The Ultimate Stonemage: A Modest Autobiography (19 page)

The next morning, my pot was discovered by a group of slaves. However, because I was now in a different part of the camp from the one where my pot had been placed on the fire, they did not realize what a treasure it contained.

I had hoped the slaves would try to open it by breaking the chains, which would have allowed me to escape at my leisure later on by removing the point bindings. Unfortunately, these were dim-witted slaves, and, after they realized the lid was chained shut, they merely ran a pole under the chains and carried it between them.

The army dispersed during the day. The force I was with belonged to the city of
Stanneck and was under the command of a general named
Picren. This city is not a part of
Manitario, but lies instead in the little bordering kingdom of
Saghena. However, kingdoms are as thick as curds in those parts, and if one of them decides to go to war with you, the others are quick to join the game. This, then, was why an army from Stanneck had been sent to aid the ruler of Manitario.

Now, Stanneck is many miles to the south and west of the marshes, so I travelled with this army for weeks. During the day, I remained quietly in the pot while they carried me, while at night I would roll around on quiet expeditions for food and water. The water was easy to come by, but food was much harder to find, for slaves and myrmidons eat very little, and what they call food provides no nourishment for a man, being such things as stewed acorns and pulped wood. One night I found a roast goose, though, which I pulled inside my pot and made to last several days.

You will perhaps wonder also how I was able to relieve myself during my imprisonment. Well, I will not explain the details, but I will say that, after some experimentation, I discovered an ingenious way whereby even this action could be accomplished with the greatest efficiency and a moderate degree of hygiene.

Finally, we arrived in Stanneck, and there was a great cheering from the crowds as their myrmidons returned home. Soon the slaves who carried me came to a stop and placed the pot upon the ground. At the first opportunity, I rolled the pot away into the streets.

After a short distance, I came upon a carpenter, sitting outside his shop, who was amazed to see this wonderful rolling pot. I called out to him, and said, “You there! Be so good as to remove the chains from this pot.”

He looked inside then, and, seeing there was a human face within, and not the form of some ghost or demon, he asked me, “How did you come to be inside this pot?”

I said, “It is a fascinating tale. I will tell you the story at length, if you will be so kind as to remove the chains.”

He said, “No, for I fear you have been placed in this pot as a just punishment, issued by some person of great rank. If I were to release you, that person might turn to me for retribution.”

I laughed at this, and said, “You are quite wrong. I placed myself in this pot, and gave orders it should be sealed securely with chains.”

“Why did you do this?” he asked.

I responded, with great honesty, “I did so for my own safety, for it seemed to me at the time that within this pot I might be safe from the dangers of the world, and yet, by means of this gap beneath the lid, still be able to observe, listen, and talk.”

He said, “Do you truly feel the world to be so dangerous a place?”

I said, “Yes surely, for every day men and women are killed by various means, both accidental and malicious, and yet if they were securely sealed in a pot, such as I am here, many of these unfortunate deaths might be prevented.”

“Ah, that is very true,” he said. “And the terrible massacres carried out in the towns and cities of Manitario give weight to your convictions.”

I was worried to hear this, for I did not realize the region to be so dangerous a place, and so I asked him, “What massacres are these?”

“A mad archbishop, by the name of Yreth, waged terrible war against innocent folk,” said the man. “His army numbered fifty thousand, and all the brave myrmidons of the Plains were sent against him.”

Well, as you may imagine, I chuckled to hear how the facts had been turned around. Then, so he might not grow suspicious of me, I said, “I was laughing as I thought upon that strange name of ‘Yreth.’ I certainly would never go by such a name, for my name is
Glissa.” And this was no lie, for Glissa is my peace-name.

He told me his name was
Otter, like the animal, although he looked little enough like one, for an otter is lithe and graceful, whereas this man was lumbering and fat. Then he called over a myrmidon who was sitting in his shop, took a hammer, chisel, and crowbar, and, with the myrmidon’s help, set to work removing the metal bands holding the chains in place. When he was done, I climbed out of the pot (with some effort, for my legs were weak from my confinement), gathered together those of my possessions which remained in the pot, and wished him good day.

He asked, “But will you not take your protective pot?”

I told him he might keep it, and he expressed his gratitude for the gift. It was a good pot, you see, and worth an arran or so, though I, for my part, was glad to be rid of it, for I had spent enough time in its company.

The Eleventh Part

In Which, Through The Use Of An Entertaining Dialogue, I Describe Various Aspects Of The City Of Stanneck

I wandered Stanneck for a
time, enjoying its sights and sounds. It is a wonderful city, to be sure, and there is so much to see there that, rather than merely describing it, I will instead take you on a tour of the place now, so it will seem to you that you are walking on those very streets, just as I was, and you and I are talking as we explore the city together.

I will do this through the use of a Dialogue, for all the experts agree a Dialogue is an excellent means of narrative, as well as being an entertaining way of conveying all manner of important facts. Remember, though, although I describe Stanneck now using a Dialogue, I actually explored the place alone, and silently.

But hush! Let us now listen to the chat as you and I explore the byways of Stanneck together.

You:
Friend Yreth, there are all manner of things you may see in Stanneck.

Yreth:
Yes. There is a good arena for dog fights, and several large markets. There are many fine buildings, too.

You:
I see there are countless domes (by which I mean
abber domes, not pinnacled domes) decorated with gold and silver and coloured enamels of all kinds.

Yreth:
Yes, and you will see the towers are very grand, although they are not quite so tall as you will generally find in the larger cities of Europe.

You:
Indeed, even the tallest of these is twenty measures short of the celebrated
Hen Tower at Bedea.

Yreth:
I will tell you the reason for this, for it will surely astonish you. You see, the stonemages of the American plains eschew the cross binding, depending instead upon the ring binding as their principal tool!

You:
Amazing. And what kind of cross-section does this technique bring forth in buildings?

Yreth:
Why, buildings with a circular cross-section.

You:
And will their walls stand firm against both ram and rocket?

Yreth:
Yes, surely.

You:
I can see their stonemages are masters of piping and shell-scooping, and their choice in matters of jewelling and colour is very refined, even to those of excellent tastes, like you, my friend Yreth.

Yreth:
You are too kind. And you are right, too, for these shapes and colours are very much to my liking.

You:
Clearly, Stanneck is a huge city, and a prosperous one. But tell me, what is that river I see, upon which the city lies? Could it be the
river Demiak, a vast waterway, which connects the city to the
Bay of Beans a thousand miles to the south, and, beyond, the great continent of
Tara and the
kingdom of Brazil?

Yreth:
It is the same. A great many trading ships travel up and down that waterway, bringing many goods to Stanneck.

You:
From the city’s pleasant setting, I speculate it also lies on one of the important overland trade routes, leading both west to
Great Tasker, and also east, to
Ramport.

Yreth:
Your speculations are precise, to the last detail. And, as you may also suppose, such a quantity of trade going back and forth means all manner of merchandise is available here, and at good cheap prices, too.

You:
I see a simple merchantwoman there, standing at her stall. Let us see what she has for sale.

Yreth:
A good plan indeed. Sa! You woman there! Tell us what you have for sale.

Merchantwoman:
Gladly, good master. I have clothes and fabrics; spices; carpets and tapestries; rare oils and medicines; spheres, roots and amulets; needles in wooden cases; gar nuts and white nuts; wheat, barley, lurk and trundle; silver in both raw and crafted form; incense and steams; red peppers, green peppers, pale peppers; laughleaf; dark sugar; more than eighty types of wax; timber of all descriptions; inks of various types; coconut; white raspberry and other fruit cheeses; limpets, sweetsnake, cod and flounder; poultry and rabbit; a vast array of fruits, including apples, honey apples, and sours; fine wines and ales; horses, cattle, pigs, monkeys and other edible livestock; ancient artefacts and statues; and an impressive assortment of fine books and papers.

Yreth:
I see you also sell slaves of excellent quality, and all types of myrmidons, which are sold for just a small fraction of their price in the markets of Cyprus, for these myrmidons are freshly taken in Tara, and transported north, directly to Stanneck, where they are trained.

Merchantwoman:
And if you do not wish to pay for a trained myrmidon, why then, you may save yourself more money still, for, if you go to the training farms, just outside of the city, the trainers there will be happy to sell you a wild myrmidon, which you may train for yourself if you have the talent.

You:
Thank you, good merchantwoman. But tell me, Yreth, is not the ownership of myrmidons a privilege granted only to nobles, as it is in the east?

Yreth:
Indeed no. In fact, quite the reverse is true, for, here in the Kingdom of
Saghena, the ownership of myrmidons is considered a civic duty. See there, an ordinary tradesman goes about his day’s work. Clearly, he is not a rich man, but he has two myrmidons following him about. Let us strike up a conversation with this fellow. Sir, I see you have two myrmidons there. Are they your own?

Merchant:
They are, yes. These two fellows give me solid protection, you may be certain, and they also carry my tools. Here in Stanneck, there is hardly a family which does not have a myrmidon or two to its name, and wealthy families may have dozens of myrmidons which are put to work in the garden, or around the house, just like slaves. During wartime, though, every family sends its myrmidons off to be a part of the city’s army, which, in total, numbers countless thousands.

You:
What a fascinating town this is, to be sure. There are so many things to see and to buy. I think I will now go off on my own, and leave you to your adventures here, good Yreth.

Yreth:
May good luck follow you, and goodbye.

More Of The Eleventh Part

In Which I Describe Several Events And Encounters, Some Of Them Good And Others Bad

When I saw the buildings
of Stanneck, it filled me with a powerful urge to practise my arts once more, and to build some magnificent structure or other, so the local stonemages might see how tall a tower might go, and how quickly it may rise, when it is built with cross-bindings.

I decided to seek out a patron who would pay me to build a great tower. I had no particular plan in mind, except the tower would be very tall, at least a third again as tall as the tallest tower in Stanneck. Nobles and wealthy persons love to pay for such great structures as these, you see.

After several weeks in a pot, though, I was in no state to present myself to a person of quality. My robes were shabby, and torn in places. They also had black stains from the inside of the pot.

Alas, I had no money to replace these clothes, because all the gold I had accumulated earlier was placed into the care of my myrmidons, securely strapped to their backs for protection. After my army was defeated in battle, the enemy wasted no time in picking off all my hard-won wealth and taking it for their own

(Of course, you will remember, too, I still had my ship, which held great wealth and slaves and a few myrmidons. However, it was far away, out at sea at that time, and could be of little help to me here. But do not forget the ship, for it plays an important part in my story later on.)

Nevertheless, I was not a complete pauper, for I still carried a few valuable jewels on my person. I had some fine rings, and a gold bracelet, and a golden cloak clasp with an emerald in the centre, and some gold buckles on my boots. I decided I would sell these valuable items and use the money to buy some fine new clothes to impress a patron.

I searched around the city for a while, looking for an honest goldsmith. When I found one, I exchanged my jewels for gold coins, thirty arrans in all—and you may be sure this was a good price, for I am a shrewd bargainer.

Next, I found a tailor’s shop where the stuff was very thick, and I said to the fellow there, “Take a look at this fat purse full of gold arrans. Now you can see I am a man of means and power, give me the finest set of clothes you can make. Let them be such things as a true gentleman might wear, not an upstart, and do not try to furrow me with old clothes which some other customer has sold you.”

“Oh, I would not do that, sir,” he said.

“You are a liar,” I replied, “for there is not a tailor in all the world who does not try to sell rags as silk.”

He laughed then, and said, “You are very perceptive and worldwise. And because you are shrewd in the ways of tailoring, and not to be tricked or swindled, you may be sure I will treat you well, and will give you a very fine set of clothes indeed.”

Then he said, “I have a thought.” He pulled a fine costume from his closet, then whispered to me, “This costume was made for none other than
Matroy,
the king of Saghena. It looks as if it will fit you well. Why not try it on, just for the merriment of it.”

Well, I tried the outfit, and it suited me very well indeed. It had a black tunic, with red and purple duffs, and a green leather hat, with gold around the brim, just like the wealthy and eminent persons of those parts wear.

The tailor gasped as he saw how perfectly it fitted me. I said it was a pity these clothes had been bought by the king, for they looked most flattering on me.

“You are right,” he said. “Indeed, these fine clothes suit you so very well I think I will let you buy them, if you so wish, for you have a discerning eye and a good understanding of this business, and I know you will appreciate these clothes far better than the king.”

Then I asked, “Will this not make the king angry at you?”

He said, “Yes, it will indeed. But I will give him some excuse or other, for I delight in vexing him. He dares not injure me, you see, for I am the finest tailor in all of
Saghena, and he comes to me three times a week for clothes and such.”

Well, this was a tempting offer, as you may imagine. I asked him the price then, and he said, “The king said he would pay me one hundred arrans for these clothes, and they are worth every part of that sum. However, because you show such discrimination towards my art, I feel inclined to make you a gift of them, in exchange for a token sum, let us say, six arrans.”

Six arrans is a great deal of money, of course, but when it is in payment for clothing worth one hundred arrans, it is well worth the paying. I handed him the gold on the spot, and I left the shop looking every part the wealthy gentleman of Saghena. Then I looked at the clothing of those around me with a keen new eye, and I quickly saw how bright and colourful my clothes seemed, compared to the inferior garments of Stanneck’s other inhabitants.

You can see, then, how important it is to be frank yet friendly with such people as tailors, and to have a little knowledge of how they do their trade, for in that way you can avoid being cheated and instead receive excellent goods at bargain prices.

To complete my outfit, I bought myself a
slyte, which is a weapon gentlemen carry in that region. It is like a stiff whip, eight or nine feet in length. At its tip is a tiny blade, called a nugget, which is like a miniature axe blade, and is no more than two inches long. I know it does not sound a very formidable weapon, but in the hands of an expert it is lethal indeed, and can easily crack open the skull of a myrmidon.

For myself, I carried the slyte only for the sake of appearance, and, like many well dressed gentlemen, I walked the street with the whip part folded over double, so I might use it as a walking stick. Still, although I never learned the proper use of the weapon, I dare say I could have done so easily enough, if I had been inclined. In fact, I am sure just a little training would quickly have made me a master of the slyte, and I would have been able to perform the many tricks people do with it, such as flicking fruit from a tree, or chopping a man’s beard, or killing a lucifer beetle in flight.

For my defence, I bought a very fine new throwing-razor, with a silver handle and an ornamented blade. I kept this in my other boot, so I now had two throwing-razors at my disposal. I planned to use the old steel weapon for killing thieves and scoundrels, and the new silver one for killing enemies of higher rank.

Next, I paid for a room at a good inn,
The Horse
, and I treated myself to a large supper, then socialized with the various patrons of the inn. This was an expensive inn; many of the patrons were lords or wealthy merchants, and everybody there was exceedingly refined. So, while it was an inn by name, its atmosphere was closer to the court of some king or emperor.

I talked with one man—his name was
Travyn Horne, and he was a sheinor, which is something like an earl. We talked a little about the towers in the city, and the various heights of them, and then he asked me if I was a merchant.

I said, “No, I am a stonemage.”

He said, “A stonemage, is it? Peh peh peh.”

I said, “What do you mean by saying ‘peh peh peh’?”

He said then, “Oh, no insult, surely. It is clear from your face and your voice you are from some far land, and I am certain, in that place, the occupation of stonemage is held in high regard.”

I said, “That is so. It is an honourable profession, and a well paid one, too.”

“In these parts,” he said, “we look down a little on our stonemages, for they do not accumulate riches as our merchants do. Indeed, if I wore your boots, and was a wealthy stonemage coming to Stanneck, I would abandon my craft altogether and turn my hand to the pursuit of gold through trade, for it is in that direction a person may gain fame and prominence and wealth for himself, and there is no better place than Stanneck to do it. You can live a good life here if you have plenty of gold to spend.”

I saw at once he was right, and I would be a fool to return to building work when I might easily make a fortune as a merchant.

An ominous voice seemed to speak in my head, though, saying, “Do not listen to this man’s words, Yreth. You have another path to follow. Remember, you cannot serve both God and Gold.”

But I was caught up in my dreams of wealth, for having tasted some of the luxuries it bought, I thought it would be a very fine thing indeed to be a wealthy merchant. So, I ignored my wise inner voice, and I resolved that very moment to follow this excellent lord’s advice, and to turn my ambition from the building of a tower to the building of a great fortune. I told myself that, if I became very wealthy, I might even buy myself a new army here, and, when I was ready, I would take it back to
Cyprus to aid the
Duke of Oaster. Deep in my heart, though, I knew I desired gold for gold’s sake, and no good will ever come of that, as any person of morals will tell you.

Over the next few days, I looked around the markets with a new eye, searching for a bargain I might buy at a low price, then quickly sell again for a high one. This, you see, is the essence of the merchant’s art, and I calculated, by doing this repeatedly, I could quickly parlay my small fortune into a very large one.

Now, as I crossed the numerous bridges of the city and wandered the various markets, I came upon a group of men playing a curious game. Here was how it worked. One man, who was clearly very rich, sat at a bench in the centre, clutching three wooden sticks. In clear view, he placed a metal pin into the end of one of the sticks, then closed his hand around the sticks at that end, so the pin was hidden. Next, he shuffled the sticks around a little, and the men standing around placed bets on which stick contained the pin. After the bets were placed, he pulled the sticks from his hand one by one, so all might see where the pin lay. Now, as I stood there, the man in the centre called out to me, asking if I wished to play.

I said, “I prefer to watch, for the present, so I might see how the game is played.”

He said, “Gladly, friend. Watch to your heart’s content. And if you wish to place a wager, why, just say, for you may do so at any time.”

Well, I watched the game for a time, trying to figure for myself which stick held the pin. On every round, I was able to guess correctly, for the shuffling of the sticks was easy to follow. Yet the other fellows there seemed to have a hard time of it and always picked the wrong stick.

After watching this for a short while, I became frustrated at the poor play of these unfortunate dolts. One fellow was about to place his money on the leftmost stick when it was clear to me the pin was in the centre stick.

I said to him, “Sir, you would be wise to choose the stick in the centre.”

He considered this a little, then said, “No, no, I feel it is on the left this time.”

I said, “Hear my advice. I have a keen eye for this game, whereas you have lost repeatedly.”

He replied, rather insolently, “Then place your own wager.”

“Not just yet,” I replied, and I continued to watch the progress of the game. Well, of course, the pin was within the centre stick, just as I had said, and the dolt lost his bet.

At this point, suspicion began to scratch at my shoulder. I said to myself, “How do these fools have so much money to bet upon a game such as this? And why is it that this ignorant fellow, on receiving the advice of one who is dressed very much better than he, and who is clearly very much wiser than he, should ignore that advice and go his own foolish way? It does not make sense.

Then I realized there was trickery going on here. These players, I instantly saw, were in the employ of the man holding the sticks, their purpose being to lure innocent dupes into playing his game. I have heard of such swindles—games and challenges which seem easy at first, but which, when the unwary traveller places his bet, suddenly take on a new level of difficulty.

I thought to myself then, “Ah, walk away from this game, and give it no further heed.” And indeed, I was about to do so, but something held me back. I seemed to hear God speaking to me saying, “No, Yreth, stay and play this game. Use your sharp wits and your cleverness to swindle these swindlers, and punish them for their deceptive ways.”

And so I did not leave, but stayed, carefully watching the next shuffle of the sticks. It was an easy one, so I turned to the man with the sticks and said, “Very well, I will play.” Then I drew out a small sum, just a few Saghenian grotecs, and I tossed them into the pot, saying, “I will wager these upon the centre stick.”

Of course, the pin was within the centre stick, just as I had said, and I instantly doubled my money. You may be certain those other players acted as if they were very much impressed by my skill, and they tried to tempt me to play on, saying perhaps it was the luck of the novice, and I should play again, betting all my winnings and a little more besides.

I pretended I was taken in by their words, and I made more wagers, increasing the amount of my bets by a little each time, but still keeping my bets very small. Of course, each time I played, I won, for the game was still very easy. The other players laughed and slapped me on the back, saying I was an excellent fellow to win so much off old
Capper (which was the name of the man with the sticks).

“It warms my heart to see you win,” said one, “for I have lost great sums to Capper in the past, but now I see he is getting a taste of his own pie.”

I said, “I am sure you are pleased indeed. But watch on, for I plan to win much more.”

When Capper heard this, he gave a groan and pulled at his hair, pretending he did not like to play the game against such an opponent as me.

I played some more, and won some more, and then Capper said he had lost enough and wanted to go home for the day. Of course, I did not believe this, for I knew he wanted to trick me into placing a large bet.

All the other players said he must not end the game so soon. Those sly rogues pretended to plead on my behalf, saying, “You were willing enough to stay while you were taking our money. Now you must stay while this gentleman takes yours.”

“No no,” said Capper. “I have had enough. I will play only one more round.” Then he placed the pin one last time, and shuffled the sticks once more, while I watched very carefully. This shuffle was cleverer than the ones which had gone before, and the movements of Capper’s fingers were more deft.