The only reason Edmond and his people had settled there
was because the King of Baranur had granted them that land after
Beinison had taken Pyridain in the recent war. It's the rare refugee
that turns down a helping hand, Edmond mused.
But Anarr had discovered the cause of Northern Hope's ill luck: the
curse that had been placed upon this statue of Gow. Anarr had also found
a way to ward the curse, temporarily, or perhaps 'placate' was a better
word. It was hungry, Anarr had said, and required regular feeding. Now
he and Anarr were making their way to the city of Dargon, to deliver the
statue to Anarr's employer.
Edmond felt he was running into a lot of curses. While traveling
back through Northern Hope, Anarr had been approached by Simona, who was
also under a curse, one that had been plaguing her family for
generations. Anarr had taken to her almost instantly, and decided to
help her.
Not for the first time since meeting Anarr, Edmond began to wonder
about the powers of magic, and if there were repercussions. Certainly,
this statue was an example of malicious magic, the curse laid upon it
having devastating effect. Additionally, Edmond had heard of wizards and
magicians who had lost their minds, or even physical body parts, in
their attempts to increase their knowledge and skills. Most of those
tales were told around the Night of Souls, however, so he held little
stock in their truth. But tales of Anarr had been told for decades
before Edmond had been born, yet Anarr had the appearance of a man of
thirty summers or less. What kind of magic could do that?
Simona apparently had some connection with the magus, but Edmond
was not certain what that connection was. She had graduated from the
College of Bards, in Magnus. They were a mysterious and somewhat magical
group as well, Edmond knew, but was her connection to Anarr mystical or
physical? Edmond had to admit that Simona was certainly an attractive
woman, though her preoccupied whining irritated him, and he could not
decide whether he liked the blue paint she used to color her lips.
"Hollow, windless, squid-born fish bait!" Kal said.
Beyond Kal's ongoing fit of jealousy, Edmond made out a new sound:
footsteps in the wood, getting closer. The pine branches parted to
reveal the tall, aristocratic form of Anarr, and the delicate curves of
Simona.
Kal's pacing stopped, and his demeanor changed from anger to
supplication. "Simona, are you alright? What happened?"
"Nothing you require knowledge of," Anarr answered for her. "And it
might be best if you did not know." Simona smiled apologetically, but
she was obviously exhausted and frustrated. Anarr was sweating for the
first time since Edmond had met him, and his robes were covered in dirt
and pine needles. Edmond reserved his thoughts about what might have
happened between them. "Sadly, the attempt failed. We'll have to try
again later." Then Anarr smiled evilly; his eyes flashed briefly at Kal
before adding, "Won't we, my dear?"
Kal bristled with jealousy. "Anarr," he grumbled. "Look at her,
she's drained. You're taking us on this wild trek across the mountains,
just to get to Dargon. The sea would have been a better choice; why
bother taking the route through Kenna?"
Anarr barely deigned to answer. "It's faster."
Kal pressed. "The Darst Range is not exactly safe."
"You have no idea how dangerous it really is," Anarr replied.
"Then why take it?" Kal asked again. "Have you no concern for
Simona? Or are you just pretending to try to help her, in order to
fulfill some other objective?" Edmond realized that the challenge was
not about the direction they took, but the affections of Simona. Anarr
turned to face Kal.
"I will inform you all why I chose to travel via Kenna rather than
Miass. I do this solely to prevent a rift within our cozy fraternity."
Kal bristled at these words, but Simona reached for his hand to steady
him. "From Northern Hope, Miass is a six-day barge ride down river. To
then get to Dargon by sea would take another eight days. A fortnight, in
total. It takes only four days to cross the Darst Range, and another
four days down river to Dargon. Only eight days, for those of you
lacking the ability to add. You could argue -- and likely will, given
your predisposition for unwarranted hostility -- that crossing Marrow
Gorge would be too dangerous for our lovely bard. However, the northern
cape of Lands End is also a particularly dangerous area to negotiate,
even for the most experienced of ship's captains. Strong currents and
stormy winds often conspire to drive vessels against the rocky cliffs,
or force them to sail deep out to sea, where the icy northern weather
can wreak havoc on a ship and its crew.
"So in effect, my young dilettante, not only am I saving us travel
time, I am showing more concern for the safety of the lady in our group
than you are."
Anarr lay down suddenly, pulling a blanket over him. "I'm exhausted
from the evening's ... exercises." He smiled coldly at Kal. "Wake me in
the morning, will you?" Kal smoldered, defeated. Simona futilely
attempted to soothe Kal. Edmond poked the fire.
Before the next dawn, the group broke camp. Edmond felt a tense
silence accompany the morning ritual of rolling the beds, dousing the
last embers of the fire, and packing the cooking gear. He did not feel
comfortable with the silence, yet could think of no conversation that
would sound natural and unforced. Thus, the travelers made their way
quietly as the sun rose in the east, marking the morning's progress.
Edmond could hear Marrow Gorge long before he saw it. The low,
distant rumble of the rapids echoed through a small valley between two
mountains. A fine mist filled the air, coating him and the packs he
carried, making everything damp. And then, as he followed Anarr past
some fallen branches, he saw it: a magnificent crevasse, many fathoms
deep, with a roaring river separating each side of the canyon. It
couldn't have been more than a dozen strides across, but it might as
well have been a league: the bridge was destroyed, its splintered
remains of rope and wood adorning each side of the ravine. Edmond knew
that they now faced the impossible prospect of crossing a dangerous gap
between two moss-covered cliffs without a bridge. He noted pine and
small oak trees speckled each side of the gorge. He saw birds perched in
the trees, spying the river for evidence of feeding fish. He suspected
they would be just as happy feeding on the corpses of foolish travelers
dashed against the rocks below.
"Marrow Gorge," Anarr announced. The roar of the water forced him
to shout.
"We'll never be able to cross here," Simona said. She tentatively
approached the edge of the cliff and looked up and down the ravine. "Nor
anywhere else that I can see." She backed away from the edge quickly.
"Well done, Anarr," Kal said. Edmond thought he spied a satisfied
smirk under the disappointed look on Kal's face. "You've led us astray,
with no place to cross. So much for saving time by going over the
mountains."
"This tributary to the Coldwell is a main artery," Anarr said. "Its
source is many leagues back into the mountains. Upriver, it is small and
placid, but runs out of very steep mountains. By the time it reaches
Marrow Gorge, it has been fed by other streams, above ground and below.
It is the defining line between these two cliffs, and at no point are
the two cliffs as close as they are here. The trade route fords the
river in the lowlands, which would take us far north of our mark. We
might as well walk the whole way to Dargon, if that's the way you want
to go."
"We could have just hopped a barge at the ford," Kal said. "Now
we're going to break our necks trying to cross this gap."
"As ever, my short-sighted companion," Anarr replied, "you think
only the worst of me, and fail to appreciate my unique skills. It is a
simple matter for us to cross here."
Edmond raised his eyebrows. "Really?" he asked, disbelieving Anarr.
He was certain Anarr was powerful, but what could he be thinking?
"Yes, Edmond, my student of the world. You are often as
short-sighted as Kal, yet willing to understand. You have that much of
an advantage over him." Kal bristled, as he often did when Anarr spoke
about him. Edmond was not entirely pleased with the compliment.
"Pray, educate us, O Exalted One," Kal said, bowing deeply to Anarr
with mocking subservience.
"That would take too long," Anarr sneered at Kal. "However, a
simple jumping spell is all it will take to cross this ravine."
"A jumping spell?" Simona asked tentatively.
"Yes, quite simple," Anarr stated. He looked around at his three
traveling companions. "I cast the spell on you, and you will have a
momentary ability to jump a great distance. We can easily clear this
ravine."
"I don't think so," Simona whispered.
"You first," said Kal.
"Don't be more of an idiot than you usually are, Kal," Anarr
replied. "I have to be last if I am to perform the incantation on
everyone."
"As if I'd trust you to cast a spell on me," Kal said in a low
tone.
"Kal," Anarr said, "if I wanted you dead, I wouldn't go to such
elaborate means. I would simply suck the life out of your body to
replenish my own. If your ignorance is any indication of your youth, I
should get several good years out of you."
"I'll go first," Edmond said. Everyone stopped and looked at him in
surprise. He was a little surprised at himself.
"Edmond," Anarr said, with perhaps a little affection in his voice.
"You have finally learned to trust in my abilities."
"Somewhat," he acknowledged. "But I figure if I fall to my death,
at least I don't have to listen to the two of you anymore."
Anarr reached into a fold in his robes and produced a feather and
some oil. He dabbed the oil to the tops of Edmond's boots, and mumbled
something while waving the feather at his legs. Then he stood up and
said, "There. Give it a try."
Edmond hesitated. "You mean, now?"
"Yes, now."
"Just like that?"
"Yes," Anarr stated flatly, "just like that." Still Edmond did not
move. He looked across the gorge to the other side. It seemed even
farther than it had been just a few menes ago. "Well, don't take all
day, boy; the spell isn't permanent." Then Anarr yelled, "Go!"
Edmond faced the gap. He shook his head, realizing that this was
potentially the most foolish thing he'd ever done in his life. Then he
put his faith in Anarr's magic, took a running start, and leapt.
As his right foot pushed off the edge of the cliff, Edmond knew he
was going to die. His heart immediately began pounding in his chest. His
legs did not feel any stronger, he had not run any faster, nor did his
body feel any lighter. He was going to fall short, he was sure of it.
The next instant, he thought that perhaps he would hit the far wall on
his way down, and he could grab part of the rock, or the remains of the
bridge. It would hurt, but he might live. He looked down. He thought he
could make out the details of every rock, every stone he would hit if he
fell straight down. Then he looked up, and was surprised that he was
over the far edge. He landed, stumbled, slipped on the mossy rock and
tumbled across the ground. His knees, shoulders and hands scraped on the
hard rock. It hurt, but he was over. He was alive.
Edmond got up slowly. As he rose, he felt the scrapes and bangs
that would eventually become bruises. He looked across at the others and
yelled, "It worked!"
"We know," Kal replied. He almost looked upset, Edmond thought. He
saw Anarr bend over Kal's feet and make some motions, and a mene later
Kal leapt over the gorge. Edmond had an interesting perspective, seeing
Kal's approach from the front. His arms flailed wildly, and his legs
kicked the air. He wondered if he had looked as ridiculous from behind
when he had made the jump. Then he noticed Kal's predicament: he was
jumping too far, and would crash into the jagged rocks beyond the safe
outcropping on which Edmond stood. Kal was still more than a man's
height off the ground as he approached Edmond's position. As Kal came
close by, Edmond jumped and grabbed at him, pulling him down. Kal
collided with Edmond, causing them both to tumble hard onto the rock.
"Thanks," Kal muttered as they stood. "Though I'm not sure you helped,"
he added sourly. "Flying into those rocks wouldn't have been too much
worse than landing on this rock."
"Tell you what," Edmond replied dryly. "Next time, I'll let you
smash against them, and then you can tell me how that felt."
When Edmond looked back across, he saw Anarr standing next to
Simona, gesturing for her to go across. She kept shaking her head no.
Apparently, Anarr had already performed the incantation, but Simona's
fears were keeping her from jumping. Anarr dug into one of the packs on
the mule, and pulled out a rope. He tied one end to Simona, and the
other to himself. She nodded her head, then jumped.
If Kal had jumped too far, Simona made the opposite mistake: she
jumped too short. Edmond didn't know if it was a fear of heights, or
rivers, or what. All he knew was that Simona wasn't going to make it.
"Simona!" he heard Kal yell, and saw him move for the edge of the gorge.
Edmond moved quicker, and grabbed Kal to hold him back.
"What are you doing?" Kal cried.
"You can't reach her!" Edmond yelled back at him. Edmond turned
back to see Simona's downward fall. Across the ravine, Anarr took three
strides, and leapt high into the air. Edmond had not seen Anarr prepare
himself for the jump, yet Anarr's magical leap carried him over the
gorge.
Simona screamed as she dropped straight down toward the river. Then
the rope pulled taut by Anarr's jump, and Edmond saw the magus, in
mid-jump, yank the rope upward. Simona's body, still hanging in the air
between two rock cliffs, with only a treacherous river valley below her,
was forcibly jerked upward, her breath audibly expelled from her lungs.
Her momentum brought her toward Edmond and Kal. Now Edmond released Kal,
who rushed to the edge and slid on his stomach. His hand reached out and
grasped Simona's, catching her before she fell again. When he pulled her
up, there were tears in her eyes, and Kal hugged her close.
"Not again," she muttered. "Not again."
Edmond followed the trail of the rope tied around Simona's waist up
into a tree. There he saw Anarr, perched in a tall pine. Anarr made his
way down, carefully. When he reached the three of them, Kal
characteristically cut into him. "Well done, Anarr. Do you see what you
did? She's in tears!"
"What I did," Anarr stated, "was save her life, at the risk of my
own. It was her fear of crossing the gorge, even though she had seen the
two of you come across safely, that caused her to hesitate. She does not
trust in my magic, and somewhat does not trust in herself." Edmond
thought he caught a note of self-recrimination when Anarr added, softly,
"But perhaps that is partially my fault." Kal looked down at Simona and
held her tighter.
Anarr moved to the cliff's edge and took a sitting position. He
stared across to the other side, where Edmond noted that the mule was
still standing. "You going back over?" he asked.
"Nonsense," Anarr replied. "The incantation can be done from here,
though with a bit more effort, given the distance." Anarr removed the
oil and feather, and made the same movements Edmond had seen him make
twice before.
"And how do you get the mule to jump?" Kal asked. This time, Edmond
did not detect the usual scorn in Kal's tone.
"Become the mule," Anarr replied. Then Edmond saw Anarr's eyes roll
back into his head, and his shoulders go slack. Anarr's mouth seemed to
extend, just a bit, out from his head. He heard a snorting sound from
across the gorge, and when he looked, the mule trotted lightly toward
the gap, and leapt. It landed easily on all fours, appearing completely
unperturbed by the entire experience.
Anarr stood slowly to his feet. "Interesting animal," he stated.
Those were the last words any of them spoke as they resumed their trip.
Late that afternoon, they arrived in Kenna. Edmond thought they
looked like a rag-tag group of travelers. At the first tavern they came
to, the River's Edge, Anarr acquired rooms and meals for the whole
group. Edmond wondered why Anarr was feeling so generous. He soon
realized, however, that he was still sharing a room with the magus,
while Simona and Kal had a room to themselves. Perhaps, he mused, Anarr
was simply attempting to show them some kindness.
The next morning, they made their way to the river where Anarr also
arranged passage for the entire group. Edmond had hoped that Kal would
see this as a token of peace, and in fact Kal did seem more pleasant.
But then, sharing the room with Simona might have had something to do
with that. The passage Anarr had arranged took the form of a large river
barge. A small boat might have been faster, but the mule would have to
have been left behind.
The barge itself was not unlike a floating town, Edmond thought. It
was smaller of course, but the variety of passengers it carried and the
functions it served were numerous. Besides his small group of travelers,
he noted the presence of a shepherdess with a small flock of sheep, a
priest, a blacksmith, and a weaver. There were also three other
travelers from a variety of professions: one seemed to be a mercenary
like himself; the second was dressed in outlandish clothing, like a
jester; and the third appeared to be some sort of monk. There were bales
of cotton and grain being brought downriver for trade with Dargon, as
well as coal from the nearby mines. In the center of the barge were four
small structures built by stacking barrels and crates for walls, and
pulling a large tarpaulin across the top. Anarr naturally claimed one
for himself and the statue.
The first day of the journey was uneventful, though Edmond found it
interesting. The bargemen worked slowly and steadily, with Kal spending
much of his time speaking with and learning from them. Simona and Anarr
conversed at some length, while Edmond spent most of his time with the
statue, or enjoying the gentle travel along the river.
On the second day, as Edmond stood at the barge's railing and
watched the water rustle by, Anarr called to him. "Edmond, come here."
Edmond walked the few paces between himself and his employer.
"Yes?"
Anarr beckoned him into the structure, where he sat next to the
statue of Gow. He had already removed it from the rucksack. Every time
Edmond saw the statue, he was amazed at the exquisite carving. Although
it depicted a man in pain, his head tilted back and screaming towards
the heavens, Edmond thought it was utterly beautiful. A sword lay across
the figure's lap, grasped at each end by the figure's hands.
Anarr spoke softly, and Edmond felt the importance in his words.
"You have lived through the curse of Amante in the past. It has been
assuaged for the time being, but the curse can return if the statue is
not carefully managed. This is how it is managed."
Anarr ran his thumb across the sharpened teeth of the statue,
making a small cut on his digit. He squeezed his thumb, dripping several
drops of blood into the statue's mouth. The gaping maw of the statue
moved! It opened wider, revealing a small parcel at the base of its
throat.
"The screaming mouth of Gow is hollow, you see. And within that
hollow is a mystical concoction that must always be maintained, else the
curse will return. Northern Hope was fully twenty leagues from its
hidden refuge, and yet your town still suffered from its influence."
"Why are you telling me this? You make it sound like you're
leaving."
"I am," Anarr replied gravely. "I must get to Dargon before the
barge, and to do so I must travel by magical means. The captain has
agreed to leave me off tomorrow. I will meet you in Dargon."
"Where in Dargon?"
"At the docks, when you arrive. From there we will make our way to
Parris Dargon's home in the north of town. Meanwhile, you must
periodically check on something within the statue." Anarr stepped back
and pointed to the statue's mouth. "Look in there, and you will see a
small bundle of material. Within that bundle are the mystical elements
that keep the curse at bay. At all costs, they must never be removed."
"What if they fall out? Do you have any more?"
"In Dargon, yes, I can make more. I have none here, however. So
guard it well."
Edmond nodded his head. "I will."
At about mid-morning on the third day, Anarr said his farewells.
Simona and Edmond saw him ashore.
"Do not let the statue out of your sight," he said to Edmond.
"I shall not," Edmond replied.
"Where is it now?"
"It's on the boat."
Anarr simply sighed and stared at Edmond.
"Straight!" Edmond said as realized what Anarr was hinting at.
"Goodbye, Anarr. I'll go back to the statue."
Edmond left Simona with Anarr, and proceeded to the structure where
the statue was kept. He saw one of the passengers, the monk, standing
off to the side, near to the statue.
"Greetings, friend," the monk said.
"Hello."
"Quite a burden you've got there," the monk said, indicating the
wrapped statue. "Must be heavy to haul."
"Not really," Edmond replied. "We have the pack mule for that."
Edmond felt the barge shift slightly as it
pulled away from the bank,
leaving Anarr on shore.
"Ah," the monk replied. "The Stevene said that the animals were
given to us by God, to ease our burdens, but that we must treat them
well."
Edmond moaned internally. He thought, "Oh great, the monk is a
Stevenic."
"Yes, well," Edmond said, "it was nice talking to you."
The monk smiled weakly, nodded, and walked away around some
barrels. Edmond hoped the monk would go off and find the priest.
"Psst! Buddy!" a voice called from his left.
"Now what?" Edmond muttered to himself. He walked around a crate of
fruit to see the jester squatting on the ground. He had placed a large
flat board over the rounded logs of the barge, and was shaking something
in his hands. Something that rattled when he shook it. Something that
sounded an awful lot like dice.
"Now that the boring religious type is gone, care to take a roll?"
the jester asked. The jester threw the dice onto the board, bouncing
them against the crate.
Edmond immediately felt woozy, and his knees weakened. He reminded
himself of his promise to Isabelle. When he had left Northern Hope, he
had promised his betrothed he would not indulge in gambling; it was his
worst vice, and strongest desire. He tried to resist. However, an urging
within him, a hunger, took control of his movements. He reached out with
a shaking left hand, forgetting his promise to guard the statue.
"Perhaps just a game or two," he said weakly, and the next thing he
knew he was kneeling on the barge with a pair of dice in his hands. They
felt good, smooth. They were worn with use, and they rattled soundly
when he shook them. "Just a Bit," he said off-handedly. "I really don't
gamble ..."
He knew he should not be there. He knew he had made a promise to
Isabelle. He knew he would probably lose all his money. But that did not
stop him from emptying his purse on the board. His hand shook the dice.
He was watching his hand do it, as if he wasn't in control. At the same
time, he knew he was shaking the dice on his own, and he didn't care
what was going to happen, as long as he got to throw.
Then an extraordinary thing happened, something that Edmond had
rarely ever experienced: he won his roll. So he threw again, and won
again. Then the jester threw, and lost. And Edmond, feeling the rush of
victory, kept rolling the dice, betting more and more. He didn't know
what time it was; he barely knew where he was. All that mattered was the
rattle of the dice, the thrill of the game. And the dice just kept
falling in his favor, roll after roll after roll.
Just before the jester's last throw, Edmond felt a wave of heat
come over him. He noticed the wind shift, and a small lurch in the floor
beneath him. Was that the sound of thunder, he wondered? Then the jester
threw the dice, and somehow the dice broke in two, cracked neatly in
half. It was such an unexpected occurrence that Edmond was suddenly
pulled out of the allure of the game. He cast a quick glance around him:
he was on the barge, and was supposed to be guarding the statue.
"Ol's balls!" he cried and suddenly pulled himself up from the
barge floor. "The statue! I almost forgot." He grasped at the pile of
coins in front of him and stumbled out from behind the crates. His legs
tingled with sensation after squatting down for so long. He didn't know
how long he had been throwing dice, but the sun was lower in the sky.
When he returned to the statue, he breathed a sigh of relief; it
was undisturbed, still contained in its sack and tied with the rope. It
did seem a bit disheveled, as if something had tugged at the cloth, but
that was probably one of the myriad rats that pervaded all water craft.
Edmond removed the cover from the statue, just in case, and peered down
the throat of Gow. A small bundle was visible, just where he had seen it
the day before. Something seemed different to him, however. He stared at
the statue, and he had the sense that it was alive. He suddenly felt as
though Gow were screaming at him, trying to warn him. It made him
nervous. For no reason he could identify, he spoke to the statue. "I am
sworn to protect you at all costs." Suddenly, cool air rushed over him
and through him, chilling him to the bone. He felt the statue was no
longer yelling at him. The scream of pain disappeared, to be replaced by
a yell of exultation.
He heard a splash of water, and someone cried out that a barrel had
fallen into the river. "Odd," he said to no one in particular, "I
thought all the cargo was tied down."
========================================================================
