The Rings of Poseidon (20 page)

Alicia was insistent that all was now well,
but she did agree to rest for a while in her room, and went with
Gill to the caravan. Frank said he would take charge temporarily
and left with the Professor. They set out across the field
discussing how many houses there would be altogether in the Scad
Head settlement.

"If the passage bends back towards the sea,"
said Frank, "there would be room for another six on top of what
we've uncovered so far."

"There might be an animal stall back there,"
said the Professor. "You haven't come across one yet, but I think
they must have had one."

As they went out of earshot, Steve poured
himself some tea rather than waste the rest of what he had brewed
for Alicia. He was just about to drink it when Gill came in.

"'Strewth I need a cup of tea," she said, and
helped herself to Steve's. She took a sip and added: "What was
Alicia doing just before she fainted?"

"Showing the Professor some pictures of the
skeleton with the ring," said Steve. "They're still out."

He collected together the photos and put them
back in the wallet.

"What's the ring doing out?" asked Gill.

"The Professor was looking at it."

"Before or after looking at the
pictures?"

Steve wondered where the inquisition was
leading. "After," he said.

"Hmm. And what was Alicia doing while the
Professor looked at the ring?"

"Looking at the Professor."

"And she fainted. Just like that?"

"Wham," said Steve. "Just like that."

Gill paused, part puzzled, part pensive, all
her newly-found psychic faculties alert and tingling. "How did the
Professor seem?"

"Pleased. He seemed to think the ring was a
valuable find or, at least, an important one. He wants to take it
back to the University for safe keeping."

"Does he now! I remember you predicting that
he would. Oh well, I'd better get back to work."

She turned to go, but stopped at the door and
said cryptically, "It may prove just as well I have the amulet, but
don't mention it to anyone." With that she left.

The excavation stopped work late and the
Professor did not stay to eat, saying he would find a room and eat
at the hotel in Linksness. He was adamant and left with the car.
Alicia came out of her room for the meal and, apart from her
quietness and a lack of appetite, seemed none the worse for having
fainted.

We're still making good progress," Frank
reported to her, "but nothing spectacular and no new sign of
habitation." Alicia only nodded.

"I gather Professor Harrington wants to take
the ring back to Warwick," said Manjy. "I think Alan ought to try
it while we have the chance."

"Well, he's the only one connected with the
University team who hasn't tried it yet." Frank agreed.

"Shall I fetch him?" asked Gill.

Alicia nodded again, so she went to fetch
him. She returned shortly followed by Alan, with Carol, one of the
volunteers, in tow.

"What's this all about?" Alan asked.

"Professor Harrington wants to take the ring
back to the University with him," said Steve. "You'll have to try
it to-night or not at all."

"Does he?" said Alan. "Well, I suppose I may
as well give it a go." He sat himself down at the table. "It's okay
if Carol stays?" he asked.

Everybody looked at Alicia, but she just
shrugged.

"Stay for what," asked Carol.

"If it goes as we expect you'll know the
answer in a minute," Gill answered, and she had to be content with
that reply.

Manjy, Gill and Alicia already sat at the
table. Carol joined them and Steve stood watching, tea towel in
hand.

"All right," said Alan and Gill handed him
the ring. He studied it much as the others had done, but there was
little to see. It was too tight for his third finger, though his
hands were slim for a man and rather long, so he slipped it on his
little finger.

Chapter 17

I am - was - probably the best smithy and
metalworker in the whole of Atl-Andes. There may be the odd one as
good as me, I suppose, but none better. I'm not a young man any
more and I've worked in metals all my life, and it's thirty summers
or more since I began my apprenticeship.

I started the usual way, casting the rough
blocks of metal into the blades of swords, for the hands of the
more expert craftsmen, who heated and hammered them into shape, so
that the metal took an edge. I began in this way because my master
worked for the priest-kings and their army, though the work was
neither urgent nor heavy. There had been long years of peace and
the army was not large. There was settlement both on the near
continent and across the true ocean and settlers had clashed with
those tribes which hunted where they settled, but nothing
serious.

As I became a more expert craftsman myself I
began to specialise in finer work. I set up alone, making lamps for
homes and temples, thuribles and containers for incense, carefully
hammered into shape and delicately decorated. I even made ornate
mountings for the crystals the priests have on their staffs and
jewellery of every kind.

In later years I have had time to experiment
with other rocks, heating them and noting the effects. The ones
that melted easily I tried mixing and working. I found some which
were too soft for swords but good for jewellery; some I decorated
with painted clay or oricalcum and heated and others were very
tough and took a fine edge. I never had a mate. I lived alone and
metals were my life and my hobby - I think that's why I became so
skilled.

So how does an established, skilled,
respected craftsman like me become a wanted man, hunted in the city
and forced to flee for safety across the true ocean? Well, I'll
tell you.

The first time I met the man who was
eventually going to be high priest, he came to me for a knife. He
wanted an elaborate and ornamental dagger and he wanted me to make
it for him. There was no reason why I should hesitate, but I didn't
like it. I was rich enough to have refused any commission I didn't
wish to take, but there was no reason to refuse that I could
explain to you. I put my misgivings down to an unreasoning dislike
of the task caused by an unworthy dislike of the man.

He wanted a bronze blade about one and a half
hands long, with a point and a good cutting edge - straightforward
- any fool could have made him that, but the hilt was to be of gold
in the shape of a wyvern's foot, leg and claws. It was not a pretty
thing and I didn't see why he needed it, but I made it. I crafted
every scale of the leg and the talons reached out to grip the
bronze blade. Deadly and beautifully made, though not itself
beautiful, as I said before. There's no way you can call an
interpretation of a monster 'beautiful', however skilfully it may
be executed. He was pleased with it too, which may be a pity, as
you will understand in good time.

Like most people I heard the talk that they
were sacrificing humans but, unlike most, I noticed signs that
other changes were taking place. I knew there were more weapons of
all sorts being made and that many more smiths were being used to
supply the growing needs of the priests and their army. More
swords, daggers, spears and helmets were being made. Only a much
larger army could need so many weapons. More knives were being made
too. It seemed that every priest needed one. The old priest-king
was ailing, but I don't think that was the cause of the changes I
saw and brooded over.

Now don't get the idea that I saw straight
away that the new man had ambitions. I wakened but slowly to what
was happening and I'm not a natural agitator or thinker. I was
uneasy with the rumours and unhappy with the growth of the army and
the number of weapons, but that's all.

When I got a big commission to prepare seven
rings, seven masks, seven wyvern's foot daggers and a talisman, I
was satisfied with the tribute to my skill that the task implied,
and gave little thought as to what the work itself meant. Well, not
at first I didn't.

The masks were straightforward enough, though
I wasn't at all sure I liked the final design. My first drawings
were not ... not what? Not 'fierce' enough was what 'they' said. It
took four attempts and 'their' own artistry before I had an
acceptable design to work on.

It was commission ordered by the priests -
the high priest even - but secular intermediaries had approached me
and were still my contacts. It was pretended that the work was
intended for an anonymous customer but I knew well enough that my
clients were priests.

Anyway, the resulting design was not so much
fierce as evil. I first hammered the metal and then shaped the
monstrous features, overlaid them with colour and finally baked the
result. Those masks were for priests right enough, and I knew what
they intended to do when they wore them. I made the knives next.
Beautifully made but filthy weapons. I was not proud of the
work.

Lastly I turned to the rings and the
talisman. In the first place I had to forge the rings and talisman
from a single casting of ore - and they gave the ore to me. This
was a little unusual, but it was their commission. In the second
place, I had to make them at certain configurations of the stars.
That too was unusual, but by no means unheard of when items are
made for sacred use. And then my contact told me that the high
priest himself would stand over me and take the rings for
consecration before I coated them and fired them again. The same
with the talisman. I was not surprised. I had always thought it was
a priestly commission that I undertook.

When the appointed time came, the high priest
entered my forge. I was surprised and yet not surprised to see the
same little man that I had seen before when I made the wyvern's
foot knife for him. I told you he was ambitious, and his success in
gaining power could explain a lot. It could explain the rumours for
one thing.

He threw incense on the charcoal before I
forged the rings, so that the air itself was pungent and heavy; he
added something to the water I used to cool them, making it spicy
and scented; he produced something dark and earthy to dip them in
after I had cooled them in water. Finally he drew shapes and
patterns in the air over the completed rings, so that a draft
finished the cooling.

One of the rings was to have a stone. I made
the setting from a description, without having seen the stone
itself. When I did, you could have floored me. It was the crystal
of the priest-kings and I couldn't see how he had been able to get
his hands on it while the old king lived. It hung - or was supposed
to hang - on a thong around the neck of the ruler. Well, here it
was!

After he had consecrated each ring I coated
and fired them in the usual manner - and he sat there until they
were cool enough to carry away with him. By the time he left the
forge the first light of dawn was already breaking, the stars were
fading and you could no longer see the glow at the distant mountain
top.

It seemed like the next day when there came a
knocking at the door, though it was not much later the same
morning. I went yawning and rubbing my eyes to answer it, pulled
back the bolt and opened up to see who wanted my services so
urgently. Sunlight streamed in and I blinked in the glare, but I
recognised the caller - an old priest called Tagg-Andes. He fussed
about a repair to a knife. It was an old thing coming loose at the
hilt and wasn't really worth repairing. It wasn't until I had
heated up the charcoal in the forge that I realised he hadn't
really come about the knife.

"The high priest came to you with a job of
work he wished you to do?" asked the old man.

"Yes."

"He asked you to make seven rings and a
talisman?"

"Among other things."

"And he had a stone he wished you to set in
one of the rings?"

"He did."

"Did you see the stone?"

I didn't say anything for a while, then I
said cautiously, "I saw a large crystal. Almost too large to set,
but I managed. It wasn't easy. A lot of craftsmen would have
failed."

The old priest nodded slowly and sighed.
"That man has overstepped himself and will have to be stopped." He
paused, then added, "You know, of course, that he would not let
anyone see the crystal and live."

I did see that, though it hadn't occurred to
me before. I gave him his knife and shrugged.

"I've had a satisfactory life. If he kills me
now it will not be as long as I expected, but it's been
satisfactory."

Tagg-Andes shook his head. "You must escape
and fight," he said. "I wouldn't wish to see your life blood
flowing to further his ends. Leave now and find yourself work in
one of the settlements."

He picked up the dagger and left, shutting
the door behind him.

I thought hard about it, not taking much
time. Tagg-Andes was right. I passed into the living area behind
the forge. I bundled up a change of clothes and the ready gold and
oricalcum I had, along with a few tools. I put on a cloak and went
back into my workshop. There I buckled on a sword, stuck a dagger
in my belt and left, looking with caution from the door before I
went out into the street.

There were a few people in the street but
nobody paying any attention to my forge. The street itself was four
strides wide and laid with flat stones and lined here with little
craft workshops like mine, one floor high, made of mud and straw
baked in the sun and whitened with a wash of lime. The roofs were
slanted brownish clay tiles.

I walked quickly down the street, still
thinking hard. The island was more than twenty days hard ride in
length and more than ten days ride in breadth. The northern end of
it was mountainous and desolate and it might be possible to hide
there. There must be the wherewithal to build a shelter, but
whether food was to be had I doubted. Over most of the island there
were farms and villages, along with two more substantial towns and
several temples. If I were to stay anywhere on the island, other
than in the remotest mountains, I would be easy prey to a
determined search.