Stone Unturned: A Legend of Ethshar

by Lawrence Watt-Evans

  The following day he once again headed to the Quarter, returning to his rented home around mid-afternoon.

  This time he found someone waiting for him on the front steps—two men. One of them wore his uncle’s livery, and Morvash recognized him as one of Gror’s footmen. His name was something boring, probably Kelder, but Morvash did not remember for certain.

  The other was a complete stranger, a young man in drab homespun with an iron collar around his neck. Morvash felt his belly tense.

  “Who are you?” he demanded, as he neared the house.

  “Your uncle sent us,” the footman said. “This is your new slave.”

  “I never said I wanted a slave.”

  “Gror bought you one, nonetheless.”

  Morvash stopped a few feet away and turned his attention to the slave. “Who are you? What’s your name?”

  The young man appeared to be roughly the same age as Morvash. He hesitated, frowning, and said nothing.

  “Is he an idiot?” Morvash asked the footman. “Or a mute?”

  “I don’t think so,” the servant replied, “but his Ethsharitic isn’t very good. I think your accent may be giving him trouble.”

  “My accent?”

  “You have a Rocks accent, sir. You must know that.”

  Morvash glared at the footman, then turned back to the slave and asked, speaking slowly and with as much of a Spices accent as he could manage without sounding stupid, “What is your name?”

  “Pender,” the slave said, pointing at his own chest. “I am Pender Shemarkir.”

  “What does that mean? What language is it?”

  “It’s Sardironese,” the footman replied. “I don’t know what the name means exactly, but apparently it’s his former occupation, not a home or parent.”

  “I make…things with stones,” Pender said, pointing at the fingers of his left hand, then at his throat. “Stones and…gold?”

  “Stones?”

  “Bright stones.”

  “Jewels? You’re a jeweler?”

  Pender looked at him helplessly, and turned up an empty palm.

  “How in the World did a Sardironese jeweler wind up as a slave here in Ethshar?” Morvash demanded.

  “I have no idea,” the footman said. “Sir, we have been waiting for you for hours. Could you please accept your uncle’s gift, and let me return to my duties elsewhere?”

  “Fine, fine,” Morvash said with a wave. “You can go.” Then he fished his ring of keys from his purse and stepped past the slave to unlock the door. “Come on,” he said, opening it and gesturing to Pender.

  Pender’s reaction when he stepped into the cluttered front hall and saw the animated chairs startled Morvash; he broke into a broad grin and exclaimed, “Wizard!”

  “Yes,” Morvash said warily. “I’m a wizard.”

  Pender pointed at his new master. “Wizard?”

  “Yes. That’s right.”

  “You go to Tazmor?”

  “What?” Morvash was vaguely aware that Tazmor was a region somewhere in the north, but that was all he knew about it.

  “You,” Pender repeated, pointing at Morvash again. “Go to.” He made walking motions with two fingers. “Tazmor?”

  “No,” Morvash said. “I’ve never been to Tazmor.”

  Pender looked baffled.

  “We have got to teach you more Ethsharitic,” Morvash said. “Or maybe I can learn Sardironese.

  Pender looked at him blankly.

  “Are you hungry?” Morvash asked. “That footman said you were waiting for hours. Hungry? Food?”

  “Food?” That got the slave’s attention.

  “This way,” Morvash said, and he led the way to the kitchen.

  Pender seemed familiar with kitchens, and helped Morvash put together a late lunch. He was understandably wary of the animated utensils, but did not seem shocked by them, or particularly frightened of them. The wizard explained everything in clear, simple words as he heated up some broth, served out cold salt pork, and poured beer, and Pender seemed to be following.

  As they sat across the table from one another and ate, Morvash stared at Pender and wondered what Uncle Gror had been thinking. How much use could he get out of a slave who didn’t speak Ethsharitic? Did his uncle think he had some translation spell that would take care of the language barrier?

  Such spells did exist; Morvash had heard of something called the Spell of All Tongues, but he did not know much about it. It was probably expensive.

  But then he remembered Ariella listening to the thoughts of a Northern spy and making sense of them. When they had finished eating and had tidied up, he beckoned to his new slave. “Come on,” he said. “We’re going to visit a witch.”

  Pender did not necessarily to understand the words, but the gestures were clear enough, and he seemed to have no objection; the two of them headed out to Witch Alley.

  As they approached the witch’s house, Ariella leaned out the window. “I’m not working for free this time,” she said.

  “Fair enough,” Morvash said. “And I’m not sure how much you can do, anyway. My uncle…”

  “I know,” she interrupted. “Come on in, and we’ll talk.”

  Morvash obeyed, ducking inside as soon as the door opened. Pender, he noticed, did not need to duck. He motioned for the slave to take the stool, while he leaned against the wall.

  “Here’s the thing,” Ariella said, as soon Pender was seated. “He already knows a little Ethsharitic, and I can help him learn more, much more quickly than he ordinarily would. I can’t magically teach him how to speak like a native—that’s more in wizardry’s line. If we can agree on payment, though, I’ll be happy to serve as your translator for now; you can ask him anything you like, instruct him in his new duties, whatever. If I do this right, he should learn how to say any words we use in this conversation in Ethsharitic—I won’t just be listening to his thoughts, I’ll be guiding him to think them in Ethsharitic. Unless you’d prefer I teach you Sardironese? That would be slower, since I don’t know it myself.”

  Morvash had not had time to reply aloud when she nodded. “Ethsharitic it is, then. Now, about payment…”

  Morvash frowned. “Payment,” he said, uncomfortably aware that he had virtually exhausted his funds on rent, ingredients, and so on. He was unsure where to start a negotiation; he had never hired a witch before. “Yes. Payment. Well.”

  “Payment?” Pender said.

  The two magicians turned to look at the slave. He held up a hand signaling for patience, then reached into the waistband of his shabby breeches. After fumbling around for a moment, he pulled out a small blue silk pouch that looked completely incongruous on his brown woolen garments. He tugged at the drawstring, then poured the contents of the pouch into his palm and held it out.

  “Oh,” Morvash said, while Ariella stared silently.

  Pender was holding a small fortune in diamonds—twenty or more flawless white stones.

  “Pender the Jeweler,” Morvash said. “That’s his name, Pender the Jeweler.” He turned to Ariella. “Will one of those cover your fee?”

  “Oh, yes,” the witch said. Hesitantly, she reached out and chose a single gem.

  When she had made her selection, Morvash told Pender, “Put the rest away.” He gestured, closing his own hand and pressing it against the waist of his robe.

  Pender nodded, returned the other diamonds to the silk pouch, and tucked them away.

  Ariella said, “So, Morvash—you want to know how he wound up as a slave in Ethshar when he was carrying around all those diamonds, right?”

  She did not wait for Morvash to answer before turning to Pender and asking, “Where are you from?”

  “Tazmor,” Pender replied. “In…Back Foot
Village.”

  Morvash blinked at the peculiar name, but then nodded.

  Pender was reconsidering, though, and corrected himself. “Hindfoot Village,” he said.

  “He’s learning,” Ariella said.

  “Why are you here?” Morvash asked. “Why aren’t you home in Tazmor?”

  The slave gathered his wits for a moment, then said, “I come… I came to find the wizard.”

  “Which wizard?”

  Pender shook his head. “I can’t say that.”

  “Why not?”

  “I…” He looked around helplessly. “I can’t say that.”

  Before Morvash could ask anything more, Ariella said, “He really can’t. It’s not because of the language problem. He can’t say it in Sardironese, either; he can’t even think it clearly when he knows I’m listening. I think there’s a spell on him.”

  Frowning, Morvash drew his athame. Pender flinched at the sight of the gleaming dagger, and Ariella hastened to reassure him.

  Ordinarily Morvash would have used the knife’s point to test for magic, but to avoid upsetting his captive he flipped it around and touched the pommel to Pender’s forehead. A ripple of blue-green light flashed up the blade, so quick and faint anyone not expecting it might have missed it entirely.

  “He’s enchanted,” Morvash agreed. “Probably Javan’s Geas. He can’t tell us anything forbidden any more than he can turn his hair purple.” He sheathed his dagger with a sigh. “What can you tell us?” he asked.

  “We—my people—we work for the wizard,” Pender said. “For many years, we all work for him. He…” He struggled for a word.

  “Brought,” Ariella suggested. “He brought your ancestors to Tazmor.”

  “Yes. After the fighting.”

  “After the Great War,” Ariella explained. “Tazmor was part of the Northern Empire, and after the war, when the Northerners had been wiped out, his ancestors were brought there.”

  “Why?” Morvash asked.

  “Can’t tell you,” Pender said. “The wizard brought them to…” He grimaced. “To do a thing.”

  “Something he didn’t want anyone to know about, so he used Javan’s Geas on you all, to make sure you wouldn’t tell anyone,” Morvash said.

  “Yes!”

  “Over two hundred years ago.”

  “Yes.”

  This did not sound like a good thing. Using Javan’s Geas on an entire population to keep something secret was not the sort of thing that someone would do unless he was sure that other people were not going to be happy about his project, whatever it was.

  And this wizard had apparently enchanted not only the original population, but their children and grandchildren, for the past two centuries. Whatever the project was, it had been going for a long, long time.

  But Pender had come to Ethshar looking for him, which meant that he was not in Tazmor anymore. Had he lived there until recently?

  “Did the wizard live in Tazmor?” Ariella asked, before Morvash could.

  Pender shook his head. “No. He came every ten years to see us, and pay us.”

  “And to enchant all the new children to keep the secret,” Morvash said.

  “Yes,” Pender acknowledged. “But he did not come last time.”

  “How long has it been, then?” Morvash asked.

  “Thirteen years. Three years more…three years too long.”

  “And you came looking for him, to ask why he’s late? You want your pay?”

  Pender hesitated. “Yes. And…and to tell him.”

  “Tell him what?” Morvash asked.

  Ariella and Pender replied in unison, “It’s ready.”

  “This mysterious project you people have been working on for more than two hundred years—it’s finished?” Morvash asked.

  Pender nodded.

  “But you can’t tell me anything about it.”

  Pender shook his head.

  “You came to Ethshar to tell the wizard that it was complete, though?”

  Pender nodded.

  “Did you find him?”

  Pender shook his head.

  “Then what happened? How did you wind up on my doorstep?”

  Pender looked at Ariella, then began, “I brought money. Hindfoot Village gave me money to pay for…for food and sleep.”

  “Food and lodging,” Ariella corrected. “Travel expenses.”

  “Yes. Coins. Iron and copper. I had stones—diamonds—too.”

  “For emergencies,” Ariella explained.

  Pender nodded. “Emergencies, yes. But things cost too much. We did not know in Tazmor what food cost in Sardiron.”

  “He didn’t know how to dicker, either,” Ariella added. “He still doesn’t. Apparently that’s not how it’s done in Hindfoot Village.”

  “The money was all gone when I got to…to not Sardironese…”

  “To places where he couldn’t speak the local language—which is to say, Ethsharitic,” Ariella explained. “To the Hegemony, he means.”

  “And…I did not want to use stones in Ethsharitic.”

  “He thought he would be robbed if anyone saw the diamonds,” Ariella said. “There were some incidents along the way, some of his belongings were stolen, and he thought if his fellow Sardironese could treat him so badly, then Ethsharites would probably be even worse. He’s decided to trust the two of us, but only the gods know why—a fat old witch and a journeyman wizard.”

  “So you ran out of money, and came to lands where you couldn’t speak the language,” Morvash said. “Then what?”

  “I walked by the river,” Pender explained. “By the river to the sea. I took food when I could. Some people gave me food, some I took…”

  “Stole,” Ariella said. “When no one took him in, he stole from the farmers along the Great River.”

  “Sometimes I saw people who spoke Sardironese, who helped me and told me where to go. For two months I walked on the road by the river. At the big bridge I went away from the river and came to the city, and the guards let me in, but I did not know where to go, and I slept on the street. Men with sticks and chains found me and took me and made me work.”

  “Why didn’t you sleep in the Hundred-Foot Field?” Morvash asked. “The slavers don’t go there! Everyone knows not to sleep on the streets!”

  Pender just looked at him, not answering.

  “How would he know that?” Ariella asked. “He didn’t know the language, so no one could warn him.”

  “But didn’t he see all the people in the Field, and didn’t he notice no one else was sleeping on the streets?”

  Ariella looked at Pender for a moment; he gazed calmly back.

  “He was afraid of the people in the Field,” she told Morvash. “He thought the streets would be safer.”

  “Well, he got that wrong!”

  “Yes, he did. He didn’t know any better.”

  “So now he’s a slave.”

  “For the moment. I would think those diamonds ought to be more than enough to buy his freedom.”

  “Oh,” Morvash said. “Yes, they should be.” He turned back to Pender. “So when did you arrive? A few days ago?”

  “Leafcolor,” Pender replied.

  “What?” Morvash stared. “Last year? That’s six…no, seven months ago!”

  “Yes.”

  “But then why was my uncle able to buy you now? Why weren’t you sold long ago?”

  Pender looked baffled.

  “He doesn’t understand slavery,” Ariella explained. “Not really. He knows he had to do what he was told, but he didn’t really understand what was going on. From what he remembers, I think that when the slavers realized he didn’t speak Ethsharitic they decided not to put
him up for auction. Instead they made him part of a work gang where he was doing simple labor, where gestures were good enough to give him orders. He spent most of the winter dredging out the canals, and that was where he picked up what Ethsharitic he knows, listening to the other workers. Then a couple of days ago the slavers held an auction, and apparently they decided he had learned enough they could maybe sell him, so he was included. He still wasn’t really sure what was going on, but he heard the slavers talking with your uncle, and he heard them talking about wizards, and he thought this was his chance to talk to a wizard and maybe find out what happened to the wizard, the one he’s looking for, so he asked to be sold to your uncle.”

  “You did?” Morvash asked, looking at Pender.

  Pender nodded, but did not say anything; he seemed to prefer letting Ariella speak for him.

  “He did,” Ariella said. “None of the other slaves wanted to be sold to a wizard for fear they’d be turned into toads or something, and none of the other bidders wanted someone whose Ethsharitic was so poor. Even when Pender volunteered, your uncle had his doubts—would you want a slave who couldn’t speak Ethsharitic? So he wasn’t interested at first, but the slavers offered him a real bargain, and Pender was practically begging to see a wizard, and here we are.”

  “So you wanted a wizard,” Morvash said.

  “Yes,” Pender replied. “In the house I saw magic, so you are a wizard.”

  “And you want to know if I know what happened to your wizard.”

  “Yes,” Pender said again.

  “What’s his name?”

  Pender sighed. “I can’t tell you.”

  “Of course not.” Morvash gave a sigh of his own. “You said that earlier.” Then he looked at Ariella. “Thank you,” he said. “At least now I know how he got here.”

  “You’re welcome.” She held up the diamond she had chosen. “I’ve been well paid, I’d say.”

  “I suppose you have, at that,” Morvash replied. He looked at Pender. “What am I going to do with you? I don’t really need a slave. I thought I might, but it looks as if I’ll be able to learn the spell I need without one.”