The Two Artefact Discs: Azabar's Icicle Part 1

by Jem I Kelley

  Aden was surprised Plumbert knew that. The agent must have told Grimus what had happened.

  “Well… yeah. We didn’t want to take the jewels all that way back home and disappoint old Grimus. We had the addresses for deliveries so we thought we’d do them ourselves, didn’t we Aden?”

  Plumbert snorted and wagged a finger at Bliss.

  “When your parents found out you’d left the ship and got into all this trouble they raised the roof. It wasn’t just you getting into trouble, Bliss, it was Aden too. They’d promised to look out for him, until he was sixteen, whilst his parents were up in Novogorad, and then they’d lost him AND you! One minute your mother was in tears and then she got angry; then she wondered what she could say to Aden’s parents. She was in a right and proper state.”

  Bliss’s face fell, “oh, great!”

  Plumbert smiled. “That was two years ago. They’ve all calmed down a bit now.”

  The three sauntered on, passing out of an area of whitewashed buildings where men smoked from clay pots with tubes attached: bubbling noises came from the pots. Aden asked how the artefact testing process in Haverland had been going.

  “Three more discs have been good in the last two years. Three out of sixty is fantastic. But then, all those tested for the four years before that were duds, so on balance ….”

  Aden thought about it. One in one hundred artefact discs, on average, could create portals to others worlds. Ninety others did nothing and nine killed those who tested them. Aden reckoned about thirty disc-men had lost their lives in the effort to discover the three that worked. That was a huge price to pay.

  Talk of artefacts must have caught Bliss’s imagination. “Where do the new ones lead, Plumbert?”

  “One goes to Adventurine again. You do remember Adventurine..?”

  Aden pictured sodden streets and houses with an undue amount of roof. He imagined people standing at cliff-tops watching vast whale fins break the waves. Oh, to be able to visit such places; how he envied those who could.

  Eyes alight; he nodded his head in answer to Plumbert’s question.

  “Adventurine is the world where the rain pours non-stop and volcanoes are all over the place; and the oceans are dangerous, making sailing impossible.”

  “The seas are dangerous because behemoth whales attack ships and sea-devils raid coastal villages,” added Bliss.

  Aden counted through the chronology of disc-world discoveries in his head. “It was the fourth populated disc-world found.”

  Bliss frowned with concentration and Aden realised they were in competition to see who could remember the most. Bliss wasn’t much of a brain-box; but, Aden knew she was good with disc-world stuff. Bliss’s eyes lit and she clicked her fingers, “Kurt Hardcastle discovered it and he was the best disc-man of them all.”

  “He was the best disc-man except for Sally Blaine,” countered Aden.

  Bliss swung to look at him. “Not true! Kurt tested twelve artefacts and discovered two worlds. Adventurine and Arachnie; and he led ten explorations. Sally only tested eight discs, she only found Aristalsis, one of the most useless worlds, and she led fewer explorations than Kurt.”

  I can do better than that, thought Aden. “Sally discovered more creatures than Kurt during her expeditions, she made friends with more countries and she didn’t have to evacuate one of her expeditions.”

  Bliss gritted her teeth. “Kurt had the dangerous missions. They gave Sally easy ones because she’s a girl.”

  Plumbert threw his hands into the air. “Calm down both of you. Both Kurt and Sally were great explorers. All disc-men are great explorers.”

  Aden, realising he’d been getting steamed up over nothing, and smiled ruefully at Bliss; Bliss shrugged and smiled back. He looked to Plumbert.

  “Sergeant, have we missed out on disc-man training now?”

  “Yes.”

  Bliss scowled. “It’s only been a year’s lessons, and that’s only one morning a week.”

  “You have to start when you’re younger. They wouldn’t let you in now; all the other kids would be ahead of you.”

  “We had lessons in the prison.”

  Plumbert’s face showed surprise. “Really? You had disc-man lessons?”

  “Well… no… but…”

  “Disc-man training is very specific, Bliss. Any old education won’t do.”

  “But we already know loads about the artefact worlds, like we just showed you. Couldn’t we join with the younger kids this year?”

  “The rules is the rules, Bliss. Sorry. Let’s face it, the disc-man academy isn’t desperate for kids and the chances of you doing well out of the class are slim, aren’t they?”

  Bliss frowned and Plumbert pressed on: “Each year they get a thousand or so start lessons for the first time, strung out among some twenty classes and for what, in five years time they’ve reduced the number to fifty who graduate, five of whom can be expected to die when they test a bad artefact. You’re better off out of it kids. Stick to yer plans of getting a market stall. Kids like you don’t stand much chance of becoming a disc-man even if you do go to the academy. You see, the rich get private tutors in to give their children extra lessons.”

  The children’s plan before prison had been to save up their market porter wages so they could have their own stall on the Haverland Central Market. Their parents had been happy with that. Neither of the friends had shown much aptitude at crafts so they hadn’t become apprentices.

  Their plan had been to have a stall on the market, but their dream had been to be disc-men, like most kids their age: to be adventurers exploring new worlds meeting strange civilisations. The disc-man training would have given them a chance at that dream; also, it would have provided them with knowledge useful for running a stall selling alien goods - if they failed to graduate (which was very likely).

  Aden felt a pang: fantasies of being the next Kurt or Sally had just gone up in smoke. Unless perhaps, but he daren’t even hope. He felt the cold surface of the artefact disc strapped against his chest and prayed that it, or the one Bliss carried, would be the one: the one working disc, in a hundred, which would transport a person to another world.

  “You were saying Sergeant... Adventurine?”

  The bearded policeman nodded. “Adventurine. One of them new artefacts has opened up a portal to a continent on that world different than the existing disc opened onto. Apparently the peoples in both continents weren’t aware of each other.”

  “That’ll be because of the sea-serpents,” said Aden. “They prevent ship voyages.”

  Plumbert gave him a sharp look. “Hrrmpph, yes, I expect that’s it.”

  “Adventurine’s got those strange berries,” said Bliss.

  Adventurine, Aden remembered, also produced unusual wool and green gems that glowed in the dark. For some reason, it was the berries most people remembered.

  Plumbert chuckled. “Blarberries is their name. I had a punnet at home a few months back. Inspector Thomas gave them to me for me birthday. Nice fermented they is. I made wine with them, quite potent it were. You got to make sure your laces are tied before drinking it, if you know what I mean.”

  “You got drunk on them!” said Bliss laughing.

  Plumbert went on to tell them about the other two new artefacts. Each opened to previously unknown worlds: Equis and Argent. Equis was a world of rolling grass-filled plains where herds of creatures roamed. Argent was a metallic place, with a silver sky and machine-like creatures. It was by far the strangest world with a civilization discovered to-date.

  Plumbert told the friends of discoveries by the exploration teams and kept them so enthralled they didn’t realize that they’d reached the doors to the Haverland Embassy until the soldier on guard stood to attention and opened the door for them all.

  Chapter 14: The Embassy

  Constructed from honey coloured stone, with balconies and shuttered windows raised 3 storeys, the embassy dominated an otherwise drab thoroughfare. Above its main doors,
on the end of a pole, the red and white flag of Haverland hung limp in the hot Dazarian air.

  An ornate carriage sat parked at an angle before the embassy doors; and perched on the driver’s seat a man with a whitened wig and green tunic looked frail in the heat.

  Standing before the entrance were two soldiers in Horse-Guards red scarlet uniform. Their faces looked pained and beads of sweat dotted their foreheads.

  The guard held open the door for Plumbert and his group: “Hi Sarge, coming into the cool then?” said one.

  Plumbert straightened the helmet on his head and brushed dust from his blue uniform, as he walked past the soldiers. He pulled at his collar and twisted his head. “Cool? I normally wear a fur coat for a day like this. You ain’t lived if you think this is hot, son.”

  The soldier smirked. “We’ve lived a sheltered life I’m sure. What you been up to then?”

  “I’ve been collecting my lost friends here.”

  The soldier ran an eye over Aden and Bliss. “Been gone over two years, ain’t they? There’s you finding them and bringing them back in less than two hours. What a rum bloke you are Plumbert.”

  The friends followed Plumbert into the embassy, and found themselves in a hall where their steps echoed on marble flooring. Oil paintings lined the walls, a staircase ran a curve to the first floor and a gentle breeze wafted across their faces.

  “This is heaven,” said Aden, luxuriating in the breeze.

  Plumbert glanced back to ensure that he was out of ear-shot of the horse guards. He undid his collar and let out a sigh: “After that heat, it’s not far off. The cool is something to do with the design of them walls and the placement of fountains.”

  “Pity they don’t try it in Dazarian prisons,” said Bliss breathing deeply of the fresh air.

  Plumbert made a face. “That’s the ambassador’s office over there. C’mon, I reckon he’d want a word with you.”

  Aden saw the door was one with panels, whorls and brass handles. The sort important people tended to own.

  Plumbert knocked, and entered when there was an answering call. Ushered inside Aden found his gaze rested on a well decorated office. Bookcases bristling with tomes stood against a smooth wall, and a writing bureau topped with green felt sat beside them. Wooden shutters opened to a garden courtyard where water from a fountain danced. To the right, a pear-shaped man stretched to return a book to its place on a shelf.

  The man had red cheeks and a bushy moustache connected to sideburns; chequered trousers held by bracers covered a stout stomach. He turned towards those who encroached on his space, not surprised by their appearance.

  “I say Plumbert, these must be the two unfortunates you set out for earlier?”

  The Sergeant eased the door shut and put a hand on the friend's shoulders. Aden felt self-conscious; he wasn’t used to being in offices with important people.

  “They’re none other, Sir. A sorry looking sight aren't they?”

  The man winced as he looked them over. “Mmm… yes, they are rather.”

  “Two years in a Dazarian prison, Sir. Not an easy thing to bear.”

  The man’s nose wrinkled, as if he’d smelt something unpleasant. “Indeed Plumbert. We’ll have to spruce them up before they return home. A month around decent folk will remove that ‘hardened’ look from their eyes. A few weeks good food will fill their cheeks. That’ll do the trick I expect. After all they’re from the poor district I expect they’re used to rough times.”

  “Perhaps, Sir.”

  “Yes well,” said the man retrieving a monocle from his pocket and squeezing it into his eye so as to inspect the friends better, “I think a dip in a hot tub first. They’re a tad whiffy. What do you think Sergeant?”

  “Sounds like the medicine, Sir. A thorough scrub in hot water, nails and hair cut and a shake O’ flea powder wouldn’t hurt. I expect you’ll be eager to hear their account of events in prison too?”

  The man nodded.

  “Certainly. But not today though, eh? I think they need rest, and I, well I have to deal with documentation concerning the case of our delegates hacked apart by hill goblins. I’m afraid the crown isn’t at all content with the explanation given by the Dazarian authorities as to the events surrounding the incident. Not at all happy. I will be asking some searching questions of our Dazarian friends.”

  He shuffled papers on his desk and frowned. “Then of course, there is the final arrangements to be made for returning the delegates bodies to Haverland, by the Grey Hind. I don’t think I’ll be able to speak to these two children at length until at least tomorrow. So why not say I meet them midday tomorrow? I suggest a dinner date. You’re invited too, Plumbert.”

  “Grand idea, that, Sir. Dinner it is. We’ll take yer leave if you don’t mind?”

  “That was Mr. Hardy,” explained Plumbert as he lead the friends up the curving staircase to the next floor. “He’s the ambassador. So it’s ‘yes Sir’ and ‘no Sir’ when you speaks to him, understand?”

  The friends nodded.

  Plumbert took them to a room a million miles from their cell in the prison. It smelt of fragrance and curtains billowed as air from the courtyard drifted in. Two beds with floral covers rested in the centre of the room and beside each bed sat a plain-wooden dresser.

  “Don’t touch a thing. You stink, you’re dirty and I expect you’re a breeding ground for fleas. Stay absolutely still. I’ll be back soon.”

  Plumbert left the room.

  “What about the discs?” said Bliss.

  Aden considered the implications of Plumbert or Hardy learning they’d stolen magic artefacts. He decided they might not accept the idea in quite the same way Savernake had.

  He lifted his shirt, un-wrapped the strands of cloth, and then lobbed his artefact out of sight under the covers of the nearest bed. Bliss did likewise.

  “What they don’t know won’t hurt them.”

  “Ignorance is bliss,” agreed Bliss with a wink.

  Plumbert returned with four women servants and two wooden tubs. A procession of jugs brought hot water and soon a pair of baths steamed before the friends.

  Plumbert told them he’d be back in an hour or two, and departed.

  The four servants remained and they were armed with scissors, stiff brushes and square bars of soap. Aden looked at them warily.

  “Get out of those cloths,” said one of the servants, an old woman with jug-like ears.

  “You’re joking,” said Aden. “I'm not getting starkers in front of women.”

  “We’ve seen it all before. Come on. We haven’t got all day,” replied the woman.

  An hour later, and the tubs of water and servants were gone. Aden stretched on a bed wearing a thick robe, glad his skin was no longer being scrubbed like a dirty pavement. He watched as Bliss crawled from under her bed with the artefacts in her hands. Her frizzy hair was cut short to her scalp and her nails no longer resembled talons.

  She lobbed an artefact and Aden caught it. “Sure it's mine?”

  Bliss nodded. “Yeah, actually I am. The blue pattern on mine has a shape like a triangle on it, a triangle the size of a thumb. Yours hasn’t.”

  “Get you for being observant.”

  Bliss grinned. “Well you did ask.”

  “You know,” said Aden. “I always thought artefacts would be bigger. When I saw them that first time in the box in Tanest’s secret room, I knew what they were straight away, but I just couldn’t believe how small they were.”

  Bliss nodded. “What are the two dots for?”

  He peered at his artefact. “The one on the button, and the one on the surface of the artefact next to the button?”

  “Yeah.”

  Aden frowned. “I’ve heard it’s for safety. To set-off the sorcery you press the button hard, right? But just to be absolutely sure it’s not triggered by accident, there’s the dots. You have to swivel the button to match up the dots next to each other, first, or nothing will happen.”

  Bliss tw
isted the button in way of an experiment, making sure she didn’t put either dot anywhere near the other.

  “That, Aden, is if the Discs work at all. It’s a one in a hundred chance they’ll open a portal to another world. Pretty slim odds, you don’t back a horse in a race for those sort of odds. Far more likely these here will do nothing, or kill us on the spot.”

  She paused and stared at her artefact with a sober expression. “I’ve heard the testers of about nine in a hundred discs just drop dead. No fire and lightning. Just one minute you’re alive, the next you press the button and you’re only fit to push up the daisies.”

  Aden grimaced, wondering what it felt like to be killed by a artefact. Would there be any pain at all? He shuddered. “I suppose it’s a quick way to go.”

  Bliss turned her artefact disc over and over. “If only there was some way of knowing whether a artefact was a killer before you pressed the button. Perhaps you can tell by the patterns?”

  Aden shrugged. “Maybe. But given people die every year testing the discs, I reckon no one has worked out what the 'killer' patterns are yet.”

  Bliss leapt from the bed and raised the artefact into the air. “Bliss Todd, disc-man!”

  She lowered the artefact. “Not bad for a ‘darkling’.”

  Aden scrutinised Bliss carefully. His friend was in a good mood. “Yeah, that’d give them what for, a darkling becoming a disc-man.”

  Aden was always careful what he said when Bliss touched on the topic of slaves as his friend was sensitive on this subject. Three hundred years ago, most nations had slaves. Some used them to fight wars or perform hard labour - Haverland used them as unpaid servants for the rich.

  When the Elder race, the Amari, arrived they didn’t approve of the practice, and in many countries it died out. In Haverland the former slaves became citizens; but, without formal education, money or an understanding of how Haverland society ticked, they struggled.

  Bliss’s family, like many other descendants of the slaves, learnt trades and worked hard to adapt to life in Haverland. Over the centuries some succeeded at this and others didn’t. There were as many obstacles placed by prejudiced indigenous Haverlanders, as there were offers of help. Bliss’s family was like the majority of ex-slave families, one which hadn’t managed to carve its way out of the poor district.