He said, “I will see you are well paid for your speed, yet do not go so fast that any important detail might be overlooked.”
I assured him I would overlook nothing, for I was, by nature, an exceptionally fast worker, and, also a very diligent one.
Then I said to him, “Will you permit me a favour?”
He said, “State it.”
I said, “I wish to send a message to the queen, but, for various reasons, I wish to conceal the identity of its sender until it is in front of her. Perhaps, when you next send a letter to the queen, you will permit me to enclose a letter of my own inside the package.”
He said, “I will be happy to serve you in this way, good Yreth. Moreover, your request is exceptionally well timed, for I have just finished a letter to the queen, and I plan to send it this very afternoon.”
This was excellent news, to be sure, and I quickly called a scribe and dictated a short letter to him, with a second copy for my records. It went as follows:
My Dear Queen,
I have left Ithron because of the rude treatment I have received at the hand of your Principal Secretary. I do not think I will return while he still lives. It is a shame, too, for I was planning to write a second poem, even more heartfelt than the first.
I am your honest subject,
Yreth.
Then I wrote another letter, this time to the Earl of Tarphonay. It read:
My Good Earl,
Alas, I was set upon by thieves on my journey here. Please send a large satchel of gold to me here at Beacon. Also, please see to it that the Principal Secretary is put to death, for he has committed treacherous acts.
I thank you for your trouble,
Yreth.
I enclosed these letters into the envelope containing the Earl of Beacon’s own letter, then watched as it was securely sewn shut, and a good measure of the earl’s wax was dripped along the thread.
Now, letters sent by nobles are treated differently from letters that other important persons have sent. Only the queen herself may open the envelopes containing such letters, and Toteel would not dare to interfere with the delivery of such a package, even if he knew that a letter from me was also inside. But, since I had told nobody where I was, he would not know even this. So, by sending my letter in this way, I could be certain it would be delivered directly into the hands of the queen.
I was very pleased by my plan, and I imagined Toteel proudly taking the package to the queen, little realizing that the message inside it would, within a few minutes, bring him face to face with the executioner’s sword.
During the following weeks, I spent many hours thinking about my great project in Beacon. As you will remember, I wished to build for Beacon a kind of artificial sun, bathing the town in life-prolonging light from a fire in a great glass bowl. But I talked to glassmakers, and they said there was no glass in the world that would withstand such fire. Of course, the glass might be protected by a layer of magic, but I wanted to avoid this, for I reasoned that light shining through a magic sheet might lose its health-giving character.
Then they said, “Quartz might work.”
I said, “Excellent, for I can create a giant bowl of quartz very easily, using my stonemage skills upon certain common rocks.”
However, when I used my spells of fire and furnace, I found it was difficult to create the clear quartz I needed. In fact, the best I could manage was to create slabs of coloured quartz, which were very beautiful to look at, but were opaque, or only partially translucent.
I set upon a different strategy then: I decided to construct the bowl from a great many natural quartz crystals, held together by a delicate lattice created from my coloured quartz. Of course, I knew the quartz crystals required would be very expensive, for, although quartz is not a precious stone, I would need a vast number of good crystals for my beacon-bowl.
I went to the earl with this news, but he said, “Build it anyway—I care nothing for the cost. This is a thing of beauty you are creating, good Yreth, and the value of it is greater than any coin.” Then he asked if he might look once again at the other plans I had made for the town. I brought the plans out and he admired them for some time, saying, “Oh, this is very beautiful,” and “How I like the shape of these houses,” and so on.
Within two days of this discussion, I received strange news. The earl called me to him and said, “What is all this I hear? It seems you are no longer the Queen’s Own Builder.”
I said, “Where did you hear that lie?”
He said, “From the queen herself.” Then he showed me a letter, written in the hand of her First Scribe, which said I was no longer the Queen’s Own Builder, and that the post had been given to another man, by the pretentious name of Defiance Wages.
Now, the meaning of all this was clear to me: that scoundrel Toteel, for the sake of a few well deserved blows, had spoken ill of me to the queen, perhaps claiming I had insulted her or poked fun at her base origins, so the queen’s friendship for me had dissolved into nothing.
Moreover, since I still had not received my money, I knew Toteel had told similar lies to the Earl of Tarphonay, so the earl would be lax about sending me the money which was rightfully mine.
I explained this to the Earl of Beacon, of course, and said, “No matter what post I hold, or fail to hold, you may be certain my work will be of the highest quality. Moreover, the high cost of this project will be offset by the gold you may earn by it, for folk will come from all around to benefit from the life-prolonging rays of this beacon, and I will warrant you could levy a good tax on those persons who wish to visit the town.
He said, “Yes, that is very true. People will pay me well to win more years for themselves. Very well, then. We will continue as before.”
Then I went off to further my work on the beacon, and I was sure the earl and I were still the best of friends.
Now, over the next week or two, I noticed a change in the earl’s manner towards me. It seemed to me he had grown less friendly, and more lordly, so I became worried I had displeased him in some way. Yet, when I pressed him upon this point, he denied it, saying “Your work is of the quality it ever was, and you have said nothing that offends my honour.” But even this reassurance was said in such tones that I was certain there was something upon his mind.
Then, another couple of weeks further on, I was called before him. It was the afternoon, and there was no food on the table, so I knew he had summoned me on matters of business.
He said, very bluntly, “The beacon is too expensive a venture for my liking. Discontinue your work on it, and do not purchase any more crystals of Angel-bone.” (By which he meant quartz.)
I said, “We discussed this before, and we agreed you would earn far more from the beacon than it might cost you.”
He said, “If it worked, yes. But I now know this beacon will not have the effects you claim.”
I said, “What makes you say so?”
He said, “These past few nights, I have placed seventy candles in my room, so it might be brightly lit even in times of darkness. But instead of making me wakeful throughout the night hours, these candles merely made me hot and irritable, and these unhappy states were compounded with the most irresistible fatigue.”
I said, “That proves nothing! The light from the beacon will be far brighter than seventy candles, or even than seventy times one hundred candles. The beacon will rival the sun in its brilliance, for only in this way, with such a bright light, can the deleterious effects of darkness be nullified.”
But the earl was no philosopher, and being very simple-minded, did not understand what I said. He said, “I do not care about your objections. I have decided this beacon will not be built, and that is that.”
I contained my annoyance and said, “Very well, then, I shall turn to other matters around the town, for there is plenty of work to be done here.”
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br /> He said, “As to that, I have reconsidered. On looking over your designs, I find they do not please me as much as I first thought. The shapes lack smoothness, the colours are too brash, and the total aspect is worn and old-fashioned.”
When I heard these words, I felt my anger rise, for I did not care to be lectured on architecture by a man such as this, whose business was all taxes and myrmidons. Still, I kept my courtesy, saying, “Noble sire, if there is any part of my designs that displeases you, you may be certain I will have no rest until I have changed it.”
Then he said, “I’ll wager you would, for there is good money in such work. But I have it in my mind to give the commission to a younger fellow, and one who will be less fond of tasteless and archaic styles.”
Now, by archaic styles, he referred to the great classical designs, and in calling them tasteless he showed only that it was he who was lacking in taste, for such designs are timeless, and do not fade with the years, as the designs of the modern school will.
I told him this, without mincing my words. My voice was stern, but I did not yet show my anger, for I wished him to see that the advice I gave was not merely some ploy to keep the commission for myself, but consisted of pure, unbiased fact.
Then he accused me of being unreceptive to the new aesthetic, and he showed me other plans which had been prepared for him, without my knowledge, by a stonemage working under Defiance Wages. One showed a house with a door that occupied half of the front wall, and windows jutting from the roof. Another showed plans for a new temple; it was ruddy brown in colour, with neither tubing nor gadroons to ornament it. It had a dozen functionless columns along the front, with the architrave out of all proportion to the frieze . A third showed plans for a feast hall with a central abber dome, and this building had so many steps leading up to its entrance that it would take a man all afternoon to climb them. Moreover, lancet arches had been placed in the walls, which I thought most inappropriate for a feast hall.
All of these designs, of course, were in the fashion of the new school, which people of real taste do not care for in the least, for the colours are too drab, and there are too many elements, so the buildings confuse the eye and possess no unity.
I explained the profound flaws of the buildings to the earl, of course, but he said, “To my eye, these plans are very fine indeed, and it is my desire they should be built, so you had better resign yourself to the fact. Still, you are a good stonemage, in your way, and, if you wish, you may help this fine young architect with his construction.”
Well, here I said to the earl that he was an idiot, and a drunkard too, and I said I would no more assist his lackey on such a task than I would eat my dinner off his fat rump, for both actions promised to leave a foul taste in my mouth.
Then he grew angry at me, and tried to have me tossed out by his myrmidons. However, I was still very fleet, thanks to my special leg, and I escaped into the street without being caught.
Later, I began to wonder why the earl’s tastes had become so changed in the short time I had been with him. Well, of course, once I set to thinking about this, the truth of the matter became quite obvious, and I saw that, once again, that scoundrel Toteel had been up to his mischief. Once he found out where I was staying, he sent messages to the earl, claiming the queen was displeased with me, and requesting that the earl should not give me the commission I deserved, but should try to allay my suspicions by offering me a lesser one.
These views were confirmed in my mind when I went once more to Neppo, and to Carping. I quickly found that the nobles at these places too had curiously developed a taste for the new school which they had lacked before, and they offered me work of a much smaller scope than I had planned. Of course, I flatly rejected their insulting offers, even though the Earl of Tarphonay had still not sent me my gold, and I was in need of money.
The Earl of Mian Staff, though, remembered the fine diamond I had given him some months earlier, and he treated me with great courtesy on my visit. When he heard the cruel tricks the Earl of Tarphonay was playing upon me, he gave me two hundred arrans as a gift. Then I asked him whether there were buildings I might work on in Mian Staff, for there had been some damage in that city too, though not so much as in the other three places I have mentioned.
But the earl said, “I fear not, good Yreth, for the works have already been assigned to other stonemages.”
Then I asked to look at the plans. They were not the plans I had penned, but were signed instead with the name Defiance Wages, and, as you may suppose, all were marked with the brush of the new school, employing strange shapes, and many steps, and columns, and parapets.
I asked the earl then, very frankly, whether he had received instructions from the Principal Secretary not to employ my skills, for I was sure there was a conspiracy against me.
He said, “No, that is not so. Tastes have merely changed in a new direction, and you, alas, are left behind them.”
Now, from these words alone you would read nothing, but he spoke them with a slight twinkle in his eye, and I noticed too a little movement of one hand, so that I knew that he was thinking, “Ah, Yreth, you have hit upon it! You are right to suspect such plots against you, but understand that I can say nothing, for the queen believes the Principal Secretary’s lies, and I fear her wrath. You will find it hard indeed to secure any work in all her lands.”
I soon found that the Earl of Mian Staff was quite correct: the queen’s power, coupled with the constant subversive efforts of my enemy, the Principal Secretary, made it very difficult for me to find any commission at all which I might want to put my hand to. In fact, after a year of paying futile visits upon various nobles I decided Cyprus no longer suited me, and I longed for my old lifestyle back in America, where the people still appreciate good architecture.
I made my way to Neppo then, and I found a trading ship which was headed to America. The merchantwoman who owned the ship asked thirty arrans to pay for passage.
I said, “That is far too much! Ten is the correct price.”
She said, “My price is thirty, and if you do not like it, you may take another ship. Although I do not think you will find another ship, for it is late in the season.”
Well, I knew she was right, so I paid over my thirty arrans. But as I did so, I said, “I curse you and your damned ship.”
We sailed the next day, and the weather was fair. However, before two days had passed, my curse took hold, and a freak storm came up. Nobody aboard was killed, but the ship was tossed against rocks and sank, and we were forced to make our escape in boats. When we got to land, I found I was only a few miles from my homeland of Rowel.
I said to the merchantwoman, “You see now what comes of asking a passenger to pay too much!”
All the other passengers agreed she had done wrong by me, and that my righteous curse was certainly the cause of the ship’s sinking.
The merchantwoman said, “Then I curse you in return, Yreth.”
I said, “You cannot curse me, for your curse is not righteous and God will not hear it.”
She answered, very sinfully, “Then I curse you in the name of the Devil.”
Some might have scoffed at that curse, but I tell you, such words are a serious business. And if you do not believe me, hear this: when I returned to Rowel, I remembered the treasure I had buried against such dark times as these. But when I went to dig the money up, it had vanished! It is impossible such a lonely spot would be dug up accidentally, and Hendell and I were both quite certain we were not followed when we went to bury it, so I knew the loss was because of that evil curse, and it well shows the potency of such curses.
Hendell said: “You are wise, Yreth, to accept this fate as you have, for perhaps your lost wealth is a sign to follow some new path.” I agreed, for this followed exactly my own philosophy about prophecies and omens. Hendell himself took the principle to heart and started paying closer attenti
on to his own dreams and visions. He was rewarded by earning a great fortune in trade, so he, who used to have many debts, is now much wealthier than I am!
Fortunately, I knew the nature of the curse, and I prayed a long prayer to God, asking Him to lift the Devil’s curse from me. I think it must have been a strong curse, for it took Him several hours of work before I felt it was all gone.
My life quickly improved then, and I found that all the people of Rowel treated me very well, remembering how generous I had been to them when I was rich. I had given them money in their time of need and now they returned the favour, giving me constant encouragement, and urging me to try to get my money back from the queen, which is the thing I will tell of next.
As for the message God had sent to me in the form of those ten-brush patterns, I believe now that it was not truly a promise of wealth or of a great building commission, but merely one of His little jokes which He plays from time to time on his most dearly beloved, for, instead of receiving the great work I was promised, I lost almost everything I owned.
The Final Section Of The Eleventh Part
In Which I Document My Attempts To Win Back My Money From Our Thieving Queen
Over the following months and years, I sent many letters to the queen, asking for my money—and also to other nobles, asking them to plead the case on my behalf—but I received no prize from my efforts.
I even sent a letter to the Duke of Oaster, reminding him of the lovely pearl I had given him and asking him to help me in the matter, but he wrote a rude letter in reply, saying, “Now that you are back in Rowel, I will send myrmidons and have you thrashed, for it is what you deserve.” This was an empty threat, though, because he knew how popular I was in the town, and he knew what people would think of him if he mistreated me.
The Ultimate Stonemage: A Modest Autobiography Page 40
