by G. Howell
“You’re going to leave those open while you sleep?” Jenes’ahn inquired from somewhere behind me.
“I was planning to,” I said.
“In that case, I’ll be on watch in the next room.”
“I’ve a better idea,” I said, yawning and heading for the bed, “why don’t you just go back to your room and if I’m murdered in my sleep, I’ll be sure to let you know.”
She just stared at me. “That’s... a peculiar thing to say.”
“Is it? Well, I’m tired; I’m a little drunk, a little stoned and I’m going to lie down and I’m going to pass out. Good night.”
With that I turned my back, forgot about her and went to bed.
------v------
Over a dawn breakfast I was told that the first meeting that day was going to be with the local Stonemasons Guild. During the rest of that morning I’d amused myself by picturing a Masonic lodge of Rris, complete with their elaborate ceremonies and golden kilts and secret handshakes. Of course the actuality was nothing like the imagining.
According to my briefings, the Masons’ Guild was one of the larger and oldest Guilds, and one of the more powerful. They dealt with stoneworking, of course; everything from the quarrying of the raw material to design and architecture to shaping and construction. The skills of the members were required everywhere, for projects ranging from civil engineering undertakings such as bridges and roads and aqueducts to constructing private and public buildings. This gave them considerable clout, although perhaps not as much as in other lands. From what I pieced together, most of this part of the country is built on stratified deposits. Igneous rock is difficult to come by. That is, there’s sandstone and limestone and other soft stuff available, but it’s not really good for construction and the really solid stuff like granite is more difficult to come by. Easily accessible deposits tend to be erratics – giant boulders dropped by the receding glaciers – and those are limited. The good stuff has to be brought in from further a field, and that was expensive. Very.
Guessing what the Guild was going to be interested in wasn’t too difficult.
This time the Guild representatives came to the palace. My Mediator bodyguards were happier having the meetings on the grounds of their choosing, and it was more efficient than taking hours carting me across the city. Hell, ideally they’d have the various guild reps stacked up in a holding pattern, shuttling the next party in as soon as the previous was done, but apparently there were problems with keeping Guild leaders waiting in orderly fashions. The phrase ‘herding cats’ comes to mind.
It was early enough that the sun was still low beyond the trees on the horizon: a red ball visible through the thin veil of mist clinging to the earth. The air was still and cool, hardly stirring the gauze curtains hanging in the open windows. Early light covered the white plaster of the walls with a gold tint and made the polished wood of the table seem to glow. I folded myself down to sit on the leather cushion on our side of the knee-high table and set my laptop on the gleaming tabletop. On either side I was flanked by Rris: Mediators to my left and Chaeitch and the others to my right.
The Guild representatives were ushered in shortly after we’d gotten ourselves settled. Four of them entered and of course they stared at me even as I did my best to size them up. Two males, two females, as best I could discern. It was difficult to tell with the breeches and vests three of them were wearing; fine linen and velvet trimmed with glittering metals. The other, the one in the lead, was wearing something that looked an awful lot like blue jeans and casual shirt, modified for a Rris’ physique but obviously copies of my own clothes, perhaps copied from some of the fads that’d been making the rounds in Shattered Water. Was there a point to that? Was he trying to ingratiate himself?
One of the ones in back, one of the ones staring at me with ears tipped back hissed an aside to one of his companions. Her eyes widened and she made a hasty sushing gesture.
Chriét, if he’d noticed the little exchange made no mention of it as he introduced the Rris in the copied clothing. “Resith ah Shashaeteh, Master of Open Fields Stonemasons’ Guild and his aides, ah Trail, aesh Meh’eri and aesh Khairae. This is the delegation from Shattered Water: Chaeitch ah Ties and Rraerch aesh Smither and of course this is Mikah ah Ri’ey, the advisor. He will try to use the knowledge at his disposal to assist you.”
One of the aides spoke out. “We were told that the Guild would have some influence over your information.”
I swallowed. That wasn’t a question I wanted to field, but Rohinia’s gravelly voice roused itself from my left. “Only if we determine that the information could be dangerous. If it were to be used in applications that could cause disruptions to. . . established balances.”
The Guildmaster Resith tipped his head slightly. “The Guild is expecting problems?”
My first impressions had been of someone trying to curry favor by imitation; perhaps a bit of a fool, but I was figuring that my first impressions were often mistaken, perhaps biased. Especially when it came to Rris. That other individual was a Guild Master, and that probably wasn’t a position you held without some abilities. None of the briefings had mentioned any tendency toward simplicity. Second impressions suggested there was something of a bit more substance under those idiosyncrasies.
“We do what we can to prevent problems in the first place,” Rohinia said. “This is a set condition. You have agreed to it; you will abide by it.”
The Guildmaster ducked his head, cupping a hand in acknowledgement. “A. Agreed. We were most impressed by the Guild’s dedication and thoroughness.”
I blinked, but I couldn’t detect anything but polite respect in his tone and manner. If there was a tinge of sarcasm there, I wasn’t about to pick up on it. Rohinia didn’t flinch, not a muscle. He just inclined his own head ever so slightly. “Then please, continue.”
Resith looked at me, tipped his head slightly and asked, “Ah R’iey, you are familiar with the Guild and what we do?”
I shrugged. “I’m not an expert. What I know I’ve been told by my hosts here. But I will do what I can to answer your questions.”
“Your kind, you have a Guild like ours?”
“Umm, there are organizations that perform similar functions,” I said. “Not exactly Guilds.”
“Why not Guilds?”
“I think... your kind and mine organize differently,” I hedged. I couldn’t say that Guilds didn’t work in a full industrial economy. Not to a Guildmaster’s face.
“Huhn,” he looked interested.
“Please,” I held out my hands in reflexive gesture; hastily put them down when the Rris reacted. “I can give you information that may be of help in places, but I’m not here to tell you how to run things. Something like a technique to cut stone is fairly straight forward, but as I said, your kind and mine seem to organize differently; we certainly think differently. Trying to apply our way of doing things to your people... I think that might cause issues that the Mediators are trying to avoid.”
Resith looked towards the Mediators. Both of them gestured assent and he scratched at his chin. “Huh,” he coughed, “That is understood then. Very well. Now, you have been given some information about the Guild. No slight upon your sources intended, but it might be beneficial if I were to give you an account of the Guild. Some more detailed knowledge of our history and charter may help you better understand our requirements.”
“That would be useful?” Rohinia asked me.
“It would.”
“Then please continue,” the Mediator said.
Resith stared down at his hand as he tapped a single claw on the table, seeming to gather his thoughts before brightly looking up. “There’s no given date for the founding of the Guild. We know it was originally an assembly of like-minded workers who gathered and organized following examples set by other lands in the [som
ething] breaks of the Argument Wars. That would have been about twelve hundred years ago. The official charter established with the Cover-My-Tail Government and the Mediator Guild was ratified nearer to eight hundred.
“That charter guarantees the Guild autonomy in its work and jurisdiction over its members. We look after our own: provided their dues are paid. We ensure they have work; that they are housed and fed if necessary and when they are unable to do physical work, they can be employed in training.”
Provided their dues were paid. I didn’t miss that bit. And if they missed those payments, I doubted they had unemployment schemes to fall back on.
“The Guild is commissioned whenever work requiring stonework is to be undertaken, whether it be by the government or any other private institution. We’re contracted for anything involving complex stonework: building construction of course, paving roads, constructing bridges, aqueducts, more elaborate commissions such as fountains and statues and so forth. We have craftsmen with the skills for all that. The Guild has resources for all aspects of the work from the initial planning and architectural design to the acquisition of materials and laborers to the actual construction itself.”
I listened quietly. I’d heard the like before, from other Rris Guild leaders and from earlier times. Those sorts of talks sounded like the usual spiel I’d been given untold times back in the old world, when I was doing a commission for a client and they gave me some background into their organization. He went on about jobs the local 401 had done recently: a mansion out in the country, a series of bridges on a road, a wing on the Bluebetter embassy, aqueduct repairs.
“Now,” he said, “we have been told that you can offer us knowledge, perhaps tools or information. What my colleagues and myself have wondered, is what experience do you have in stoneworking? Is your kind familiar with it?”
“We know of it,” I said.
“Perhaps an example?”
I looked to the Mediators, “Is that acceptable?”
Rohinia gestured an affirmative and I opened the laptop and browsed my clipart for a few examples. There were some that might do in my art and architecture section . I turned the screen so the Rris could see it and ran the slideshow. There was the usual expression of puzzlement, the leaning forward and then the full-blown surprise as the vivid color images appeared on the screen like nothing they’d ever seen before. There was a bridge: the Brooklyn bridge with its massive towers. There were city streets with old stone buildings alongside edifices of concrete and glass. Shots from Europe where old stonework existed in abundance: Roman aqueducts, St. Malo and Mont St. Michelle, St. Peters church and Basilica, Notre Dame de Paris.
The Rris stared. I saw ears wilting.
“Those are... real structures?” Resith asked quietly after seeing a gallery of images from Versailles.
“A,” I said.
“Most... impressive. Although, the proportions are odd.”
“I find the same with your buildings,” I said. “We see things in different ways, your kind and mine.”
All of them looked toward my eyes.
“Umm, not just like that. Our... feeling of what looks right - proportions – I think they are different.”
“I see,” he said thoughtfully, gazing at the notebook screen again. “Quite impressive. The stories really don’t do you justice. Can you teach us those techniques?”
“Some of them I have information for,” I said. “A few, not all. Those I have information for I can provide for you and images like these show some examples as to what is possible. There are also tools and materials that you don’t know about. They can open a lot more possibilities.”
“Huhn,” he breathed. Then he leaned forward, tapping the claws of his forefingers precisely together. “You know, anyone can get hold of a rock,” he said, “but knowing what to do with the stone are skills and crafts that aren’t available to everyone. That is our craft; that is what we do. Our techniques are known to our Guildmembers; kept by the craftsmen who then pass what they know on down to their apprentices. And we protect those skills, as does any guild.
“Now, you offer us knowledge, but I assume this knowledge would also be made available to any other Guild in any other Country. What we know, they would know. How does this benefit us?”
I shrugged. “I can offer some knowledge, but I can’t offer skill. I can give you better tools and perhaps some other ways of doing things, but the way you use this information is entirely up to you. The quality of the chisel doesn’t dictate the skill of the craftsman. As you said yourself: anybody can get hold of the materials but knowing what to do with them is what you’re actually selling.”
One of his ears twisted, tipping down to the side. “It sounds as if you’ve already given the matter some thought.”
“I’ve had some opportunities to consider it,” I admitted. “And of course, if you aren’t interested in what is on offer, then I don’t doubt that other Guilds will be.”
He dipped his head again and snorted, “No, of that there’s little question. You will give everyone the same, won’t you.”
I thought about that. Offense was too easy to give. “I can’t take sides,” I told him. “All I can do is my best and give them whatever assistance they request.”
“Of course,” he said and tapped his claws together again. “Then it would be quite important to make sure we ask for the right things, a?”
I smiled slightly, keeping my mouth carefully closed. “Pending Mediator Guild approval, of course.”
“A, of course,” he also smiled slightly. “Very well, we have skills, but certainly any further information would be of interest.”
“Any particulars?”
“Huhn,” he looked thoughtful. “Some of the architecture and designs you showed us in those... pictures are intriguing. There are some concepts there that some of our architects and artisans may be interested in. They would also require new tools or materials or techniques to implement?”
“Some of them. Yes.”
“So new tools would also be of interest. Better metals and ways of cutting stone that make some of these techniques possible. Hammers and chisels and [something].” He rattled off a list. Chaeitch noted that down.
“How familiar are you with the different materials we work with?” Resith asked me.
“Not very,” I confessed. “Mostly soft stones, I understand. Not hard... granite, I think is the word.”
“Not so much of that,” he said and hesitated. “You wouldn’t happen to know the location of any deposits close by, by any chance?”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “Not to the best of my knowledge.” Not quite true. There were deposits of igneous material around this area, quite a lot of them, but they were buried beneath several hundred meters of softer rubbish. “However, there may be ways to reduce transports costs of imported material quite considerably. It doesn’t directly involve your Guild, but it would have... uh... ramifications? That would help you. You would be interested in that?”
Resith’s ears froze. Yeah, his original question had been asked in a casual, offhanded sort of way, but I had an inkling as to how important it was to them. Without a supply of good stone, how could a stonemasons guild exist? And as it was their margins would be way down because any supplier would know how desperate they’d be for it. They could charge what they liked, as could the transporters.
“We would be... interested,” he finally said.
“Very well,” I said. “We can look into that as well.”
I saw the glance Chaeitch threw my way. But he didn’t say anything as he noted the request down in his neat crosshatched script.
“There is another alternative,” I said. “A material that is a sort of liquid stone.”
“A liquid stone?” he echoed, looking confused.
“A. It is a ra
ther robust material that can be poured and shaped as a building material. It also doesn’t require any hard stone and can be made to suit the job. It isn’t as attractive as something like marble, but it has a lot of applications.”
He looked casually interested. “That sounds intriguing. I’m not sure how many of our older craftsmen would take to that, though.”
“As I said, it isn’t attractive, but it is convenient. And once you get the ingredients, most of which are available here, it can be made on site.
“You can show us images?”
I showed him. Pictures of Wall Street, of Frank Lloyd Wright’s Guggenheim museum. Of modern skyscrapers and the attempts for the world’s tallest structures; bridges and dams and causeways. Also apartments, and some of those housing developments that are always heralded with such fanfare, neglecting to take into account the fact that one day they would house the kinds of people who were capable of turning any palace into a slum.
The Guild members stared. I knew they were drinking in every detail, trying to get as much as they could for free. But it’s one thing to see a picture and quite another to try and duplicate it.
“Quite... versatile,” Resith said. “Bridges as well?”
“A.”
“I do see what you mean about it being unattractive. Those large, ugly structures that all looked the same. What was their purpose?”
“They were designed as dwellings. Quite a long time ago. They were supposed to be pleasant places to live. Many of my kind now find that amusing.”
“And individuals lived in those?”
“Not very well.”
“I can well imagine,” he snorted disgust. “Very well. I think we could also find a use for that. There is a name for it?”
“Concrete.”
He tasted that word a couple of times and grimaced. “I think we’ll need something a little easier to pronounce.”
