The Ring Of Truth

by B Cameron Lee

  Dinner that evening was a wonderful affair, held around the huge table in the middle of the dining room. There was a small roasted pig, a haunch of venison and a couple of stuffed geese brought in and placed on side tables, along with numerous platters of vegetables and jugs of sauces. Light delicate wines, ales and sparkling spring waters were generously poured where indicated by the guests.

  Cristal sat at the head of the table with Shiri to her left and Arwhon on her right. His companions and a number of Cristal’s trusted employees and close friends were seated down both sides of the long table, filling half its length. The chandelier had been lit and the whole room sparkled with the brilliant pinpoints of light reflected from its crystal facets. After introductions all round, the company settled down to nibbling on the first course, tiny, deep fried fish on a bed of lettuce leaves, drizzled with a flavoursome sauce.

  His Grandmother turned to address Arwhon.

  “It will be so good to have you here for a while Arwhon. I can introduce you to local society and you can meet some of the influential people of the city. You never know, someone may have a position for you or a pretty daughter to wed.”

  She chuckled as Arwhon lowered his head in embarrassment, his ears reddening as his Grandmother’s words sunk in. Shiri giggled and he looked across the width of the table, glaring at her before he faced his Grandmother and said with some anguish.

  “I cannot stay Grandmother. I’m sorry but there’s something I have to do and shortly.”

  The handsome old face, jewels entwined through grey-white hair, stilled as she considered his words. Arwhon tried to shrink further into his seat.

  “Sit up boy and stop mumbling. What did you say?”

  “I cannot stay Cristal, lives depend on me. Well, I think they may.”

  She regarded him shrewdly, her dark eyes looking into his green ones, a softness creeping over her stern features.

  “Aye, maybe they do. We’ll talk of this when the guests go. Until then, try to act like a grateful Grandson. You know, you have a lot of your mother in you. Far more than you think.”

  Ever the consummate host, Cristal turned back to her guests and motioned to the servants who set about serving more food. Course after course came and went, empty dishes being replaced by full ones and lively conversation flowed around the table as the meal carried on without interruption. Cristal managed to coax tales of some of their more innocuous adventures from Arwhon, Chalc and Kuiran for the entertainment of her local dinner guests. Many a discreet glance was turned toward Kuiran, his sheer size a statement in itself. Even at dinner he had his staff handy down by his side, the servants quickly learning to step over it when they passed behind him.

  The dinner party was a success.

  The meal over, the other guests having taken their leave, the servants cleared away all but the biscuits and cheeses and the wine and ale. Cristal gave the servants the rest of the night off and told them she wished for privacy. The curtains were drawn tight across the windows before the last servant left and finally they were alone.

  It was only then that ‘old’ Cristal changed, becoming less stiff and formal and seeming to relax inside her elegant gown. The years appeared to drop from her as she leaned attentively forward, her elbows relaxed on the table, eyes sparkling. Arwhon was amazed. His severe and formal Grandmother had almost vanished.

  “Okay, out with it. What’s so important?” she demanded of him.

  Arwhon decided the direct approach was the best choice. Cristal was nobody’s fool.

  “I have to try and rescue the Prince and Princess of Barsoom from the clutches of Empress Martine,” he blurted out, amazed at actually having said it. What was even more amazing was the reaction of his Grandmother. She just sighed.

  “Always something to spoil our family reunions. Well, you’ll just have to sit there and learn a few family secrets before you go. I don’t suppose you have much time, do you?”

  “No Grand... Cristal, we don’t. I believe the Barsoomi heirs have less than six weeks to live. That is if Empress Martine does as she threatens.”

  Cristal nodded then her head rose to level her gaze on Kuiran.

  “Tell me your M’Herindar name,” she urged. Kuiran shrugged.

  “Kuiran’dal.”

  “What does the ‘dal stand for?”

  “It’s the masculine honorific,” Kuiran replied.

  “Arwhon. What is the ‘nari’ in your surname?”

  “The masculine honorific,” he replied.

  She gestured at an unlit candle on the table and it sprang to light. Arwhon could not believe his eyes. His Grandmother had magic?

  “Yes Arwhon, our blood contains something of the M’Herindar from long, long ago. It has been diluted to minor gifts by the passage of time and it’s passed down through the female line. You may have some magic buried in you somewhere. You need to know this before you set out on this quest. Another thing, Shiri will go with you.”

  “But Cristal, it will be dangerous; we cannot be nurse-maiding a ten year old girl. We’ll have enough trouble looking after ourselves.”

  Shiri slipped from her seat and came to stand beside him.

  “You already have a Servant and an Arm. Well, I’m to be your Shield.”

  At the look of surprise on his face she smiled.

  “Did the Wise Ones not say you were to have a Shield?”

  “Yes, but they didn’t say it was to be a ten year old girl. How can we protect you?”

  She disappeared and reappeared on his other side.

  “I have ways of protecting myself and you also. Trust, Arwhon.”

  Kuiran was studying Shiri, there was something about her which seemed familiar but he couldn’t quite pick it. Arwhon shook his head slowly and suddenly remembering something, reached into a concealed pocket and produced a small bronze disk.

  “A fortune teller in Crossroads said to give this to you,” he said, placing it in her palm. Her face grew studious as she turned it over carefully in her hand.

  “Do you know what this is?” she said, a serious look on her small, pretty face.

  “No.”

  “It’s a warning you will need protection from dangerous foes who have already tried to kill you. In fact, did kill you. Powerful magic has already intervened in your life. Take all the aid you can if you wish to live longer.”

  With that she flipped the small medallion into the air where it vanished from sight. She caught his puzzled look.

  “It’s gone back to its rightful owner.”

  Cristal had leaned back in her chair, drawing deeply from her wineglass.

  “Alright young man, I want the whole story since you left Trugor. Leave nothing out, any detail could be important. We have plenty of time...... Shiri.”

  The girl made a small gesture and Cristal relaxed.

  “The room is now sealed from eavesdroppers; Shiri has many uses if only you know what they are. She is your Shield for a reason. Make use of her skills and wise council. Now, tell me the whole story and leave nothing out.”

  It was nearly midnight by the time Arwhon, Chalc and Kuiran had finished their tale and the candles had burned low. Cristal was digesting all she had heard and a new light of respect for Arwhon shone in Shiri’s eyes. He wasn’t just a Trader’s son, a spoilt relative of Cristal nasi Tsalkini; he was a young man who was a pivot around which momentous events were building.

  Cristal spoke.

  “You may not know this but I’m one of the Ten Councillors of Belvedere. Our role is to help manage the city and also to protect it. Most of the other councillors are from ancient families and have certain unique abilities but I don’t think magic is one of them. Arwhon, the best way to stay out of trouble is to avoid it but there’s also a time for action. Tomorrow, the city will think my nephew and friends are being spoilt by a doting Grandmother and in a way, you will be. We’ll tour Belvedere in my carriage. However, along the way you’ll all be measured up for the finest chainmail money can buy and we�
�ll see if we can find some good quality cloaks for you. No point in getting new tack for the horses, you’ll stand out too much and Chalc, you can leave your blacksmith’s gear with me until your return. Poor Rancid will have enough to do without lugging all those heavy steel tools over the countryside.”

  Chalc nodded thoughtfully.

  “Thank you my Lady.”

  She smiled.

  “Call me Cristal when no one is around, I wasn’t always a Lady and I do miss those days you know. Arwhon, please fetch the blade which Chalc made for you. I would like to examine it.”

  Arwhon left and returned a few moments later with the scabbard containing his sword. Cristal drew it and examined it closely.

  “This is a wonderful work of art Master Chalc. It is of stupendous quality but you have kept the trappings and bindings plain to avoid ostentation. I note it is in the style of Tarkent weapons, subtle but exceedingly strong. Is this design on the blade your own invention?”

  “No my La... Cristal. It copied itself onto the blade the first time Arwhon drew the sword from its sheath. It’s the same design as that on the Dagger and the Ring we told you of. The ones Arwhon arrived in Cumbrisia’s End with.”

  “Ah.” She sighted down the blade at an empty glass vase on the sideboard. A thin gout of green flame zipped out of the sword and melted the vase into a molten heap of slag. Kuiran rushed over and threw water on to it, hissing and steaming as it cooled. There was a stunned silence around the table. Shiri had a small smile on her lips. Cristal leaned back in her chair and sheathed the weapon, handing it back to Arwhon.

  “Don’t look so surprised. You told me of the red flash which occurred on a few occasions when you have used the sword in extremis. Besides being well made, it appears to be an excellent conductor of magic. The Tsalks of the blood have always had some power over energy. That bolt is about the strongest I could manage as far as strength and range goes but even that much can be useful at times. Although I keep my power secret, the strength it lends to me is one of the reasons I was asked to serve on the Council of Ten.

  The gift in our family line varies from generation to generation but previously the energy has always been green or very occasionally blue. I have never heard of red in our family. Maybe your father passed something on? You have a gift young man. Chalc has provided you a means to use it. All you have to do is learn how much of a gift you have. The Ring and Dagger will help with the focus. Now I suggest we all go to bed and get a good night’s sleep. Breakfast will not be too early.”

  Every word Cristal spoke had been the truth. Arwhon realised then his Ring only communicated with him when lies were in the air.

  They rose and bidding their hostess good night, headed for their respective rooms. To Arwhon’s dismay, Shiri tagged along with him to his room.

  “What are you doing? You can’t stay with me. Especially not in our room.”

  Kuiran and Chalc looked up from where they were sitting on their beds.

  She giggled, putting on a plaintive voice.

  “But Arwhon, you can’t make me sleep unprotected on my own in strange inns when we travel.” Her voice returned to normal. “Besides, this will be practice for us and remember. I’m your Shield. Don’t forget that.”

  When Kuiran and Chalc heard Shiri say she would be protecting Arwhon, they turned away, feigning great attention to their beds. Arwhon spoke gently to Shiri.

  “I thank you Shield but somehow doubt you’d need protection. While we are here in my Grandmother’s house I have Kuiran and Chalc to guard me and you will be close by. I think these arrangements will do us for now.”

  Shiri saw his gentle gallantry and nodding assent, bid him goodnight. As she withdrew, she observed to herself that this Man was different.

  The large ornate carriage pulled up at the bottom of the front steps after breakfast. The driver sat atop holding the reins of the matched four white horses and the window curtains were pulled back and tied in place with blue velvet straps. A footman in a blue and white uniform was waiting at the door of the carriage as the five of them descended the steps to enter their transport for the day. As Kuiran bent almost double to enter the carriage it dipped alarmingly on its springs.

  “If you could sit in the centre Sir, it would help,” the footman murmured. Kuiran complied, shifting his staff to push it under the seat opposite and hold it over his shoulder. It was a close fit.

  At her own direction, Cristal was last to step aboard.

  “Why do you take your staff everywhere with you?” she politely enquired of Kuiran.

  “Lady, I am ashamed to say that I personally posses no magic but this staff was a gift from the Darkwood. Ch’ron grew it for me and the metal with which it is bound came from the chest which brought me from wherever I originated. It’s as much a part of who I am as my arm or leg. It belongs to hand wherever I may go. I apologise if it’s inconvenient but I’m the Arm and this is what I ward with. I gave my word to keep your grandson alive and even if it takes my life, I shall.”

  Cristal smiled warmly at him.

  “It’s not an inconvenience for me. You’re right in what you do. Please accept my apologies.”

  The carriage rolled off, somewhat lowered at the rear but still comfortable on its springs as they turned left out of the gate toward the city. Arwhon’s eyes where everywhere and before long he knew he would have a stiff neck from trying to see everything. At first they rolled by large stately houses set along the tree lined avenue but these changed to trading establishments as they neared the centre of the town. Tall buildings, well over five stories, lifted gracefully to the sky.

  They drove around the back of a smaller establishment which had only a one word sign discretely placed near its entrance door, ‘Callandors’. A servant answered the rear door with a bow to Cristal and they were escorted inside through a short passageway. It was an amazing place. Suits of armour, breastplates, backplates, grieves, chainmail, helmets and weapons of all descriptions filled the showroom. Chalc took an immediate interest in the weapons, inspecting the metalwork closely. Accoutrements for a dozen knights were on display in front of walls decorated with tapestries depicting scenes of battle and hunting.

  The owner stepped out from behind a curtain, the man looking as if he knew how to use every piece of steel in sight. He was tall and broadly built but still did not measure up to Kuiran for size. He playfully threw a fast punch Kuiran’s way and found his fist enveloped in a huge hand. No one had even seen Kuiran react.

  “Mmm, you’re very fast for a big man. Can you use that sapling you carry?”

  Kuiran released him.

  “Just a little, enough to avoid problems.”

  Cristal snorted.

  “Callandor, stop playing games, we came here for your best quality goods and I want discretion and speed. These folk are dear to me and have a job to do that could involve being fired upon with crossbows and poked and slashed with various edged and pointed weapons. I want no harm to come to them. Understand.”

  Callandor’s demeanour changed instantly and the professional mien dropped into place.

  “What do you require my Lady?”

  “The big man fights with a staff and his hands, he needs mail which is light, flexible and will stop most weapons and also some light mail gloves if I am not mistaken. Add a padded undercoat to make it easier to wear the mail for long periods. I want that new light metal which does not rust. In fact, all the mail is to be made from it. These two use the sword but in the style of Tarkent. They need to be able to move freely without being weighed down. Padded undercoats for them also and this girl is also to be fitted with a mail garment. I need them the day after tomorrow.”

  Callandor shifted from foot to foot.

  “But Lady, that’s Solvenday and nobody works on Solvenday.”

  “The few priests left still do and so will you if you want to increase your fortune. I expect the bill to be realistic and reflect the quality of the work and the time spent on it, so measure the
se folk up and get down stairs. Your dwarves will need to work quickly.”

  “How did you know I employ dwarves?” Callandor asked sharply, caught by surprise.

  “I’m on the Council as you are, so I make it my business to know everything going on in this fair City. So get on with it man.”

  “Will you need weapons or helms to go with the mail?”

  Cristal thought for a moment.

  “Only for Arwhon. A smallish helm with a nose guard and the eye holes enlarged a bit to allow for maximum vision. Nothing ostentatious mind but with a mail neckpiece at the back.”

  Arwhon was about to object but felt his sleeve being tugged and looking down saw Shiri shaking her head. He held his peace.

  “Show Callandor the Ring, Arwhon,” his Grandmother commanded and Arwhon extended his hand. Callandor took it and examined the Ring, awe apparent on his face as he realised the Ring was growing into and part of Arwhon’s flesh.

  “I want a design engraved on both sides of the helm which matches the design on that Ring. Tell no one what you have seen or I’ll be forced to send the auditors down to examine your books and see if you’ve paid enough taxes in the last couple of years.”

  Arwhon’s Grandmother had put on her stern face.

  Callandor looked worried.

  “How did you know?”

  “Let us say, I like to keep well informed,” was all the answer he received.

  Thirty minutes later, after all of them were measured up and the design on Arwhon’s Ring copied onto a piece of parchment, they exited Callandor’s establishment and entered the ornate coach once more. It rattled over the cobbled roads to the centre of the city where the coachman drew to a halt in a huge plaza with a fountain at the centre. Buildings surrounded them, tall buildings, the highest of which was the square belltower of the imposing church. Trugor township would have fitted into that central square with room to spare. It was vast.

  “Showtime everyone. You are now officially tourists being shown around by one of Belvedere’s preeminent citizens. Look happy and I promise you we will have some real fun in a little while.”