The Pearl Diver

by Jeffrey Quyle

  As his hand rested gently on the handle of the knife, Silas looked around, inspecting the surroundings for signs of impending trouble. No one was staring at him, no one was standing up, no one was whispering to their neighbor. There was no visible trouble brewing, and he relaxed slightly.

  “What’ll you have? A towel?” a jovial serving boy appeared by his table with a joke and a grin.

  “I’d take a towel alright,” Silas agreed.

  “We’ve got pork chops a day old, and mutton stew, the meat’s two days old,” the boy advised.

  Silas selected the day-old pork and produced the required coins to guarantee delivery of his meal, then sat back and once again cautiously looked over the crowd. There was still nothing out of the ordinary. When his food arrived, he ate quickly, open eyes looking out at the other diners at all times. And when he was done, he quickly rose and left the tavern to return to the still steady rainfall outside, which he proceeded to jog through until after sunset.

  When he began to stumble through the dark, as the rainfall grew lighter and milder, he decided to end his travels. He spotted a hedgerow between two fields, and splashed though muddy puddles to reach the shrubby growth, where he vainly searched for five minutes to find a dry spot, and ended up lying on the wet ground with his back against an uncomfortable bush. Then, despite his discomfort, he fell asleep, and remained restlessly lying on the ground until the sun rose in the east and cast its rays directly into his eyes in the morning.

  Silas stood up and tried to stretch away the stiffness he felt in his joints, beneath the wet and cold clothing he wore. He was thankful to see only scattered clouds ahead as he began to plod stolidly forward, back onto the road, and then onward towards the west. He shivered as he started to lift his pace, then he sneezed, but he continued to move to the west.

  He had no appetite for breakfast or lunch, and by mid-afternoon, the number of buildings along the road began to noticeably increase, though he didn’t notice, as he found it was harder and harder for him to focus on anything but the effort he needed to put one foot in front of the other. He had reached the outskirts of Barnesnob, but he had also grown so fevered from his long, hurried journey and his night spent on the wet ground that he didn’t know where he was.

  Once inside the city, he followed only his instinct, as his fever increased and his senses diminished, and by the middle of the afternoon, he finally sat on the roadside, his back against a stone retaining wall, and he passed out.

  Chapter 2

  Silas awoke to the feel of cool water running across his brow.

  “It’s raining again,” he muttered feverishly.

  “No, my sweet, it’s not rain. We’re just washing away the fever. You rest,” a voice told him, and he fell back to sleep.

  When he awoke the next time, he discovered that he was lying in a shallow bath of warm water. He opened his eyes and observed a pair of young men in green robes sitting on a bench nearby, idly chatting with one another, while Silas lay in a shallow wooden tub that was slightly elevated above the floor of the long, narrow room he was in.

  He placed his hands on the edge of the tub and sat up. The warm water he was soaking in was pinkish in color he noted, as he sat naked and befuddled by his circumstances.

  “Where am I?” he asked.

  “Here now,” one of the two attendants rose, lifting a folded robe off the bench as he stood. “Let’s get you on your feet.”

  “Where am I?” Silas repeated. He had no clear recollection of anything since the rainy night he had entered the tavern for a meal of dry chops.

  “You’re in the Healer’s Guild hall,” said the young man who carried the robe. “We’ve been tending you all night and this morning. If you feel well enough to go to bed, let’s get you out of the hall and over to the Master’s house.”

  “I’m at the Healers’ Guild? In Barnesnob?” Silas asked, unable to reconcile his memories with his circumstances.

  The healer held the robe open for him, signaling for Silas to emerge from the bath.

  “What is that, anyway?” Silas asked curiously as he awkwardly lifted his legs over the edge of the bath, then stood on the floor. The floor and the air were both noticeably cooler than the water in the tub. He put on the robe and pulled it closed, then knelt down to feel the water temperature again.

  “We place hot stones beneath the tub to keep the water warm,” the second attendant explained as he joined the others. “Are you able to walk, or would you like a cart to take you?”

  “I can walk,” Silas replied dismissively, but as he followed his companions from the room and down a hall, he realized that the walk was not as easy as it sounded. His legs were weak and his head was light.

  When they left a small door in the back of the hall they walked on a sheltered path that led within a hundred yards to the back door of a smaller building.

  “We are delivering the Master’s patient,” one attendant told a maid they met inside the boot room of the structure.

  “I wasn’t aware the Master was keeping a patient here,” the maid replied dubiously.

  “The Lady Dianu personally came and attended him and instructed that he was to rest here in the Master’s home,” the attendant stubbornly pointed out.

  “Him and the stray cats,” the maid muttered. “Begging your pardon, young sir,” the maid apologized to Silas as she realized what she had said aloud. “Will you be able to fix those eyes?” she asked the healers with Silas.

  “We were told they are a permanent state,” the other attendant replied. “He’s in your hands now,” the man seemed ready to be done with Silas’s care, while Silas found the verbal jousting a waste of time as he held onto a door frame to remain erect in his weakened state.

  “Follow me. We’ve got a fresh room upstairs we can plant you in until I know more about her ladyship’s plans,” the maid sighed. The attendants bolted out of the door, and Silas found himself forcing each foot to advance in front with each step as he followed the maid through the house and then up the back stairs to a small, well-lit room where a large bed was a welcome and enticing sight.

  “Oh my word!” the maid exclaimed when Silas threw back the covers in one corner and then dropped his robe, forgetting his state of undress in her presence. He threw himself into the bed and pulled the covers up, then fell asleep before he could even apologize.

  He awoke again in the morning, and saw the silhouette of a woman sitting in front of the lace-curtained window, her features indistinct against the brighter background.

  “Where am I?” he asked. He was once again devoid of memories, as he watched the woman rise from her chair and walk to the bedside. As she sat down on the edge of his covers, he saw her face at last, and knew who she was, and where he was. It was Dianu, the wife of the Master of the Healers Guild.

  “You’ve been very ill for these past three days,” Dianu told him softly. “I’m glad to hear you speak.” She paused and placed a hand on his forehead, then felt his cheek. “The fever is gone, I’m very happy to say.”

  “I’ve been here for three days?” Silas asked, surprised and alarmed.

  “Right here in our home. When there was a report of a sick boy with purple and golden eyes, I insisted they bring you to our home for care. And of course, it was you – who else has eyes like those?” her fingertip gently tapped a cheek.

  “What happened to me?” Silas asked.

  “You were fevered. You weren’t taking care of yourself, I imagine. You’re too thin,” the former medical student scolded him. “You were sopping wet.”

  “I walked through the rain. I didn’t want to stop,” Silas sat up in the bed, then pulled the sheet up higher, self-consciously.

  “You were in such a hurry to get here and see me?” she teased him, drawing a blank look from the still-groggy boy.

  “You stay right here,” she directed as she rose. “I’ll go get some breakfast for you and be right back.” She left the room, and Silas paused for a moment, trying to compr
ehend.

  He looked around the room. His clothes were nowhere in sight, but his pack and knife were visible on the floor by a cupboard. He climbed out of bed and slunk over to retrieve the pack, then scampered back to the bed and got under the sheet quickly. He sighed with relief at his success, then opened his pack and looked inside.

  A few items were inside the pack. At first glance, nothing was missing, but he really only saw his mirror fragment. He looked once at the door to make sure no one was coming, then he pulled the irregularly-shaped piece of glass out of his pack, flipped it over, and looked at it.

  The first thing he saw was the dressing room of Dianu, a room that was in the same building he was in. the room was empty, and Silas quickly flipped the mirror, then slid it back into his pack, before pulling it out again. He looked down, and saw that Jade was in profile, talking to another girl, a dark-haired young lady.

  Jade glanced towards the mirror, her eyes widened, and then she turned away, and pointed at the far wall, drawing the other woman’s attention away from the mirror.

  Silas wasn’t a welcome visitor at that moment, he could tell, and he slid the mirror back into his pack. He decided to leave it there; he didn’t want to bother looking at the depressing warehouse of armaments that he knew existed in Ivaric.

  The door opened, and Dianu backed in, carrying a tray. “But my lady, we can carry that for you,” he heard a maid’s voice protest before Dianu entered the room and deftly shut the door behind her with a kick of her foot as she walked to the bedside. She set the tray down on a table, then pulled her chair over.

  The food looked wholesome to Silas, if not appetizing. It was oatmeal, tea, and toast.

  “You’ll get better food later!” Dianu laughed as she read the expression of dismay on Silas’s face. “We just need to start you out simple – you haven’t eaten in three days or more.

  “Help yourself,” she told him. “I just want to examine you.” She reached down to the bedside floor and lifted a long, thin, polished wooden cone. As Silas began to take a bite of toast, she pulled his sheet down, then placed the wide end of the cone against his chest, and placed her own ear against the narrow end of the cone.

  “Stop chewing for a moment,” she ordered briskly, and Silas ceased to move his jaw, with a bite of dry toast resting on his tongue. Seconds later, Dianu lifted her head and the cone. “You can eat now,” she told him with a smile.

  Her fingers proceeded to trace the colorful scars that ran across his chest, and she momentarily touched his scar on his arm.

  “What are these?” she asked.

  “They match my eyes,” Silas answered as he swallowed his bite of toast. “They started happening after my eyes changed, after I was in the cave with all the fumes.” He held the piece of toast before his mouth, anxious to take another bite.

  “You go ahead and eat,” Dianu smiled prettily, sitting back in her chair. “My examination of you can wait a few minutes.”

  Silas gave an obligatory bob of his head in thanks, and began voraciously eating the toast once more. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was until he’d taken the first bite, and then he’d known that his body was ready to feast. He ate the toast and ate the oatmeal, then saw that Dianu was looking at him with an amused expression.

  He blurted out a comment, before he even knew he was going to say it, though he’d had some vague thoughts about the need to tell Dianu. “I can see your dressing room,” he told her, a serious expression on her face.

  She had a concerned expression on her face as she leaned in close to him, then placed her hand on his forehead once again.

  “I’m not sick; I’m not saying something from a fever. This is the truth. I have a magic mirror,” he sputtered. He had said what he hadn’t expected to say, he suddenly realized, and he grew embarrassed. His face grew red, and Dianu soothed his hair.

  “Tell me what hurts,” she encouraged him.

  Silas had opened the door to the topic, and couldn’t get out without telling her the truth, he realized. He leaned over and picked up his pack once again.

  “This is my mirror,” he told her as he pulled the piece of glass out of the leather container. “Look at it,” he told her. He flipped it over, and saw that the glass displayed the warehouse in the city of Eric, capital of Ivaric. There were no people present, no evidence of further arming of soldiers.

  “What is that?” Dianu was fascinated by the strange, floating image that was so clear, yet slightly transparent.

  “This is in Ivaric,” Silas began. “This mirror,” he raised the glass in his hands, “was one that was with me when my wagon fell into a cave, and the gasses covered everything.

  “These scars,” he gestured, “my eyes,” he gestured again, “and the mirrors all are part of the magic of the cave. Since then, this mirror that I carry can see this building in Ivaric,” he paused as he placed the mirror back in his pack and pulled it out again. Jade and the other woman were sitting with their backs to the mirror in the palace at Amenozume, “and this building,” he hastily pushed the mirror back before Dianu could touch it.

  “And now I can see in your dressing room,” when he pulled the mirror out once more, it showed the placid setting of the nearby room.

  “Oh, my word!” Dianu paled and looked at Silas with a horrified expression.

  “I’ve never seen you in the mirror. I’ve never tried to,” Silas quickly tried to calm her.

  “How could you sell that mirror to my husband, knowing that it would do this?” Dianu rose from her seat, angry.

  “I didn’t know! It was a surprise,” Silas told her. “I only saw your room once or twice after we sold you the mirror.

  “I don’t see from every mirror we sold,” he added. “It just seems to be the three biggest mirrors. There were four big ones in the wagon, but one broke,” he patted his pack that contained the fragment.

  “And what about those girls we saw in that other room, in Amenozume? Do you spy on them?” Dianu seemed slightly mollified.

  “No, never on purpose,” Silas answered. “One of them became my friend. We write notes to each other now.

  “I’m on my way to Amenozume to try to help her,” he added.

  “Because she told you in the mirror?” Dianu asked. “She has trouble?”

  Silas nodded his head.

  “What kind of trouble?” the lady asked, she was standing with her hands on the back of the seat now, no longer so intently hostile.

  “Her sister is being held in prison on false charges of smuggling pearls,” Silas answered.

  “Amenozume pearls are beautiful; I’d smuggle a few if I could,” Dianu gave a partial smile.

  “Mata wouldn’t do it. This is a set-up to make smuggling seem like a problem, so that Ivaric can send guards to the island,” Silas immediately countered.

  Dianu came around the chair and sat down. “You know this girl too? Mata? You believe she’s innocent?”

  “I’m sure she is,” Silas said decisively.

  Dianu sat silently, then seemed to bite off her next comment.

  “So you can see my dressing room; your mirror can show me?” she asked.

  “Would you like to go in there and see?” Silas asked.

  “Oh yes!” her eyes sparkled at the thought. “You stay right here,” she motioned as if she were telling a dog to remain in its spot, then she dashed out the door.

  Silas looked down at his mirror, and a moment later watched Dianu burst into the scene. She stood in front of the mirror, and looked up at a top corner. She clapped her hands with glee, then waved at Silas.

  “Can you hear me?” she asked, and the voice just barely traveled down the hall to reach him.

  “Not in the mirror,” he replied loudly. He watched her head cock to hear the sound of his voice, and then she smiled at him in the mirror, and left the mirror. Moments later she was back in the room, flush with excitement.

  “You go there now, and let me see you in the little mirror,” she directed.


  “I don’t have any clothes!” Silas protested. “And I’m still hungry,” he added an important afterthought.

  “I’ll get you some more food as soon as this is done,” Dianu shamelessly promised, forgetting her concern about his appetite just minutes before. “Just wrap up in your sheet and go to the dressing room,” she instructed crisply.

  “Here,” Silas was curious to see how the vision in the mirror would look compared to the view he had in his fragment, and he handed the fragment of glass to the lady, then put his feet on the ground as he pulled the sheet free from the bottom of the bed.

  “I want a big breakfast,” he confirmed as he walked out of the room, and down the hall. His legs were weak, he noticed, as he walked to an open door, then through it, and around a corner to return to the dressing room that he vaguely remembered seeing when the mirror had been installed, and which he had seen since in the mirror.

  And he found the mirror, centered as expected, on a wall of closets. It was a beautiful piece of furniture, with a gold gilt, elaborate frame around it.

  And up in the corner, he saw the clear, but slightly translucent face of Dianu, grinning at him from a portion of the silvered glass surface.

  “It works,” she said. “How fascinating,” Silas barely heard her voice as he watched her lips move.

  “I’m coming back now,” he called loudly. “I hope you’re ready for me,” he wanted his breakfast food to be ready as quickly as possible.

  He stepped out of the dressing room, wrapped in his sheet, and nearly ran into the Master Healer.

  “My lord, my apologies,” Silas stuttered, flummoxed by the unexpected encounter.

  “Why are you in my wife’s room with no clothes on?” the Master asked mildly. “Where is she?”

  “She’s in my bedroom, my lord,” Silas answered quickly. “We were just comparing the mirrors,” he began to explain, and then as soon as he did, wished he hadn’t mentioned the topic.

  “Silas, where are you?” Dianu’s voice trilled from her location down the hall.

  “My Lord Healer has arrived,” Silas spoke loudly.