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DargonZine Volume 18 Issue 07
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D D A A R R G O O N N N Z I N N N E || Volume 18
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D D AAAA RRR G GG O O N N N Z I N N N E || Number 7
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DargonZine Distributed: 11/14/05
Volume 18, Number 7 Circulation: 642
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Contents
Editorial Ornoth D.A. Liscomb
Journey's End 2 Rena Deutsch Yuli 28-Sy 12, 1018
The Darningfly Caper 2 Dafydd Cyhoeddwr Sy 4 - 12, 1018
Eggs for Breakfast Jim Owens Sy 6-14, 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 18-7, ISSN 1080-9910, (C) Copyright November, 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>
Welcome to another new issue of DargonZine! As you know, we've
spent this entire year printing stories from our Black Idol story arc,
and that'll continue for some time to come. I'll talk more about the
future of the arc in our next issue, but right now it's important that
we look back and celebrate how far we've come already, because this
issue brings us to one of the biggest milestones of the entire
undertaking: the halfway point.
The Black Idol arc began back in April 2003, when we plotted it out
and began writing. Our writers worked on it diligently for the next two
years before the first Black Idol story appeared in print last January
in DargonZine 18-1.
During the first half of this year, we printed the first of its
three major sections: seven stories that were all set in the village of
Northern Hope.
In the second half of 2005, we have printed another seven stories.
The Black Idol and its companions have travelled from Northern Hope,
across the Darst Range to the town of Kenna, then down the river
Coldwell toward Dargon. At the end of this issue, the Black Idol arrives
in Dargon, bringing the second major section of the arc to a close.
We have now printed fourteen Black Idol stories out of our expected
total of twenty-seven. Similarly, we've printed 86,000 words out of an
expected 175,000, so we're exactly halfway through the arc. The Black
Idol has been our writers' focus for the past two and half years, and we
are very proud and delighted to have come so far in sharing this immense
storyline with you.
This month's issue contains three more Black Idol stories. It
begins with the second chapters in Dafydd's "Darningfly Caper" and
Rena's "Journey's End" stories, and closes with Jim Owens' brief but
delightful contribution to the arc: the surreal "Eggs for Breakfast".
Our next issue, which hopefully will be out before the end of the
year, will begin the climactic third section of the arc, which will be
as big as the first two sections of the arc combined. And trust me: with
the Black Idol's arrival in the city of Dargon, things are going to get
more and more exciting in our coming issues!
========================================================================
Journey's End
Part 2
by Rena Deutsch
<Rena3@hotmail.com>
Yuli 28 - Sy 12, 1018
Part 1 of this story was printed in DargonZine 18-5
Simona woke with a start and leaped out of bed. "Anarr!" she
thought, "I need to make sure I find the mage before he leaves this
morning. He's the only one who can help me get rid of this curse." She
dressed quickly and left the barmaid Dora's room to wake Kal, her travel
companion, friend, and lover, whose bedroom was on the other side of the
inn. She entered the common room in order to get across, but much to her
surprise, Kal had already left his bedroom and was sitting at a table,
drinking from a steaming cup.
"I'll have some of that," she told Dora, who was already tending to
the few people present.
"Good morning to you, too," Kal greeted her, a grim expression on
his face.
"Morning," Simona said and planted a quick kiss on his cheek.
"Still sour about last night?"
"Straight," Kal grumbled. "What's it to her anyway who sleeps
where?"
"The Lucky Round's a respectable inn!" Dora said from across the
room. The few people seated inside laughed.
"This girl hears everything that's going on in town," one of the
men commented and showed a nearly toothless grin. "Doesn't matter where
you are."
"Why thank you, Marag." Dora bowed. "It's not every day a girl gets
such a compliment."
Simona grinned. Since she and Kal had arrived at the inn last
night, Dora had made sure the only thing the two had shared was the
meal. Simona hadn't minded, but Kal was visibly upset. She'd make it up
to him, but for now she had more pressing matters on her mind.
Simona and Kal had traveled to Northern Hope in search of a mage
who she hoped would have enough power to break the curse that'd been
with her family for generations. The curse had affected the women in her
family, causing the death of each woman's husband upon the birth of a
daughter. Simona didn't want to share the same fate as her mother,
grandmother, and those before them. She loved Kal and was afraid he
would die if she gave birth to his daughter. She had been very happy
when she learned that a mage had come to Northern Hope and had been
elated when she found out it was Anarr. Simona had heard about him at
the College of Bards and placed high hopes in his ability to lift the
curse. According to the stories she'd heard about Anarr, the mage was
well over one hundred years old and possessed great skills.
"Dora, a mene of your time," Simona said after she'd finished the
sweet brew the barmaid had put in front of her.
"You want directions to Lord Araesto's Cat?"
"Straight."
"I'm walking that way," Marag said, stood up, and placed a worn hat
on his head. "I'll show you."
Simona smiled at him and got up. Kal emptied his cup and followed.
The way across town to Lord Araesto's Cat, the only other inn in
Northern Hope, was short. Marag didn't make conversation, and Simona was
happy about that. She didn't feel like sharing her reasons for visiting
the other inn, nor why she was looking for Anarr.
Marag tapped her on the shoulder and pointed to her left. "There it
is."
"Thank you." Simona said.
"Don't mention it. I'm always glad to help a bard," he replied and
went on his way.
A picture of a black cat with a white tabard, displaying the letter
"A" in red on it, over the door clearly marked the entrance. Simona and
Kal entered without hesitation. The entire room was full of people
chatting. Simona couldn't make out a word anyone was saying. She scanned
the room for someone who looked over one hundred years old, but not one
person fell into this category. Disappointed, she walked up to a girl
carrying several tankards filled with ale.
"I'm looking for Anarr," she said.
The girl shrugged her shoulders and yelled. "You've got to speak
up!"
"I'm looking for Anarr!" Simona shouted. Instantly, she felt the
gaze of nearly everyone in the room on her. The noise in the room
dropped considerably and Simona could hear the barmaid's voice without
straining.
"Anarr? He's not here. Left early this morning. Not sure when he'll
be back, but some of his belongings are still here," the girl said and
placed the tankards on a table.
"Where'd he go?"
"Don't know. Didn't ask him." The girl shook her head.
"Thank you." Simona's face fell. She felt cheated. She had traveled
all the way to Northern Hope in search of a mage and now that she had
reached his lodging, Anarr wasn't there. She swallowed hard, suppressing
tears, and then turned and stepped outside. She didn't know why she was
reacting to the news as she did. Finding a mage to rid her of the curse
was a high priority, and she had been successful in locating a magus.
She had done even better by finding Anarr, whose reputation preceded
him. She couldn't explain her own tears. Her disappointment upon
learning that he had left the inn didn't warrant crying. Leaning against
the wall, she took in a deep breath and wiped her eyes with the sleeves
of her tunic. She felt Kal's hand on her shoulder, but shrugged it off.
"He's not here."
"He'll be back," Kal said confidently, smiled, and took her hand.
"Come, let's go for a walk and we'll come back later this afternoon."
"I'd rather wait here until he returns."
"Don't be silly," Kal said, pulling Simona away from the inn. "It
could be bells. I'd like to see some of this town and its surroundings."
"Fine." Simona gave in and followed her companion. They spent the
rest of the day exploring the town and returned to Lord Araesto's Cat
only to learn that Anarr hadn't come back. Disappointed, Simona followed
Kal's lead as they walked back to the Lucky Round.
The following day, Simona and Kal spent most of their time walking.
Simona couldn't bear to sit at either inn, waiting for Anarr. She felt
restless and needed to move around. They left the surrounding forest to
return to the inn for an evening meal around the eighth bell. Dark
clouds began forming in the west and the wind blew stronger than it had
the past few days.
"I need to find Anarr! He should be returning soon. He's been gone
for some time now."
"Then let's go back to his inn," Kal suggested and directed Simona
towards Lord Araesto's Cat. By the time they reached the inn, it had
gotten quite cold. A huge crowd of people had gathered.
"What is going on?" Simona inquired.
"Anarr is back, good bard! He is talking with Regent Forester right
now. See, he's right over there," one of the men answered, and pointed
at a group of men. He met Simona's gaze and smiled.
Simona thanked him and pushed her way through the crowd towards
Anarr. When she finally got a good look at the mage, she had to take a
second glance. He didn't look like anything she had envisioned. His dark
hair was slicked back and he walked with an air of authority around him.
Most astonishing to Simona though was his appearance. She thought, "He
must be over one hundred and fifty years old, yet he looks as if he'd
reached manhood not too long ago." At the same time Simona overcame her
surprise at Anarr's appearance, Anarr turned away from the man he had
been talking to and bumped into her. She called out, "Anarr. I need to
talk to you. I need your help to lift a terrible curse which has
afflicted my family for gen--"
"Silence!" Anarr shouted. Simona fell silent, though her lips
continued to move. She didn't know what she had expected his reaction to
be, but yelling at her had not been it. She was so taken aback by
Anarr's response that she didn't hear what he was saying. Simona felt a
gentle tug on her tunic sleeve and then Kal's hand slipped into hers.
Disappointed by mage's reaction, she let Kal pull her out of the crowd,
barely aware that he was guiding her away from the inn. Her thoughts
circled around Anarr and her crushed hopes that the curse might be
lifted.
By the time Simona and Kal reached the marketplace, a cold wind was
blowing and dark clouds were forming in the evening sky. Simona had
expected the people in Northern Hope to rush to their homes and stay
inside, but she was mistaken. They were running into the street,
shouting for joy. The whole neighborhood seemed one big celebration. At
first she couldn't make out what they were shouting, but then she
understood bits and pieces.
"-- done it! He's really done it!" one man shouted.
"I wouldn't believe it, if I didn't see those black clouds. It'll
be raining by tomorrow!" another man agreed.
"I hope this rain isn't going to cause any mudslides. And how do
you know the curse is broken? This could just be another twist," a third
man said.
"Straight, Thomas, the rain is probably going to wash half the town
down the river," a woman chimed in.
"No! The curse is broken!" the barmaid from Lord Araesto's Cat
cried and wiped her eyes.
"Who broke what curse?" Simona asked the barmaid when the noise had
died down considerably and conversation was possible again.
"Anarr! He broke the curse! He came about a sennight ago to lift
the curse that lay on our town and today he succeeded."
"How do you know he succeeded?" Simona asked.
"He just returned to the inn and said so! Everyone here has had bad
luck with any undertaking. When the new millstone arrived a while back,
it fell into the river and attempts to retrieve it were unsuccessful.
Less than a bell ago, the men were able to lift it out and put it into
its proper place. It hasn't rained here in over a month, and now take a
look at those clouds. Soon it'll be raining and the crops we planted
this year will have enough water to grow and ripen before winter
begins." The barmaid pulled out a dirty handkerchief and blew her nose.
Simona and Kal spent the next bell at the marketplace, listening to
people's stories about how the curse had made life difficult for them
and what they hoped for themselves now that life could return to normal.
The ringing of a bell and the loud voice of the town crier interrupted
the storytelling.
"Hear ye, hear ye! Tomorrow will be a holiday!" he shouted.
"Tomorrow will be a holiday! We'll have a big celebration starting with
the second bell of the day! Our Regent Forester just announced that the
curse has been lifted!"
Simona turned as someone tugged her tunic. She looked at Marag, who
had an apologetic look on his face.
"Pardon me, good bard," Marag said. "I told the town council we
have a bard in town and they request you sing for us."
"I will honor their request," Simona replied, "As soon as I have
taken care of some business."
"That will be acceptable," Marag smiled and happily walked down the
street.
"What have I gotten myself into?" Simona muttered.
"Huh?" Kal gave her a quizzical look.
"I just agreed to sing at the celebration tomorrow, but I also need
to see if I can talk to Anarr again. I don't know how long that will
take me."
"Why do you want to talk to that arrogant --" Kal stopped
mid-sentence and Simona caught the glance he shot at her before he
continued. "-- jester again?"
"Because he should be able to help me," she answered.
"Didn't you hear what he said to you when you approached him the
first time?"
"Not really," she admitted.
Kal summarized Anarr's outburst, "He basically called you a
'misbegotten peasant' and said he wasn't here to cure anyone."
Simona swallowed hard and suppressed tears. Determination took over
and she looked straight at Kal. "It doesn't matter what he called me. I
have to try again. I have to make him understand. If he can remove the
curse from a whole town, then he should be able to help me. I can't give
up now. I won't give up. Not now, not ever!"
She got up and walked away from the marketplace, not even looking
to see if Kal followed. "How could I have been so stupid?" she chided
herself, "approaching him like the rest of the people in town who'd be
overwhelming him with requests. I should have known better. Hopefully I
can find him alone in the morning." On and on she went, thinking of ways
she could have approached Anarr differently, all the while walking
mechanically without paying attention to the route she was taking.
When Simona finally registered her surroundings, she gave Kal a
surprised look. "How --?"
"Dora wasn't there, so I took you to my room," Kal grinned, "And
you were too preoccupied to object."
"And I won't object now," Simona replied and kissed him.
It was still raining hard when the first bell of day chimed.
Carefully, Simona slipped out of bed so as to not wake Kal who seemed
sound asleep. She dressed quickly, left the room, and entered the main
room. Dora was already up and gave her a disapproving look. Silently,
Dora placed a mug with a steaming liquid in front of her and turned her
back. Simona could hear her muttering, "'Tis a respectable inn."
Quietly, Simona drank the brew. It wasn't as sweet as it had been
the day before and she could taste cinnamon and a few other spices in
it. She felt nourished nonetheless, thanked Dora, who barely looked at
her, and then left the inn. Her goal was once again Lord Araesto's Cat
and Anarr, who she hoped would have a more open ear for her after a
night's rest. After all, the people were celebrating today in his honor.
Luck was with Simona as she approached the inn. The front door
opened and none other than Anarr exited the establishment.
"Anarr," she called out, "might I have a word with you?"
"What do --?" Anarr began angrily. Simona noticed his eyes fall on
her pendant and the insignia on her belt. He changed his tone
mid-sentence and inquired calmly, "You may. What is it that you want?"
"To apologize first and foremost for my behavior last night,"
Simona said.
"Think nothing of it. Get to the point as I have limited time. I'm
planning my departure."
Simona took a deep breath. "Let me tell you the whole story so you
know what you'll be dealing with. I'll --"
"Get on with it," Anarr interrupted. "Be as brief as you can be."
Simona nodded. "Six generations ago, my ancestress Zenia had to
choose between two men. One was a mage, the other a farmer. She chose
the farmer, which upset the mage and he put a curse on her. Zenia's
husband died the day their daughter was born. Zenia followed her husband
not long after. From this point on, every female descendant of Zenia
lost her husband when she gave birth to a daughter. No sons were born
alive. For five generations the daughters grew up as orphans. My mother
is the first in this line to live to see her daughters grow up, though
both my sisters are dead now, and both my mother's husbands died.
"My uncle, a descendant of Zenia's brother, gave me a set of
scrolls that contain the family history. There seems to be more to this
curse, because according to the scrolls, none of the female descendants
of Zenia's brother's side of the family lived to see adulthood.
"What I ask of you, Anarr, is that you help me get rid of this
curse. You're the only one I could think of powerful enough to be
successful. I think my family has suffered enough. Please help me!"
Simona was sure Anarr had listened, but his silence was unsettling.
She had noticed he had paled when she had mentioned Zenia's name, but
she didn't know why. She needed him to help her, for her mother's sake,
for hers, and for Kal's.
"I can pay you two Marks, and I will sing of your greatness,"
Simona offered.
"I will be leaving for Kenna at midday on urgent business. Meet me
at Lord Araesto's Cat half a bell before midday and I'll see what I can
do for you. Now leave me." Anarr hurried away. Simona stared in the
direction he had gone, but the street was empty.
When the second bell of the day sounded it was like a long song.
Every bell in town was ringing, beginning the celebration for Anarr.
Simona strolled towards the marketplace. Overnight the people had put up
tents of all shapes and sizes, shielding themselves adequately from the
rain. No one seemed to mind the rain though. Local craftspeople sold
their wares in booths they had set up. Early in the morning a merchant
had arrived, bringing fresh fruit and vegetables. A food booth had been
erected selling the fruit, stew, and the steaming brew Simona had drunk
for breakfast. She bought some strawberries and was savoring their taste
when her thoughts turned to Kal. "I should go and get him," she thought
guiltily. She was turning to leave the marketplace when she heard a
voice behind her.
"Good bard, there you are."
Simona recognized him. "Good morning Marag. What brings you to me?"
"I've been sent to show you to your tent so you can sing for the
people," Marag replied.
"I was just about to meet up with Kal, my companion --"
"I will send for him and show him where you are," Marag said.
"Please come with me."
Simona followed the man to the largest of the tents. Inside were
wooden benches, a variety of chairs, and wooden boards covered with
blankets. In the middle of the tent was a slightly raised platform,
covered with pillows and blankets. Marag pointed to the stage and asked
her to seat herself.
"I need my lyre," Simona said. "It's at the Lucky Round with Kal."
"I will get both then," Marag replied. "In the meantime," Marag
blushed slightly and pulled a wooden flute out of his pouch, "I heard
bards can play many instruments, so I made this for you. Please accept
this as my gift." He handed her the flute.
"Thank you," Simona said, deeply moved, and accepted the
instrument. She took a close look at it and noticed the fine
craftsmanship. Surprised, she looked at the man in front of her and then
put the flute to her lips and played a few notes. Every tone sounded
clearly.
"Marag, this is a fine instrument! It is too much --"
"I want you to have it," Marag said and placed his hands over hers.
"Then this song is just for you," Simona said, placed the flute on
her lips and played a vibrant tune. When she finished, she noticed Marag
wiping a tear from his face.
"I will go and bring your companion," he said and left the tent.
Simona nodded and began a new song on her flute. As she was playing
a more familiar tune, other people with fiddles, drums, recorders, and
dulcimers joined in. Soon some of the children began to dance, followed
by some of their older playmates. Even adults joined the dancing.
When Kal arrived, he not only handed her the bag with her lyre, but
also a tankard of ale. Simona took the tankard and emptied its contents
without stopping.
"Thank you." She smiled at him.
"They're roasting a pig over a spit," Kal announced.
"Aye," a man with a fiddle in his hands said. "It's Olean
tradition!"
It was nearing midday when Simona called for a break and excused
herself. Joined by Kal, she walked towards Lord Araesto's Cat, worried
that Anarr might have already left. Regent Forester had given a speech
earlier to honor the mage and everyone in town had listened to it. She
had used the time to get a bite to eat and another tankard of ale.
Afterwards, she had lost sight of Anarr and returned to the tent for
some more music.
When Simona turned the corner towards the inn, she saw Anarr coming
from the other end of the street and breathed a sigh of relief.
"You're late," he acknowledged her arrival.
"So are you," she retorted.
They entered the inn. A grumpy barmaid barely noticed them. Anarr
called for a tankard of ale and received one.
"Follow me," Anarr said to Simona and then pointed at Kal, "You
will stay here!"
Simona nodded to Kal, handed him her bag, and followed Anarr. They
took a narrow staircase to the second floor, walked towards the end of
the hallway, and then Anarr opened a door and both entered.
"Edmond," Anarr said before the occupant of the room could speak.
"We're leaving in a bell; you'll have until then to enjoy the
celebration."
"Thank you." Edmond left quickly.
Anarr bade Simona to sit down on the bed. He pulled the only chair
close and sat down. His hands came to rest on Simona's head and for a
moment she shrank back from his touch, but then relaxed.
"Good," Anarr said. "Close your eyes," he instructed. Simona
obeyed. She could feel his hands stroking her head, almost like a gentle
caress. She took in a deep breath. As his hands continued to move over
her head, a chill ran down her spine and she shuddered.
"Sit still or it won't work!" Anarr said. His hands continued their
journey over her head. She felt his thumbs following the outlines of her
eyes and lips and finally down her neck. She was about to protest when
Anarr removed his hands.
"Don't open your eyes until I tell you," he instructed and then
muttered something in a language Simona did not understand. Again his
hands touched her head and Anarr muttered some more words. He took his
hands off and told her to open her eyes.
"How do you know it worked?" Simona asked.
"It didn't," Anarr said in frustration, "But it should have. I will
need more time to work on a counter spell. You will need to travel with
Edmond and me to Kenna. Ready yourself."
"All I need is in my bag and Kal has it. We will need to settle our
bill at the Lucky Round," Simona replied. "Kal will travel with me."
"If he must," Anarr said and opened the door for her.
Two days had passed since Anarr, Edmond, Kal, and Simona had left
Northern Hope to go to Kenna. The rain had finally let up and the sun
had had its say. Simona was grateful for the mule Edmond was leading,
which carried all their belongings. She had noticed that each evening
when they made camp, Edmond took special care of a large, heavy
rucksack, making sure it never left his side. He even slept with it.
More than once she had wondered what the contents of this rucksack were,
but had refrained from asking. Anarr spent almost all his time talking
to her, yet the reason for his trip to Kenna was not part of their
conversations.
Kal had been equally curious about the rucksack and its contents.
Forced to spend much of their travel time alone or with Edmond, Kal had
been able to get some of the answers from him and shared them with
Simona. The rucksack contained a statue of Gow, a Beinison god, who had
suffered the wrath of Amante, another Beinison god, because both had
fallen in love with the goddess Alana. The statue needed to be warded in
order to appease Amante and bad luck away from anyone in the statue's
vicinity. Anarr had found a way to ward the statue and remove it,
restoring hope in town.
Anarr's inquiries had required Simona to tell of the family curse
again, this time in much more detail. Every time she mentioned Zenia,
Anarr seemed to hold his breath. He seemed to be quite affected by her
story. Her ancestress had been dead for over a century. Simona couldn't
think of a reason why the mention of her name and her story would move
him so. For the first time, she regretted leaving the scrolls behind. In
the afternoon of their third day of travel, shortly after they had
selected a site for the night, Anarr led her away from the campsite.
"Where are you taking her?" Kal shouted and ran after them.
"I need some space and quiet so I can do what she asked of me,"
Anarr said with an air of authority. "The spell won't work if you're
clinging to her!"
"Kal," Simona said quietly and placed her hand on his shoulder. "I
need him to lift the curse. You know this as much as I do."
Kal nodded, but Simona could see that he didn't like her leaving
with Anarr. She caught the look Kal gave Anarr and she realized he was
jealous. She sighed, kissed Kal on the cheek, and followed Anarr. She
could feel Kal's gaze on her as she walked away from him.
Anarr stopped at a small clearing and asked her to sit down. Simona
complied and looked expectantly at the mage.
"Close your eyes and don't speak until I'm done," Anarr said.
"How will I know?"
"I will tell you."
"Then begin," Simona said and closed her eyes. Focusing on her
breathing, she tried to relax. She had almost succeeded in gaining a
calm state, when Anarr's hands touched her head and gently massaged her
scalp. Simona tensed as she felt his hands slowly move towards her face
and down her neck. She heard him mutter an incantation and then his
hands moved down her back, continuing the slow, gentle touch. It felt
almost like a caress. Anarr's hands moved towards her front, briefly
rested on her stomach, and then glided upwards, momentarily cupping her
breasts.
Simona was about to protest when she remembered he had instructed
her not to talk. She felt his hands release her breasts and move further
upward, finding the string that held her tunic. Suddenly her tunic
slipped over her shoulders and down to her waist. The cool evening air
hit her like a splash of cold water. Anarr's hands now rested on her
shoulders. She felt something rough touch her back and then
intermittently warm air breezed over her skin. She could hear him
breathing harder and heavier. Simona shivered. What was taking him so
long?
Anarr's hands released her shoulders and the touch on her back was
gone. For a mene, Simona sat in the middle of the clearing acutely aware
of her upper body being exposed. She kept her eyes closed, focusing on
her breathing. She felt cold. She was about to pull her tunic back over
her shoulders when she felt something move across her back, not unlike
someone drawing symbols. Simona tried to guess what was being drawn, but
to no avail. She heard Anarr mutter another incantation in a language
she didn't understand.
"Let this work," she thought. "Let this work!"
"You can pull up your tunic," Anarr said, sounding tired and
frustrated at the same time.
"Did it work? Did you lift the curse?" Simona asked anxiously.
Anarr didn't speak. Even in the dim light, Simona could see he was
sweating. "It didn't work, did it?" she said, wiping a tear from her
face.
"No, it didn't work. Something is blocking me. I will need to do
more testing, but not tonight." Anarr seemed angry, though whether he
was angry at her or his failure, Simona did not know.
Disappointed by the second failure, Simona walked slowly back to
the campsite. Anarr walked stiffly in front of her and he seemed sore.
She sat near the fire Edmond and Kal had started and accepted cheese and
bread that Kal handed her. She ate in silence and then wrapped her
blanket around herself. Sleep didn't come easily for her. Hot tears ran
down her face. She found little comfort when Kal settled down beside her
and placed his arm protectively over her.
The next morning the four travelers continued their journey to
Kenna. For the first time Anarr walked alone, trailing the others by
several paces. He seemed subdued. Simona wasn't quite sure whether he
was trying to figure out what had gone wrong the night before, or if he
was sulking. She glanced back every so often to make sure he was still
there. Kal had taken the opportunity to walk alongside Simona. She
barely listened to Kal, who tried to take her mind off her misery,
because she was too preoccupied thinking about Anarr's failure to lift
the curse.
They arrived in Kenna by nightfall. Simona was looking forward to
sleeping in a real bed. Anarr led them to an inn.
"I am leaving for Dargon in the morning," Anarr told Simona and Kal
after he had spoken to the innkeeper. "There is a barge leaving for the
city. I think I now know what I need to do to lift the curse. Would you
consider joining me on the barge so I can make another attempt on the
trip?"
Simona took only a moment to respond. She thought, "Do I really
have a choice? I need his help!" She nodded briefly and said aloud, "I
will join you, but Kal is coming as well."
"If he must," Anarr said and left for his room.
"I --" Kal began, looking angry, but Simona placed a hand over his
mouth.
"Don't."
When Kal had calmed, Simona asked the innkeeper for a chamber.
Moments later she entered a small room, followed by Kal. As soon as the
door closed, he took her in his arms and kissed her. Simona responded
without hesitation. Any discussion she had planned would have to wait
until morning.
A loud knocking woke Simona and Kal with a start. "The barge leaves
in a bell," the voice of Edmond sounded through the closed door.
"We're coming," Kal said and rolled out of bed. Both dressed
quickly, took their belongings, and went into the main room for
breakfast. Anarr and Edmond were already sitting at a table.
"I have arranged passage for all of us on a river barge to Dargon,"
Anarr said when Simona sat down.
"Thank you," she replied quietly and thought, "I hope his next
attempt to lift the curse will be more successful." She felt tired this
morning and sick to her stomach. When the innkeeper brought their
breakfast, she took one bite and then excused herself and ran to the
outhouse. The fresh air outside helped her suppress the urge to vomit.
Instead of going back inside she waited until the others emerged from
the inn. Kal gave her a quizzical look, but she just shook her head.
Simona let Kal guide her onto the river barge.
The barge was nearly loaded when the four arrived at the dock.
Anarr ordered Edmond, who had been leading the mule with their
belongings, to take the animal to the rear of the barge. A second
gangplank was in place there for loading animals and merchandise. While
Edmond did as he was told, Anarr decided Kal, Simona, and he should sit
towards the front and so they seated themselves there. Simona watched
with little interest as other passengers boarded and merchandise was
loaded. A shepherd seemed to be the only other female traveler on the
barge.
The next time Simona looked up, she noticed a priest and a jester.
The two men looked at each other every now and then, but didn't exchange
a word. A blacksmith boarding reminded her of Nai, the friend she and
Kal had left behind at her mother's house, and a smile stole across her
face. Several other people boarded, among them a monk. In the middle of
the barge were four small structures, which would shelter the passengers
from the weather if needed. It took some time to load all the
merchandise, but eventually everything was on board. Only moments before
the crew pulled in the planks, a single, balding passenger rushed on
board. Simona wouldn't have noticed him at all had he not been in such a
hurry. Shortly thereafter the barge began its journey down the river.
The rhythmic motion of the boat calmed Simona. She began to feel
better and was able to tolerate food. Anarr continued his questioning of
her while Kal spent time with the crew and gave them a hand when needed.
Edmond had decided that one of the small structures would be a better
place for him and had taken Anarr's belongings there.
Shortly before nightfall the travelers reached the first campsite.
Small cabins along the riverbank provided shelter for the night. Kal
handed her bread and cheese, which she ate. She noticed the balding man
observing everything with a keen eye.
"I have to ask Kal who that man is," she thought. Tired as she was,
she forgot about the man by the time she and Kal took one of the cabins
for the night.
The next morning Simona woke when one of the merchants began
yelling that someone had gone through his property. Norilg, the
merchant, was still yelling as he looked through his belongings. Only
when he found that nothing was missing did he calm down and the journey
continued. Simona got a respite from Anarr's questioning. He had
secluded himself and Edmond, for what purpose Simona did not know. She
enjoyed the time to herself and watched the other passengers. Kal seemed
to get along well with the crew, showing off his skills as a sailor.
The barge floated swiftly down the river and arrived earlier than
anticipated at the second campsite. There was still more than a bell
left before nightfall. After everyone had stepped ashore, Anarr pulled
Simona aside.
"I will attempt to lift the curse again tonight," he spoke quietly.
"Follow me!"
"I need to tell Kal," Simona replied. Anarr sighed and dismissed
her with the wave of his hand.
"Hurry up then."
A few menes later, Simona followed Anarr into the woods to a small
spring. When Anarr instructed her again to sit down, close her eyes, and
not move until he was done, Simona focused on the soft bubbling sound
the water made as it ran over stones. Anarr's hands began again on her
head, worked their way down her neck and back. Next his hands moved
forward, rested briefly over her breasts, and then loosened the tie on
her tunic so it fell down to her waist. The cool evening air touching
her bare skin gave her goose bumps. She could feel Anarr's fingers
drawing symbols on her back and she heard him muttering an incantation
in an unfamiliar language. Then he drew symbols on her chest and over
her breasts, continuing his incantation.
Before long, Anarr howled in frustration. Shaken by the unexpected
noise, Simona opened her eyes and stood up. She pulled up her tunic to
cover herself and noticed dark green marks on her skin.
"It didn't work, did it?" she asked Anarr. He only shook his head.
"Leave me then," she told him and waited until he was out of sight
before she let her tunic drop. She washed the green markings off her
skin. Hot tears were streaming down her face as she dressed. "He failed
again," she thought. "I'll never get rid of this curse. Never be able to
have a child or spend the rest of my life with Kal. Why can't he remove
the curse? Why?" Unable to face Kal or any of the other people at the
campsite, she sat next to the spring, wrapped her arms around her legs,
and placed her head on her knees. When her sobbing slowed, she heard
voices calling her name. Quickly, she dried her face and responded. Kal
and two other men with lanterns came near.
"There you are!" Kal said, sounding worried. "We were looking for
you for a while. Why didn't you answer?"
"I didn't hear you before now," Simona explained simply and let the
men guide her back. A fire was burning in the middle of the campsite and
several of the travelers and sailors were sitting around it, talking.
"I saved you some meat and bread," Kal said and handed her a bowl.
Simona ate hungrily.
"Thank you," she said after she had finished. She then pointed
towards a set of hastily erected tents. "Which one?"
Kal showed her their sleeping place. Simona yawned and entered the
tent followed by Kal.
"Did he succeed this time?" he inquired when they were alone.
Simona shook her head, unable to say another word.
"That bastard," he growled angrily, "and he lifted the curse off
Northern Hope? I don't believe it! He's got no more power than a
darningfly. Maybe in Dargon we'll find a mage who can help you."
"Maybe," Simona whispered weakly, feeling frustrated and tired. She
wrapped her blanket around herself and lay down on a mat, exhausted from
the day's travel and disappointed from the failed attempt to have the
curse lifted. The last thing she noticed before falling asleep was Kal
settling down beside her and, as so many times before, placing his arm
protectively over her.
The next morning, everyone worked together to take the tents down
and store them on the barge. Simona had just settled back into her usual
spot at the front when Anarr approached her.
"I've made arrangements to leave the barge around midday. I will be
heading towards Dargon ahead of the boat. I need to confer with the
apothecary and get some fresh ingredients. Will you meet with me in
Dargon?"
"What makes you think you will be successful next time?" Kal asked,
his fists clenched. "You failed thrice so far."
"I didn't ask you for your opinion," Anarr retorted, a look of
disgust in his eyes. He turned back to Simona and repeated his question.
"Where should I meet you?"
"Spirit's Haven. The inn is well kept and the owner --"
"We know the owner," Kal interrupted.
"The owner is well respected," Anarr continued, ignoring Kal's
comment. "I trust you will find the inn."
"Straight," Simona replied. "I will be there." Feeling a bit better
with a new sense of hope, Simona pulled the flute out of her bag and
began to play.
At midday Anarr left the barge and headed away from the river.
Simona stayed on the barge. She noticed the monk engaging Edmond in
conversation. Soon the two disappeared from her sight. "What is he up
to?" she wondered briefly and directed her thoughts to Anarr. Simona
found it intriguing that a man like Anarr should be able to figure out a
complex spell to ward a statue and lift a curse affecting a whole
region, but not one that affected a single person. "I can only hope that
next time he'll be successful. I don't know what I'm going to do if he
fails again," she thought.
During the next few days, the travelers on the barge encountered a
series of mishaps. First, heavy cross-currents slowed the barge down,
then it got stranded on a sandbank and had to be dug free. More than
once, eddies caught them close to shore and spun the entire barge
around. Cargo had to be fished out of the river. Then the shepherd went
overboard. She would have drowned if Kal hadn't jumped in after her and
kept her head above water until both of them could be fished out again.
No sooner were they back on course than one of the steering oars broke
and the barge drifted down a minor branch of the river. They were stuck
for several bells until the steering oar could be fixed. Some of the men
decided to take the time to hunt game for dinner that night, but the
only things they came back with were cuts and bruises. All these
accidents caused them to miss the regular campsites along the river and
so the travelers and crew were forced to spend the nights on the barge.
On the eleventh of Sy, the barge reached one of the regular
campsites for the night. Simona breathed a sigh of relief.
"I am tempted to walk the rest of the way tomorrow," she said to
Kal when they settled down for the night.
"I'm not," he replied. "I've enjoyed working with the crew. The
captain said we should be arriving in Dargon around midday tomorrow."
"I'm looking forward to it. We're four days late! I can only hope
Anarr will wait."
"He'll wait," Kal snorted. "He'll want to get paid."
In the morning, everyone on the barge looked forward to arriving in
Dargon. Simona, in her usual spot at the front of the boat, decided to
take a brief nap. Kal was again helping the crew. A loud crash woke her
rudely and at the same time she felt herself catapulted out of the boat.
Moments later she fell into the water. The coldness of the water took
her breath away. Her clothing was quickly saturated and began pulling
her under. She began kicking with her feet and thrashing with her arms
to keep her head above water, but with limited success. As she opened
her mouth a wave washed over her, filling her mouth instantly. Simona
spat and tried to take in a breath, but more water entered her mouth and
subsequently her lungs. Struggling for air she tried to let out a
scream, but something hit her on the head and darkness enveloped her.
========================================================================
The Darningfly Caper
Part 2
by Dafydd Cyhoeddwr
<John.White@Drexel.Edu>
Sy 4 - 12, 1018
Part 1 of this story was printed in DargonZine 18-6
Rancin Fer waited until the crew of the barge was just about to
lift away the gangplank before crossing it. He knew that his quarry had
to be on board and he didn't want to give them any time to slip away
before the barge left the dock.
He quickly examined each one of his fellow passengers as the crew
went about getting the barge under way. As he looked at face after face,
recognizing no one, his fears from the night before resurfaced. What if
he had only dreamed the conversation between his assailants just after
he had been mugged late the previous afternoon? What if the pair weren't
really traveling back to Dargon by barge? What would he tell his boss?
Tyrus Vage had sent Rancin to Kenna with a mission to deliver three
objects to Troril Hancot: a mold for a small, magical, darningfly-shaped
charm; ten Marks; and a letter outlining the deal for Troril to produce
a great many darningfly charms, funded by the coins. Vage intended to
flood the markets of Dargon with them, with the intent of ruining
Sferina's magical charm business with shoddy, magicless trinkets.
Rancin had arrived in Kenna by barge the previous day and had set
out for Hancot's home immediately, anticipating a quick delivery, a
night in one of Kenna's inns, and a quick trip back home down the
Coldwell to Dargon. Instead, he had been mugged by two young men only a
few blocks from the riverside and robbed of his delivery. Thanks to his
well-muscled stomach and thick head, the blows of the muggers had not
rendered him immediately unconscious, which is how he had managed to
overhear not only their names -- Darrow and Murlak -- but their plans to
take a barge back to Dargon.
The boat was well away from the quays of Kenna, and Rancin had
still not spotted the two thieves among the passengers. No one had the
right jut of chin under long, blond hair; no one had the properly full
ginger beard and grim smile. They had to be on board, though; he
couldn't have imagined it. He was sure they hadn't known he'd been
listening to them, since they were walking away by the time he had
succumbed fully to the blows. Perhaps they were just disguised?
Just in case, Rancin pondered how he was going to tell his boss
about his loss of the money. Tyrus Vage was not a man who treated bad
news lightly. The once-powerful Dargon merchant, now down on his luck,
had never been an easy-going fellow in the best of times. Rancin knew
that his boss would be furious with him; the merchant hated to have his
schemes go awry. Considering how Vage tended to react to bad news, he
had to find those objects! His muggers might be disguised, but they
couldn't disguise the mold, the letter, and the money. He would continue
to look for the two boys, but he would also look for the objects no
matter where they might be hidden.
Murlak was sure he was going to go crazy long before he ever got to
Dargon. He had only been on the barge for two days and a night, but he
had never been so bored in all his life, not even when Darrow had taken
all the money away in Kenna.
There was just nothing to do on a barge! There was barely enough
room to move around at all, much less run. The barge seemed to move
swiftly, with the bank rushing by and all, but it just wasn't the same
as dashing about on his own legs, or with a horse under him.
At night, when the barge tied up close to shore, Murlak got to
stretch his legs some. He wasn't able to run very far, though. He didn't
like the woods very much, and he didn't want to get lost out there
either.
As he walked along the length of the barge, Murlak thought about
the interesting things he had seen in the last two days. The most
interesting was Rancin himself. He and his friend Darrow had been given
disguises at the Taut Sheets two nights previously. Darrow had dyed his
hair from yellow to black and had magically grown a beard in just a few
moments. His own hair had been cut, and his beard had been shaved all
the way off. Then one of the girls had put a blob of some enchanted goo
on his nose that had changed its shape completely. This, along with
different clothes, meant that they no longer looked like the pair who
had mugged Rancin in Kenna. They even had new names: he was Birl, and
Darrow was Jekk. Murlak couldn't help but giggle when he walked past
Rancin without being recognized. The frown the balding man gave at the
giggle only made Murlak want to giggle more, but he usually just walked
away. He knew how dangerous it would be to have Vage's man look too
closely at him or Darrow, but he loved hiding right out in plain sight.
The group of four that Darrow had pointed out were also pretty
interesting. The well-dressed man was named Anarr, and he and the bard,
Simona, were often together talking. Murlak was sure that Anarr was some
kind of magician; he had seen the two of them doing some kind of spell
or something once. Simona didn't turn into a frog or anything, though,
and Darrow didn't believe Murlak's stories anyway.
The younger man with them was some kind of servant. His name was
Edmond, but Murlak didn't see much of him since he spent most of his
time in one of the cargo shelters the barge had. The fourth man, Kal,
was usually among the crew of the barge.
The merchant with the large chest hadn't been interesting at all.
Norilg, his name was, and he only cared about his cargo. He and his
guard, Offus, were never far from their wares and never talked to anyone
about anything.
Except for that morning, when Norilg had raised a fuss as everyone
was getting back on the barge. He insisted that someone had gone through
his things in the night, though nothing was missing. No one else had
been bothered, but Murlak wondered who had gone through the merchant's
stuff.
Murlak finally reached his destination. He had been chatting with
the shepherd every chance he could. Her name was Lidala, and she was
ancient, at least twenty-five. She was also the only woman on the barge.
Well, the only one he would approach, anyway. She hadn't agreed to roll
with him yet, but he knew she couldn't say no forever.
Lidala stayed in the back of the barge with the animals. Murlak
didn't like that part of the barge much. All he had learned about
animals from living in Dargon as a shadow boy and after was to stay away
from stray dogs, 'specially if they had food. The sheep weren't too bad,
though they smelled funny, and the cows were very big and very smelly.
Lidala didn't have any cows to mind, which made Murlak happy. He hoped
that the dung had been shoveled over the side already.
The shepherd smiled when Murlak walked up. He smiled back and put
his arms around her waist, leaning in for a quick kiss that he tried to
make last longer. Lidala laughed and pushed him away, but not far enough
to make him move his hands. She said, "Not here, Birl, it's too public."
Murlak looked around, and saw only animals. It was dusk, and most
of the crew were in the front of the barge getting ready to tie it up
for the night. No one else came back here. He wondered why Lidala
thought the empty back of a barge was too public, but knew that he
wouldn't get an answer if he asked her.
Instead, he said, "We could go in there," pointing to the nearest
cargo shelter. Lidala surprised him by nodding, grabbing his hand, and
dragging him right into the stuffy, box-stacked shack.
She led him between the boxes, which formed a kind of hall, to an
open space within, next to one of the walls. A lit candle lantern sat
there next to some blankets, and Murlak wondered how they had gotten
there. Lidala sat on the blankets and drew him down next to her. Soon he
was too busy to wonder about handy light and padding.
Murlak found himself being drawn along by Lidala's actions, hardly
needing to start anything. Before he knew it, they were both naked and
lying down. They stayed that way for longer than he would have believed
possible. By the time Lidala finally pushed him gently away and closed
her eyes, he was very nearly tired out himself.
He was resting against the wall of the shed, enjoying looking at
the shepherd in her mussed robe, when he realized that the buzzing
behind him was voices from the other side of the wall. He pressed his
ear against the wood and listened in.
He heard a deep voice saying, "... on something within the statue.
Look in there, and you will see a small bundle of material. Within that
..."
Lidala murmured in her sleep, reaching out toward him and quieting
when her hand found his chest. Murlak put his ear back to the wall, but
there were no more voices from the other side. He looked at Lidala, and
then at the wall, shrugged his shoulders, and snuggled back down next to
the old, but pretty, shepherd.
Darrow knew that he and Murlak were in trouble. That morning, the
second early morning on the barge and beginning their third day there,
another commotion had broken out. The group of crafters had complained
that their property had been gone through sometime in the night, just
like the merchant Norilg the morning before. Like the previous
violation, nothing had been taken, and the barge was rife with
suppositions as to who was doing it and why.
Darrow knew both who and why, but he had no proof. Rancin had to
know that the thieves who had robbed him were on the barge, else why had
he boarded it in the first place? Fortunately, he didn't know who they
were, so he was ransacking everyone's belongings to find his stolen
property. It was only a matter of time before he and Murlak were subject
to the same search. He needed a place to put the items that Rancin would
never find.
Unfortunately, the task seemed harder than unraveling a web without
alerting the spider. There weren't many hiding places on the barge, and
none of them were very secure. When he had told Murlak his suspicions
about Rancin the day before, his friend had gamely tried to come up with
solutions. He had suggested Norilg's chest, which had already been
searched. Darrow had already thought of that. The problem was that it
could easily be searched again, and the merchant's guard was more alert
now, not to mention that Norilg had full access to his own chest and
might uncover anything hidden there. Murlak had next suggested something
really disgusting to do with the animals, which Darrow had dismissed
immediately.
That morning, he had been spurred back into his search by the
commotion of the crafters. As they'd reviewed their options, Murlak had
mentioned overhearing the evening before something concerning a
compartment inside a statue. His friend had checked and learned that the
statue belonged to that strange foursome of Anarr, Simona, Kal, and
Edmond.
Darrow didn't know whether the compartment was large enough for the
three items he was carrying, but it was their best chance. Ordinarily,
he wouldn't have given it a thought. He didn't believe Murlak's stories
that Anarr was a wizard of some kind, but the man did have an air of
authority about him and he treated everyone except Simona with extreme
contempt. Not only did this keep Edmond strictly to his task of guarding
the statue, but it also made Darrow disinclined to mess with any
property of his.
Luck, however, was with them. Only moments after Murlak mentioned
the statue, Darrow overheard Anarr and the captain of the barge
confirming the mid-day pause that would allow Anarr to leave. He
couldn't have asked for a better opportunity.
Darrow spent the morning preparing. He knew that Simona had no real
interest in either the statue or the guard. The fact that she was a bard
worried him some due to reputation the songsters had of being
truth-finders as well as truth-tellers, but as long as she stayed to
herself, she wouldn't ever become involved. Her companion, Kal, spent
most of his time somewhere near Simona or with the barge's crew, so he
wasn't a factor Darrow needed to plan around either. That left Edmond,
usually slated to guard the statue, as the only element that Darrow
needed to deal with to gain access to the secret hiding place.
Once again, Murlak came to the rescue, proving that Darrow's
loyalty to his friend wasn't misplaced. The redhead had suggested
distracting Edmond instead of knocking him out as Darrow had toyed with.
Darrow had asked some discreet questions, engaged in some casual
conversation, and learned all he needed to know.
The barge tied up to shore with practiced ease at midday. Darrow
watched Anarr walk across the gangplank and his elation made him feel
lighter than a drifting milkweed seed. Now if only everything else went
as smoothly.
He should have known it wouldn't. Darrow drifted casually into the
back half of the barge and checked to be sure that Murlak was in
position. He found his friend leaning against the wall of the shack next
to the one with the statue in it, the board leaning with him, staring up
into the sky with a bored look on his face.
"What are you doing?" he whispered stridently. "Why aren't you
ready?"
Murlak looked at Darrow and said, "I was waiting for the signal,
Dar."
Darrow seethed, since he had sent Murlak back with the explicit
instruction to get ready. There had been no "signal" to wait for.
Knowing that it was both futile and time-wasting to point this out to
him, Darrow smacked him on the side of the head and said, "There's your
signal, Murlak. And hurry!"
Murlak frowned petulantly at him and rubbed the side of his head.
Then he set the board flat on the deck and began unpacking the dice and
cups. Darrow went to the far side of the shack and peeked around the
edge, only to see Edmond coming quickly. He set himself up to distract
the man and keep an eye on Murlak at the same time, and when Edmond came
around the corner he said, "Greetings, friend."
"Hello," said Edmond.
Thinking as quickly as he could, he pointed at the wrapped bundle
in the shack. "Quite a burden you've got there. Must be heavy to haul."
"Not really," the man replied. "We've got a pack mule for that."
"Ah," said Darrow. He glanced beyond Edmond and saw that Murlak was
almost set up. He groped frantically for something to say, and finally
came out with, "The Stevene said that the animals were given to us by
God, to ease our burdens, but that we must treat them well." He
struggled to hide his wince: he hadn't intended to be of such a well
known religion. But it was the first thing that had come to mind,
probably from all of those Cyruzhian brothers in the streets when he had
been a shadow boy.
He saw Edmond grimace, though, and the man said, "Yes, well, it was
nice talking to you."
Darrow checked over Edmond's shoulder, smiled slightly, nodded, and
went around the corner. He heard Murlak call out, "Psst! Buddy!" He
paused, listened to the dice rattle and the pair converse for a moment.
It wasn't long before the game was going strong. Darrow smiled widely,
and slipped
into the shed that shared a wall with the one Edmond was
"guarding".
The cargo shelters weren't very substantial constructions. Intended
mostly to segregate cargo by owner or destination, and to keep fragile
objects out of the wind and weather, they had bare board walls and
canvas roofs. It was no effort at all for Darrow to climb to the top of
the wall and slip over it under the cloth roofing, and soon he was
standing by the only object in the shed: a canvas rucksack.
Kneeling beside the thing, Darrow quietly unfastened the buckles
and ties, and slid the cloth over what it enclosed. The statue he
revealed was large; it was about waist-height on a tall man, and maybe
two-thirds that wide. The figure was that of a man sitting cross-legged
with a sword across his knees. The only color relieving the black stone
of the statue came from the silver of the sword, the shiny red stones of
its angry eyes, and the startlingly white teeth that fenced the
partially open, grimacing mouth with their sharp points. Darrow knew
nothing about art, but he could see the strength in the well-muscled
body, and the anger in the features of the face on the tilted back head.
Darrow left off admiring the thing and got back to business. He
poked and prodded at the statue all over, trying to move the arms and
sword, touching its back, its knees, its ears. He couldn't find any
mechanisms or hidden compartments anywhere. Then he remembered what
Murlak had overheard, about being able to see into the cavity. Looking
at the statue, that could only mean one thing.
He rose up on his knees and looked into the open mouth. He could
clearly make out an object, cloth of some kind, down in the throat of
the statue. Grinning, Darrow fished his own bundle of objects out of his
pocket. It was wrapped in oilskin, and didn't make a very large package,
but when he tried to shove it into the statue's mouth, it just didn't
fit.
He almost cursed aloud, but he was reminded of how close Edmond was
by a whoop of triumph from the man just a few paces away. He tried
again, wedging it corner first, then end first, rewrapping the items to
make the bundle smaller, but nothing worked. The metal darningfly mold
was just too wide to fit through the statue's mouth.
Darrow was ready to give up when his finger slipped off the
package. He grazed the teeth of the statue and found out that the points
were very sharp. Blood oozed from his finger even before he felt the
pain of the wound. Before he could get the digit into his mouth, a drop
of blood fell onto the statue's tongue. Darrow almost yelped in fright
when the statue's mouth opened very wide in response.
He watched the statue for a moment, but nothing more happened and
the mouth stayed open. Thanking his luck once again, he slipped his
bundle into the large opening, but was dismayed by the fact that it
didn't go in very far. He looked closer, and found that the object that
had been in there was blocking the cavity. Darrow reached carefully
inside the statue, keeping clear of the teeth and hoping that the mouth
wouldn't close on its own and remove his hand. Trusting his luck, he
grabbed hold of the somewhat slimy cloth bundle and pulled it from the
compartment. Reluctantly slipping it into his pocket for the moment, he
easily slid his own bundle down the throat of the statue. When he
removed his hand, the mouth closed back to its former dimension. He
looked into the mouth and figured that no one would be able to tell the
difference.
Darrow closed the rucksack around the statue again, and returned to
the wall he had climbed over. There were no boxes to climb on here, but
he knew he could just jump up and grab the top of the wall. As he
jumped, he felt a wave of heat rush over him and he missed his grip. He
landed as quietly as he could and turned to see whether Edmond and
Murlak in the doorway had heard him, but they seemed engrossed in
something between them. He tried again, succeeding this time, and soon
he was out of the statue's shed.
A short while later, he met Murlak at the side of the barge. His
friend said, "Did you do it?" as he hurried to catch up to Darrow.
Darrow said, "Yes, it's done. Rancin isn't going to find his stuff
in there. Well, he might see it but he won't recognize it." He fished
the wad of cloth he had taken from the statue out of his pocket, and
threw it overboard.
"Great!" said Murlak. "We're safe, and only two more days to
Dargon."
"You did well with Edmond, Murlak," said Darrow. "You kept him
occupied very well."
"Thanks, but it was easy. He won every round, so his attention was
very focused on the game."
"That was a good idea. I didn't know you had loaded dice, though."
"I didn't do anything to help him, Darrow. He won all by himself,
like he was a cup full of luck. Too bad it all ran out when the die
broke. That was the strangest thing I've ever seen, too."
Darrow said, "No matter. He didn't see me, and that's what counts.
Do you think he'll be up for another game in a few days? We still need
to get the stuff back out of the statue, after all."
"Don't worry, Darrow," Murlak said. "That'll be no problem at all."
On the night of the eleventh of Sy, Darrow found himself walking
through the forest headed for Dargon. The barge, which had been due into
Dargon on the eighth was going to end up being four days late, and all
because of the strange accidents that had been happening. Heavy
cross-currents slowed the barge down, and even with the river swollen
with rain it had been constantly running into sandbars and snags. Eddies
caught them close to shore more than once and spun the entire barge
around, causing cargo to have to be restowed and the shepherd, Lidala,
to be fished out of the river. Then there was the time the steering oars
broke and the barge ended up headed along a minor branch for bells
before they could fix them and turn it around.
Rancin had also been a problem. Every morning, more belongings had
been searched. Darrow's own bedroll had been ransacked the very night he
had hidden the loot. When everyone had been searched, the cycle had
begun again. Rancin had been smart enough to complain himself one
morning to allay suspicion, leaving the barge's crew as the only
remaining suspects. The man had shadowed everyone on board, asking
questions or just staring. Darrow was only too happy to be away from
those angry eyes, especially since the extra time the accidents had
added to their travel meant that his beard and hair were starting to
show blond roots.
To make matters worse, Murlak had been driving him crazy. The rain
that had started on the seventh had been uncomfortable since there
weren't enough cabins for everyone to shelter in, and it had continued
day after day, only ending that morning. The daily problems kept the
barge from making its normal progress down the river, which meant that
more often than not they weren't able to moor at the regular campsites
along the river, sleeping on board instead. They had also been forced to
stay out of the way during the day as the crew dealt with problem after
problem. His flighty friend was feeling closed in and it was driving
Darrow out of his mind. To cap it all off, Edmond hadn't been at all
receptive to another game of chance. The general air of chaos on board
the barge had strengthened his resolve to guard the statue.
Darrow, fed up with everything going on aboard the barge, took the
opportunity presented to him when the barge moored for the last time
just a few leagues from Dargon. He told Murlak that he was going to get
some people to help distract Edmond from the statue when the barge
docked. Murlak had begged to come along, but Darrow had convinced him
that someone needed to keep an eye on the statue. In truth, Darrow
didn't believe the statue needed watching, but he needed to be away from
Murlak for a few bells at least. Fortunately, his friend took the
responsibility seriously, and gamely agreed to stay aboard until the
barge made fast to the Coldwell docks the next day.
Darrow made it to the city well before dawn, and caught a few
bells' sleep. He woke up in the second bell of the twelfth of Sy and,
after tidying up and getting some food, he made his way back to
Sferina's office.
Soon he was sitting in front of her desk, the scent of lilacs
filling the air. Sferina was smiling, her hands folded on the desk in
front of her. "It is good to see you, Darrow. Black hair suits you. I
hope that you were successful."
Darrow said, "Oh, yes, we were. We made it to Kenna before Rancin,
and ambushed him before he got his goods where they were going. I found
not only the darningfly mold, but two other items: a pouch with ten
Marks in it, and a letter sealed with Vage's sigil."
Sferina was silent for a moment, staring into space. Suddenly, she
grinned and said, "Excellently done, Darrow. That letter must detail
Vage's plans. It will be all I need to get him sanctioned before the
council. Where are these things?"
Darrow shifted uncomfortably in the very comfortable chair before
saying, "Well, Murlak and I had some difficulty with our return
transportation. Rancin followed us, and though we were in disguise, we
had to hide the items. Murlak is with them, still on the barge. It has
taken longer than expected for the barge to arrive, but it should do so
today."
Sferina's smile had gone predatory. She said, "Get me the mold and
the letter, Darrow. That's all I want. If you can deliver those two
things, I will give each of you a Mark, and you can keep half of the
coins you found as well. I need that letter, Darrow. More than the
darningfly mold. Understand?"
Darrow's eyes were wide at the thought of all that wealth. He
nodded energetically and said, "Of course, milady Sferina, of course. No
problem. By tonight they will be on your desk. Thank you, thank you!"
"You're welcome, Darrow. Now go, and don't fail me."
========================================================================
Eggs for Breakfast
by Jim Owens
<gymfuzz@yahoo.com>
Sy 6-14, 1018
"All welcome Lord Anarr, who eats eggs for breakfast!"
Anarr watched the herald close the scroll and depart, then leaned
over towards his mother on his right. "What am I doing here?" he
whispered. She glanced up at him only briefly, then resumed picking
through a bowl of jewelry.
"This is the banquet in honor of your many accomplishments, dear,"
she responded, selecting an emerald ring. She considered it briefly,
then popped it in her mouth and chewed.
"But last I remembered I was going to Dargon to study the curse on
that woman, Simona," Anarr responded, puzzled. He looked around the
darkened room, teasing memories from his mind. "The village in the
hills. We had left there, and we were carrying something. It had been
blocking the rain." The recent past came back to him. "Gow. It was a
statue of Gow. I had placed a ward around it, left it on the barge with
that guard, Edmond, and opened the Phial of Athleth to carry me to
Dargon so I could study Simona's curse."
"Ah, the Phial of Athleth. You love that spell. Speed in walking,
isn't it?" she responded, not really looking up. She was pulling off
sections of a gold necklace and daintily eating them.
"Yes. So what am I doing here? I should be on the road a day out of
Dargon."
"You are, dear. Look down."
Anarr looked down. Below him he could see his legs pumping faster
than human legs had a right to move, and the road pouring past in a
blur.
"See? You are there and here both," she said, popping another ring
in her mouth. "This is just part of the spell."
Satisfied, he nodded and looked back to his plate. It was empty.
"Eggs, Lord Anarr?" A servant appeared out of the gloom and
proffered a plate with pickled eggs, multicolored and vinegary.
"Yes, please," Anarr replied. The servant poured a pile of them
onto Anarr's plate, then faded into the background.
"Are you sure you can handle that many, Anarr?" his mother inquired
as she cut a brooch in two.
"Of course I can, mother," Anarr responded. "I can easily handle
this many eggs."
"Oh, yes, he loves those eggs. Has them for breakfast, he does!"
Anarr turned to his left and saw his father sitting beside him and
addressing the departing servant for a moment before turning back to his
son. "Always did love those eggs."
"The reward of hard work," Anarr replied. He looked down at his
father's setting. It consisted of a plain bowl of gruel. "Here, Father,
let us get you something better to eat. Life is a banquet, after all."
"Oh, I can't, son. My stomach, you know."
"I can heal that for you, Father. I know how now. There's no need
for you to suffer. You are my father, after all!"
"Well, I am dead, you know."
"Oh. Yes, that's right."
"Died well, too," declared a tall man in dress uniform from the
other side of Anarr's mother.
"That he did, Marshall Jode, that he did," replied Anarr. He gave a
small nod to the man, who stood at the table with a large bloody knife
in one hand. The plate in front of him was piled with severed fingers:
his own.
"Died damn well. Here, have some eggs, Anarr!" With his remaining
digits he handed a plate of scrambled eggs to Anarr's mother, who passed
it to Anarr.
"He died fighting," commented Anarr proudly, helping himself to a
large ladle of the steaming mass. "As did you, I recall, along with most
of your men."
"Damn straight I did! Nasty mess, that war." Jode sawed at another
finger with the crimson blade. "Well, men are like arrows! You must
spend a few to win a war!" He finally cut through the bone and the
finger fell to his plate. "But you showed yourself well, you did! Made
us all proud!" As he spoke he gestured with the knife, tossing drops of
blood around. "At least those of us who lived to see what you had done."
He eyed Anarr's portion. "Eh, are you sure you can handle all those,
young master?"
"Don't fret for me, Marshall Jode. I can take care of myself."
"Are you sure? That looks like quite a bit."
"I handled those archers, didn't I? And those spearmen?"
"You certainly did, my lad, you certainly did."
"You certainly did," commented a young woman across the table. She
was putting a dab of mashed tubers on her plate. "They all ran away,
every one." She took a forkful of the white stuff and began combing it
through her hair. "Oh, you looked so heroic on your horse coming back
from battle."
"And you looked fit for a prince when you met us at the gate,
Marie," Anarr replied. He accepted the plate of sliced eggs as she
handed it to him. He forked a number of them onto his plate almost
without looking, admiring her as she dipped her fingers in her wine
glass and then smoothed back her reddish locks. "Mother spoke of your
beauty, but seeing you then confirmed all she said, my love, my
princess."
"My prince," she replied. "A prince like no other." Her expression
grew wistful. "If only you hadn't been called away to war."
"I won't be gone long, my beloved, my betrothed," Anarr replied,
"and when the queen has released me I'll return for you."
"And we will be happy ever more," she sighed. "Anarr, are you sure
you want all those eggs?"
"Yes, dear," chimed in his mother, a string of pearls dangling from
her upheld fork. "There's more to the banquet than eggs."
"A man has to know his own limits, Anarr," said his father.
"Always be reaching for more, I say!" countered Jode as he attacked
his pinky. "That's what your fingers are for!"
"Absolutely," agreed Anarr. "I want my plate full!"
"Then you shall have more!" Anarr followed the sound of the voice
to the head of the table. There sat Aendasia Blortnikson, with Valeran
Northfield at her side. "Bring eggs for Lord Anarr!"
A servant appeared with a plate of boiled eggs spiced with herbs.
Anarr motioned for them to be put onto his plate. As he did so he
watched other servants bring in new day candles, even though the ones on
the table were not even burned down past the first bell mark.
"I shall eat all the eggs you give me, your majesty!" Anarr called
to her as the servant piled his plate high. "I can take all that you
would give me!"
"Be careful you don't overreach yourself, Anarr," cautioned a voice
to the left. There, beside Marie, sat Honus Spalt, Anarr's first teacher
in the healing herbs. His pockets overflowed with dried plants and
weeds, and more weeds protruded from the neck of his tunic and from the
sleeve holes. "The secret to long life is balance and proper measure in
everything."
"I have had long life, Master Spalt," Anarr replied with a hint of
sharpness in his tone. "Longer by far than even you!"
"You hardly seem to age at all," commented Tomar, Anarr's younger
brother, who leaned out from behind his mother. "You put us all to
shame."
"It's like you're my brother, not my uncle," added Thomas, Tomar's
son, leaning out from behind his father.
"It's like you're my brother, not my great-uncle," added Timothy,
Thomas' son, leaning out from behind him.
"It's like you're my brother, not my great-great-uncle," added
Thomas, Timothy's son, leaning out from behind him.
"It's like you're my uncle, not my great-great-great-uncle," added
Tomar, Thomas' son, leaning out from behind him. "Are you sure you want
all those eggs?"
"I know my limits, young sir," replied Anarr sternly.
"There is a time to eat eggs, and there is a time to not eat eggs."
At the sound of his old master's voice Anarr reflexively bowed his head,
although not as low or as long as he once may have. "You have learned
this lesson well, Anarr."
"You taught it well, Master Zehn." Anarr glanced around his father
at the wizened old man seated to his father's left. His white hair was
wispy and his skin wrinkled. Propped up against the table at his side
was his walking staff, as gnarled and old as its owner. Its bare wood
echoed the bare skin of its owner. "And I learned it well."
"You learned all your lessons well. You eagerly grasp at my
knowledge."
"You have the knowledge I need, the knowledge of life."
"I have the knowledge of health. There is another who has the
knowledge of life. Are you sure you want all those eggs?"
"Yes, master," Anarr replied curtly. "I am strong enough to handle
them." Anarr held his master's gaze, but noted out of the corner of his
eye that the servants were bringing in more day candles.
"Always at the eggs, Anarr," snarled a man across from Zehn. "Can
never get enough of them." His hair was jet black, and his smooth skin
was pale. The contrast was marked. "Maybe you should save some for
someone else!" As he talked he was busy picking bits of bark off his
hands.
"Like you, Haddar?" Anarr pointedly helped himself to some egg pie
as he talked, making a show of cutting into the curdled dish. "I feel
that a man is worth what he can get."
"You waste your time, old man," came the heated reply. "What good
is all your power when you only spend it on more years?" Haddar shook
his hands and brushed at them in an attempt to get the clinging bark
off, but there always seemed to be more of it. "In the end, what does
your life mean?" At either side of him sat Eelail: alien, immortal
representatives of Makdiar's other intelligent species. One was of the
race of Ljosalfar, the other of the race of Dopkalfar. They sat silent,
unmoving, watching Anarr with unblinking oval eyes. Anarr found he could
not meet their gaze, and he shuddered with frustration and anger. He
turned this at the man between them.
"My life means what I want it to mean."
"Then it means nothing. Are you really going to eat all those
eggs?"
"Maybe you should listen to him, love," Marie added. She was taking
spoonfuls of the raisin pudding and smoothing them on her face like a
lotion.
"Proper measure in everything," added Spalt.
"I can handle them," replied Anarr.
"Can you?"
The buzz of conversation, which Anarr had not truly noticed until
now, died. Anarr did not need to look to know who it was that spoke. He
recognized the voice of his old friend and enemy.
"You know I can." Anarr emphasized the last word. How often had
they had this conversation before; on the road, at the Sanctuary, in his
dreams? Ever since their last parting this had been his only and
constant nightmare. Anarr refused to look at the man. Instead he watched
the servants laying out more day candles.
"You know you cannot."
"What I have done, I have done. What I am is what I am. The gods
are what they are. There is nothing higher than this." His own words
were hollow in his ears. In his mind's eye Anarr could still see his own
hands as they had appeared that night, made young again, against all
possibility, against all knowledge. He had been dying of old age, one
hundred years after he should have died by all norms. His own power had
kept him alive beyond his years, but it was spent, and the power of the
best healers had not availed him.
"Look at me, Anarr."
Anarr found he was trembling. In his ears, faint like a whisper,
the sound of hammering footsteps and rushing wind seemed to threaten.
Unwilling to move but unable to stop, Anarr turned. At the far end of
the table, wearing a simple robe and the stylized hangman's noose of his
order, sat Dulas.
"You are dead now," Anarr said to the old monk. "Why do you still
haunt me?"
"You know why. Admit it. Where is the immortality you sought?"
Anarr opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He saw now
that the chair that the old Stevenic priest was sitting on was made from
the very tombstone that Anarr had carved with his own hands after a
fever had taken Dulas' life. Anarr had returned from a journey to
discover that the man was in an unmarked grave.
"I admit everything and nothing," Anarr retorted. "Your truth is
nothing but a fable."
"My fable is the only truth there is."
"You tricked me," Anarr cried. "You worked some magic and restored
my health like I have done myself so many times!"
"Then tell me how I did it. You know you cannot." Dulas' eyes were
deep pools.
It was true. In the years since his miraculous healing, Anarr had
explored many explanations, but none held up save the one answer he
would not believe. When he spoke again Anarr's voice was a mere whisper.
"I know the gods. I deal with them every day in spells, in incantations,
in appeasements. Your god is no different, nothing special."
"Then look at your hands, Anarr." Anarr looked down at his hands.
As he watched they began to age, becoming the wrinkled, blotched,
crabbed hands of an old, old man. "You trusted in your own strength and
knowledge, and it eventually failed. Are you sure you want all those
eggs?"
Anarr hesitated, fear touching his heart. Then he pushed it away
with anger. "Yes!"
"Then light the candles."
Anarr looked up. Before him, in a great cluster, were eight day
candles, unlit. At his side burned a long, thin match. To either side of
him, lit by the fitful light of that single flame, were plates and
platters and bowls and buckets of eggs of every variety, style, and
flavor. Anarr took the splinter in his gnarled hand and reached it out
to light the nearest day candle. As he did, his hand began to shake.
Anarr tried to hold it firm but it quavered all the more. He steadied it
with his other hand, holding the match with an awkward, double grip. To
his surprise and alarm he found the match being pulled toward the
candles. Startled, he tried to hold it back, but it was no use. The
match touched the nearest wick, and every candle burst into flame,
melting in a moment into a great flaming mass. A wave of heat swept over
Anarr, unbearable. He tried to shove himself away from the table. His
chair upended, and he fell.
Suddenly Anarr was surrounded by light, still falling. The wind
whipped through his hair and caressed his face. He flailed with his arms
and tried to right himself, but the world turned and the sky spun past
out of reach. His breath blatted out of his mouth when something
obscenely hard and unyielding slammed into him, wrenching him around and
spinning him. In that instant Anarr realized that he was outside,
sliding on the ground. He hit something. It shattered into many sharp
splinters. At the same moment as his motion ceased, Anarr felt the shock
of cold wetness.
Anarr got slowly to his feet. He stood in the wreckage of a
vendor's stand. The vendor, a woman of about thirty, sat on a simple
stool nearby with a look of horrified shock on her face, her knitting
dangling from one hand. The wooden stand had shattered, and many of the
shards were now stuck in Anarr's clothing and skin. Anarr wiped away the
slimy mess that covered his face, and looked at what the woman had been
selling. It was eggs.
"Where am I?" he asked the woman.
"You're in my stand."
"What city is this?!" he snapped, shaking the slime off his hands.
"Dargon." She gaped at him, her hands splayed in consternated
uncertainty.
"What is the day?" he asked, some of his bluster falling away. He
looked around, staggering slightly. Behind him the road was obscured
with the dust kicked up by his high-speed slide. The huts and small
houses before him nearly hid the larger buildings of the distant city
center. From there plumes of dark smoke rose accusingly into the sky,
quite unlike the normal grey fume of cooking fires and forges.
"The fourteenth of Sy. Sir."
"The --" That couldn't be. The run should have taken only a day! He
remembered the day candles burning down on the table in his vision --
his hallucination. That wave of heat -- he had felt something like that
before. But where? Then he remembered. The statue! Its curse was
accompanied by waves of heat. Anarr had left the statue on the barge,
but if the woman spoke the truth that had been days ago. Surely the
barge had arrived in Dargon on schedule! He stared at the smoke rising
up from the city. That fool Edmond! What had he done? Anarr was certain
that the ward had fallen, and the curse of the statue was now active in
Dargon. The enormity of the disaster dawned in his mind. Anarr cursed
the guard for his foolishness.
Suddenly he remembered the vision of Dulas. The strength warding
the curse was Anarr's, not Edmond's; the responsibility belonged to
Anarr. He was the one who had decided to leave the barge, trusting in
his own skill and ability to craft a ward to keep the statue safe. From
the heart of the city faint shouts and screams came to his ears. Beside
him a last egg rolled off the shattered stand and splatted on the
ground. Dread seized his heart, and he lurched toward the city and began
to run.
========================================================================
