The Ultimate Stonemage: A Modest Autobiography

by McKenzie, Duncan

  He would not leave me alone though. He shouted, “Oh, come now! Why so glum? Let us do something to raise this archbishop’s spirits. You there, and you!”

  I heard footsteps then, and I felt the pot being lifted down from the tree and carried for some distance. When I next looked out, I was on the ground in the heart of the enemy camp. I heard the prince’s voice saying, “It is said silver can cheer a man up. What do you say, fellows?”

  They all laughed, and I could see the prince was holding a silver sword, although I could not see his face, for the lid blocked my view.

  I said, “Prince, it seems to me that to kill a man while he is trapped inside a cooking pot is a very cowardly thing to do.”

  He was very angry at my words, and he put his face down to look inside my pot, saying, “It is also a very cowardly thing to kill a royal family by burning them to death.”

  I said, wisely, “The present is here and the past has gone. It is folly to dwell upon the misfortunes of yesterday.”

  Then I spoke more softly.

  I said, “I myself have suffered many calamities, yet new opportunities always presented themselves.”

  Then I spoke more softly still.

  I said, “Perhaps you will take yourself a new wife, and have other children to continue your line.”

  My voice was so soft he could not hear my words, so he said, “Heh? What is that you say?”

  I repeated my words in a still softer tone.

  Now, as I had expected, he drew his ear in close to the edge of the pot, so he might hear what I was saying. At this moment, when he was good and close, I quickly slashed out with my throwing-razor, hoping to slit the throat of this cruel tyrant. Unfortunately, I succeeded only in cutting his cheek, which made him still angrier.

  He thrust his sword between the lid and the pot and waved it around inside, trying to run me through; however, I grabbed the blade with my cloak, and pulled it down sharply against the lid of the pot, snapping it off, and also causing the lid to fall in place.

  I knew it was time to abandon my instincts as a warrior and trust to my skills as a stonemage. So, I hurriedly applied several Peregrine Clasps to the place where the lid met the pot, so the two were firmly bonded.

  I heard hands scrabbling against the lid of the pot next, followed by angry shouts. Then, I think he kicked the pot with great force, for there was a great sound like a bell and I felt myself rolling head over heels.

  Moments later, I felt the pot being lifted and dashed to the ground with great force. This happened several times, and I suppose the prince must have commanded his myrmidons to play with me so, for the pot would have been too heavy for a single man to throw about.

  If they had continued, I am certain I would have quickly died, for there was a great length of sword in there with me, and I received several nasty cuts from it.

  Luckily, I heard the prince’s voice saying, “No, I have a better plan. Place him over there. It is a fitting punishment for his crimes, and in a way he has selected such a death himself.”

  Once again, I felt the pot being lifted and placed down again. I quickly realized what this wicked prince had in mind, for the pot suddenly started to become hot, and I knew he had ordered it placed it upon a cooking fire. This, however, posed not the least threat to me, for, in a few moments, I had cast a Sheet Wall upon the base of the pot, which protected it very well from the heat of the fire.

  I removed my cloak and placed it beneath me, and I lay back in comfort while the prince had me “cooked.” I also removed my tunic and wrapped it around the blade of the sword to prevent it from cutting me if I were jostled again. After that, I merely waited, giving out occasional screams as if I were in agony. When I decided I had been on the fire long enough to be cooked through, I let my screams subside.

  Some time later, I heard the prince say, “Enough. I am avenged. Throw him in there.” Once again, I felt the pot being lifted up, and then I was tossed through the air. I heard a great splash as I landed, and, after I had recovered from the jolt, I realized I had been tossed into a body of water.

  I was worried then, because during my time sealed in the pot so far, the air had become very stale, and I feared I would suffocate. Worse, although I could easily remove the Peregrine Clasps which held the lid fastened shut, I could not think of any way of breaking the chains holding the lid on, meaning I had no way to climb out of the pot and swim to the surface. Therefore, by removing the enchantments and opening the lid, I would merely allow the water to come rushing in and drown me.

  It looked bad for a time, but happily, after a certain point, the air became so stale my senses began to leave me.

  In my sorry state, it suddenly seemed to me that, if I opened the lid, fresh air would come rushing in, carried by certain grateful fish. I realize this makes little sense now, but it made a good deal of sense to me at the time and well shows how muddled one’s mind becomes when one spends too much time thinking about getting fresh air to breathe.

  In any case, I dismissed the Peregrine Clasps and lifted the lid a few inches, expecting water to come rushing in, along with the grateful fish. Instead, though, a refreshing breeze wafted onto my face. You see, as luck would have it, I had not been thrown into some deep lake at all, but only into a small pond. The bottom of the pot was submerged, but the top was open to the air.

  Once I started to breathe fresh air, I quickly came to my senses again, and once more tried to think of how I might use the tools at hand—specifically, a silver sword blade and my stonemage skills, to release myself from this pot. First, I tried to break the links of the chains with the sword, but the blade was too soft.

  Then I turned my mind to how I might use unstable Struts of Atlas to break the chains somehow.

  I considered applying an unstable strut to the lid and base of the pot, but I realized the collapse of the binding would bring the two sides together with great force and I would be crushed to death between them, which would be a poor sort of escape.

  Then I considered applying one end of the binding to the lid and the other end to some external object, such as a tree, so the collapse of the binding might tear the lid off. On further thought, however, I realized the rest of the pot, with me inside it, would be catapulted with the lid, for the chains were very sturdy.

  Next, I contemplated applying the binding across the width of one of the links of the chain, in the hope that the sudden contraction would break the link. I tried this, but, alas, I discovered I could not create a binding of such a short distance, for, whenever I tried, the parts of it would become confused and melt away to nothing. It was like trying to tie knots in silk thread while wearing falconer gloves.

  “No matter though,” I thought, “I will instead place one end of the strut on the chain on one side of the pot, and the other end upon the chain on the other side. Then the diminution of the gossamer will stretch the chain against itself, wrenching free the metal bands around the handles.” Once again, though, this excellent plan proved difficult to put into practice, for, although I could place the strut upon the chain, the enchantment did not stick well to the metal. When the strands collapsed, they merely tore away from the chains and vanished in a flash of light.

  After many hours, and much experimentation, I came to the conclusion that I had no means at my disposal by which I might escape from the pot. On the other hand, I also knew I could not stay where I was, for I would eventually starve. It was clear I needed outside help, and, therefore, I must rely on trickery and guile. After some thought, I formulated a clever plan.

  I waited until dark, then, after tossing the sword blade out into the water, I sealed the lid of the pot shut once more. I had discovered, by shifting my weight and stepping along the inside of the pot, I could make the vessel move. Now I took advantage of this ability, and proceeding slowly, with frequent stops to lift the lid and check my position, I rolled the pot out of the
water and back onto land. This stage of my journey was difficult, but once it was accomplished and I was on firmer ground, further movement was easy. So, travelling with great stealth, I rolled my pot across the camp for some hours until I found an area where the banners were those of some other noble, not Prince Tiaphan, for you will remember this great army was not his alone, but also included the troops of various allies. I rolled around for a while, looking for a cooking pot similar to my own. When I found one, I rolled my pot near to it. Then I set the pot upon its belly again and waited.

  The next morning, my pot was discovered by a group of slaves. However, because I was now in a different part of the camp from the one where my pot had been placed on the fire, they did not realize what a treasure it contained.

  I had hoped the slaves would try to open it by breaking the chains, which would have allowed me to escape at my leisure later on by removing the point bindings. Unfortunately, these were dim-witted slaves, and, after they realized the lid was chained shut, they merely ran a pole under the chains and carried it between them.

  The army dispersed during the day. The force I was with belonged to the city of Stanneck and was under the command of a general named Picren. This city is not a part of Manitario, but lies instead in the little bordering kingdom of Saghena. However, kingdoms are as thick as curds in those parts, and if one of them decides to go to war with you, the others are quick to join the game. This, then, was why an army from Stanneck had been sent to aid the ruler of Manitario.

  Now, Stanneck is many miles to the south and west of the marshes, so I travelled with this army for weeks. During the day, I remained quietly in the pot while they carried me, while at night I would roll around on quiet expeditions for food and water. The water was easy to come by, but food was much harder to find, for slaves and myrmidons eat very little, and what they call food provides no nourishment for a man, being such things as stewed acorns and pulped wood. One night I found a roast goose, though, which I pulled inside my pot and made to last several days.

  You will perhaps wonder also how I was able to relieve myself during my imprisonment. Well, I will not explain the details, but I will say that, after some experimentation, I discovered an ingenious way whereby even this action could be accomplished with the greatest efficiency and a moderate degree of hygiene.

  Finally, we arrived in Stanneck, and there was a great cheering from the crowds as their myrmidons returned home. Soon the slaves who carried me came to a stop and placed the pot upon the ground. At the first opportunity, I rolled the pot away into the streets.

  After a short distance, I came upon a carpenter, sitting outside his shop, who was amazed to see this wonderful rolling pot. I called out to him, and said, “You there! Be so good as to remove the chains from this pot.”

  He looked inside then, and, seeing there was a human face within, and not the form of some ghost or demon, he asked me, “How did you come to be inside this pot?”

  I said, “It is a fascinating tale. I will tell you the story at length, if you will be so kind as to remove the chains.”

  He said, “No, for I fear you have been placed in this pot as a just punishment, issued by some person of great rank. If I were to release you, that person might turn to me for retribution.”

  I laughed at this, and said, “You are quite wrong. I placed myself in this pot, and gave orders it should be sealed securely with chains.”

  “Why did you do this?” he asked.

  I responded, with great honesty, “I did so for my own safety, for it seemed to me at the time that within this pot I might be safe from the dangers of the world, and yet, by means of this gap beneath the lid, still be able to observe, listen, and talk.”

  He said, “Do you truly feel the world to be so dangerous a place?”

  I said, “Yes surely, for every day men and women are killed by various means, both accidental and malicious, and yet if they were securely sealed in a pot, such as I am here, many of these unfortunate deaths might be prevented.”

  “Ah, that is very true,” he said. “And the terrible massacres carried out in the towns and cities of Manitario give weight to your convictions.”

  I was worried to hear this, for I did not realize the region to be so dangerous a place, and so I asked him, “What massacres are these?”

  “A mad archbishop, by the name of Yreth, waged terrible war against innocent folk,” said the man. “His army numbered fifty thousand, and all the brave myrmidons of the Plains were sent against him.”

  Well, as you may imagine, I chuckled to hear how the facts had been turned around. Then, so he might not grow suspicious of me, I said, “I was laughing as I thought upon that strange name of ‘Yreth.’ I certainly would never go by such a name, for my name is Glissa.” And this was no lie, for Glissa is my peace-name.

  He told me his name was Otter, like the animal, although he looked little enough like one, for an otter is lithe and graceful, whereas this man was lumbering and fat. Then he called over a myrmidon who was sitting in his shop, took a hammer, chisel, and crowbar, and, with the myrmidon’s help, set to work removing the metal bands holding the chains in place. When he was done, I climbed out of the pot (with some effort, for my legs were weak from my confinement), gathered together those of my possessions which remained in the pot, and wished him good day.

  He asked, “But will you not take your protective pot?”

  I told him he might keep it, and he expressed his gratitude for the gift. It was a good pot, you see, and worth an arran or so, though I, for my part, was glad to be rid of it, for I had spent enough time in its company.

  The Eleventh Part

  In Which, Through The Use Of An Entertaining Dialogue, I Describe Various Aspects Of The City Of Stanneck

  I wandered Stanneck for a time, enjoying its sights and sounds. It is a wonderful city, to be sure, and there is so much to see there that, rather than merely describing it, I will instead take you on a tour of the place now, so it will seem to you that you are walking on those very streets, just as I was, and you and I are talking as we explore the city together.

  I will do this through the use of a Dialogue, for all the experts agree a Dialogue is an excellent means of narrative, as well as being an entertaining way of conveying all manner of important facts. Remember, though, although I describe Stanneck now using a Dialogue, I actually explored the place alone, and silently.

  But hush! Let us now listen to the chat as you and I explore the byways of Stanneck together.

  You: Friend Yreth, there are all manner of things you may see in Stanneck.

  Yreth: Yes. There is a good arena for dog fights, and several large markets. There are many fine buildings, too.

  You: I see there are countless domes (by which I mean abber domes, not pinnacled domes) decorated with gold and silver and coloured enamels of all kinds.

  Yreth: Yes, and you will see the towers are very grand, although they are not quite so tall as you will generally find in the larger cities of Europe.

  You: Indeed, even the tallest of these is twenty measures short of the celebrated Hen Tower at Bedea.

  Yreth: I will tell you the reason for this, for it will surely astonish you. You see, the stonemages of the American plains eschew the cross binding, depending instead upon the ring binding as their principal tool!

  You: Amazing. And what kind of cross-section does this technique bring forth in buildings?

  Yreth: Why, buildings with a circular cross-section.

  You: And will their walls stand firm against both ram and rocket?

  Yreth: Yes, surely.

  You: I can see their stonemages are masters of piping and shell-scooping, and their choice in matters of jewelling and colour is very refined, even to those of excellent tastes, like you, my friend Yreth.

  Yreth: You are too kind. And you are right, too, for these shapes and colours are very much to my liking.
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  You: Clearly, Stanneck is a huge city, and a prosperous one. But tell me, what is that river I see, upon which the city lies? Could it be the river Demiak, a vast waterway, which connects the city to the Bay of Beans a thousand miles to the south, and, beyond, the great continent of Tara and the kingdom of Brazil?

  Yreth: It is the same. A great many trading ships travel up and down that waterway, bringing many goods to Stanneck.

  You: From the city’s pleasant setting, I speculate it also lies on one of the important overland trade routes, leading both west to Great Tasker, and also east, to Ramport.

  Yreth: Your speculations are precise, to the last detail. And, as you may also suppose, such a quantity of trade going back and forth means all manner of merchandise is available here, and at good cheap prices, too.

  You: I see a simple merchantwoman there, standing at her stall. Let us see what she has for sale.

  Yreth: A good plan indeed. Sa! You woman there! Tell us what you have for sale.

  Merchantwoman: Gladly, good master. I have clothes and fabrics; spices; carpets and tapestries; rare oils and medicines; spheres, roots and amulets; needles in wooden cases; gar nuts and white nuts; wheat, barley, lurk and trundle; silver in both raw and crafted form; incense and steams; red peppers, green peppers, pale peppers; laughleaf; dark sugar; more than eighty types of wax; timber of all descriptions; inks of various types; coconut; white raspberry and other fruit cheeses; limpets, sweetsnake, cod and flounder; poultry and rabbit; a vast array of fruits, including apples, honey apples, and sours; fine wines and ales; horses, cattle, pigs, monkeys and other edible livestock; ancient artefacts and statues; and an impressive assortment of fine books and papers.

  Yreth: I see you also sell slaves of excellent quality, and all types of myrmidons, which are sold for just a small fraction of their price in the markets of Cyprus, for these myrmidons are freshly taken in Tara, and transported north, directly to Stanneck, where they are trained.