The Ultimate Stonemage: A Modest Autobiography (22 page)

There were roses growing on the wall of the tower, and the skeleton picked one of these flowers, then threw it to the ground. At once, the rose changed to a floating shell, and the skeleton stepped on and flew up to the window of the tower. Then the princess stepped out of the window onto the floating shell, and they flew to a distant cave.

When the king saw what had happened, he waved his arms, summoning six huge bats, and, by means of further gestures, he ordered the bats to seek the lovers out and kill them both.

I do not think I need to tell more of this story, for I am sure you have already recognized it as the story of
Addo and Corithane. The illusion continued to follow the plot exactly, except Addo, instead of being a handsome youth, appeared as a vile skeleton. This made no sense, of course, for why should Corithane fall in love with a skeleton? And, for that matter, why should a skeleton wander freely in the marketplace without the common folk screaming and running in fear?

What is worse, there is one part in the story where Corithane places an enchanted lotion upon Addo’s ears, so he will not hear the death-wail of the witch, but in this rendition of the story, she placed it upon the sides of the skull, for the skeleton, being a creature of all bones, had no ears.

The scenes of their lovemaking were unsatisfactory, and a little gruesome. But as to the rest, it was very entertaining all in all, particularly the fights, and I was generally able to put out of my mind that Addo was a skeleton and imagine he was the attractive lad who had won the princess’s heart.

In total, the spectacle lasted the best part of an hour. Clearly, the illusionist had merely taken the standard pattern for casting the story, and added a skeleton so it might frighten me. I am sure he did not suspect I knew the story, because there are no illusion houses in America (or at least, none I ever came across) and neither are any of
Obic’s tales known there. I deduced, then, that the sorcerer who sought in vain to torment me was from the east, like me.

If you remember the end of the story, you will recall that Addo is killed by a poisonous arrow, and then Corithane weeps over his body, and, as her tears fall onto him, he is suddenly transformed into ten thousand butterflies, which lift her away. Now, this last part did not happen in the illusion I saw in my room. Addo was struck by the arrow and fell, and then Corithane wept over him, but at that point the illusion ended, for I suppose the wizard did not think the sight of a skeleton turning to ten thousand colourful butterflies would be a frightening thing to leave me with.

I was annoyed at this, though, and I rose from my bed and looked out of my window, shouting, “What about the butterflies?”

Then, from down below, I heard a frustrated and angry scream, and a voice shouted out, “Here are your accursed butterflies!” And with that, a large clod of dry earth came flying at me and hit me in the forehead in a painful way.

I determined not to open my window to any more globes on the following nights, but, as luck would have it, no more globes came, so it seemed the sorcerer and I had reached some sort of agreement, for he knew now that I was not the kind of man who might be terrified into leaving the city. I imagine the sorcerer’s failed endeavours must have cost the joiners a fat purse though, for the casting of such illusions as I saw is an expensive business.

About a week later, the joiners tried to kill me. It was late at night, and I woke to hear a grating sound at my window. When I went to look, I saw a man, all in green, and with a large metal cutting disk strapped to his back. He was standing on the ledge, slowly waving his arms to indicate I should open the window.

I guessed he had thought to disguise himself as one of the wizard’s globes, so I would open the window and let him into my room, thinking I had let an illusion in, whereas he was actually a murderer.

Of course, a man in green smear with a metal disk upon his back looks nothing like a shining illusory globe, and the joiners were fools for thinking I, or any person with eyes to see with, would be tricked by this disguise.

In any case, it was this fellow, not I, who soon fell victim to trickery, for I leaned forward, as if I would open the window on the right, but instead I unlatched the window on the left, which he stood directly behind, then I pushed it open with such force that he tumbled from the ledge and fell to the ground, where he lay dead of a broken neck.

After that, the joiners did not dare to attack me physically, and instead they spread malicious rumours about me, which harmed my business.

The first I heard of this was when one of my customers, a very wealthy man named
Bariah, came to me with a little tree carved from moonstone. I recognized this tree, for I had repaired it some weeks earlier with my novel techniques, using bindings powerful enough to hold up a building, yet intricately cast over a tiny area to form an invisible and indestructible repair.

I said to him, “What, is there an imperfection? Would you like me to strengthen the bindings still further?”

He said, “No, indeed. I would like you to remove the bindings you first placed upon this carving.”

I was mystified at this, and said, “If I remove the bindings, the carving will fall into broken pieces once more.”

He said, “That is what I wish, for I will then take it to a true joiner, who will mend it in the correct manner.”

I said, “What do you mean by this? A fool could see the repair is already perfect. Why do you wish to undo this beautiful work and to squander your gold upon some inferior craftsman?”

He said, “I have heard that small objects repaired by you have a habit of exploding with great violence.”

I laughed at this, saying, “That is not so.”

“Indeed it is,” he said. “My good friend
Irech Ven brought you a bowl to repair, and a few days ago it exploded, injuring his wife’s arm. Also, I have heard a precious brooch which you repaired for
Teal the Trainer exploded so violently it took down one of the walls of his house.”

The truth of this was immediately evident to me, and I told him so. “These explosions are not the result of poor craftsmanship,” I said, “but of a terrible hatred which is levelled against me.”

Then I explained how desperately the other menders and joiners wished me to leave the city. Now it seemed they were creeping into houses, under cover of darkness, and placing explosives near those objects which I had repaired so my reputation might be harmed.

Well, this put his mind at ease a little. But then he said, “How do you explain that other items repaired by you, which are worn upon the person, such as rings and clothing, cause welts and blisters to appear beneath the places where the repairs were done?”

I told him, “It is true that contact with powerful bindings can sometimes cause a tingling sensation (and anyone who has accidentally leaned against the wall of some great building only to find his back is against the principal bindings will immediately attest to this), but I have never heard of it causing welts and blisters. If these symptoms are as you have stated, it can only be that the menders and joiners, in their mindless hatred for me, persecute my customers by coming to them in the night and secretly placing caustic substances upon their skin.”

He said then, to my great dissatisfaction, “If their hatred for you is as strong as you say, and their ability at committing violence by stealth is so cultivated, then I am by no means sure I wish to side with you in your feud against them.”

At length, though, I persuaded him. I said, “What, you are afraid of menders? Tell the myrmidons of your house to keep special vigilance for intruders, and no harm will come to you.”

He left satisfied. Unfortunately, the fellow did not heed my advice, and a few days later I heard that a great explosion had toppled his house, burying him beneath it.

My business suffered sorely in the next few weeks, and rumours persisted that my repairs were dangerous to person and property. Those devils the joiners were busy, too, exploding valuable objects I had repaired, and applying caustic substances to the skin of men, women, and even children, just so people would think my repairs were at fault.

I did not know what to do to improve my trade. I considered killing all the other menders and joiners, but there were a great many of them, and most had myrmidons to protect them.

Of course, I might have bought myself some more myrmidons and set them upon my enemies, but, quite honestly, I had taken my fill of leading myrmidons about and having them follow me everywhere. Besides, I had an ally far more powerful than any myrmidon, this being my old friend God, and, one morning, I decided to go to the church, to call upon His aid.

Now, as I entered the place, I surprised two rogues, dressed all in rags, who were kneeling down at the front. When they saw me, they ran out through the rear door.

I walked up to where they had been kneeling, and I saw they had been performing a ritual there, for there was blood upon the floor, and a dead shrew, and pine needles, and dozens of small white stones, arranged in a circle. In the centre of a circle was a human hand, cut off at the wrist and covered in chalk dust.

As I my eyes fell upon the hand, I gasped, for a vision entered my head. I saw a great white hand, set upon green fields, and pointing up to heaven, and I knew this was not some idle musing, but a message, sent to me from God, that I should leave Stanneck now and journey west once more to build this beautiful structure.

This view was confirmed when I returned to my stall in the marketplace. As I approached, I was thankful I had made my pious visit to the church, for I saw that
Otter, the thieving carpenter, was waiting there, with several of his friends, and a mixed group of myrmidons, and it was plain he was angry. He was probably telling them I had stolen money from him, while conveniently omitting any mention of the beautiful pot which he had so wrongfully taken from me.

My blood ran hot at his impertinence, and I nearly ran at the group, with a will to kill them all. But then my reason took hold, and I said to myself, “Control your fury, Yreth, for to fight against men is one thing, and you could surely defeat a group of six others, for you are fearless in battle. To fight myrmidons, though, is a different matter. You will be killed, and your death will be unjust. Besides, you are using your peace-name of
Glissa here, and it would be ill-omened to set into a great fight under that name.”

I decided to leave Stanneck without a moment’s delay. I went directly to the inn, and took those possessions I had left there in my chest, including my clothes, a quantity of gold, and a number of jewels I had purchased with my earnings.

While I was in my room gathering my possessions together, I heard a noise from below. Looking down from the window, I saw a crowd of people and myrmidons, with Otter at the head, striding towards the inn. In the crowd, I saw menders and joiners, and many of my old customers.

“This does not look good,” I thought. “Who knows what lies he has spread about me.”

I quickly left the inn by the back door and escaped through an alleyway. Then I watched around a corner as Otter and his friends banged on the door of the inn.

I was angry at
Otter, and keen for vengeance against him for forcing me to leave the city in this way. Then a good idea came to me. “If the thieving Otter is here with his myrmidon,” I thought, “I will warrant nobody is guarding his shop.”

I quickly escaped down an alley and made my way to his shop. Sure enough, nobody was there to guard it. So, I lifted up the panel in the floor to see if his money box was still there. However, it was gone. I prayed then, saying, “God, lead me to Otter’s wealth, if you deem it right that I should have vengeance against him.”

Then I looked up to heaven, and suddenly, there up in the rafters, I saw the money box. I quickly took a shutter-pole and knocked the box down to the ground. It broke open, revealing more than a hundred crowns, together with five gold arrans.

It was clear Otter had done well for himself that summer, but I immediately made sure he would be a pauper in the autumn. I placed all the money in my purse, then I entered his house to see if there were any other objects which I might take to anger him further.

I looked around several rooms, and I took a china spoon and a silver incense tray, but really there was very little worth having. Next, though, I came to his kitchen, and what do you suppose I found there? It was a small
child, in mud-stained clothes, who was trying to reach a tray of cream tarts which was laid upon the table.

I am a kind fellow, even when I am filled with anger, and so I took one of the tarts from the tray and passed it down to the child, saying, “There you are, my little one.”

As I watched the child eat the tart, I could not help but laugh, for it made such a mess of the meal, and put cream all over its chin and nose. My longing for vengeance left me then, and I was filled with feelings of charity and goodness.

“It is not right,” I said, “that a tiny child such as you should have such a cruel and dishonest father. Come. I shall adopt you as my very own.”

With that, I lifted the child up into my arm, and took the tray of tarts, together with a fresh loaf of bread.

I quickly left the house, then, walked directly to the city gates and said goodbye to Stanneck, walking west along the merchant’s road.