The Bellringer

by William Timothy Murray

  "How did I miss this?" Ashlord muttered as he turned to flee.

  • • •

  The off-duty militia, Robby, Billy, and Ibin amongst them, gladly entered the fairgrounds to enjoy the fun of the evening. Each of them, along with every other militiaman of Passdale, had been given two silver coins by Mayor Ribbon, as tokens of Passdale's appreciation, and they were all eager to partake of the excitement.

  As soon as Robby and his fellow militiamen entered, they crowded around a man standing behind a table at a colorful kiosk. He was outfitted in gray and blue, with a large flat-topped hat on his head, and he held a smallish wooden box. A large banner overhead proclaimed, "The Conundrum Box."

  "Here is how it works," the man cried. "I place your coin inside the box. I place my coin inside the box. Now I slide this slat of wood through here and this slat of wood through there, and so forth and so on. The box is closed. No locks. No keys. I give you the box, and I turn the sandglass. If you can open the box before the sand runs out, you keep both coins. You cannot break open the box by smashing, banging, or prying. You can only use your hands. If the sand runs out, I keep both coins. Easy as that!"

  Behind him stood a large man, his bare arms crossed and bulging with muscles, eyeing the crowd warily, and the man gestured to him.

  "This is Trander, my strongman. He will see to any who try to break my Conundrum Box or to any who try to run away with it. Who will play the game? Who will test their wits and their hands against the Conundrum Box? Risk for risk. Coin for coin. No one? Ah, it can be done and there is no magic, only the skill of nimble hands and thoughtful attention. See! Once again it is open! Who will play the game and be a gold piece richer? How about you, young fellow? You look bright enough. What about you, big man? Who will play?"

  "I wanna, I wanna, Iwannaplay!" said Ibin, stepping forward, digging into his vest pocket for a coin.

  "Ibin, don't be silly. It's rigged," Billy said as he took Ibin by the arm and tried to hold him back. "Ye'll not see yer silver again!"

  "ButI, but, butIwanttoplay, Billy."

  "Silver for gold! Coin for coin! Who will outwit the Conundrum Box?"

  "Go ahead, then!" said Billy as Ibin held up his coin for the man to see. "But don't complain when yer ale money's gone!"

  "Here!" cried Ibin, gleefully handing the man his coin.

  "A player! Who will be the richer or the poorer at the turn of the sandglass?" said the man to the crowd, taking Ibin's coin. "Here's how it works. I place my gold coin and your silver coin inside for all to see. I slip this wooden slat through here. I slip this wooden slat through there. And so forth and so on. Now! Are you ready? Here's the box, now I turn the sandglass."

  Ibin snatched up the wooden box and turned it over and over in his hands as the man continued his verbal routine.

  "The sands run and time passes as the moments of our life. Who will be the richer or the poorer when the last grain falls? Soon, now, time will tell!"

  Suddenly there was a click and Ibin quickly removed one slat of wood and then another until, before even half of the sand had run out, he held up a coin in each hand, one silver and the other gold.

  "My box is outwitted! Alas, I am the poorer and you the richer!"

  "Look! Look!" Ibin was almost jumping with joy.

  No sooner had he turned from the table to show Billy his winnings than he was being pushed away by all of the others crowding in.

  "Let me have at it!" cried Billy.

  "Me, too."

  "And me!"

  "One at a time!" said the man, holding up his hands.

  Robby, at the back of the crowd, stayed long enough to watch Billy lose his silver.

  "Outwitted by the Conundrum Box!" cried the man. "And I am the richer by a silver coin of Glareth!"

  Dejected, Billy was pushed away from the kiosk as others had their turn.

  "Just couldn't figure it out," he told Robby as he rejoined him.

  "Oh, well! Don't worry about it, Billy. I'll get us a tankard."

  "Mighty obliged."

  They moved to a nearby table and Robby paid for two ales. They watched others try their luck at the box, some winning, most losing, as they drank their drafts.

  "Seems like most of 'em that win are the very one's ye'd figure ain't got a chance," observed Billy. "I wonder how ol' Ibin did it?"

  "Don't know," answered Robby, looking at Ibin who was presently approaching with a very large basket. "Maybe he's got the touch."

  "Thar's little doubt he's touched. But I still wonder."

  Still grinning deliriously, Ibin put his wicker basket down on the table with a heavy thump.

  "Billy! Lookatwhat, lookat, lookatwhatIgotforus!"

  He started pulling out bottles of wine, legs of mutton, a big wedge of cheese, several baguettes, a sack of roasted nuts, still steaming, and a half dozen sweet rolls, dripping with apple butter.

  "AndIstill, I still, andIstillhavemysilverandthensome! Let'seat!"

  Billy and Robby shook their heads at each other, laughing, and thanked Ibin as they tore into the feast. The Conundrum Box man kept up a brisk business for a while, but the crowd around his table thinned as people moved off to watch the jugglers or to have their fortunes told by one of the many seers, or to play one of the many tossing games. Music came from the large tent across the way, and there was clapping and cheers mixed with it as the acrobats performed within. Farther down, Robby could see the swing-ride spinning round and round, sending children flying in circles through the air at the end of long ropes. There was also a fire-eating man, drumming up business outside the magic-show tent, and a drama player reciting particular lines from a play that was about to begin in the tent directly across from the fire-eater. Everywhere people laughed and ate and drank and played games and clapped at the wins and losses alike. The air cooled further and the dusky evening sky darkened, but the grounds were lit by hundreds of blue and yellow and green and red and white lanterns hung from lines overhead in web-like profusion from tent to tent and along each lane, crisscrossing this way and that. So gaily they glowed, that it was hard to tell when night-time came, for beneath their globes all was light and levity, merriment and joy. Some on-duty militiamen came by, along with one of Fivelpont's men and several Boskmen, too, all in their finest surcoats with their steel and brass polished and glinting.

  "Look over yonder at yer dad, Robby," Billy nudged, gesturing with a half-eaten sweet roll. Robby turned around and saw his father entering the gates of the fair. He was wearing his best breeches and vest, his polished high-boots and a felt jacket, over which he wore the blue Mayor's Sash. Around his shoulders draped a fur-collared long-coat of black wool with silver buttons and cufflinks. On his arms hung two of the most striking women that Passdale had seen in many, many years. On his left was Mirabella, her red hair flowing over a walnut brown cape that hung to her ankles. Underneath she wore a dress of fine satin the color of dark emerald, and above the low cut of the neckline hung a sparkling medallion set in the middle with a blue topaz in a constellation of diamonds. She was tossing her head back, laughing, and bent to look across her husband at her companion, Sheila, who was very finely attired in a long sweeping midnight blue cloak over her blue gown, her light brown hair braided around her forehead and hanging behind her back. Robby saw them as if he had never known them, so struck was he by the beauty of the ladies and the handsomeness of his father. Proudly, Mr. Ribbon approached, and the crowd parted before them as they came, with ladies curtseying and men bowing in honor of the Mayor and his wife. Sheila was radiant with delight, and when she saw Robby and his friends staring at them, she laughed and pointed.

  "Ah, Robby, me son!" Mr. Ribbon called, and he guided his entourage toward him. Robby stood up and bowed low before them, honoring the spirit of the moment.

  "Good evening, sir and fair ladies," he said. "And what a splendid trio you three make!"

  "These ladies outshine the moon, don't ye think?" said his father.

  "Most certainly the
two most beautiful women in all of Passdale and Barley," Robby agreed, bowing again. "If I did not know you three, I'd say you were from some fabled land, some enchanted city."

  "Oh, be quiet!" his mother giggled. Like Robby, they had already imbibed a fair quantity of drink, with all of the incumbent cheer it may bring, and Robby detected a lovely blush on his mother's cheeks.

  "It looks as though you three are enjoying quite a feast," Sheila observed.

  "Ibin's winnin's," Billy said, rising and bowing. "Won't ye join us?"

  "Thank you, and thank Ibin, but we're off to see the acrobats," Mirabella said. "And if I'm not mistaken, one show has just let out, and another line is forming at their pavilion."

  "Aye, right ye are, sweet light," Mr. Ribbon said. "Shall we?"

  "Yes, let's do!"

  "Won't you come along with us?" Sheila asked.

  "Thank you, but," Robby motioned to the table, "so much food! I must help out! I'll meet you afterwards, if you are willing. The minstrels of Marren will be playing just over there a bit later. I think you would enjoy them. If you'd care to accompany me, I would be honored."

  "I'd be delighted!"

  "Then I'll watch for you at the end of the acrobat's performance."

  "We must go!" Mr. Ribbon said, pulling the ladies along, "if I am to have my seat of honor. Ye know, as Mayor, an' all." With a wink, he guided them toward the pavilion, and Sheila looked back over her shoulder at Robby, smiling.

  Turning back to the table, Robby bumped into Billy, who was staring after them.

  "Excuse me! Didn't realize you were standing right there."

  "Sorry," Billy said. He shook his head and looked at Robby with a puzzled expression. "Was that truly Sheila Pradkin?"

  "Yes."

  "Lo! I never seen her so, so, I mean, I never realized how, I mean, she's—"

  "Yeah, she is, isn't she?"

  "Yeah."

  "Sheila'sverybeautiful," Ibin blurted out, louder than he should have, his mouth full of food. He picked up a bottle and pulled the stopper and took a long gulping drink, then wiped his mouth with his sleeve. Slamming down the bottle, he jumped up from the table. "I'm, I'm, I'mgoingtoseethejugglers!"

  "But what about all this food?" Billy called after him. He and Robby watched the big fellow hurry off into the crowd.

  "Oh well," Billy shrugged, picking up a bottle and uncorking it. "No sense in lettin' it all waste."

  Robby resumed his seat and let Billy refill his tankard. All the while, the Conundrum Man barked out his unending verbal advertising, his customers having long since gone to other parts of the festival.

  "Perhaps mere coins are not what you desire," the Conundrum Man went on, smoothly shifting his practiced speech. "For some gold, and for others silver. Gold and silver are fine with me and with my box, but see here!" He pulled out a panel on which was displayed many bejeweled rings, bracelets, and other glittering decorations. "I have gathered for your temptation examples of the finest works of the craftsmen of Duinnor, the most exquisite fashions of Glareth. Made with gold from Vanara, rubies from the Tulivana Mountains of Altoria, silver from the mines of Mount Vendril. Look here, at these earrings, studded with diamonds from the fabled lands of Karkarando, so distant within the Dragonlands that no Northman has ever seen the place. Your coin against one of these treasures. What will it be? A gold bangle, the kind worn by the ladies of the desert? Or perhaps an armband is more to your liking? What of this ring, red gold adorned with tiny blue sapphires? Behold, it is the very highest fashion of Duinnor!"

  This new tactic brought new prospects to his table, many who had shied away before but were now more tempted to be parted from their silver. Meanwhile, Robby listened to Billy prattle on about how the only girls he could get interested in him were ones he did not particularly want to be interested in him, so desperate for male attention by reason of their general poor looks or other limitations.

  "What about Gina Clingdon?" Robby asked, eyeing a dejected loser walking away from the Conundrum table. "I thought you liked her."

  "Well, I did," Billy replied glancing across the way at a fair-haired girl wearing a much-too-revealing gown and whispering to a gaggle of her friends. "I mean, to look at her over thar, what's not to like? I spent the better part of two weeks slobberin' over meself just to get a chance alone with her. Well, I finally did get with her, an' things went right nicely, in point of fact. That is, 'til I got her laughin' at some little somethin'. Then I knew I whar in trouble."

  "What do you mean?"

  Billy leaned in close and said, in a low tone, "She laughs like a horse snortin' for oats."

  "What?"

  "I ain't jokin'! Nearly turned me to stone!" Billy nodded. "I mean, as soon as she started into laughin', I felt like somebody had run me fingernails along a piece of slate, an' the hair on the back of me neck all stood up, like. Thar's no future in a laugh such as that!"

  "Well, putting it that way, I guess not."

  "But wait," Billy said, touching Robby's arm. "Thar goes Maggie Shawmill, an' I heard tell she done busted up with that Wintrell feller."

  Robby turned and saw a pretty young lady, about a year or two younger than himself, leaving the Magic Tent along with a few young and giddy girls.

  "Tell ye what," Billy said, getting up and straightening his tunic and surcoat. "I'm gonna see how she likes a man in uniform!"

  "Good luck!"

  Robby watched him disappear behind a mob of tumblers leaping and rolling and flipping along the way. Sighing and smiling, he turned his attention back to the Conundrum Box man who was just announcing another loser. Robby's eye kept wandering over to the display of jewelry on the gamester's table. He realized he was fascinated by a particular piece that glittered silver and purple. Taking the last drink from his tankard, he got up and shuffled over just as another player began trying to open the box. The Conundrum Box man called his call, keeping an eye on Robby as he did so. For his part, Robby was bending over the attractive jewelry to get a better view. When the glass ran out of sand, and another loser was announced, the man turned to Robby.

  "All those things were made far from these parts, by master craftsmen."

  "Is this an amethyst?" Robby asked, pointing at the piece.

  "Why, yes, sir. It is, indeed."

  "And these little yellow gems? Are they honeytears?"

  "Aye, that is what they are called in these parts," the man nodded. "You seem very knowledgeable. For such a young man."

  "You mean, 'For someone from these parts,' " Robby corrected.

  "Well, I wouldn't presume."

  "You may as well, since, in most cases, you'd be right in doing. I only know these jewels from having seen them worn on others, and, from time to time, in the store."

  "The store?"

  "Ribbon's sundries, here in town."

  "Oh, I see. Well, these are of the finest quality, as you can see for yourself. That is a very nice lady's piece, a choker, see?"

  The man took the piece up and held it so that the braided silver band could be examined along with the unusual clasp at the back of it.

  "The neckband is made of woven silver thread, from Chiroth, near Duinnor, and it is made in such a way that has a little stretch, see, so as not to slip. And the clasp will hold firmly, yet is easy to open and close. And the stones are firmly set, yet are cut so that they cast a fine glimmer."

  "Yes. Very nice."

  "I am willing to sell any of the things you see, or play you for them, whichever you like."

  "How much is this?"

  "I'll take two hundred silver pieces for that one."

  "Whoa! That's more than I have!"

  "Then would you like to play for it?"

  "Yes," Robby decided impulsively. "I would! But—"

  "What is it?"

  "Can we keep it quiet? If I win, I'd like to surprise someone with the necklace."

  The Conundrum Box man looked sideways at Robby with a smile.

  "Why, certainly," he sa
id. "Would you like to step into my tent, here? It offers more privacy."

  Robby looked at the tent and saw another man watching from just within its shadow, leaning against the tent post. Looking around, he saw they were practically alone. He did not trust the man, who was still holding the box and waiting for an answer. After all, it was a trick box or else the man would not be able to make a living with it. Still, a little piece of silver was not much to chance.