The Two Artefact Discs: Azabar's Icicle Part 1

by Jem I Kelley

  “Mmm yes. Let me see, five pictures, Mmm, marvellous. Now carry them carefully, friends, it took me a long time to paint these. That’s right, careful; mind the icy puddles, thank you!”

  They left Waghorn and carried the paintings between them as they might a delicate wooden fence.

  Soon they approached the Disc-man academy gates.

  They peered through and saw a rambling place.

  About to enter there was a shout from the lane, which caused them to pause. Bliss looked to where figures stood some fifty or so yards away.

  “It’s Marti and he’s with Hamble. C’mon, we can spare a few minutes.”

  Aden saw the ex-farmer and the towering wood golem were about a hundred yards away. Marti’s head was mostly hidden by a Novogoradian fur hat. A jacket and oiled cloak completed the protection against the elements.

  He greeted them.

  “Good morning to you. What have you there?”

  “Landscape paintings of disc-worlds, for the Academy; Painted by Waghorn Smythe - new stallholder.”

  “You don’t look to happy. Is job not nice?”

  Aden and Bliss exchanged glances. They couldn’t explain to Marti the true reason for the feeling of gloom which surrounded them today. They eased the package against the academy wall and Bliss rubbed her aching arms.

  “What’s the smell?”

  “The Archbishop, he has allow me to conduct test with skeleton.”

  Marti pointed at a trapdoor, nearby. It lay open beside the dry-stone wall of the academy, half obscured by a riot of climbing ivy. A ladder ran down into the darkness. The smell came from there. Smears and stains discoloured the icy cobbles.

  “My first test is this, you see?”

  Aden could hear noises: gurglings, swishings and bangs.

  Bliss sniffed the air.

  “It smells just like s….”

  “Excrement. This is so. I heard news on the Wall, that the Academy sewer is blocked and the toilets they are filling. This is new idea from Adventurine, this thing called 'sewer'. It has only been working ten month, and now not at all. Normally job which no-one would want to do is to clean blocked sewer: perfect test for skeleton. If it can clear block in sewer then toilets will not overspill.”

  Hamble, the huge legless wooden golem, stirred. You would think the sorcerer who made him all those years ago would have put some effort into the carving as well as the magic, thought Aden. With lopsided jaw and rectangular nose, the fire scorched creature appeared like he’d been sculptured by someone with a few beers in belly.

  “Marti is my new friend,” said Hamble, his mouth making a creaking noise as it opened and a clacking noise as it shut. “Marti was a farmer once, but he’s a merchant now.”

  “We know,” said Aden.

  “He’s a merchant and he’s hoping to make money. He used to grow crops, though. When he was a farmer, he used to grow crops.”

  “We know.”

  Bliss stared at the hole.

  “I don’t like skeletons. As long as the thing stays down there though, I’m fine.”

  Hamble rubbed his jaw: “Skeletons have bones, you know. I’ve never had bones. When you’re made of wood, you don’t need them. I think most people have bones, under their skin. You can’t see them, but I think they’re there.”

  There was a gurgle and the air became rancid; Bliss, Aden and Marti gagged.

  “Quick, let us move, for sure.”

  Hamble seemed confused.

  “Why are we moving?”

  Aden pointed at his nose.

  “The stink.”

  “Stink?” Hamble put his road sweeping equipment in the sack on his back, put his hands on the floor and lifted his body off the ground and waddled after the retreating three. Each giant hand-fall brought a thud to the cobbles.

  Up breeze, they stopped.

  “A stink is something which hurts the nose,” said Hamble in his slow ponderous fashion, “I know. I’ve seen people when they’ve been hurt by a stink before. You know, people hold their noses when they’ve been hurt by a stink, that’s how I know a stink is in the air.”

  He crunched his nose, frowned.

  “Nothing. Nothing to feel in my nose at all.”

  Another gurgle came from the trapdoor.

  “Those gurgles mean skeleton has been success in clearing blockage,” said Marti, looking from Aden to Bliss, with an expression of triumph on his face. Strong cheekbones sat in a wide face: “Toilets not overflow now, experiment a success: Disc-man centre and Disc-man academy safe.

  “Now I have finished with sewer. Hamble might use skeleton to help him with street cleaning duties, for next test.”

  Hamble’s head swivelled to look at the Novogoradian.

  “Yes, company would be nice. You don’t get much company when you clean the streets. Even a skeleton would be nice. I know it won’t speak or anything, but it will still be company, won’t it?”

  “It would,” said Bliss, sniffing the air again and staring at the trapdoor.

  “I like company; but, not when people are nasty. Someone was nasty to me this morning. Mister Sardohan. He was nasty to me, even though he was company for a few minutes. He was nasty because he said I was too slow with my cleaning.”

  Bliss blinked, clearly remembering the things on the Wall about her.

  “I like the way you clean streets.”

  “Mr Sardohan and his family don’t. Only yesterday they said I was dawdling outside the Embassy. Mr Sardohan said I lowered the image of the street. Miss Alicia said a proper Golem would have legs.”

  Aden felt anger surge through him as he first pictured Hamble crashing through the burning inn to save the children, then saw the proud face of Alicia in his mind’s eye.

  “Didn’t you tell the snotty cow how you lost the lower part of your body?”

  Hamble’s head creaked as it turned from side to side.

  “No. I get confused when people shout at me. When people shout at me I can’t think of the word I’ve got to say next.”

  “For two pins...” began Bliss, but Marti was pointing in the direction of the hole.

  “Ah, here it comes now,” said the Novogoradian, and from the cesspit a figure climbed out. The figure walked towards them in the fluid mechanical fashion of a skeleton, but being clothed and wearing a hood, anyone might think it was a person.

  Dripping brownish liquid and with bits of toilet paper stuck to it, the thing approached.

  Bliss saw the skeleton, gasped and stepped back.

  “C... c... Can’t you stop it?”

  “I told it come back to me when job was done.”

  “Just stop it!”

  “Surely.”

  Marti took the feathered cap from a pocket, donned it and called out a command to the skeleton. It came to a halt, albeit a swaying one.

  “What you think? It is success, for sure?”

  Aden didn’t feel positive today generally; but still, he managed to sound convincing when he told the Novogoradian the skeleton project was a success.

  Chapter 31: The Disc-Man Academy

  Aden and Bliss took the paintings through the gates of the Disc-Man Academy to the reception.

  “Down through there to that door, take first left, then second right and go up the stairs. Take a left and then it’s the third door on your left,” said a middle aged woman with a tight hair do and pinched face.

  “Could you draw us a diagram?” said Bliss.

  The woman tugged a piece of paper from a drawer and scribbled a picture, before shoving it at the two friends.

  “There. Understand?”

  Bliss took it and looked.

  “Thank you, you’ve been awfully kind.”

  The woman ignored them, she was already attending to work on her desk.

  Aden and Bliss followed the diagram, to the door of a classroom. A teacher talking could be heard within.

  “Don’t know why anyone needs years of training to be a disc-man,” said Bliss, scor
n etched on her face. “Turn the button so the dots face each other, press the thing and bingo. It just takes guts, not education.”

  “I think the education is all about what happens after you’ve pressed the button,” replied Aden.

  “It’s all boring, anyway,” said Bliss.

  This, when you’ve recently been told you’ve got a dud disc, is what most people would think, thought Aden, in agreement.

  They knocked and entered.

  A packed room faced them; students sitting at wooden desks: inkwells one side, feathered quills the other. Shadowy too, with wooden shutters stood shut against the brisk morning air, leaving illumination to eight small lamps. Aden and Bliss appeared at the front of the class, near to the teacher, and Aden flinched as all the students turned to look at them.

  Worse still, he realised, the youths in the class knew him. There was Alicia with her prominent nose and tied back hair. The bull-necked Munter, Weever, Charlotte Able and others.

  Munter’s eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed and the boy smiled as if in anticipation of the embarrassments to come. Alicia’s expression changed in a similar manner.

  “Yes, can I help you?” asked the teacher. He was dressed in a tweed suit with leather elbow pads.

  Aden nodded at the canvas’s he and Bliss held.

  “We’ve brought Waghorn Smythe’s paintings.”

  The teacher’s friendly face brightened further.

  “You’ve brought the landscapes of the worlds, wonderful. Could you just stay where you are for a moment? I’m testing on Haverland history - Sorcery.”

  The friends stood awkwardly.

  “So, Charlotte, somewhere around two thousand years ago sorcery was given to Saint Gabrien, by an angel of God, on the shores of the Haver estuary?”

  “Um… yes,” said the blonde.

  “Everyone agree with the statement?”

  “No,” said Alicia Sardohan. “It was one and a half thousand years ago Gabrien received the gift of sorcery. Two thousand years ago was when God first made himself known to man, through Malackeen. One thousand three hundred years ago was when Gabrien’s tablet was stolen, and the fundamental secrets of sorcery became known outside of the Church.”

  “Well done, Alicia. Now tell me, the Amari arrived two hundred years ago, and killed all sorcerers, and destroyed much made by them. What does this tell us about God’s intentions?”

  “I think that question is a matter for the Church, Sir, not disc-man class.”

  The teacher coughed, and put his hand to his mouth covering a smile.

  “Quite correct Alicia, quite correct: best left to the theologians.”

  He turned to Aden and Bliss.

  “Show me the paintings.”

  Aden pulled the wrapping paper off.

  “Can you lift one up at a time for me please, so the class can see them. We don’t have much time to discuss them now; but, let’s see if anyone can identify the worlds.”

  Aden and Bliss rested the paintings on the floor; they took the foremost one, and between them held it so the rest of the class could see. Aden noticed that Bliss stared at the floor, and he wondered if he looked as uncomfortable as she did. It was a horrible feeling, being watched by so many people at once. Munter was glaring at him purposefully; he had a gloating smile.

  Aden realised his mouth had gone dry and his hands trembled.

  The teacher pointed to the landscape.

  “Which world is this?”

  “Arachnie, Mr Hardcastle,” said Alicia.

  Hardcastle! Aden peered at the teacher. Could this be Kurt? There was a likeness. The same set to the jaw as the statue in front of parliament house; but, the eyes weren’t as hard and the man looked too young. Could the teacher be Kurt’s son perhaps?

  What if I’m only an arm’s length away from the son of one of the most famous adventurers in the world, thought Aden. He felt a pang of jealousy: that people like Munter and Alicia might be taught by such a person, it wasn’t fair.

  Aden looked at the painting. This close, he couldn’t make out the scene. Squinting, he thought it might show the webbed walkways of a spider city, but he couldn’t be sure. It was a funny thing about paintings, he thought. Up close they looked like meaningless blobs of paint.

  “Good, Alicia. Arachnie it is. This is the capital of the hour-glass clan. About a mile from here is where the Arachnie Disc-Artefact transports people.”

  “Where your dad held off hordes of spiders,” said Weaver, adulation on his face.

  So, it was Kurt’s son, thought Aden. The stories he must have inside of him.

  “Next painting please,” said Mr Hardcastle.

  Aden and Bliss rested the Arachnie painting against the classroom wall and lifted the next canvas. Again Mr Hardcastle pointed at the painting.

  “Does anyone know this one?”

  Weever raised his hand.

  “Arsistis?”

  “Good try, but no. Look again.”

  Alicia had her arm in the air. Aden thought it looked like she was trying to touch the ceiling.

  “Alicia?” said Mr Hardcastle.

  “Mohvar.”

  “Correct, good: Why?”

  “The place is huge and the horizon looks far off.”

  “Go on.”

  “There’s three worlds which have plants with black leaves instead of green, but Aristalsis and Newon are pathetic tiny planets.”

  “Explain.”

  “Small planets have close horizons; yet, this painting shows a vast landscape. It must depict a larger planet: Mohvar.”

  “Good, Alicia!” said Mr Hardcastle and Alicia beamed a superior smile. Aden groaned inwardly. He had to admit the girl was clever.

  Mr Hardcastle faced the class.

  “Does everyone understand what Alicia said?”

  There were assorted yes’s and grumbled no’s. Hardcastle smiled and walked to a row of globes. There were about ten, lined up on the bench to the right of the classroom. Aden realized they were models of Disc-worlds. His eyes goggled; what would it be to visit those worlds? Just one of them: any one. If only their artefact had worked. If only.

  Munter had his arms crossed across his barrel chest and continued to stare in satisfaction at Aden’s discomfort.

  “We haven’t got a Newon globe, but we do have Aristalsis,” said Mr Hardcastle. He lifted a world.

  “See. It’s smaller than the other globes. It would be closer to the horizon for a watcher, than on a large world.”

  He put down the globe and turned to the class.

  “Make a mental note of this fact. If you arrive on a new world you might be able to gauge how large it is by how close the horizon appears.”

  “You could also tell by how heavy you feel,” said Alicia.

  “True. Let’s look at the next painting please.”

  Aden and Bliss showed a painting of an Adventurine city in rain, then a painting, which depicted a valley full of the monstrous reptile creatures of Sauria; finally, a painting of the Tezcatian desert.

  With each painting, Mr Hardcastle made the youths think, and explained something of interest to them.

  At last, Aden and Bliss had no more paintings to show and Aden felt himself relax; he headed for the door. He could see why Hacknor had enjoyed giving them the task. Hacknor had known the friends would see what a Disc-man class was like, what it is they missed.

  “Excuse me, you two, before you leave, but, I don’t believe I’ve seen you before,” said Mr Hardcastle. “What class are you in?”

  Aden paused at the door.

  “We’re not in the academy.”

  “They’re Aden Green and Bliss Todd,” said Alicia with vicious pleasure, “they missed out on the first year so they can’t be enrolled now: it’s the rules.”

  “Aden Green and… you are the friends who were in the Dazarian jail?”

  Aden and Bliss nodded miserably.

  Mr Hardcastle gave a sympathetic look.

  “A lot’s be
en written about you on the Wall.”

  “Gossip,” said Aden, his eyes straying to Alicia.

  Mr Hardcastle noticed and looked from Aden to Alicia and back.

  “What an unfortunate situation. You did bring back Disc-Artefacts from Dazarian? That at least is true?”

  “Yes.”

  “What’s the situation with them now?”

  “They’ll get to keep one,” said Alicia, butting in. “Even though they’re thieves, my father’s decided not to make a court case of it. The artefacts are duds, tested ages ago, and he feels the friends have suffered enough over the last two years as it is. I think he’s being far too soft. What do you think Mr. Hardcastle? Do you think my father’s too soft on thieves?”

  Chapter 32: The Disc-Artefact That Worked

  The friends arrived back at the Todd home, One O’ clock in the afternoon. The cold spell hadn’t managed to hold its grip much past nine in the morning. Since then, the ice had melted and the friends had marched through sodden streets to return for dinner. They were still furious with Alicia for what she’d said in the class, hours ago.

  “In front of everyone!” said Bliss, rubbing her muddy shoes on the mat. “I've a good mind to punch her the next time I see her.”

  “My daddies too soft!” said Aden, in a high voice. They entered the living room. “Sardohan is about as soft as stone. He didn’t continue with the court case, because it wasn’t in his interests to do so.”

  “The granddads want to see you on the roof. Don’t know what it’s about,” said Martha Todd to a background noise of clickety-click; she looked at the pattern on her lap and cursed, unpicked a knitted stitch: “Before you go back to the afternoon shift, both comb your hair, the wind’s made a sight of it.”

  Bliss headed for the stairs at the back of the house.

  “Okay Mum.”

  “Alicia’s stuck up,” muttered Bliss as Aden followed him. “Just like her dad.”

  Aden agreed.

  “I’m sure they’re behind all the gossip on the Wall.”

  The two reached the top of the stairs and climbed the ladder which led to the rooftop. It was flat and the Todd’s had a bench and several beds of vegetables there. Late growing carrots, cabbages and winter turnips sat in a thick layer of soil held in by planks.