Stonecutter's Story

by Fred Saberhagen

  “Do so by all means. But if she tells you nothing of interest, we may have to institute some stronger measures there—you see, I am interested in the Red Temple. Where and when are you going to meet her?”

  “Inside the White Temple, in about an hour and a half.” Kasimir at the window tried to judge the height of the clouded sun. “It seemed a good place to arrange a casual encounter.”

  Wen Chang nodded his approval. “No doubt it will serve.”

  “So, then, we come to the second group under suspicion. I presume them to be the people at the Blue Temple?”

  “Yes. Naturally their leaders would want to gain such a treasure if they could. They have probably already convinced themselves that their organization has an inherent right to possess anything so valuable. And I am sure that Mistress Hedmark would seize any opportunity that might arise to use the Sword in her work. Whether she knows that it is nearby and might be available…” Wen Chang shrugged.

  “I suppose there’s no doubt that Stonecutter would carve a small stone as neatly and easily as a great one?”

  “In my mind there is none. It is my understanding that the god Vulcan forged that blade to cut stones, and that is precisely what it will do, with divine power. Though neither of us has ever seen the Sword or handled it, we have now seen enough of its work to feel confident on that point.”

  “I agree with you that Mistress Hedmark will be trying to get her hands on it if she can.”

  “Yes … Kasimir, I am of two minds about going public with our search. I mean spreading the word as widely as possible that the Sword is lost, and that it is definitely the property of Prince al-Farabi—which is close enough to the exact truth for our purposes. There are certainly difficulties, but still it will be well to have made that point, so that when the Sword is recovered the Prince’s claim will be well established.”

  “You said ‘when the Sword is recovered,’ Magistrate. I admire your confidence.”

  Wen Chang smiled dryly. “It is a useful quality.”

  Kasimir paused for a moment, cleared his throat, and shook his head. “So, after the Blue Temple we come to the third group of suspects, who, I take it, must be the gang—if that is the right word for an organization some of whose members must be quite respectable—associated with the crooked merchant, lately deceased. Judging by what we have heard of them so far, they would cheerfully try to steal the wings off a demon, if they thought they had even the remotest chance of getting away with it.”

  “You are probably correct. On the other hand, the professional criminals might be easier for us to deal with in one respect at least. They might be willing to collect a ransom and return their loot to al-Farabi or his representatives. And they might even be disposed to be reasonable about the price, considering that the alternative would be severe prosecution—perhaps I mean persecution—by the authorities. We could certainly collaborate with our friend the Captain in an effort to provide that.” Wen Chang fell silent, regarding his younger friend attentively, as if waiting for his reaction.

  Kasimir considered. “So, the question becomes, which of these three groups actually has, or is most likely to get, Stonecutter? If Kovil’s mysterious bodyguard carried it away from the scene of the fight by the river, has he yet managed to sell it to one of them? Or possibly to someone else altogether?”

  The Magistrate’s eyes were even narrower than usual. “It would not be wise to dissipate our energies too widely. We will concentrate upon the three groups that I have named.”

  Kasimir found himself a little irritated by the dogmatic tone of that last sentence. “Of course, you are in charge of the investigation. Though I suppose it is possible that the Sword of Siege is really with someone else altogether?”

  “Yes, many things are possible.” Wen Chang’s tone was even; if Kasimir had hoped to provoke an explanation he was disappointed. “Nevertheless, I repeat, we are going to confine our attentions to those three groups, at least for now. So you had better prepare yourself for your meeting with the agent you have recruited to spy on the Red Temple.”

  The physician needed only a few minutes to complete the few preparations he thought necessary. When he was ready to go, he paused on his way out. “There is one other matter that I cannot stop wondering about: the identity of our original thief, whose body we found buried at the quarry. Perhaps it is only because I actually saw him in the act; I suppose that it hardly matters any longer who he was.”

  The Magistrate hesitated. Then he said: “On the contrary, I should say that it matters a great deal.”

  “Eh? Why?”

  Wen Chang leaned back in his chair. “There are several interesting points about that man. To begin with, there is the fascinating fact that, as you describe the event, he found it necessary to slit the wall of your tent twice.”

  “I admit that I puzzled for some time over that detail. But I could see no good reason for it.”

  “Perhaps you are not approaching the question properly. Of course your attitude may be justified—people sometimes do unreasonable, inexplicable things.”

  “Yes, they do. You said you found more than one point about the man to be interesting?”

  “I consider it also very interesting that the thief was working from the start in accordance with a plan, that the theft was not the mere seizing of an opportunity.”

  “Well, the only real evidence for his having a plan, it seems to me, is the fact that he brought along an extra riding-beast. Indicating, of course, that he intended to rescue the first prisoner from the road-building gang. But he did not bring along two extra mounts. So we may deduce that the second rescue, that of the prisoner at the quarry, was not planned from the start. It was an improvisation, undertaken perhaps only at the suggestion of the first prisoner to gain the freedom of someone else.”

  “Very good, Kasimir! We will make an investigator of you yet. What else have you been able to deduce from these facts?”

  “Well—nothing as yet.”

  “As you continue your efforts there are a couple points you ought to keep in mind. First, no one is likely to steal one of the Twelve Swords with the sole object of using it to free a prisoner from that road-building gang. That could be accomplished much more easily…” Wen Chang’s voice trailed off. His eyes appeared to be gazing at something in the distance, over Kasimir’s shoulder.

  “Magistrate?”

  “A thought has struck me. Never mind, go to your meeting. Learn all that you can from the interesting Natalia. What you learn may be of great importance.”

  Kasimir set out, pondering the situation as he walked. He had to pay careful attention to where he was going, because his goal this time was in a different part of the city from those which he had previously visited.

  The White Temple of Eylau, like most of its kind around the world, was a large, pyramidal building. This example was faced with white marble, while a good many others Kasimir had seen were only painted white. And in this building, as in almost all White Temples everywhere, a good part of its sizable volume was devoted to hospital facilities. Here no one who came seeking food or medical care or emergency shelter would be turned away. Nor would anyone be absolutely forced to pay, though donations were solicited from all who appeared able to give anything at all.

  Kasimir’s appointment with Natalia was in the Chapel of Ardneh, also a standard feature of most White Temples. Here the chapel was located about halfway up the slope-sided structure. It was a white, large room, well lighted by many windows in its slanting outer wall. The room held a number of plain wooden chairs and benches. Above the altar an Old World votive light burned steadily, a pure whiteness without flame or smoke. The altar itself was dominated by a modern image of the ancient god Ardneh. Images of Ardneh as a rule—this one was no exception—were almost always at least partially abstract, in keeping with the idea that the eternal foe of the archdemon Orcus was essentially different from all other gods.

  This particular image was an assemblage of bronze bl
ocks and slabs, looking eerily bluish because of some quality in the perpetual glow of the votive light above.

  Kasimir took a seat near the middle of the simply furnished chapel and looked around him, at the few others who had come to this place for worship or meditation.

  There was one more statue in the chapel, this one of the god Draffut. Carved of some brown stone, it stood in its own niche or grotto off to one side. In this image, as tall as a man, the popular Lord of Beasts and of Healing looked like nothing more, Kasimir thought, than a dog standing on his hind legs. During the last few years a rumor had swept across the land to the effect that Draffut was recently dead; of course a great many people held that the Beastlord, like the other gods, had been dead for many years. Meanwhile considerable numbers of folk continued to insist that some of the gods or all of them were still alive, and would come back one day to call people to account for what they had been doing in the divinities’ absence.

  Natalia entered the chapel shortly after Kasimir had arrived, and came quietly to take a chair beside his. She was dressed in a skirt and blouse and sandals with narrow straps, more citified clothing than when Kasimir had seen her last, though hardly of any higher quality.

  “Hope I’m not late,” she whispered demurely.

  “Not at all.” Actually he had rather enjoyed the interval of waiting, the chance for peaceful meditation. He might not want to work all day in a White Temple, but they were good places to visit, havens where you could sit as long as you wished and not be bothered, unless it might be by one of your fellow visitors. Street people now and then came in to take up collections for this or that, or frankly as beggars. None were ejected, as a rule, unless others complained about them to the White Guards.

  But, back to business. “How did the modeling go?” he asked.

  “Not as embarrassing as I had feared—and actually they paid me a trifle more for it than I had expected.”

  “That’s good. But I suppose you’ve seen nothing of what I wanted you to look for?”

  “Nothing, I am sorry to say.”

  “And you go back there tomorrow?”

  “That’s right. He says he’ll want me for several days yet at least. It’s the master himself I’m posing for.”

  “De Borron, then. Good. What kind of tools is he using to work the stone?”

  She blinked at him solemnly as if she understood this question must be important but could not think why. “A hammer and a chisel. Several different chisels actually. Nothing like the special item that you described to me.”

  “All right. And you haven’t mentioned that special item to anyone else—hey?”

  “Not at all. Of course not. You told me not to.” Natalia’s new low-cut upper garment showed a lot of pale skin below the former neckline of the old peasant blouse. Her hair was now worn in a new style too, Kasimir realized vaguely, though it still looked like strings of dishwater.

  He asked her: “Who else is present in the studio?”

  “It’s about the same as when you were there, people coming and going. Did you want me to try to keep track of them?”

  “Not necessarily. No, you’d better just concentrate on the important thing.”

  Their conversation about conditions in the Red Temple meandered along, pausing when a stooped old priest in white robes moved close past them on his way to light a candle at the altar.

  Kasimir was coming slowly to the realization that he found himself attracted to this woman. Somewhere in his mind, not very far below the surface, he resented the idea of the sculptor and all those red-robes staring at her body. The truth was that he wanted to stare at it himself.

  But the purpose of this meeting of course was business. Instead of inviting Natalia to his room, he asked her if she would like something to eat or drink. As before, she accepted, and they moved to a nearby tavern where they enjoyed some food and drink. He also passed over the coins due her for her day’s observations and report.

  Telling himself it was his duty to become better acquainted with his agent, he justified somewhat prolonging the meeting; and the truth was that they each enjoyed the other’s company. They exchanged some opinions upon art, and medicine, and life.

  But soon Natalia was growing restless; she had other things to do, she said, and didn’t volunteer any hint of what they were. Kasimir didn’t volunteer any questions. Instead he went back to the inn alone.

  It was near dusk when he arrived again at the sign of the Refreshed Travelers, and he felt somewhat tired. It had been a long and busy day, beginning with his and Wen Chang’s visit to the Blue Temple in the morning.

  But the long day was not over yet.

  As soon as he entered the stable below their rooms, he discovered Lieutenant Komi and his men, fully armed and mobilized. Wen Chang was there too and they were waiting for Kasimir, in fact almost on the point of mounting up and leaving without him. Komi and his men looked ready and willing to say the least; the days of boredom were evidently beginning to tell on them.

  Wen Chang said: “Word has just come from Captain Almagro. He has located one of the men who was in the fight yesterday, in which our foreman Kovil was killed. The man we want is hidden in an infamous den of thieves, and Almagro would like our help in digging him out.”

  The clouds of sleep were cleared in a moment from Kasimir’s brain. “Then I am ready!”

  Chapter Ten

  In a city with a population the size of Eylau’s there would always be large numbers of folk awake and wanting light, and the city would never know total darkness as long as lamps and torches could be made to burn. But night was on the way to enfolding Eylau as completely as it ever did before Wen Chang and Kasimir were ready to mount their riding-beasts. As soon as they were mounted, and Lieutenant Komi and his troop of Firozpur soldiers were in the saddle behind them, their small force set out from the inn. The soldiers’ uniforms and some of their weapons were effectively concealed under their desert capes.

  Riding close beside Wen Chang at the head of the little column was a sergeant of the city Watch. This was the man who had been sent by Captain Almagro, to inform Almagro’s partners that he was about to launch the raid, to request their help, and to guide them to the site as quickly as possible.

  Kasimir, riding just behind Wen Chang and their guide, was wide awake now, not tired at all; the excitement of the chase was growing in him. So far their mounts were able to maintain a rapid pace; at this hour the darkened streets of the city held comparatively few people, and those who found themselves in the way of the silent, businesslike procession quickly moved aside.

  Streets in the vicinity of the Inn of the Refreshed Travelers were comparatively broad. But it soon became apparent that their guide was leading them into a very different portion of the city. As they approached the district where the raid was to take place, the streets grew narrower and their windings even more convoluted.

  This gradual constriction continued for some minutes, during which time the party, now often riding in single file, made the best speed possible. Then their guide signaled them for even slower movement, and less noise.

  They had now come in sight of distant lamps, sparkling on a broad expanse of water. Kasimir realized that they were now once more near the bank of the Tungri, which here as elsewhere in the city was lined with docks and warehouses. He had no way to tell how far this site might be from the place where the bodies had been found. Boats bearing lights were passing in the night. Though the sea was thousands of kilometers distant, the river here evidently bore a great volume of local freight and passenger traffic.

  In this section of the metropolis the residential area closest to the docks and warehouses was obviously a slum. On both sides of the street, tenements leaned against each other. Few lights showed in these close-packed, ramshackle buildings. The torches carried by a couple of the Firozpur troopers made a moving island of light in the narrow, dusty street.

  In this neighborhood the people who appeared in the street were losers, the E
mperor’s children if Kasimir had ever seen the type. These slum-dwellers were quicker than people in other neighborhoods had been to scramble out of the way of the advancing column. Anonymous voices hidden on roofs and in windows above called out oaths and comments against the mounted men below, whom they took for a patrol of the Watch.

  Presently the sergeant who was riding beside Wen

  Chang pulled his mount to a halt. Close ahead, two figures, one of them carrying a small torch, had just emerged from the mouth of a dark alley. In a moment Kasimir was able to recognize the man holding the torch as Captain Almagro.

  The Captain came forward on foot and greeted his two chief colleagues eagerly but quietly as they swung down out of their saddles. Then he led them just inside the mouth of the alley, where he introduced them to his companion, a middle-aged man who tonight would be nameless in the line of duty, a wizard in the employ of the Watch.

  “Before we discuss anything else,” the Magistrate murmured to his old friend, “tell me whether you have managed to take care of the items I requested at our last meeting.”

  “I have set things in motion,” said Almagro. “That is all I have been able to do so far.”

  “Then that is all that I can ask.”

  Next the Captain conducted a low-voiced briefing for the new arrivals, on the subject of the coming action.

  The building he meant to raid had been abandoned as a warehouse several years ago, and was now notorious as a den of thieves and cutthroats. On looking out of the mouth of the alley where they now stood they could see it, just visible at the end of the street, less than a hundred meters away. The old warehouse was four or five stories high—depending on how you counted certain irregular additions—and contained perhaps as many as a hundred rooms. Almagro’s basic plan was to break into the place through several entrances at the same time.

  The Captain had assembled a dozen of his own men here in the alley, and with the reinforcements provided by the Firozpur he planned on being able to conduct the raid with overwhelming force. An attack on such a scale would surprise whatever criminals were in the building, and with any luck at all none of them would be able to get away.