Norton, Andre - Anthology

by Magic in Ithkar 04 (v1. 0)

  "Y'mean when Luca was ranting," Oskar interrupted.

  "Well, you were saying something about Macao, the chicken farmer. I wanted to talk to you about that."

  Oskar looked interested. "You've had trouble from him?"

  "I'm not sure. When I was setting up my first day here, he was friendly, offering tools, help, like that."

  "Sounds like he's sweet on you, Gwynngold," Oskar teased.

  "I wondered myself at first, but he kept asking about the red metal studding my tack and the milky stone we use for decorations. These things are native to our mountains, and I brought some with me to trade, but Macao's no gemsmith, so I saw no point in talking them up with him. Then he questioned me on the taste of Kaffa roast, and I politely sent him on his way."

  *'Probably didn't mean to give offense," Oskar offered as he settled down on a cozy stack of rugs.

  "Perhaps. But that's not the end of the matter. That afternoon I went to the Shrine of the Three Lordly Ones, and returned to find Daras and Basra in a rage. On a hunch, I snuck round Macao's tent, and there, out back, was his jerkin fresh-washed, but still carrying the strong smell of Kaffa cud."

  "What?" Luca asked, confused.

  "The Kaffa can defend themselves very well with their sharp, cloven hooves and their strong teeth, but the most effective weapon they have is their cud. They can spit the stuff from five armspans away, and the odor of fermented food is hard to wash out. I believe he tried to steal my goods, thinking the Kaffa mere draft beasts that would ignore his thievery."

  "Hmmm," mumbled Oskar as he patted his full stomach. "What's to be made of it? Chicken farmers and Kaffa cud, and poisoned sheep still alive ..." His voice trailed into sleep.

  "Hmmm is right!" Luca grumbled, realizing that warm food and strong beer had conquered her friend again. Once Oskar was asleep there was no moving him, she knew, as did any regular customer of the Joyous Goblet. He was known for passing many a night next to his supper plate. Now, his fatigue seemed contagious as her own eyes suddenly felt dry and heavy-lidded.

  Gwynngold laughed at Oskar's throaty snores. "You're both welcome to stay, of course, Luca, but I did want to say this. I'll be meeting some gemsmiths before dawn. I could ask some questions, see if there have been any thefts."

  As Luca thought about this, the Kaffa settled themselves down near her with a sleepy groan, a hint to the humans who burned the lamp too late.

  Gwynngold tossed Luca blankets for herself and Oskar. "They always remind me when I'm guilty of keeping guests up late. I'll wake you in the morning after my meeting, all right?"

  "With breakfast?" Luca asked, smiling sleepily.

  "A man that would ill-treat a beast would not hesitate to steal," Luca told Oskar as she tidied Gwnngold's wares the next morning and started a breakfast of her own making in the Irfan stove. "Besides, it's bad for the fair. If you were Gwynngold and this your first year, would you be so eager to return to a place where your very goods might be snatched?" Gently, she moved the sleeping Bear from the unfolded blankets to the neat ones. The dog gave a noisy yawn and settled back into sleep.

  "Luca, thievery's a problem wherever people gather, but I see your point well enough. And here's Gwynngold, back at last, with a look that says she's gotten a good price for her stones."

  "My stones, my metal, and some interest in my cloths as well. That's why I'm so late returning. But there's more news, friends. Ah! My thanks." The tall woman reacted with only a moment's surprise when Luca presented her with a cupful of a dark, aromatic brew. After a long swallow, she began, "The gemsmiths talked a lot about the protection of their wares, or the marked lack of"—she gave Oskar a meaningful look—"that seems lately to have befallen the fair. There's talk of thieves stealing fine stones and small jewelry to smuggle out of Ithkar and sell elser where at higher prices. Several merchants have suffered losses, and others are talking of leaving the fair early. But there's something that worries me more."

  Luca took a lump of rising dough and slapped it onto a pan sitting on the coals while listening to Gwynngold's news.

  "The jewelers say that a group of special gems will be offered that throw moving sparkles of fire though the stone stands still. Of course, the jewels are magic and cannot be trafficked in Ithkar, but outside the fair they would bring a fantastic price."

  "Is there to be a market outside the gates for the selling of wares illegal here?" Oskar demanded. "This defies the laws of the Three!"

  "Oskar," said Gwynngold, "thieves have no respect for the Three. But I'm concerned about something else. Luca, what would happen if your Thorn were stolen and cut into a thousand gems?"

  "How can I say?" Luca watched the creamy clouds in her cup as she sweetened her drink with Kaffa milk.

  "The Irfan believe that things of power link themselves permanently with their owner. Our elders love to tell stories of people careless with magical things, and the sorrowful fates that befall them. ... As far as I know they are just stories . . . and never about things with the power of the dark."

  Luca could tell that this was Gwynngold's way of asking, politely, the true source of the Thorn's power. She had never even told Oskar the full story, but now seemed the right time.

  "My parents were farmers on the fen and our land bordered as close to the Death Swamp as could be farmed safely," she began. "I'd always had a way with creatures, and worked as an animal healer after harvesttime. One day Bear chased a rabbit across our wheat lands. I found him near the border sitting quiet, looking out toward the swamp. Then, I heard the call."

  Her eyes stared at nothing as she recounted the tale, but the warmth in her voice was unmistakable to her listeners. "I'd been warned from that place since I could toddle, but the calling drew me in. I'd been told the land was odious and rank with murky pools and dark weeds twisted in strange shapes, but as I walked, the place looked to me only interesting, not evil. Strange animals scurried around, and 1 wished I had the time to watch them, but I couldn't stop. I had to find the caller.

  "When I did he took my breath away with his beauty. Oh, I know others would have called him hideous, but to me . . . well, it didn't seem that way. His scales seemed like tiny crystals, and there was a glow around him, but it was dim. He was in pain. That's why he called me. His hand was pierced deep with a shard of greenglass, and he bled freely. I sat there in the swamp and pulled that huge hand onto my lap and worked as carefully as if it were the smallest kitten. As soon as I removed the shard his bleeding stopped, as did his pain, and his glow became so bright I had to cover my eyes. The gem was my reward. I called it the Thorn, having pulled it from this creature that others fled in terror. His very blood is what gives it its strange color and, no doubt, its power." She took a long swallow from her cup to wet her throat before going on.

  "I know how others feel about the Death Swamp, but I can't agree with their judgments. I didn't feel the presence of the dark when I was there, and thinking about it over the years, I've decided it was because I'm not open to that power. Maybe that's why others go mad in the swamp, because they come for the wrong reasons—to take, to hurt, to steal. I went to aid someone in pain, just as I would anywhere. I saw no evil in the creature, or in the other beings I encountered. They were just as you and I are, with all the same wantings and gladnesses and sorrows."

  They all sat quietly for a moment, until Luca realized she had never really answered Gwynngold's question as to the consequences of her losing the Thorn. "I use the Thorn in my work here and outside the fair, but I don't know what other powers it might have. So, I simply can't say what its effect might be on others, especially if they were open to the dark. If I thought it might cause them to be more kindly to their beasts, I might happily give it up . . ."

  "But Luca, if you lost the gem, what would happen to youT'

  "It's a magic thing, that's true. The tales of the Man may have much truth to them, but I cannot worry about something that may not ever happen. I'm much more troubled over the condition of Tagus's sheep or Macao'
s fowl. I believe that Tagus is selling sheep that will die not a month from the time their new owners drive them home. And Macao's fowl have trays filled with food—untouched food ..." Luca spread her hands in a gesture of confusion. "Yet their crops are also full. They sit in their pens fluffed out, eyes lowered . . . and the Thorn dims."

  "What's stranger yet, the man won't part with them," Oskar agreed, seeming more comfortable now that the conversation had moved away from the Death Swamp and back to things he might have some control over. "Claims Tagus has bought the lot, and he's just holding 'em till the fair's ended. Tagus should be able to buy some good hens locally, and healthy ones at that, so why would he want those? That shepherd had a keen interest in the Thorn, too. I don't like it; something's cooking here besides chicken stew. But what am I to worry about first, ladies? Gem thieves or sick stock?"

  "Well, Oskar," Gwynngold said, "the sick stock is quite puzzling, but I wonder if there isn't something you might do directly to catch the thieves. Couldn't you set a trap?"

  "With what bait? Your stones?"

  "We could try that. We could let it be known they're in the wagon, but that we have business elsewhere. I'd tether the Kaffa behind the wagon so they were out of the way, and we could hide ourselves right here in the stall and wait them out. We'd just have to hope the right people were interested."

  Luca interrupted, suddenly excited. "No! Not your stones. Something we know they already want." She fingered her gem and watched the dancing colors spill between her fingers.

  Gwynngold's face darkened. "You could be harmed," she warned.

  "What are you two scheming?" Oskar demanded.

  "We can't keep waiting for others to play the game their way," Luca told them.

  "Your stone?" Oskar blurted, suddenly realizing what the women were debating. "Leave that stone for thieves?"

  "You told me to cast it away!" Luca reminded him.

  "But what if we can't get it back?"

  The woman stared at the ruddy gem. "Anyone who would take it has no way of controlling its power. Let them try to shatter it. I have a feeling the Thorn can take care of itself."

  Turning, Luca looked through the open tent-flap at fairgoers coming and going through lanes outside the stall. Never having set a trap for any creature, she was unsure of the rules. "I should collect my salary from the priests," Luca said, her voice pitched loud enough to carry through the tent walls. "The stone makes them so nervous between their wanting it and their fearing it, I think I'll just leave it here."

  "I must take my weavings to a dealer in rare cloths I spoke to this morning," Gwynngold said, then lowered her voice. "Daras and Basra will protect the Thorn, so I'll tether them loosely and leave them food. They'll stay put and not be too much of a threat for a thief more clever than the last one."

  "Well, make sure you take that cur," Oskar growled in disapproval, "since he'll never keep his yap shut. And before you go running off, give me some time to gather my comrades and set up watch. It'll be easier to follow a thief back to his lair, won't it, than to trace the culprit when it's all done? I hope this doesn't go wrong." The bravo looked at both women to see if they were taking his words seriously.

  "It's a chance that's true," Luca agreed. "But so was going into the swamp."

  'This is madness," Oskar hissed, hugging his knees to his chest. The three conspirators were cramped together in a -hideout created from stacked crates and piled blankets. It was hours past suppertime, and they had sneaked into this carefully constructed hiding place inside the tent while it was still daylight. Now, large torchlamps along the fair's aisleways threw crosshatched shadows across the stall. It would be almost impossible to see anyone who might slip between Gwynngold's draped fabrics. 'They're just not taking the thing tonight, that's all. Remember, there's many days before fair's end."

  He peeked through the chinks past gaps in the draped blankets to make sure his old friends Haiduks and Roanne were feigning sleep where he had left them. Yes, there was Haiduks, propped against his heavy stave, snoring gently some distance away, and the hefty Roanne so deep in the shadows Oskar could barely see her or her short cudgel. They were close enough to answer a call, but far enough not to be obvious. In fact, they were feigning so well the fair-ward began to worry their sleep might be genuine. After all, the two bravos had been easy to find—"protecting" the Joyous Goblet from a lack of customers.

  "Shhh!" Gwynngold warned as Bear's ears pricked up and his hackles raised. She grabbed the dog and held him tight.

  "I think we've finally got what we want, Oskar," Luca said in a dull, hushed tone. Her friends looked at her, worried, then shared a glance, trying not to think of Irfan legends or the paleness that had gradually overtaken Luca in the hours she had been without the Thorn.

  Clamping Bear's muzzle shut, Gwynngold and the others listened to the soft, shuffling sounds of the restless Kaffa. The animals were not accustomed to being tethered for so long, and the steady, grinding noises of their cud chewing had often been interrupted by impatient snorts.

  Oskar glanced up, his heart gladdened as Roanne and Haiduks both gave him a short sign, their attention riveted.

  Bear's eyes roved wildly from Luca to Oskar to Gwynngold, who held him tight, keeping him from attacking the intruder creeping around Gwynngold's stall. Soon there came the slow creaking of wagon springs as someone climbed in over the tailgate. The wagon swayed slightly as the intruder rummaged silently about.

  Basra and Daras stared, ears up and noses twitching. When they realized the intruder was a stranger, they began to snort and stamp and pull at their tethers. All at once there was a clatter of pots, the sound of angry Kaffa, and the frightened yelps of a child. Bear gave one great wriggle, freeing himself from Gwynngold's grip, and exploded out of hiding, determined to save their goods and enjoy himself, too. Bear hated children.

  Gwynngold signaled to the others to stay as she followed the dog. With mixed emotions she realized the thief had escaped, and a quick perusal of the wagon's interior showed the empty hiding place that had held the Thorn.

  The little terrier marched stiff-legged around the perimeters, snarling and anointing the farthest posts, while carefully avoiding the cloven hooves of the irritated Kaffa, finally loosed from their ties.

  “Well, the thief may have gotten the stone, but he hasn't escaped unscathed," Gwynngold said as she took a towel to the delicate muzzles of the Kaffa. She looked around her, expecting someone to respond.

  "Gwynngold! Come quick, help us!" It was Oskar's voice coming from the hideout, and he sounded frightened.

  Inside Macao the poultryman's small tent sat a gemsmith r looking at a crystalline shard and turning it over in his palm. All the while he gazed into its murky interior he considered reneging on his agreement. There were no dancing sparkles or flying colors, but deep in the heart of this dim jewel he saw the glimmer of real power. Theft was one thing, the gemsmith thought, but tampering with power . . .

  “Will you be cuttin' that thing, or whilin' our time away dreaming on its facets, old man?" Tagus snarled.

  “Let's get it splintered and packed into these chickens so we can be on our way," agreed the poultry man. "We're to meet the buyers at dawning." He took bright yellow gems and force-fed them to a protesting hen. 'There won't be any trouble getting through the gate, and we'll kill the birds away from Ithkar."

  "I've still got to hand over my sheep to their buyers," Tagus insisted. "But I can meet you then."

  "Still givin' those sheep that powder?" asked Macao.

  The shepherd nodded. "It did just what you said, made them old ewes look better'n any others here."

  Macao chuckled. "Too bad they won't live past the new moon."

  A loud snuffle interrupted them, reminding Tagus of his forgotten son. "You'd better not be sobbing over those damn sheep again, boy," Tagus threatened. He snatched his son up from where he sat cross-legged on the ground and shook him hard. "You've been whimpering and sulking and defying your own father for two
months now, and I'm damn sick of it!"

  "Not so, Da," the boy argued brokenly. "Didn't I do all the spying you told me to? Didn't I manage the stealing after Macao almost got caught? Didn't I snatch that big rock just now, and get nipped smart by that mutt and puked on besides? I just don't know why you've got to go and sicken the sheep, Da."

  "To get rid of them, I keep telling you! I'm not spending my time chasing them all over the hills anymore. I'm going to live like a lord!" He cuffed the lad sharply, making him howl. "You're as stupid as your mother."

  "Here, now, Tagus, the boy has earned his keep," Macao said. He tapped the lad with a long, dirty finger. "But if he doesn't stop snuffling and take his stinking self out of sight, he can smuggle stones the way the hens do . . . how's that, son?" He jiggled a few sharp-edged gems in front of the boy's horrified eyes. The lad slithered out of his father's grasp and cowered into a corner with silent tears as the men laughed.

  "Hush, you two," snapped the gemsmith. 'Think I can divide this stone with all that prattle? I need quiet to work on a thing with power." He lined up his tools in precise order. Securing the Thorn in a fleece-lined vise, he placed the point of a gem-cutter against its center. Taking his mallet, he tapped it lightly. A spasm struck his hand and arm, and the mallet clattered to the ground.

  "Losing your touch, Quito?" the poultryman asked, laughing.

  Shaken, but not wanting to seem a coward, the gemsmith took hold of the mallet securely, determined now to split the gem.

  "It's just taken me some time to get used to it," Luca insisted.

  "We need a heal-all!" Oskar nearly shouted, holding his friend in his arms as Gwynngold ran to them.

  "Stop, Oskar," Luca told him over the din of her dog's terrified howls, "you're scaring Bear out of his wits!"

  "She grabbed at her eyes and fell over like the dead," the bravo told Gwynngold all in a rush, "and now she's blind! Haiduks, Roanne, a heal-all, find a heal-all!"

  Luca clamped a hand over Oskar's mouth and countermanded him. "Don't you dare, we've no time for such silliness, and we'll need them to help you make the arrests!"