The Rings of Poseidon

by Mike Crowson

  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 sat
isfactory 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.

  What I must do was seek a boat leaving that same day: but to stow away, seek passage or volunteer as one of the crew? Boats were always seeking crew and sailors seemed a close bunch. A master of ship might have little heed for priests.

  I turned at the end of the street and went over the bridge across the second canal - four circular canals divided the city, you recall, and the trade docks were along the second canal. I went towards them, watching the pinnacles of the palaces and temples on the inner rings of the city as if for the first time. It might be the last time I looked upon them!

  There were two ships in. One was unloading grain and looked likely to stay here in Cercenes for days. The other, 'Gate of the Sun' she was called, looked to be making ready to sail. I thought I would try my luck with her master.

  The drum beat kept a time easy for even an inexperienced oarsman to follow, and we slipped round the maze of canals in little time. The city is a good walk from the sea but the main channel is wide, straight and deep. Once out in open water we shipped our oars, the crew hoisted our sail and the helmsman set a course round the island and across the true ocean, for that was where 'Gate of the Sun' was bound. Atlas, the nearer of the two great volcanoes, was in full sight, his wreathe of smoke clearly visible in a cloudless sky. I could almost believe the old children's tale that Atlas was a giant. The mountain really did look to be supporting the sky, though I knew it wasn't true. Perhaps our ancestors had believed it.

  After two or three days sailing you could see nothing but the top of Atlas reaching the far skyline, like a smoking finger. I thought about the new high priest. It was all too clear that he planned to rule with six henchmen. It was also clear that he didn't entirely trust them, hence the talisman. I did not see how Tagg-Andes or anyone else could stop him. I slowly, carefully, thoroughly, angrily called down the wrath of the gods upon him. I cursed him to his doom.

  All the cursing made me feel a little better, but probably did him no harm at all. Eventually the top of Atlas fell from sight, the wind dropped and we got out the oars again.

  After the noon break on the sixth day there was a sudden sound. The sea and air shook. The sky began to fill with the smoke of a great volcano and the sea became an uneasy calm. There was a kind of greasy swell, like dirty water when you cool heated metal in it. Then a great wind came and we drove before it: a hot and fiery wind. The ship sped over the water, hastened by that fierce furnace of a wind, but we could see a great wave coming towards us. A wave like a great and towering cliff. A wall of water many mastheads high.

  I do not know whether the high priest was yet struck down, nor whether my curses had been heeded, but the gods were none too pleased about something!