Missing Piece

by Robert Priest

  As Tharfen approached the opening at the top of the cavern, and the circle of light in the opening widened, she took a deep breath and, with her usual skill, pushed those feelings and visions back down into the pit of the past where they belonged. She nodded to herself and got back to her habit of assessing the functionality of things about her. Yes, she was impressed with the upkeep of the tunnel. It was clean, operative, and orderly. This, at least, gave her hope that Ulde was being likewise well run, though that breach in the ramparts would definitely need to be dealt with immediately. She took a deep breath as she stepped into the early evening light, but even as she exhaled she still felt something inside tugging at her, pulling her forward, fluttering against her insides like a moth at a windowpane.

  4

  The New Literacy

  As Tharfen exited the tunnel, her eyes were drawn to a ilarge hand-lettered notice prominently posted on a wall. Five years ago they would not have put up such a poster, because hardly anyone in the city had been literate. Its presence attested to the fact that there were considerably more readers in the city now. Tharfen herself had mastered the art within a few months of leaving the island, and now often found herself almost unconsciously reading whatever texts might lie anywhere within her sight. This notice, lettered on a sturdy sheet of brown reed paper, bore a large heading in black ink.

  ATTENTION! All visitors! An important message for your safety!

  She paused and stood there reading it.

  It is prohibited to enter the city with any of the following objects: charms, hexpoints, spell kones, dice, spell staffs, wands, and potions. Please be aware that you are now in the vicinity of the Great Kone. Because of its ever-increasing spin rate it may be that certain uncompleted spells spoken or spun in these precincts long ago may suddenly manifest during your visit here. It is a matter of public safety that any suddenly appearing objects, especially frivolous items or household utensils, not be handled. The Provost’s office must be informed of all such objects as soon as possible in order that they may be gathered and disposed of. In certain locations, new residents may encounter old unassembled or unused spell kones. It is absolutely mandatory that these be turned over unassembled as quickly as possible to the Provost’s office for disposal. These are very dangerous objects, and any attempted use of them will likely prove fatal. Anyone under the influence of mild modern spells such as curses, blessings, and affirmations may experience heightened effects with proximity to the Great Kone. It is the law that any and all persons attempting to engage in spellbinding behaviours, whether in mockery, theatrical presentation, or otherwise, be stopped and reported immediately to the staff of the Academy or the Provost’s office.The effects of the Great Kone are increased with proximity. It is best to keep at a considerable distance from it. It is not true that the Great Kone can cure the pox, typhus, or any other disease. Please do not gather at the Great Kone. Please do not touch the Great Kone. It is a crime to touch the Great Kone. Anyone doing so is subject to imprisonment or exile.

  Below this, in another hand, the lettering had been extended, this time in blue ink.

  WARNING!

  Spellbound food should not be eaten. It is not deemed safe to eat the meat of two-headed or otherwise spell-crossed animals or insects. Please check all berries and fruits for any signs of spell-crossing. Eating spell-crossed food can lead to cross thinking and mutual organ antagonisms that are most often deadly. It is asked that new residents not eat songbirds. The most available source of meat is insect meat. Cockroaches, ants, mollusks, June bugs, and centipedes are often easily found under rocks and paving stones. Avoid obviously spell-crossed insects. Do not eat butterflies. Please be aware that moths and beetles are sacred to the people of Loceklis. Many of the cats and dogs are people’s pets and should not be eaten. There are pumps for fresh water at several locations. Please ask your closest academe for more information. Please do not eat the ornamental flowers.

  A further text written in the original black ink had been added. It was clearly the same handwriting as the first part of the text, but due to the small amount of space left on the paper, had been written in an increasingly smaller hand.

  It is our intention to offer to our visitors all the Phaer courtesies. Due to the imminence of the equinox, immediate access to the Great Kone has been prohibited. Please make safety your highest priority. Please respect the Phaer principles. It is important to register with the Provost’s office if you’re planning on an extended stay.

  5

  Newly Arrived Refugees

  Any hopes Tharfen had that the city might be well run were dashed as soon as she emerged into the light. Five years ago the population had been sparse. Most of the celebrated architectural marvels of the ancient city still lay buried in the rubble released by the Great Kone during the spell fire. Quite a number of these once-stately buildings had since been excavated. Made of marble, limestone, and granite, they still spoke of the magnificence of ancient Ulde, but they were no longer civic spaces. They were now host to the multitudes, most of whom were ragged, thin, and sickly looking. Recently arrived refugees, they crowded onto the columned porticos and sat huddled in small family-sized groups all over the marble steps. Little children were everywhere, running wild, screaming, crying, and playing in the dirt. Some of these people had filtered in slowly over the years, but many had arrived only recently, driven from their homes in the north by the advance of one of the two kwisling armies that sought to secure control of the isle.

  Tharfen had seen poverty before, and she was not immune to pity, but it was the smells that confronted her that were most disturbing. Even in the fierce salt breeze that blew in off the surrounding sea, the gutters reeked of waste.

  In the old days, most of the citizens of Ulde had had working water closets with elaborate flush toilets that drained into underground sewers to the sea far below. But those sewers were now blocked or cracked and the toilets were overflowing. Even the gulls avoided the sickening heaps that clogged the roadside ditches intended for drainage of rainwater. And the scrawny, half-starved dogs whose proliferation, like that of the people, had exponentially increased during the past five years, stayed away from these wastes. And it didn’t look as though anyone would be cleaning it up anytime soon. It would take the arrival of the spring hurricane season to flush out whichever of the drains still worked so that the process could start anew. But that wouldn’t be today.

  Even as Tharfen passed, a thin, shaky Thrall shamelessly squatted over the gutter to relieve himself. A more discreet fellow arrived struggling under a great bowl, the contents of which, with turned-away face, he tipped into the already congested gutter.

  The stench was so intense that Tharfen had to hold one white-gloved hand over her nose. The flies were everywhere, some of them unnaturally large and beautiful with their vivid colourings, rising over the ordure, laying their eggs, mating. This was a paradise to them, except for those who found themselves snapped up by the starving dogs, two of which now followed at Tharfen’s heels, seeking treats.

  Tharfen’s embroidered uniform with its golden epaulets had by now caught the attention of a group of scruffy-looking children who were playing a jumping game in the middle of the street. She beckoned to one of them. A young boy about six years old, his face smudged with filth, his clothes ill-fitting and begrimed, emerged from the crowd and stood before her, clearly entranced by her appearance.

  “Where will I find the governor, Lirodello?” she asked him curtly, looking with some disapproval at his uncleanliness. The boy continued to stare at her like she was a figure from a dream. “Speak, boy. I’m in a hurry.”

  “I never seen a pie-rit before,” the boy said, his eyes wide. But when he saw the quick look of offence cross her features, he grew timid.

  Shaking her head, she reined in her feeling of affront and told the boy. “A pirate is a terrible thing to be. I despise pirates and pirateering. Not everyone in a tri-cornere
d hat is a pirate, and certainly not me.” The boy hung his head and began to fidget with his feet. “Now, do you know where the governor might be, or not?”

  The boy looked up cautiously. “At his office, prob’ly.”

  “And where is his office?”

  The boy thought about it for a while and then said “I don’t know how to tell you, but I can take you there.”

  “What is your name, then?” Tharfen asked.

  “Beren,” was the shy answer.

  “Thank you, Beren. My name is Tharfen. I’m the captain of a ship.”

  “A lady captain?” She nodded and smiled. She looked so splendid to him, he blushed. He turned to the others, who had paused in their jumping game and were gaping at Tharfen. “A lady pie-rit !” he shouted enthusiastically.

  Her eyes narrowed. “Now look here. I am not a pirate and I will never be a pirate. A pirate is a vile thing to be and I will not be called one.”

  The boy blanched and hung his head. “I forgot,” he whispered. She continued to eye him severely for a moment while the others looked on in a hush.

  “Good then,” she said in a slightly gentler tone. “Shall we be going, then?”

  Beren looked up, relieved. He gave a little salute and said, “Yes, Captain.”

  The others emitted various sighs and impressed hoots and hollers at this and began to follow the boy as he led Tharfen down a narrow, crooked alley.

  6

  Lirodello and the Scribes

  In the interest of housing a large family of refugees, Lirodello had recently vacated the newly excavated and spacious offices allotted to him as governor. Instead, he had opted for a small room in a nearby house that had once been the home of a famous Elphaerean artist and architect.

  He sat behind a large oak desk in a high-backed chair as Tharfen was admitted to see him. There was more of him than there had been five years ago, she noted. Much more. The once-comical face was still visible in the much broader, more gelatinous cheeks, but it had become an extremely sad face — the result, as he was willing to tell anyone, of his grief over the loss of his beloved Imalgha in the Second Battle of Phaer Bay. He wore a bright red military jacket, the shoulders of which had been custom extended to contain his broad back by a tailor who had neglected to likewise move the golden epaulets, which, as a result, seemed far too close to his slender neck. His brown hair was long and tied back from his elongated, oval face.

  Beside him, slightly turned away, her arms tattooed in intricate spirals, chevrons, and gyres, her upper arms as big around as most people’s thighs, sat Atathu, Imalgha’s younger sister. A long, curved silver scimitar swung from a sheath at her right hip.

  She had been busy with ink and a needle embellishing the latest tattoo on her right forearm, but she put her implements aside and stood up, watching Tharfen’s approach through narrowed, hooded eyes, her huge coils of hair bound back and away from her sullen face.

  “Tharfen,” Lirodello, glum-faced, swept one arm down into a forward bow. “What a pleasure to greet you once again. As you’ve no doubt seen, you’ve come at a time when we are somewhat overwhelmed here with new arrivals.”

  Tharfen nodded in greeting. “And you, Lirodello. I’m sure you are very busy. As am I. So I won’t take up much of your time. I’ve noted something about the state of your seawall that prompts me to warn you—”

  “Fellows!” His glum tone interrupted her as he addressed a line of scribes seated in desks along one wall. “I hope you know you are in the presence of a genuine hero. This is Tharfen of Ilde, who slew five Cyclopes in the Second Battle of Phaer Bay.”

  Five quill pens ceased writing as five sets of eyes looked up at her.

  “Perhaps you’d like to stand and greet her properly.”

  “No, no,” Tharfen insisted. “My time really is very brief, but I knew I would be remiss if I did not stop by and warn you—”

  “Yes, yes,” Lirodello interrupted her again, “the gap on the north side of the seawall. I am well aware of it.”

  Tharfen bristled at his dismissive tone. “And are you well aware that with a hole in your battlements like that, the new siege machines could easily get a troop of cutthroats up those cliffs and into the heart of your precious city in no time?”

  “Tharfen, you don’t need to convince me. I am painfully aware of this. I have tried again and again to force the council to approve extra funds—”

  “Extra funds?”

  “Yes, well, there’s a civil war in the west of the isle going on. And I’m sure you’ve seen for yourself the situation in our streets.”

  Tharfen nodded.

  “Considerable resources are going to feeding these poor refugees who’ve been fleeing battles and massacres the likes of which this island has not known since the Pathans themselves were in control. And there is an immediate threat from the traitorous kwisling forces in the west. We’ve had to prioritize the shoring up of the old defences on the west side of the city.”

  “Perhaps, sir, but then again the kwislings might see these land defences shored up against them and come at you instead by surprise in ships, with siege machines, and then …” She shrugged and raised her eyebrows knowingly. “Not to mention all the slavers and pirates, who, now that the Pathans have left, roam these seas freely.”

  “It’s not me you need to convince. I have only taken over this post recently — since the unfortunate death of Ettinender. I was his second-in-command. Even so, I put my utmost energy into convincing them to get that seawall fixed.”

  “But I have just come here through the cavern. Why would you have men at work on the ceiling before fixing the seawall?”

  “That was not my decision. That was Ettinender’s decision.”

  “By what logic? If you rig the ceiling to fall, the most you can do is trap perhaps a hundred invaders. That would possibly still leave hundreds, thousands more on the beaches who could then quite easily make their way up to the cliffs to the only other point of entry — that gaping great hole.”

  If Lirodello could have looked any sadder, he would have. Listening to Tharfen’s tone, Atathu’s jaws were clenched so tight her teeth creaked.

  “It is not me you have to convince. It is the Loceklians on the council. In fact, Tharfen, you speak so convincingly, so passionately on this subject. There is an open meeting of The Fifty tomorrow morning and we will be deciding great issues with a simple majority vote. A speech from you on an occasion like that—”

  “No, sir. That is not my job. That is yours. I don’t pursuade. I give orders, sir, and thereby I get things done.”

  “A voice like yours could bring such persuasion. People will hear your words and they will be swayed and it will make all the difference.”

  “Mr. Lirodello, I will be departing for the edge of the world in the morning. It is my father’s intention to sail round the sea’s rim, map the concave underearth oceans, and conduct the first trade mission to Pathar in a hundred years.”

  “I see. Well, thank you for your warning. It is duly noted.”

  A square-faced Thrall in a black suit entered the room from the back carrying an ancient tea service, the silver pot steaming. With a nod that was almost an ogle at Tharfen, he positioned the tray on the table before them and poured Lirodello a steaming cupful.

  “Do you have time to join me for tea?”

  Tharfen hadn’t had a good cup of tea in months. She nodded and sat down opposite Lirodello, feeling Atathu’s eyes boring into the side of her face, but never turning once to look at her.

  “And what of Torgee?” Tharfen finally asked. She felt the tiniest glint of vulnerability.

  “Your brother has had his ups and downs like many of us,” Lirodello intoned, his voice profound with sorrow.

  “What do you mean?” she asked, trying to conceal her concern. She was aware that one of the scribes was gazing at her quite
intensely.

  “We all have our way of dealing with the aftermath of the terrible battle,” Lirodello said solemnly after a brief pause. “Mine is dignified grief. Others have turned to the goddess Loceklis. Your brother, I’m afraid, turned to poppy milk and the honey mead.”

  Tharfen maintained her stony demeanour. “Is he still in the city?”

  “He will be on guard right about now along the wall by the Great Kone.”

  Tharfen nodded. “Perhaps then I will see him.” She finished her tea and stood up to leave. “I’m sorry I cannot attend the meeting of The Fifty tomorrow, Lirodello, but I urge you most earnestly to summon something in yourself. Exert your authority. You have it in you if you can but find it. I bid you well.”

  “And I thank you, Tharfen, for your warning. Before you go, let me in turn warn you that the Great Kone will reach its first full turn on the equinox, about a week from now. It is spinning much faster than it was last time you were here. And the faster it has gone, the more we have seen freak incidents of strange spells manifesting.”

  “What kind of freak incidents?”

  “Often harmless things, but sometimes terrifying things. Lately, for instance, we have seen body parts amputated from criminals in ancient times come crawling up out of the bog, making their way through the city streets at night, even finding their way into people’s beds.” One of the scribes giggled at this, causing Lirodello to turn and eye him sternly.