The Girl, the Gypsy & the Gargoyle

by Darcy Pattison

  Laurel knelt beside Antonio and touched his cheek. Burning hot. She studied the slash on his leg. Now the angry red had spread up and down his leg, the infection taking hold. For Antonio’s sake, she was glad they weren’t in a dark, suffocating chamber. If she had herbs, well, she might bring the fever down, might control the infection. Bathing him with cool water was all they could do now.

  She looked up at Jassy and Ana-Maria and shook her head.

  Jassy turned away and pulled Ana-Maria with him. “I told you Laurel had no more herbs.”

  Ana-Maria hid her face in his shoulder, and they stood together in sorrow.

  Seeing Jassy comforting the girl, Laurel turned away in pity. She knelt beside Antonio and poured a cup of mandrake wine. Gently, she held up Antonio’s head and tried to help him drink. She forced her hands to be steady, gentle. Some wine dribbled down Antonio’s chin, but some managed to go into his mouth. When he had swallowed about half a cup, enough to help him sleep a while, she settled him back onto his pallet. She stood awkwardly, trying not to look at the Gypsies.

  Ana-Maria stepped away from Jassy and took Laurel’s hands in hers. “Antonio is the only family I have. Please help him.”

  Clearing her throat, Laurel said, “My old nurse taught me herbs, and I try. But I can’t perform miracles.”

  Solemnly, Laurel kissed Ana-Maria’s cheek. They dropped hands. Ana-Maria pulled on both ends of her shawl and tied them together. Then, she picked up a rag, soaked it in a bucket of water, wrung it out and bent to bath Antonio’s pale face.

  Jassy motioned Laurel to the cave entrance.

  Searching for something to say, Laurel asked, “What will you do?”

  Jassy looked back at Antonio. “You mean if Antonio doesn’t make it?” He cleared his throat. “Here in the dark cave, the bear is drowsy. As the weather warms, though, he’ll be restless. Still, we may have a few more weeks of quiet.”

  “Where will you go?”

  Jassy rubbed his eyes, and then and looked over the countryside. His voice was almost plaintive: “In search of our fortunes.”

  “Fortunes? You mean your destiny? Or riches?”

  “Maybe both.”

  Laurel caught her breath with a sudden hope. Maybe Jassy would go with her into the stone world and search for his fortunes there. Then she wondered: With his travel experience, maybe he’d heard something about Troll’s Eyes and would know if they were dangerous. But, no. She had promised not to tell anyone about the jewel.

  “The new mason is looking for one apprentice. He said you could come by and talk to him.”

  Jassy’s tired face lit up, transformed by his sudden smile. Laurel realized how exhausted he really was. He must have slept little in the last few days.

  He swept into a graceful bow. “I am in your debt, once more.”

  Despite herself, her voice was harsh, “Do you mean that?”

  Jassy nodded, and then studied her face.

  Promise or not, she needed advice. Still hesitant, she said, “What if I told you I knew where there was a cave full of treasure?”

  “I explored one or two caves around here—nothing else to do. Only sleeping bats.”

  Laurel’s face flushed. “Not here. In a different place.”

  “Where?”

  With a deep breath, Laurel blurted, “Through a Troll’s Eye.”

  “Troll’s Eye!” Ana-Maria emerged from the shadows.

  Laurel blushed with anger. Ana-Maria was eavesdropping. Telling Jassy about the stone was bad enough. Still, she had to know more. “You’ve heard of them?”

  Ana-Maria nodded. “I haven’t seen one, though. Antonio and I traveled alone for one summer before Jassy joined us. It was a hot summer to the south and Antonio liked to stay cool. We traveled farther and farther north searching for cool weather. The north country is a strange land where days are long and nights are short and it is always cool. Many strange tales did I hear that summer. Would you hear of the Troll’s Eye?”

  “Yes!” Laurel settled onto a large boulder and Jassy squatted nearby.

  Ana-Maria stood in front of them, dramatically silhouetted in the cave opening. Her husky voice was compelling: “Know then that in the northern lands there are trolls, wicked creatures that live in the mountains. They travel abroad only at night and scamper back to their caves by dawn. If one should happen to be late, the sun’s rays turn them to stone. They hate the long summer days, days of confinement for them.

  “We met a hermit, an old man who lived alone, who said he had found a troll which had been turned to stone. Its eyes gleamed like jewels. He pried out one of the red jewels and looked through it.”

  Ana-Maria picked up a stone from the cave floor and put it to her eye. She peered around with the stone eye. Jassy half-smiled at her play.

  “And?” Laurel urged. It wasn’t play to her.

  “The hermit said when he looked through the Troll’s Eye, he was cursed, and everything was reversed: crude was fine, ugly was beautiful, and bad was good. ‘Beware the Troll’s Eye,’ he said.”

  Ana-Maria hefted the stone and threw it far into the woods. “Beware the Troll’s Eye!” She turned on heel and strode back to Antonio.

  Laurel bent her head and shivered.

  But Jassy took off his hat and held it out to her. “She’s a great storyteller, isn’t she? She could make money even without the bear.”

  Frustrated, Laurel brushed away his cap.

  He put it back on his curls. “I never know where she gets her stories. Makes them up, I guess.”

  “You don’t believe the story?” Laurel asked.

  “It’s just a story.”

  Laurel bit her bottom lip. Was it a story?

  He waited. When she said nothing, he leaned closer, his whole body suddenly alert: “You’re serious! You’ve really seen a Troll’s Eye?”

  “I don’t know if it came from one of those troll creatures, but I’ve seen a gemstone that looks like an eye. And, no, I didn’t look through it.” I would have, though, if Ana-Maria hadn’t stopped me, she thought guiltily.

  Impatient, Jassy waved his hand in small circles to speed up her answer. “Where? Who has it?”

  But she was slow to answer. “The new mason is—odd. You’ll see when you meet him.” She didn’t want to tell anyone about the gemstone, but who else would believe her? The townspeople? The priests? Her father? No, she had to trust these Gypsies. “Master Gimpel has the jewel and says it’s like a doorway to another world. He said a treasure cave is inside a stone that he owns.”

  Jassy stood abruptly and shook his head. “Then why doesn’t he go and get the treasure?”

  “I don’t know. But I want to know more about this Troll’s Eye—curse or no curse. We need money to build this year and a treasure cave would solve everything.”

  From inside the cave, Ana-Maria called again, “Beware the Troll’s Eye.”

  And from the depths of the cave, the bear growled in his sleep, the sound echoing throughout the cave.

  ELEVEN

  THE GIRL, THE GYPSY AND THE GARGOYLE MAN

  Above the cathedral spires, early afternoon clouds were gathering, building higher. A brisk wind picked up, rustling the trees and warning of a spring storm.

  “I must get back,” Laurel said.

  “I’ll walk you back to the city gates.” Jassy caught up his red cloak and a staff and led the way.

  At first the woods were eerily quiet, as if waiting for the storm. But as the storm drew nearer, the wind sharpened and reached even the forest floor. Bare branches rustled. Laurel shivered, drawing her cloak closer and pulling up her hood. Then they passed into a valley where dark pines and firs nestled and the wind could barely reach. The early spring sun couldn’t penetrate here either, so the snow lay thicker and chunks fell into her boot tops as she struggled through it, leaving her feet wet and cold. Laurel peered around the edge of her hood at Jassy, but he was hooded, too. They walked as if alone, both intent on stamping through the snow.
>
  Then Laurel heard a shuffling or scraping noise.

  And a figure came into view.

  Jassy lunged through a drift to put himself between the figure and Laurel. Cautious, Laurel stepped behind a fir and watched.

  Slide, step. Pause. Slide, step. Pause.

  Jassy twirled his staff and called out, “Hold!”

  That gait seemed familiar, was it—?

  The figure stopped, but Jassy charged with a roar.

  “Jassy!” Laurel called, trying to stop him. “It’s Master Gimpel, the mason.”

  Jassy faltered and stopped, looking back at Laurel and then at the hooded man.

  Laurel’s heart pounded. Oddly, she could only think of Master Gimpel’s hood: she was glad he wore his hood up, throwing his face into deep shadow. Otherwise Jassy might not have stopped at her call.

  The older man cleared his throat and gave a short bow to Jassy. To Laurel, he called, “You left so quickly, I was worried. Snowstorms, wolves and such.”

  “My father allows me to come and go as the nursing requires. Besides, I have an escort,” she said shortly.

  When the mason said nothing, she remembered her manners. “This is Jassy. Jassy, this is Master Gimpel.”

  “I thought the Gypsy was an old man,” said Master Gimpel.

  Laurel blew out a breath and shifted her herb basket to her left arm. “One of them is. Antonio is burning with fever.” She rubbed her face with her free hand and tried to shake off the memory of Antonio’s wound.

  Master Gimpel nodded, and then asked Jassy, “So, you’re the young gypsy. And when your master dies?”

  Jassy raised an eyebrow at Laurel; she nodded encouragement.

  “Laurel says you need an apprentice.”

  “Mistress Raymond is correct.”

  Laurel chaffed at the formal use of her name, the implied criticism of her friendship with Jassy. She didn’t mind that Jassy called her Laurel.

  “Let me see your hands.” Master Gimpel took Jassy’s hands and turned them over. “Long fingers.” Still without looking up, he said, “Why do you want to work with stone?”

  Jassy’s voice was quiet, uncertain. “The stones call to me.”

  “Ah, you’ve heard them?” Master Gimpel sounded surprised. “Good. Very good. Then come tomorrow at dawn. I’ll try you out and see if you have any feel for stone or if you just hear them.”

  Jassy shook the mason’s hand. “Thank you, sir. Dawn. I’ll be there.”

  But Laurel wasn’t finished. “One more thing.” She spoke quickly before she lost her nerve. “I’ve told Jassy about the Troll’s Eye.”

  A blast of wind swept through the valley, shaking trees and dumping snow onto Laurel and Jassy. She shook it off, and when she looked up at the mason, she stepped backward.

  He still stood fully cloaked, but he had stiffened, straightened. Stilled. Through gritted teeth, he said, “I said, tell no one.”

  Laurel straightened herself, defiant. “I needed advice.”

  Jassy stepped closer to Laurel, again making sure he was between her and the mason. He thrust his staff upright into a snowdrift and leaned against it, his dark eyes even darker. “And I have questions about this Troll’s Eye. Why don’t you go through it and find the treasure yourself?”

  The mason seemed to hesitate, and then sighed and relaxed. He glanced around till he saw a fallen log and limped over to sit on it, as if settling in for a long discussion. He spoke from the depths of his hood: “Ah, there are rules, every magic has rules.”

  Fascinated, Laurel started to join him on the log, but Jassy stopped her with a glance. She heeded the warning and stopped beside him. But she couldn’t stop Jassy’s questions.

  “How do you know these rules?”

  The mason whistled softly. “Some I learned by listening to legends about trolls, some I learned by breaking a rule.”

  Again, Laurel almost stepped closer, but Jassy held out his arm to stop her. “So. Tell us the rules of the Troll’s Eye.”

  Shrugging, the mason said, “Of course. The Troll’s Eye only lets a person enter a stone one time. Then you must try a different stone. I’ve already been to the treasure cave once and can’t return.”

  “Then you brought back jewels?” Laurel stamped her feet from the cold, but also from frustration that the mason was being so guarded in his answers.

  “No. My—well, my companion—he was injured, so I had to leave my bag of jewels to help him. Unfortunately—” He paused as if considering his next words carefully, “—the other one didn’t make it.”

  A shiver went down Laurel’s spine. “What do you mean?”

  “I buried him in the stone world.”

  Laurel stammered, “Then—it’s dangerous. There is a curse.”

  “Miracles don’t come easily.”

  Now a cold fist of fear settled in Laurel’s stomach and she started shivering. She clutched at her cloak and stamped her feet again.

  Jassy kept his eyes on the mason. “Go on. What other rules?”

  The mason chuckled. “The rules won’t matter in the end. You will go through the Troll’s Eye.”

  “Maybe,” Jassy said harshly. “But we still need to know. Tell us the worst.”

  “Very well. When you go through the Troll’s Eye, you must first find the right path. If you do, it will lead directly to the treasure cave. You must enter the cave only during the night when the Hallvard, the guardian of the treasure, sleeps. Ah–the treasure! Heaps and mounds of jewels of every color, just waiting for you.” Master Gimpel waved his hands and scooped up imaginary treasure.

  Laurel felt a thrill start to thaw her frozen senses. Treasure. They could build this year.

  But the mason continued, “There are difficulties with the treasure, too. You may each take one bag of jewels.” He held both hands out, palms up, and pretended to weigh something on a scale. “The trolls can’t count. Instead, they weigh out their jewels. The treasure cave has a set of scales and weights and bags to carry jewels. You may take one Troll’s Weight of jewels. It’s the smallest of their weights, and it’s heavy for a person to carry.”

  “They allow just anyone to take jewels?”

  Master Gimpel shook his head. “It is said that dragons count each jewel, but trolls aren’t as smart. They can’t count. They only know the weight of stones in their hands.” Now he waggled a finger at them. “But beware: if you take even one extra gemstone out of the treasure cave, the Hallvard will know. He will not allow you to leave his lands until he recovers all the jewels you have taken.”

  “What if we return the extra stone to the cave later? Or what if we put it in the bag later? Or—”

  “Ah, you want to play a game of ‘what if’? No, it doesn’t work that way. When you leave the cave, the Hallvard knows what you carry. One extra gemstone, one stone more than a Troll’s Weight bag—step foot outside the cave, and he will never stop hunting you.”

  “Hallvard?” Laurel asked with a shiver.

  “It is a Norse word, from the land of the trolls. It means ‘guardian of the rock’.”

  “One bag of jewels would be enough,” Laurel said. “More than enough to build the west tower.”

  “What does this Hallvard look like?” Jassy asked.

  The mason shrugged. “I don’t know what manner of beast he is in truth, but he looks much like a bear. He is simply the Hallvard. He sleeps at night. But even by day, he won’t bother you unless you take too many jewels.”

  The mason paused, but Jassy urged him on. “What other rules?”

  “One day’s walk in, one day’s walk out, and one extra day,” Master Gimpel continued. “The Troll’s Eye will stay open three days. If you’re not out by sunset on the third day, you’ll be trapped forever.”

  Laurel laughed. “Sounds too easy.”

  “Sounds too dangerous,” Jassy said.

  They grinned at each other.

  “You do the worrying,” Laurel said. “I’ll try to enjoy the journey.”

/>   Jassy thumped his staff up and down in the snowdrift. “When you travel, there are often surprises.” He nodded toward the mason. “Anything else?”

  The black hood nodded. “One more warning: however many go in, that same number must come out. If three go in, three must come out. If two go in, two must come out. One might get out alone, but not without paying a price.”

  “You mean, if there’s an accident, and one is hurt and can’t get back, then both are trapped? But your friend died there and here you are.” Jassy’s black eyebrows knit together, as if trying to understand.

  Master Gimpel stood now and stepped toward Jassy and Laurel. Jassy held out his staff to protect Laurel, but let the mason approach. The light was dusky under the trees. Casually, the mason threw back his hood and slowly turned to show his scarred face.

  “Oh!” Jassy jerked backward. Then, as if pulled by a magnet, he stepped closer to the Gargoyle Man. “What? How?”

  To Laurel, the man’s face was another blast of cold air, and she started shivering again, tucking her hand under her armpits and stamping, avoiding that face. Shivering, but she didn’t know if it was from cold or fear.

  In the snowbound silence, the Gargoyle Man’s words were eerie. “I wasn’t born this way. During my trip into the Troll’s Eye, my companion fell off a waterfall and I buried him beside the water. When I came back alone through the Troll’s Eye, it left me scarred.” He smiled broadly and the effect was startling, transforming evil to a comforting face.

  Laurel found herself smiling back.

  “But there’s no reason,” the mason said, “to think you would have problems. In fact, there’s one more treasure you might want to seek. In Djuber, the land of the Troll’s Eye, you must look for an herb that grows there, and only there. It might help the old man. It’s a vine, a small, star-shaped white flower that grows on rock walls. Pick the flowers and bring them back to dry. I don’t know herbs, but my companion once told me this plan will cure infections.”

  Eagerly, Jassy said, “It would cure Antonio?”

  The mason shrugged. “I don’t know herbs, only what my friend told me.”

  From somewhere in the woods came the caw of a crow.