by S. J. Ryan
The King continued: “Now, Gwinol, I've heard a great deal about Rome, but it is all from Britanians, and as you would expect, their views are negative. As the first Roman I've met, perhaps you could educate me more honestly about the city and empire.”
“I would be happy to do so.”
Having lived in Rome that summer, Carrot accurately described the city and its sights: the bay, the volcano, the Coliseum and Victory Plaza. They were still talking about Rome when dinner was served.
Over utensils clinking upon plates, between casual inquiries about climate and customs, the King transitioned from tourist-type questions to pumping Carrot for strategic data on the size and scope of the Empire, the strength of its legions and fleets, the extent of its occupation in Britan. The way he framed some of his inquiries (“Now, Londa is the provincial capital from which this General Bivera administers, right?”) indicated an extensive prior knowledge.
She sensed that he was asking some questions that he already knew the answer to, so as to see if she was answering honestly. Carrot was mindful to do so, save in regard to their identities. For her part, she diplomatically steered clear of questions that could be interpreted as military intelligence. Nonetheless, she wanted to know about the history of the trolls.
“We Romans have traveled much of the world,” she said, “but have never before met a people as physically large as you Henogalians. I have inquired of Britanians, and they say that there was a time when Henogalians were no different in size than common humans. Our sponsors could provide no explanation for the change. Is it comfortable to ask you?”
“Ah, yes. The Transformation.” The King pressed his palms together and gazed at the joining between wall and roof. “Not something that we Henogalians wish often to talk about. You see, we betrayed the Wizard's trust.”
“I have heard the legend that the Wizard from Aereoth dwelt among you.”
“Yes, and a wondrous time that was. Many humans who have sat at this same table have expressed amazement over our many inventions, even things as commonplace to us as hot and cold running water. We owe our advancement to the Wizard, who instructed us in the ways of scientific inquiry.”
“This I have heard. But . . . about the Transformation.”
“Yes, the Transformation. Well, you must understand that in those days, we were a league of villages, descended from a tribe of humans that had migrated across Britan in quest of land where we might live in peace. Perhaps you've heard of our original homeland in the east. It is called Umbrick.”
“I've heard of such a place.” She took a deep, deep sip.
“Well, having settled in this valley, we lived in peace and isolation for a time, until one day comes the Wizard with his mentors and other followers, along with his giant snail which builds roads.”
“Snail,” Carrot said, concealing her incredulity. “Which builds roads?”
“As extraordinary as it sounds, the eyewitness accounts agree. The Wizard had created a giant snail that was bigger than an ox, whose slime is the pavement that made the Arcadian Road.”
“Arcadian Road,” Carrot said. The world seemed to spin a bit, and it wasn't quite due to the beer. “And where is that?”
“Oh, right. You humans call it the 'Kaden' Road down south. Tore it up also, I hear – broke both name and paving. That is, Britanians did, not you good Romans.”
“Please go on with your story. The Wizard came to Henogal, and taught you science?”
“Not only science, but also the art of government. He helped us form our league of villages into a single alliance, in which villages elect representatives who come to Aurora and vote each year for a leader. You've seen the amphitheater? That is where the Assembly of Villages meets.”
“I'm sorry, King Richard, if I seem impatient – but does this relate to the Transformation?”
“It does, very much so. You see, we were still human in scale in those days, and the Transformation happened at a time when the Wizard was absent. We were terrified from the separation, you see, and his explanation for his absence made our terror even worse, for he said he was going to investigate a potential threat to our land. So when the time of the Assembly came that year, and the Wizard had not yet returned, there was great concern among the assembled representatives over what to do. A concern verging on hysteria, it is said.”
“And how did that lead to the Transformation?”
“Well, that brings us to the Box. You see, the Box is real, and is everything that myth and legend say about it. Moreover, it has a mind of its own and can even converse as if it were a person. And on top of all that, it can grant certain wishes.”
“Really. How remarkable.”
“I sense skepticism. I suppose you think we're ignorant backlanders for believing such things, but eyewitness accounts agree, and after all, it was only a century ago.”
“I'll trust your accounts as true. Please go on.”
“It's gotten dark,” the King said. He arose and lit the lanterns about the room, illuminating the tapestries, which, Carrot noticed for the first time, showed pastoral scenes of humans and trolls side by side. The King returned to his chair and clasped his hands.
He continued: “And so it happened, the Wizard had brought the very Box of which we speak with him. The Wizard gave us the great honor of placing the Box in our care, with firm instructions that we were to guard but not approach it, nor address it, and above all not petition it.”
“I gather that it was petitioned.”
“Well, you know how people are. After the Wizard had been gone for longer than anticipated and the time came for the Assembly, there were cries that the Wizard had abandoned us, or was even dead, and our only hope was what many believed was the Wizard's true source of power: namely, the Box. And so the Assembly appointed a delegation to petition the Box to enlist its aid against our imagined enemies. I'm sorry – Mirian, was it? Did you say something?”
“Sorry,” Mirian said. “Speaking to myself.”
“It sounded like, 'Careful what you wish for.' And indeed. We'd been warned many times by the Wizard and his mentors that the Box could misinterpret our requests by taking them too literally, and so the Assembly, in its 'wisdom,' appointed a committee to craft a precise statement of petition. That statement you can read yourself, for the final draft is on display in our Museum of History just down the street. It is a model of rhetorical succinctness.” He paused for dramatic effect. “It states simply, 'We ask that Henogal be made strong.'”
Mirian coughed softly.
“And that was all that it said?” Carrot asked.
“The committee consensus was that precision resides in brevity. You've heard the proverb, 'Less is more.' Well, in our case, a lot more.”
“And then your people became . . . . “
“Trolls? That is the word you're looking for? Not that the people of Henogal immediately turned into trolls, but when the Wizard returned and heard what we had done, he went to see the Box, and spoke to it, and learned from what it had done in response to our request. And then he came out and said – and these words are well-remembered – 'You guys really screwed it.'”
Carrot blinked. The First Wizard was supposedly a twin of Matt, but Matt would never have been so blunt toward simple village folk.
“And is that all he said?”
“Oh no. He said that their children would turn into beings that he referred to as 'trolls.' He described what a troll was, and that there was nothing he could do about it. So, like the naming of many things around here, the term 'troll' came originally from the Wizard's own mouth. But unlike other things he said, we care not to remember that. As you've likely learned, we're not fond of the word. 'Careful what you wish for,' goes the warning in every fable told to children, and yet when the test came in real life, the best minds in Henogal failed. The word reminds us of that.”
“I see,” Carrot said.
They had finished eating, and with the conclusion of the tale, the room was silent. Dori
s brought cherry pie and they all complimented her.
“So,” King Richard said, pushing from the table. “You ask about the Box. You want to see the Box.”
Carrot stirred. “You mean it's still here in Henogal?”
“Yes, and it is close by.”
“In your museum?”
The King chuckled. “Oh no. Not the museum. Imagine how much havoc and chaos that would cause, with people calling wishes across the exhibit rope! No, after the damage was done, the Wizard took care that we sealed the Box from human contact as much as possible.”
“It is buried?”
“In a sense. Well, to the point. You want to see it, and as I do wish to establish good relations with Rome, I am quite willing to show it to you.”
“Could that be soon? Tomorrow perhaps?”
The King shrugged. “Why not tonight? It's only a short walk to Mount Free.”
“I would be willing to wait until morning.” Mirian stretched her arms. “We are tired from – “
“We are not that tired,” Carrot said. They could fulfill their quest this very hour! “We can see it tonight if it is not trouble.”
“It won't be any trouble,” the King said.
Richard summoned six guards equipped with lanterns. The humans donned their coats, but he bade them to leave their leashes and collars. They were conducted outside into a clear night full of stars, and air which had begun to chill. Carrot felt warm soon, as the trolls kept a brisk pace. They headed eastward, away from the town in the direction opposite the road, toward the hulk of Mount Free, looming as a silhouette cut-out against the stars.
Houses became few and the path was empty of other travelers. Lanterns played against leaves as the trees and brush closed upon the path, which curled upward. Though the slope of the trail was gentle, the trolls slowed and started to huff. It gave Carrot confidence that her party would be able to escape if there were a trap. Seven trolls they could elude, and if there were a hundred hiding ahead, Mirian and she would scent so in time. So there was little reason to be alarmed.
So why am I nervous? she asked.
Mirian trotted alongside, looking nervous enough for both of them.
“Carrot,” she whispered sharply. “Don't you find this too easy?”
Carrot had learned that troll hearing was nothing special, but still she feared being overheard. “Let's talk of this later.”
“Good to know there will be a 'later!'
They took a side path, and the trail became narrower still, until they passed single-file. Branches and grass obstructed their way. Finally, after ascending only fifty meters vertically from the altitude of the township, the group arrived at a wide ledge of bare rock. Resting against the cliff face was a boulder taller than the humans and almost as tall as the trolls.
Richard rolled up his sleeves and gave a sharp nod. In unison, the trolls set lanterns down and laid shoulders against the boulder and grunted. Slowly the massive stone skidded aside, revealing a dark entry. Stale air met Carrot's nostrils.
“This has been closed for some time,” she said.
“We decided not to be made fools twice,” the King replied.
The trolls led within. The entry opened into a cavern. Lanterns flickered against needle-teethed rocks that jutted from floor and roof, as if inside a giant mouth of stone. Carrot smelled little of life, and was amazed that there was any at all in a place as void.
“Keep to the path,” Richard said. “There are treacherous pits.”
The chamber opened into another that was large enough to have contained a village. The trolls abruptly halted and stepped aside, allowing the humans to see past. A chasm spanned the width of the chamber. Its bottom was dark beyond the probe of the lanterns. Richard gestured to a rope bridge that stretched across the chasm.
“That was built before the Transformation,” he said. “As you can see, it won't support our weight.”
“How far is the Box?” Carrot asked.
“According to record, three more chambers. The path is straightforward, clearly marked, no forks, not a far walk. We will wait here.”
The trolls rendered a pair of lanterns to the humans. The King found a place to sit and smiled expectantly. Carrot glanced at Norian and Mirian. She went first.
The ropes and planks were slick with dust and slime. Her boots slipped, she nearly lost her grip and flailed feet over empty air. A few steps later, a plank cracked underfoot, warning that it would not take her full weight. The buzz of the dinner's beer dissipated into sharp clarity. Finally, she reached the other side.
Norian held Mirian back and went next. He took his steps more gingerly than Carrot, so that despite his weight he never slipped. Mirian trotted lightly, the bridge barely swaying in acknowledgment of her passage.
Carrot waved to the King. Seated with his men at the cavern entry, he waved back. Taking a lantern, she led her team down the path to the next chamber, around a bend and out of sight of their escorts.
“Now is later,” Mirian said behind her back.
“Say what you will,” Carrot said, without turning.
“This seems too easy.”
Carrot took a deep breath. “We cross the length of Britan, we battle a monstrous animated hedge, we dwell in a land of giants, we fight Roman spies, we enter a hidden cavern and we barely survived that ancient bridge. And you say this is easy?”
“In terms of barter, yes. If I had a treasure like the Box, would I not bargain before showing it to someone who could bring an army and steal it?”
“He said he wanted good relations with Rome.”
“If I were a king, all I would want from Rome is to be left alone. I would deny any knowledge of the Box. If Rome still comes, I would still have the Box to barter with. But revealing where it is now – he's practically giving it away. Kings don't do that.”
“Mirian is right,” Norian said. “All is not open dealing here. Perhaps the king has sent us to retrieve the Box because no troll can do so. Once we bring it across the bridge, he will seize it from us.”
“Then we will negotiate for its sale,” Carrot replied.
“Assuming he doesn't toss us into that bottomless pit.”
“If he does, it will be difficult for him to make a sale.”
“Very funny,” Mirian said. “I'll remember to laugh as we plummet.”
“He seems cordial,” Carrot replied. She felt a little like she was being ganged on, but kept her voice cool.
“He pretends to like us,” Norian said.
“Listen to Norian,” Mirian said. “He knows about people.”
“Well, so do I,” Carrot replied, a little hotly.
“That's not what I've heard.”
“What have you heard?”
“That you let an agent of Rome drug you, and you followed him into the woods so that you were attacked by three at once – “
“Mirian,” Norian said sharply. “I thought you valued Carrot's judgment of people. You were impressed by her conduct with the dwarves.”
“That was a matter of courage and not insight into character. Anyway, they were villagers and you can always trust villagers. We three are villagers, and we know that villagers are simple and honest folk who will walk ten klicks to return a coin that you were unaware that you had dropped. But those who live in castles – well, they are the ones who take coins from our pockets. Their guards and walls speak of how little they trust one another. And Norian, why are you disagreeing with me? I was defending you!”
“I just wish you'd find a way to do it less sharply. Sometimes, you say things only to make me feel better about being a mere human with feeble strength and senses.”
“On that you are wrong,” Mirian said. “You are always wrong when you underestimate yourself.”
Carrot still rankled at Mirian's retort, but said nothing. Shadows danced as their lanterns progressed among the rock teeth. Echoes alternated with utter silence. Carrot felt as if she were creeping deeper and deeper into the belly of a snak
e. With the dust and dampness, her vapored breaths came fast and shallow. She noticed the same from Mirian; Norian was a blank face with invisible breath. Yet the two would offer reassuring touches as they trudged in synchronization.
They didn't choose to be married, she thought. They had to be married. That is, she thought, they could not have matched each other better. She thought of Matt. The oppressiveness of being under millions of tons of stone made him seem more remote than all the kilometers of separation.
Mirian halted. “The air has changed.”
Carrot turned again. “What do you mean?”
Mirian's eyes were wide. “The flow of the air through the cavern has changed. It smells different too. Thicker, more stale.”
Carrot sniffed. “No different to me.”
“Carrot, my village has no recollection of a visit by Wizard or Box, but we must have been granted a wish, and for us it was done right. Will you accept that my people are the best hunters in the world? We sense the air in ways that I know that even you cannot.”
“Mirian” Norian said. “The change in the air. What do you think it means?”
“I don't know.”
Carrot sighed. “It's only one more chamber.”
The next chamber was the smallest. There were no other entries, the roof was low, the opposite end was a wall. There, a rectangular recess had been chiseled into the stone at (human) chest height. The recess was a meter deep, a meter high, a meter and a half long. There were torch holders on each side.
The recess itself was empty. Three pairs of eyes looked about: right, left, above, below. The rest of the chamber was natural rock.
“If it was here, it's been taken,” Norian said.
Carrot drew a breath. “It was here – a long time ago. Do you smell it, Mirian?”
“Faintly. A scent like a storm of people.”
“Could there be a secret panel?” Norian asked.
While the pair visually inspected for linear cracks, Carrot extended her hands, closed her eyes, and focused her metal-sense. She slowly turned, concentrating. Nothing.
