Stonecutter's Story

by Fred Saberhagen

  The Director blinked once, and then his face went totally blank. “What reason have you to believe that jewel is here?”

  The Magistrate shook his head. “Come, come, sir, we are going out of our way to do you a favor. Do not waste my time or your own.”

  At this crucial moment there was a confused bustling and whispering at the door of the Director’s office. In a moment a man entered, a fat and oily-looking man wearing a cape of almost pure gold, touched only with a little blue.

  The two visitors got to their feet, and a fresh round of introductions began, this time with more ceremony than before. The new arrival was actually Theodore, Chief Priest of the Blue Temple in Eylau.

  From the moment of his arrival in the room, the Chief Priest’s manner indicated that he was at least somewhat mistrustful of everyone else, including his own Director of Security.

  When all were seated again, Wen Chang repeated, for Chief Priest Theodore’s benefit, his statement about the discovery of a plot to steal the jewel.

  Theodore did not trouble to deny the presence of the Orb inside his establishment. Instead he asked Wen Chang bluntly: “How do you know this?”

  “The circumstances in which I gained the information are closely connected to the original investigation upon which my associate and myself were engaged. More than that I cannot tell you at present. You will appreciate that I extend to all my clients the same confidentiality I would extend to you, were I retained by you personally, or by the Blue Temple.”

  This speech did not go down well with either of Wen Chang’s priestly hearers, who exchanged grim looks. Then the Director still attempted to deny the presence of the Great Orb, and even disclaimed any knowledge of its whereabouts.

  The Magistrate was growing impatient with them. “Come, come! I know that the gem we are speaking of is in this city, and I am almost certain that it is within the walls of this very building.”

  At this point the Chief Priest asked Wen Chang and Kasimir, politely enough, to step into another room while he had a private discussion with his Security Director.

  Wen Chang signed agreement and got to his feet. “Of course, gentlemen. But I advise you not to take too long to make up your minds to listen to me. In this matter time is of great importance.”

  The Director glared at him. “It seems to me that we could all save time if you would condescend to tell us the source of your alleged information.”

  The Magistrate appeared to be maintaining his patience only with an effort. “Even if I was willing to break confidence with my client—which I am not—nothing I could tell you about the source would help you in the least to prevent the theft. By the way, I suppose you are perfectly sure that the stone is secure at this moment?”

  This question threw the two high authorities into a state of considerable confusion, impossible to conceal. As an open argument began between them, Wen Chang and Kasimir were conducted away by an underling.

  They were deposited in a comfortable anteroom and left alone with the door closed. They glanced at each other, but neither had anything to say. It was obvious to both of them that any conversation they held would almost certainly be overheard.

  The duration of their wait dragged on, to a length that Kasimir, at least, had not expected. Wen Chang waited with newly imperturbable patience, hands clasped in his lap, his weathered face impassive as a mask. But Kasimir was bothered by mounting apprehension. Had they somehow unwittingly precipitated a real crisis in the local Blue Temple leadership? Had they—but such speculations were pointless.

  Eventually a silent attendant brought them refreshment on a tray, tea and cakes in portions of hardly more than symbolic size. Both courteously declined. Following that they were again left alone for almost an hour, when a group of temple officials, including the High Priest and the Director of Security, suddenly entered the anteroom. They brought with them a newcomer, an outsider to the temple, a man attired in the uniform of an officer of the city Watch, in the Hetman’s colors of gray and blue. This was a large grizzled veteran of about forty.

  As soon as this man’s eyes fell on Wen Chang, he stepped forward and opened his arms in greeting.

  “Magistrate!” His voice was a bass roar. “They told me there was someone here I might recognize, but they never gave me a hint that it was you. It’s years since we have worked together—how are you?”

  Wen Chang, smiling, had arisen to return the greeting heartily. “I am healthy and busy as you see. And how are you, my friend Almagro? It is indeed too long a time since we have seen each other, but you do not appear to have changed much.”

  After Kasimir had been duly introduced to Captain Almagro, the two veterans spent a few moments more in private conversation, most of it reminiscing about a particularly filthy gang of bandits they had once succeeded in luring into an annihilating ambush. In this exchange of memories they must have removed from the minds of their priestly hearers any lingering doubts of the Magistrate’s true identity.

  The discussion turned away from the bandit gang. Almagro mentioned how, after several unlikely sounding adventures, he had come to be now in the employ of the Hetman.

  “And a good thing I am here, too, for now I may be able to return the great favor that you, Magistrate, once did for me.”

  Wen Chang made a dismissive gesture and objected mildly. “It was a matter of no consequence.”

  “On the contrary, I consider my life to be a rather significant component of the universe. So tell me, what brings you and your friend to Eylau, Magistrate? A job of thief taking?”

  “I thank you for your generous offer of help, Captain, and it may be indeed that my associate and I will want to call upon you in the near future. As to the exact nature of our mission in Eylau, I must tell you that I am bound by an oath of secrecy. Just at the moment, however, our problem concerns the Orb of Maecenas. What can you tell us about its current safety?”

  At this point in the conversation the Director of Security appeared to be trying to say something urgent, while at the same time wanting to avoid the disclosure of any information at all. He was rescued from this self-strangled state by the Captain of the Watch, who shook his head at him ruefully.

  “I’m afraid the presence of the gem here in the temple is no longer a secret,” Captain Almagro told the official almost apologetically. “One hears about it these days in the streets.”

  The Chief Priest, a vein outstanding in his forehead, was fixing a baleful glance upon his Director of Security.

  “I am going,” Theodore said, “directly from this room to the lapidary’s workshop, there to see for myself whether the Orb is still in our hands or not at this moment.” His eyes swept fiercely around the little group. “I want all of you to come with me!”

  A moment later, with Chief Priest Theodore in the lead, the whole party was tramping through a series of elegant corridors, traversing one after another a series of doorways, each doubly guarded by warriors cloaked in blue and gold, the Blue Temple’s own security force. At every doorway the guards saluted and stood aside at a gesture from the Chief Priest’s chubby hand.

  The party with Theodore at its head had not far to go before it reached its goal, a set of unmarked heavy doors. Here too guards stood aside. Then the doors were opened a crack from inside in response to an impatient tapping with the Chief Priest’s heavy golden ring, and then they were thrown wide as soon as he was recognized.

  The party of visitors filed into the room. It was a workshop, much smaller and cleaner, Kasimir noted, than the studio of Robert de Borron across town. This place was also much quieter than de Borron’s studio, and it had not been at all crowded until their group arrived. Here, instead of noise and confusion, was a sense that great logic and precision ruled.

  There were three people in the room already when Theodore entered with his entourage. The person in charge here was a short, intense, black-skinned woman of about thirty years of age, who was soon introduced to all who did not know her as Mistress Hedmark, t
he famed lapidary. It was one of those fields like forensic medicine, Kasimir supposed, in which one could be famous and at the same time almost totally unknown to the world at large.

  The other two people already present were the famous woman’s assistants. The Mistress, despite her lack of size, looked to Kasimir quite as hard and tough as the sculptor at the other temple. The physician got the impression that she would be quite capable of murder and robbery to get something that she really wanted.

  Under a broad, heavily barred window, where the best light in the room obtained, an elaborate workbench had been set up. In response to a question from Wen Chang, Mistress Hedmark explained that she and her helpers had been busy practicing the techniques that they would use when the time came for the actual cutting of the priceless gem.

  The surface of the workbench was largely covered with a framework of jigs and supports. Kasimir saw that there was a fine revolving grindstone along with other tools, some doubtless more magical than technological.

  Having given a concise explanation of her work, the Mistress had a query of her own. “And now, gentlemen, I must insist on knowing what you want here. I don’t like all these people in my workroom.”

  “Nor would I, ordinarily.” Chief Priest Theodore shook his head. “But I want to see the Orb for myself, to make sure that it is still safe. And if it is I want to show it to them.”

  “Of course it is quite safe,” said Mistress Hedmark automatically. Then she looked at Theodore for a moment, and then at his chief of security. Then she shrugged and drew a cord from around her neck and inside her clothing. It was a leather cord with a small key hanging at the end of it.

  The Director of Security produced a similar key from somewhere. Meanwhile others in the party were making sure that the outer doors of the room were closed. Then Mistress Hedmark, together with the Director, went to a great metal box in one corner of the room. Kasimir had enough sense of magic to sense the immaterial barricades surrounding it, forces that subsided only when the Director whispered a secret word.

  It was necessary for the custodians to use their two keys simultaneously. Then they were able to open the box and swing back the heavy lid.

  Mistress Hedmark reached inside. The Orb of Maecenas was brought out and held up in her fingers for everyone to look at.

  It was only the size of a small, faceted egg; somehow this came as a faint disappointment to Kasimir, who had unconsciously been expecting something the size of his fist. But then he had never found wealth in any of its manifestations overwhelmingly interesting.

  “Are you satisfied, then?” Mistress Hedmark demanded of the delegation that had burst in on her.

  “Yes, for the moment.” Much of the tension was gone from Theodore’s voice. His gaze had softened, resting on the gem, and he allowed himself a little sigh.

  The lapidary asked in her sharp tones: “Has there actually been a plot to steal the Orb?”

  The Magistrate spoke soothingly. “We have had an alarm. So far as I know there has been no more than that as yet. Has anything untoward happened here? Or to you or any of your assistants?”

  The attention of the group focused on each of the aides in turn: No, none of them had anything like that to report. Kasimir found the denials credible.

  Mistress Hedmark discoursed briefly to the others on the art of the diamond cutter, and the problems inherent in trying to cut so very hard a stone, the hardest substance known. The discussion sounded quite open and innocent to Kasimir.

  He could see or hear nothing to indicate that this woman might already have the Sword of Siege in hand to help her with her work, or that it had ever entered her mind to try to get it.

  Chapter Eight

  Both the Chief Priest of the temple and his Director of Security were considerably relieved when they were able to verify with their own eyes that the almost priceless Orb was still in their possession. They were both ready now to consider what Wen Chang wanted to tell them.

  The Magistrate, after a quick consultation with Captain Almagro, had several recommendations to make. The first was that arrangements should be made to station officers of the city Watch—not the Captain himself, he could not be spared—here in the lapidary’s workshop as long as the gem was present. The Watch people would serve in shifts, so that at least one should be on duty around the clock.

  The second recommendation made by Wen Chang was that an entire new squad of Blue Temple security people be brought in, to replace all those who were currently engaged in protecting the stone.

  “I emphasize,” Wen Chang continued, “that I have no reason to think any of the old crew are implicated in the plot to steal the diamond; no, I make this suggestion purely as a precaution.”

  Chief Priest Theodore exchanged glances with his chief subordinate in security matters. Then the chubby man shrugged. “Very well. A sensible precaution, I think. It shall be done as you say.”

  Mistress Hedmark was not happy, though. She complained that these changes would entail further disruption of the routine of technical practice and ritual in which she was engaged with her assistants. Peace and tranquility were necessary for her work.

  The Chief Priest heard her out, then overruled her. “Now that the whole world knows the gem is here, we can take no chances.”

  Wen Chang tried to soothe the lapidary too. Then he said: “Now, Doctor Kasimir and myself must be on our way. Captain Almagro, if you could withdraw with us? There is much we have to discuss with you in the matter of how potential jewel thieves should best be taken. And these gentlemen of the temple, and Mistress Hedmark, will also have much to discuss among themselves.”

  As the three of them were escorted out of the temple, Kasimir marveled to himself at the smoothness with which Wen Chang had been able to accomplish several objectives during their brief visit. First, they had determined with a fair degree of certainty that the Sword was not in the Blue Temple now. Next, to have an officer of the city Watch continuously present in the diamond-cutters’ workshop ought to make it practically impossible for Mistress Hedmark and her crew to use the Sword secretly in their work, assuming they might have the chance to do so—and any efforts to get the Watch out of the way would signal that they were up to something clandestine. Finally, the priests of the Blue Temple were now convinced that Wen Chang was trying to help them.

  There was little conversation among the three men as long as they were still inside the temple. When they had passed out through the front entrance, and were halfway across the fronting square, Captain Almagro muttered something that Kasimir did not entirely catch, but that made the physician think the Watch officer did not really care for the place they had just left.

  Wen Chang’s reply at least was clear: “Hot work in there, old friend, trying to get the moneybags to believe us. I think it might be time for us to ease our throats with a mug of something cool.”

  The Captain brightened immediately. “My idea exactly, Magistrate. And I know just the place, not far away.”

  “Lead on.”

  After making their way through several blocks of the activity that occupied the streets of the metropolis at midday, the three men were soon seated in the cool recesses of a tavern, a large, old building of half-timbered construction. The main room was filled with the delicious smells of cooking food, and occupied by a good number of appreciative customers.

  One of the barmaids, who was evidently an old acquaintance of the Captain, served them swiftly. Wiping his mustache after his first gulp of ale, Almagro expressed his doubt that there was any real plot to steal the Orb at all—though he referred to the matter only indirectly. He bewailed the increasing tawdriness of crime in these newly degenerate days. Not only the times and the crimes, but the modern criminals themselves, suffered from degeneracy. By and large they were far from being the bold brave rascals that their predecessors of a decade or so ago had used to be.

  “Hey, Magistrate? Am I right?”

  “You are almost invariably right, old friend. And
there is much truth in what you say now.” Wen Chang groomed his own slim mustache with one finger.

  “Damned right, very much truth. Want an example? Look at those people who’re demonstrating in front of the Hetman’s palace now, pounding their stupid heads on the pavement. If they choose to damage their own thick skulls, so what? What kind of a crime is that? And yet we’ve orders now to make them stop it.”

  The Magistrate made a gesture indicating resignation. “The subject of their protest—this Benjamin of the Steppe as he is called—he would not seem to me to be a very great offender either. To ask for a few local councils, voting on local matters, deciding such things for themselves. And yet it seems that he must pay with his life for his offense.”

  “Ah, that’s politics. There’s always that, and when it comes to politics the police must just do what they’re told. If we had a different ruler, politics would go on just the same, only with different faces in the dungeons. Different feet climbing up the scaffold.”

  “I fear you are right.”

  “Damned right I’m right.” The Captain belched, and drank again.

  Wen Chang murmured something properly sympathetic, and Kasimir, taking his lead from his chief, did likewise.

  “Not like the old days,” Almagro summed up, and drank deep from his mug. “No, not at all.”

  “I wonder if you could do me a favor?” Wen Chang inquired.

  “Glad to,” was the automatic response. But then the Captain blinked in hesitation. “What is it?”

  “I know the prisoner’s number of a man who was sentenced, probably several months ago, to the road-building gang that is now working between here and the Abohar Oasis. “I would like to discover as much as possible about the man himself—his name, his crime, whatever else you can find out.”