The Ring Of Truth

by B Cameron Lee

  They all descended from the coach and were shown the ‘Palace’, as it was nicknamed, in reality, a fine ornate building where the Chairman of the Council of Ten lived during his term of office. Then it was on to the Grand Council Chambers, the Museum and the Art Gallery along with a viewing of the town houses belonging to some of the richer people in town, one a relative of the King of Barsoom by marriage. Cristal did not have a kind word for many of them. After the tour of the square it was back into the coach and Cristal gave the driver a special hand signal as she got in. The coach drove past the centre of town and started travelling downhill before pulling into the yard of an inn, The Bull’s Head.

  Cristal turned to them.

  “Please enter the inn, lunch will be set out for you, you must excuse me for a few moments. I’ve something to do.”

  With that she left them and ascended the staircase. The food laid out in the private room was amazing. Lightly cooked fish, newly caught from the sea with crisp bread and fried vegetables including fresh mushrooms. As they ate, cool jugs of ale stood on a side board, waiting for them, gathering condensation. The door opened and Arwhon looked up to see a bent old woman, in a voluminous black cloak with the hood pulled up, enter the room.

  “Mother, this is a private party but if you’re hungry you may take some food and go. We are expecting our mistress soon.”

  The figure in the cloak pulled the hood back and stood upright.

  “Sooner than you think Grandson,” his grandmother said, standing before him. Arwhon choked and it took a couple of gentle slaps on the back before he had enough breath to respond.

  “How? Why?” he spluttered.

  “As to how, I have a permanent room upstairs. As to why, how else do you think I keep my fingers on the pulse of this City? As soon as we’re finished, we’re off to the docks, just to see who has new information for me. Don’t forget, I’m incognito, so please refer to me as Mother. Hag would be better if you could bring yourself to say it. It reinforces the disguise.”

  The docks were busy when the small party strolled slowly down the hill on the worn flagstone footpaths after lunch, an old lady hobbling awkwardly along behind them. The air was heavy with the smell of the sea and all the other things which gather in a harbour, some less than pleasant. Quay after quay, built lengthways out into the water, allowed many ships from all different nations to tie up at the same time. Comparing them side by side was interesting and Arwhon saw a few unusually designed ships which had never appeared in Trugor’s port, their form new to him.

  It was noisy, with Bosuns and First Mates calling out instructions in many different languages to crewmen from most of the lands surrounding the Turquoise Sea. The offloading of the various cargos seemed to take place with hectic pace and precise organisation, nets swinging out on yards and drays being loaded with their contents and when full, immediately pulling away to leave room for the next dray in line to load up. Cristal was huddled over, furtively writing notes onto scrappy pieces of paper with a short stick of charcoal; names of ships, cargos and many other snippets of useful information, recording the mayhem as it unfolded, one small sheet at a time. The full sheets were concealed in a pocket on the inside of her cloak and she seemed to have an inexhaustible supply of charcoal.

  Kuiran looked down on her industry as she furtively concealed her activities from the seamen.

  “I see now how you are so well informed. You fill me with admiration you hag you.”

  She grinned up at him, her old, lined face amused. Suddenly she grimaced as she looked over toward a black ship tied up by itself. Unlike the rest of the harbour, there was no activity around it and a guard was set at the head of the gangway. He was dark skinned, with many piercings around his face and diagonal scars running down rough, scoured cheeks. Heavy brow ridges concealed deep set black eyes. He wore a red scarf tied around his head along with a red kilt and black leather waistcoat. A belt around his middle held a sheathed longknife and an ugly looking hooked device. He hardly looked human and stood totally immobile. On his right forearm was a tattoo of a strange beast, fanged and winged.

  “Draakon!” Cristal hissed. “Thieving whores’ sons of pirates.”

  “Why don’t you have the ship arrested?” Arwhon asked.

  “Because the bastards sell their ill gotten cargo somewhere else and only call in here empty for provisions. We have no physical evidence of their piracy, although I’m sure someone in this city is supplying them with shipping schedules and manifests.”

  Chalc was getting the taste for a little adventure.

  “Why don’t we go and see if we can spot the ship’s Master somewhere?”

  Cristal didn’t let him down.

  “Good idea. The street of Chandlers is not far; maybe we can keep an eye out there. If you wander up and down like tourists and I sit and beg, perhaps we could spot the Master of that odious ship leaving a store or warehouse.”

  They moved along to Chandler’s Row and set themselves up, Chalc leaning against a corner of a wall, intent on cleaning his fingernails with his knife point while Arwhon and Shiri wandering up and down the street like tourists, looking into shop windows here and there, where interesting and exotic articles were on display. Kuiran stayed down at the docks to keep an eye on the Reaver ship as there was no way he could make himself inconspicuous anywhere. Cristal sat in a doorway half way along Chandler’s Row, begging. It didn’t take long before Shiri spotted the Draakon Master leaving a particular Chandler’s establishment. He was easy to identify, the only difference between him and his ugly crewman was the scarlet cloak he wore. Arwhon felt a strange vibration from his Ring as the Draakon Master passed and the Master glanced sideways at him curiously. The look was unworldly. Shiri ghosted down the road and stopped in front of the old woman in the doorway to exchange a few words with her.

  Once the Draakon Master was out of sight Arwhon, Shiri and Chalc gathered together discretely in front of Cristal.

  “Let’s go and question the Chandler with you Cristal. It shouldn’t be too difficult to get answers from him.”

  “No my fine band of companions. It’s more useful to know who he is and arrange for him to give false information to his friends. Alternatively, he can warn us of attacks which might happen in the future. We will use him well or, if we cannot turn him, he will die. I refuse to allow sympathisers of the Draakon to live amongst us. Now, it’s time to go home. Let us proceed back to the inn.”

  They walked back down to the docks where they found Kuiran busy assisting a wagon driver who was in danger of losing a wheel from his large wagon. Kuiran was supporting the back corner of the empty wagon, holding the wheel clear of the road while the driver tapped it firmly back onto its axle and inserted a new retaining pin. With a grunt, Kuiran lowered the wagon back to the cobbled street.

  “If’n that don’t beat all I ever see’d,” exclaimed the driver. “You must be the strongest fella I ever know’d. Here,” and he flipped a silver to Kuiran. “You saved me time and money young un. If you ever need a favour, look up Muley Jack, most folks around here ul know of me.”

  With that, he leapt to the driver’s seat and cracked his whip, the wagon rolling slowly off to find its ship’s cargo.

  Kuiran smiled, “The Draakon Master is back on his ship and they look to be getting ready to leave.”

  Indeed, there was activity on board the longship and a boat was lowered from it to tow the black hulled Reaver away from the quayside. Once in the more open water of the harbour, the Master picked up the river current and expertly swung their rowboat back aboard before unfurling a red jib to take them slowly out beyond the harbour walls without using the ship’s oars. Before long the big red mainsail dropped from the yard and filled with wind. The black ship sped away towards the headland and the open sea.

  “They killed my father and burnt our warehouse. It doesn’t seem right to let one go.”

  Arwhon didn’t mention the Ring’s vibrated warning to him; he would have to think on that.r />
  “Cristal, do you know what the tattoo on the Reaver’s arm is?”

  “Yes Arwhon, it’s a ‘drakon’. A beast the Draakonians revere. Some folk doubt they are real but the Reavers insist that drakons live and breed in the south of Draakonia. Every Reaver bears such a tattoo on his arm.” Cristal finished.

  Just at that moment a small man, wearing a Captain’s uniform, with a walnut-like seamed face, strode toward them with a seaman’s rolling gait.

  “Arwhon, it is you!” cried out Captain Belmar of Jalwynd. “You made it here and I see you found some friends. Have you met your Grandmother yet?”

  The little man was quite excited at meeting Arwhon and was introduced to everyone except the hag in the enveloping black cloak who hung back a little so as not to be seen as part of the group. While Belmar conversed animatedly with Chalc about their trip here, Arwhon felt his sleeve gently tugged by Cristal.

  “Invite him to the house for dinner tonight Arwhon.” Then she quickly turned and left.

  Arwhon, at the next gap in the conversation, immediately extended the invitation to Captain Belmar but unfortunately the Jalwynd was preparing to leave on the tide.

  “Aye, it’s a shame we are away young Arwhon, it would have been good to talk more with you over a bite. Your brother and sister are well and business is picking up. We near filled the ship that first trip and I’ve been back since. Well I must away.”

  “Thank you Captain Belmar, and remember, the very next time you are in Belvedere, you have an open invitation to visit my Grandmother. Anyone can direct you to Cristal nasi Tsalkini and I believe it will be to your mutual advantage. She will take care of you. Believe me.”

  Arwhon winked at the diminutive Captain before finally bidding him farewell.

  They took their time returning to the inn. Before long Cristal nasi Tsalkini had changed and she and her party squeezed into the coach once more to return to her mansion. On the way, Arwhon tried to assuage his curiosity yet again.

  “Grandmother, you mentioned Dwarves at the Armsman’s establishment. I thought Dwarves were just folklore and legend.”

  Cristal appraised her Grandson for a long moment before answering.

  “That’s just the way they like it too. They live under Mehgrin’s Wall and keep to themselves, travelling at night if they have to come to the surface. They cannot stand bright lights but love gold, especially red gold. A few work for the Arms master, staying out of sight and living in tunnels under his store because he pays them in red gold, found only in Cheshwon. How he obtains it, I have no idea. In fact, the Dwarves could have tunnels running all over the place but they wouldn’t allow anyone down there to see. They’re a very proud and prickly race and best left alone. They also know some Elder form of magic but what it is I’m not privy to. There are many secrets in the deep places and the Dwarves have most likely learned some of them from all the years they have lived below the earth. Cross them at your peril.”

  Arwhon was again amazed at just how much his Grandmother seemed to know about so many things and stored the information regarding Dwarves away for future use.

  When the party arrived back at the mansion, Cristal instructed the driver to take them around the back to the large stable yard. They alighted from the coach and Arwhon almost ran to the stables to see Duran, patting him and hugging him around the neck. The big grey leaned against his partner and the communication between them was more than obvious. Darla was happy to see Chalc also and there was much wuffling and snorting as carrots were fed and contacts exchanged. Shiri quietly slipped into the stall Rancid occupied and Chalc’s muttered oath and warning went totally unheeded. As he looked over the stall door Chalc saw Shiri sitting on Rancid’s bare back, no saddle or bridle necessary. Rancid looked quite content and well pleased as he chewed on a carrot, almost smiling, if mules could be said to smile.

  “I get to ride Rancid,” crowed Shiri gleefully and none who saw them together had the heart to disagree with her.

  In the early evening another generous meal was served up and with the day’s activities in the fresh sea air, followed by a stomach full of fine food, it wasn’t long before everyone was yawning. All agreed an early night would be welcome. Before retiring, Arwhon’s Grandmother informed him she had ordered some extra maps and they should use tomorrow, the day before Solvenday, for planning all the necessary details required for a rescue attempt to free the Barsoom heirs. Arwhon agreed and thanked his Grandmother for everything she had done for them, giving her a quick hug before retiring upstairs.

  Satrenday, the day before Solvenday, was going to be busy.

  The dreams came again that night and Arwhon found himself once more in the underground cavern. The Prince and Princess were still chained to the wall and seemed yet more wretched. Both were asleep and as Arwhon looked about he could make out the large feathered and furred mound of the sleeping Gryffon over in the corner. Of Empress Martine and her mage, there was no sign. He drifted closer and tried communicating with the prisoners.

  “Princess, Princess,” he whispered quietly.

  Her eyes opened slowly.

  “Who? What?” she whispered.

  “It’s me, the person who dreams of you. We wish to help. Do you know where this cavern is?”

  “No,” she whispered back. “They brought us here blindfolded.”

  Suddenly, there in front of them, in his dream, stood a young girl. Shiri. Arwhon was stunned into silence and the Princesses eyes opened wide in surprise at the sight of the girl who had materialized out of thin air. She gently nudged her sleeping brother with her foot. He woke slowly but instantly sat bolt upright when he saw Shiri. His chains rattled and the Gryffon moved in the darkness, rising and circling to find a new resting spot. The girl held a finger to her lips to indicate they should both be quiet and in as low a tone as possible, conversed with them.

  “I’m Shiri, riding on the dreams of the one who has come before but he cannot show himself. Tell me of the Mage who controls the beast.”

  The Princess answered for the siblings.

  “He is reluctant to do as she commands but Martine has a power over him. When he is slow to carry out her commands, she puts her hand over the large sapphire she wears on a chain around her neck. It cows the Mage into action. He’s not a bad man but has to do as he’s told, for some reason we do not fully understand.”

  Shiri absorbed this information while Arwhon looked on, invisible to the royal offspring.

  The Princess looked Shiri up and down.

  “You were able to enter here just now, do you think there’s any possibility of getting us out?” the princess asked.

  Shiri answered.

  “No, I’m merely riding on Arwhon’s dream. If he woke, I would be gone in an instant but there is something I can do for you.”

  She glided closer to the Prince and Princess and gently touched them both. Under her hands, their skin colour improved and they grew brighter, their eyes losing the dull, defeated look.

  The Gryffon raised its head, possibly able to feel the use of magic and rose quickly to its feet. Shiri vanished but her voice spoke softly once more from the air.

  “Don’t give up. We’ll try to help you before the deadline. Until later.”

  Arwhon felt Shiri take his hand and in the Dreamworld she drew them both up through the roof of the cavern and continued to rise into the night air. He’d never realised he could move around in the dream state and became fearful of the height they had risen to, the building now some distance beneath them.

  Shiri felt his alarm and tried to soothe Arwhon.

  “Please don’t be distressed, you’ll awake, trust me, you’re only dreaming and will come to no harm.”

  She enveloped him with a feeling of security and well being and Arwhon dared to look down. Unexpectedly, there was no city below them, just a tower, missing part of one side, perched on the edge of a cliff which plunged to a river far below. The sweep of the sheer cliff beneath the keep was marred by the darker
opening of a cave. Most likely where the Barsoomi heirs were being held. His vision, Arwhon realised, was different in this dream state. Detail like this would not normally be available at night.

  “How are we able to see so clearly Shiri?”

  “The life essence of the world, the energy in all things, is what provides light in dreams. When it’s gathered and utilised, it’s known as magic. Some people are born with the ability, others learn it. It’s a force which can be used for good or evil. It has no conscience, it just is.”

  As they ascended even higher, Arwhon saw, well off in the distance, lights and buildings through a heavy pall of smoke.

  A sizeable city.

  “Goristoum I would guess,” Shiri commented. “Look carefully at the land below us and remember. The threads of your dream are parting now, so there’s no time left.”

  The next thing Arwhon knew, it was morning and the dawn sun was shining in through the window of his room in Grandmother’s mansion. His first thoughts were of Shiri. Just who or what was Shiri and how did a little girl have so many gifts and so much knowledge?

  Servants came early with hot water for washing and conveyed instructions to be downstairs as soon as possible. Breakfast was hastily consumed and as the table in the alcove of the dining room was being cleared of dishes, Cristal led them to her study, producing a key on a chain to open the heavy, locked door. Arwhon had never been in the study before and it did not seem a room an old lady would need, let alone keep under lock and key. A heavy, broad desk, covered in books and scrolls, with odd ornaments which he presumed were paperweights to hold the scrolls open, occupied one end of the room. An ink well of generous proportion along with steel nibbed pens stood at the ready. His Grandmother saw where he was looking and muttered.

  “Can’t abide quills, too much fiddling about with trimming them and all that. Anyway, the feathers make me sneeze.”

  The rest of the room contained a number of chairs and a bookcase crammed with books and ledgers.