by Chris Bunch
Abbas noted his expression. “Drink some of that herbed wine from that narrow-necked pitcher,” he ordered. “It will settle your stomach.”
Peirol obeyed.
“So Koosh Begee is dead, you are the cause, there was nothing but small gems in Slask’s temple, Begee’s toughs — or rather the woman who is Begee’s widow, who now hopes to rule the gang — will be wanting your blood, and you have no idea what to do or where to flee. Or if you should flee at all.”
“That is exactly the case,” Peirol managed. “You seem to know everything.”
“A sorcerer who doesn’t generally finds his existence altered, and not for the better,” Abbas said grimly. “Now, do you think the slight debt you incurred with me is enough to make me deal with those thieves?”
Peirol shook his head rapidly. “No, sir. I’m not a dunce. I just thought, you being wiser and knowing more of the world, maybe you could suggest what I should do.”
Abbas picked up a bit of buttered toast, put a slice of smoked fish on it, chewed meditatively.
“Under normal circumstances,” he said, “you could simply go live in the hills for a few weeks, until these jackals find a new master. Felons prate of revenge, but seldom follow through, unless it’s in blood-heat or if there’s possible gain. But there is” — the magician delicately cleared his throat — “the matter of his wife, who is ambitious and, for reasons we need not dwell on, most vengeful.”
Kima giggled again. “He’s blushing.”
Peirol looked at the floor, drank more wine.
“I fear this widow will make certain you’re not forgotten,” Abbas went on. “And since she’s from a thieving family, her words will be listened to.
“So, young Peirol, you must leave Sennen. The question is, in which direction? You could, if you hurried, catch up to that caravan to Osh that you stupidly didn’t join. Assuming you’re able to elude the bandits along the way. And assuming that you can somehow acquire greater gold than those jewels you found beneath Thyone will bring.
“I could provide that, if I wished. But I am not a philanthropic man. Especially when something more interesting offers itself.
“Let me ask something. Have you ever heard of a gem called the Empire Stone?”
Peirol jolted. This was the second time within hours the memory of his father’s tale, years ago in that wind-ripped hut far to the south, had been forced on him.
“Yes,” he said.
“Most have,” Abbas agreed. “Gives the power of kingdoms, can doom or save its owner, and so on and so forth. I also assume you’ve heard there have been many who set out to look for it, none of whom have ever returned?”
Peirol nodded.
“So. I have, through my divinations, some inkling as to where it might be sought. Does that interest you?”
Brave heroes, who journey out …
“It might,” Peirol said cautiously, feeling the blood-thrill he’d had as a boy surge within him.
“Then let us discuss the actual mechanics of the deal before I become more specific. I would propose to advance you a certain amount of gold for your expenses, and perhaps a couple of charms or philtres, and you would take sail on a ship east, across the Isma’in Sea, the day after tomorrow.
“I will warn you, the journey will take you far to the east, into countries no man or woman from Sennen has ever dreamed of, let alone visited.”
Peirol smiled wryly. “I’m almost twenty-five, sir, and I’ve wandered little beyond the three countries bordering the one of my birth. That isn’t what I dreamed of when I was a boy.”
“Good. So of course I needn’t mention that a wizard should never be double-dealt with, for his vengeance is invisible, travels faster than the swiftest horse or ship, and can seldom be avoided.”
Peirol’s lips thinned. “And I,” he said carefully, looking directly into Abbas’s eyes, “have yet to break my word, when I give it in sincerity.”
“Good!” Kima said, clapping her hands. “He doesn’t draw back, Gran.”
“No, he doesn’t,” Abbas agreed. “So if you secure the Empire Stone and return with it here, I shall make you richer than you can possibly imagine.”
“I’ve got a very good imagination,” Peirol said.
“No matter,” Abbas said. “With the Empire Stone, all — and I mean everything — shall lie within my grasp.”
His eyes glittered strangely. He went to a sideboard and brought an oilskin pouch back to the table.
“All I have to do,” Peirol said sarcastically, “is somehow … acquire this stone from its present owner. Since I assume he’s attached to it, that means steal it.”
“Just so. I wish I knew who holds it,” Abbas said.
Peirol made a face. “That does complicate things somewhat.”
“A bit. I know the Empire Stone is in a city called Restormel, about which no one knows anything. I assume there are powerful sorcerers there, for my attempts to investigate magically have all been blocked, as if I were trying to peer through a storm.”
“The legend says anyone who holds the Stone can make himself a king,” Peirol said. “Wouldn’t you be better advised to send a magical army, or a real one, instead of a dwarf?”
“One man may succeed where an army fails.” Abbas smiled. “Besides, to regain a stone whose value is beyond that of a nation, it amuses me to dispatch a single man.”
“I hope,” Peirol said, “I share your amusement when you tell me more.”
• • •
Peirol finished the last page of notes and replaced the sheaf of paper in the oilcloth pouch. Abbas sat next to him, arms folded, waiting patiently. Kima curled on the floor, watching them.
“A far journey,” Peirol said.
“As I warned you,” Abbas said.
“The countries beyond Sennen to the east — at least the ones I’ve heard of — are all at each other’s throats, from what traders have said.”
“It will take a clever man to make his way,” Abbas agreed.
“A clever — or rich — man. But I don’t believe one man could carry enough gold to bribe and buy safe passage for that great a distance.”
Abbas made no comment.
Peirol smiled wryly. “But as a trader, an artist, a man traveling in gems, the journey might be possible.”
“Your very profession,” Kima said.
“I would need the tools of my trade — balance, glass, cutters, material for my special glues, some potions, polishing compounds, inks, cleaving knives, and such. All of which are in my rooms, which I dare not go to, for Begee’s thugs are waiting. If I accept your task, I’ll have to chance finding their replacements along my route.”
“Not necessarily. Wait.” Abbas left the room.
Peirol yawned, the night’s struggles and the excellent meal catching up with him. He went to the balcony, looked out.
“It’s a beautiful day,” he said.
Kima came up beside him. “It is,” she agreed.
“If things were not as they are,” Peirol said, carefully not looking at her, “it would be a day for three horses, one for you, one for me, and one for our picnic. We could ride out into the hills, where I know a vale with a bubbling creek running through it, a vale with a pool in its center where otters sport and fish jump.”
“How many others have you taken there?”
“No one, oddly enough. It was a place I discovered by myself, a place out of time, where I used to go to think … and dream. I never had the desire to take anyone else there. Not until now.”
Kima turned away as Abbas came back.
“Your rooms have not yet been ransacked,” he said. “But there are four men waiting at the stairs, another four inside. Two more hide at the back.”
“As I feared,” Peirol said.
“No fear is necessary. I’ve already dispatched my … agents to retrieve your tools, and clothing suitable for travel. There will be no problems.”
Peirol blinked.
“I imagine, si
nce I’ve been around jewelers enough, my representatives will know precisely what to take,” Abbas continued. “I just hope my taste in your clothing will be acceptable.”
“You’re assuming I accept your offer?”
Abbas smiled broadly. “Do you see other options?”
“This entire day has shaken my belief in free will,” Peirol grumbled.
“You mean you still believe in that?”
Peirol’s smile echoed Abbas’s, became laughter.
• • •
Kima showed Peirol to a bedroom and told him he could sleep as long as he wished. Their household, befitting a wizard, generally was active at night. Abbas was down for a nap, and she would follow.
“Dinner will be at full dark,” she said. “But perhaps you might choose to wake a bit early and keep me company while Gran is in his study.”
Peirol put on a very innocent face. Kima giggled and kicked him in the ankle.
“I’ll bet I know what you’re thinking, and you ought to be ashamed of yourself, and we barely know each other!”
“I was thinking of nothing,” Peirol said, “except how nice that bed you just showed me looks.”
“Just the bed for sleeping, sirrah?”
“Have a nice nap, Kima.”
• • •
The setting sun was shining into the chamber when Peirol woke. But that was not what had brought him out of his sleep and troubled dreams.
He could faintly hear, from above, the grumblings of a great voice, far deeper and stronger than Abbas’s. He listened but couldn’t distinguish any words. Then he heard Abbas answering, and he shivered.
But the day was still warm, and the grumblings stopped. Peirol got out of bed, stretched, then saw his tools and clothes lying on a table. He prided himself on sleeping lightly, especially in a strange place, but whatever minion of Abbas’s had brought them hadn’t disturbed him.
He went into the next room, found a bath not only filled, but with water steaming, and again his neck hairs prickled at the knowledge of magic.
Peirol bathed, used the straight razor and soap he found, brushed his hair half a hundred times, dressed, and went upstairs, back into the dining area.
There was no one about, and now the household was completely silent.
Peirol thought of taking down one of the grimoires or scrolls on shelves but decided he’d best not, for fear of Abbas’s displeasure or, worse, bringing up some horrid monster from the depths by inadvertently reading an incantation aloud. Peirol knew little of how magic worked, and wished to know less.
Instead he got the bag with the gems looted from Slask’s temple and examined them. Some were cut, some rough. He considered which he wanted to work into a design, which might be easily sold when he reached the ship’s promised first port of Arzamas.
He jerked back from his thought when a soft voice from behind said, “Isn’t it lovely, how they catch the last of the sun and hold it?”
Kima now wore a black dress of the softest, finest wool that fitted close to her neck, followed her body’s lines to her knees, then pooled at her ankles. It was a garment more suited for an older woman, but Kima evidently was the woman of the household.
“Good afternoon,” Peirol said. “I hope you slept well.”
“Until Gran started talking to his demons or spirits or whoever was making that horrid sound.”
“It woke me as well.” Peirol wanted to change the subject. He rolled the gems around the table. “Actually they catch and hold more than half of the light, not like glass or crystal,” Peirol said. “Or so I was taught.”
“Taught?”
“You don’t think I just happened to be born knowing things about gems, do you? Dwarves,” and here Peirol put on a monstrous leer, “learn straaaange things when they’re growing — or, in my case, not growing. But that’s not one of them.
“I was apprenticed from the age of twelve for five years under the greatest jeweler in the world, a man named Rozan in Ferfer, to the south. Then for another two I was his journeyman. Some say I was destined by the gods to be what I am.” Peirol made a face. “People that said that were the sorts who think the gods never take with one hand without giving with the other. I think I just worked harder than anybody else.
“Anyway, I took examinations before the Jewelers’ Guild in Ferfer, was deemed qualified as a jeweler, and began traveling: sometimes selling, sometimes buying, sometimes crafting jewels.
“Three years ago, I came to Sennen, and met you not long afterward, when you were a mere slip of a thing.
“And now,” and Peirol made his voice ancient, quakey, “I’m gray and frail, and you’re blossoming into womanhood.”
“Who taught you to talk like that?” Kima said. “You sound like a romance.”
“And what’s the matter with that?”
“Romances are written by old poops to be read by fat, middle-aged women who never get … who don’t know any men.”
“Which is why you’ve never read even one.”
Kima laughed again.
“So now you know all that’s interesting about me,” Peirol said. “How did you come to Sennen? Are your parents not among us?”
“Oh, they’re still alive,” she said. “My father — Gran’s only son — turned out not to have any sign of the Gift. He loved cattle, though, and Gran bought him a great ranch in the Uplands and a title when somebody happened to die without any children.
“I could be up there with him, and with my stepmother if I wanted to.”
“But you don’t want to?” Peirol said. “Why not?”
“Cows? Bulls? Barns? The only excitement when somebody tries to steal some of the cattle, and the men ride them down and hang them along the road? Or getting to go to town — a little bitty town — three or four times a year?” Kima extended her tongue, crossed her eyes. “I died every day from boredom.”
“Odd. You look quite alive to me.”
“That’s because Gran came to visit, and I guess he sensed the dull was going to kill me for real. And Da and Ma thought I was too wild for the ranch, and maybe a wizard could keep me in hand.” Kima looked out over the balcony, smiled a secret smile. “He thinks he still can, too.” She turned back to Peirol before he could respond. “You’re a person of gems. They say that jewels have a secret meaning. Do they?”
“It wouldn’t be a secret if I told you.”
“Peirol! What does it mean when, say, you give me this stone?”
She picked up a cut blue gem.
“That’s a sapphire,” he said. “It means true friendship.”
“Oh.” Kima set it down, picked up another.
“What about this pretty black one?”
“That’s an opal. It doesn’t have any meaning, at least not in the way you’re interested in. Black opals are supposed to be unlucky.”
Kima dropped that hastily. “This one? It’s an emerald, right?”
“Right. That’s given for faithfulness, for virtue.”
“And these two red ones?”
“They’re not the same. One’s a ruby, the other’s a fire opal. See, in the center of the opal, what looks like a flame? Hold it up to the sun.”
“Oooh. And they mean?”
“Well, uh, passion,” Peirol said.
“You’d give it to someone you wanted to make love to?”
“Or are making love to,” Peirol said, “and you want to continue the affair.”
Kima rolled the fire opal in her fingers.
“That’s nice,” she said. “I like that.”
She set it aside reluctantly, picked up another.
“I know this one is a diamond. But why isn’t it clear like the ones I’ve got?”
“It’s what’s called a fancy stone,” Peirol explained. “The clear ones are generally the most prized, but there are ones even more rare. That yellow one you’ve got isn’t all that valuable. The exotics are blue, the deeper blue the more valuable. There are red diamonds, too. I’ve only seen
one in my whole life, and that was in my master’s private collection.
“The rarest of all are the green ones. Some say they exist in nature, some say a diamond can be changed by magic. I don’t know.”
“And diamonds mean?”
Peirol found himself a bit nervous.
“They’re supposed to ward off evil. They keep you from worrying. And they cure insanity too.”
Kima lifted her head from the stone, gazed deep into Peirol’s eyes.
“I like diamonds the best,” she said, voice low, throaty, sounding quite older than her years.
• • •
The next day Peirol went over his notes, examined Abbas’s maps, and considered what problems he might encounter. But mainly he rested. He realized the past few Times, deep in the heart of Begee’s underworld, had been like winding a clockwork toy tighter and tighter.
The catch had broken with Begee’s death, and he felt tension wash away and excitement build for his quest.
In early afternoon he found himself atop Abbas’s tower. By night it would be threatening, with the great wizard chanting spells, and stars and comets answering him while demons swirled about.
But this day the sun shone down, and the winds from the sea were blocked by the parapet. He sprawled comfortably on a low, wide couch, a glass with ice, lime, and a touch of sugar at hand, wearing only shorts.
On another couch was Kima, seemingly asleep. A band of felt shaded her eyes.
Peirol had been considering her; he realized his body was displaying his thoughts, and rolled over on his stomach.
Kima raised her head. “Talk to me, Peirol. Abbas thinks I’m a child, and won’t talk about interesting things with me.”
“What’s interesting?”
“Tell me a story about … about a king’s daughter, and about jewels.”
Peirol thought, then began the story of a king’s daughter, beautiful, of course, who lived in a great, lonely palace set in a huge, secret garden. All the servants were invisible —
“ — Like ours.”
Peirol thought, I hope not, fearing what demons serve wizards, then went on. The king was afraid his daughter would marry someone beneath her, which he considered everyone, and so the poor princess was most lonely.
