DDDDD ZZZZZZ // D D AAAA RRR GGGG OOOO NN N Z I NN N EEEE || D D A A R R G O O N N N Z I N N N E || Volume 12 -=========================================================+|) D D AAAA RRR G GG O O N N N Z I N N N E || Number 6 DDDDD A A R R GGGG OOOO N NN ZZZZZZ I N NN EEEE || \\ \ ======================================================================== DargonZine Distributed: 6/20/1999 Volume 12, Number 6 Circulation: 716 ======================================================================== Contents Editorial Ornoth D.A. Liscomb Withstand the Flood Jim Owens Seber 10, 999 Talisman Zero 6 Dafydd Cyhoeddwr Winter, 2216 ID Talisman Zero 7 Dafydd Cyhoeddwr Spring, 2217 ID ======================================================================== DargonZine is the publication vehicle of the Dargon Project, a collaborative group of aspiring fantasy writers on the Internet. We welcome new readers and writers interested in joining the project. Please address all correspondance to or visit us on the World Wide Web at http://www.dargonzine.org/. Back issues are available from ftp.shore.net in members/dargon/. Issues and public discussions are posted to the Usenet newsgroup rec.mag.dargon. DargonZine 12-6, ISSN 1080-9910, (C) Copyright June, 1999 by the Dargon Project. Editor: Ornoth D.A. Liscomb , Assistant Editor: Jon Evans . All rights reserved. All rights are reassigned to the individual contributors. Stories and artwork appearing herein may not be reproduced or redistributed without the explicit permission of their creators, except in the case of freely reproducing entire issues for further distribution. Reproduction of issues or any portions thereof for profit is forbidden. ======================================================================== Editorial by Ornoth D.A. Liscomb If I had any more news, I'd need a wheelbarrow! Well, the first thing to talk about is the recent vote regarding whether to continue sending the announcements that precede each issue by a week. In the final tally, 30 percent of the people who responded wanted to keep the announcements, 27 percent only wanted them some of the time, another 27 percent didn't care, and only 15 percent of people did not want to receive them at all. What this tells me is that the pre-issue announcements generally don't bother people. With that in mind, we will continue sending pre-issue "pings", although not for issues which follow one another in rapid succession. In that particular case, sending a pre-issue ping would clutter our readers' mailboxes, might delay getting the issue out, and would be unnecessary for us, since few readers' accounts would have expired since the previous mailing. That appears to be what you told us through your feedback. I'd like to thank everyone who took the time to vote. We try to produce the best magazine we can, but it's hard to know how we're doing without hearing feedback directly from our readers. Thanks for making the effort to let us know your preferences! The second topic is the 1999 DargonZine Writers' Summit, which took place June 4-6 in New York City. Each year we encourage our writers to get together to socialize and work on the future of DargonZine. This year's Summit was hosted by Alan Lauderdale, and was attended by writers from as far away as southern California and Aberdeen, Scotland! Our working sessions included discussion of our ideal writing environments, the things that energize or de-energize us about DargonZine, how much benefit we derive from the project and how much we help one another, and more ideas for common events in Dargon. Social activities included a visit to Fort Tryon Park, which overlooks the Hudson. While there, we also stopped at the Cloisters, a medieval castle and museum, which was very interesting; highlights included several small courtyards, famous tapestries, amazing illuminated manuscripts, and lots of relics. In a less historically accurate mode, we also ate at Medieval Times, a feudal dinner theatre featuring jousts, falconry, and combats. We enjoyed the view from the top of the World Trade Center, and took part in the usual billiards, bowling, and mini-golf. Overall, the Summit was great fun; we enjoyed meeting new friends and renewing old friendships, and Alan did a great job coordinating everything. If you're interested in a more detailed writeup or seeing some of our photographs, check them out on our DargonZine Summits page at ! Finally, as you will have noticed if you glanced at the table of contents, this issue features the climactic final two parts of Dafydd's seven-part story "Talisman Zero". This series is a major work, both for DargonZine, as well as its creator, who has been with the project since 1986. I recently took the opportunity to speak with Dafydd about the "Talisman" series, and he had some great things to say. What follows is a transcript of that discussion. Please be aware that this interview contains spoilers, so it is strongly recommended that you read this interview only after reading the final two chapters of "Talisman Zero" which appear in this issue. DZ: Why is your story entitled "Talisman Zero"? Are there additional parts which follow? Dafydd: Yes, there are. The first story was called "Talisman Zero" because that's where the talisman is built, but the series is really about putting it back together. There's going to be five more stories, with varying numbers of chapters in each one, and that's where the real storyline is. DZ: What is the storyline about, or what's the basic idea or theme behind it? Dafydd: Putting the Talisman back together! Each story, even the first story, has a different purpose and a different tale to tell in and of itself. In each of the stories after "Talisman Zero", getting the talisman back together is more or less secondary to what the story is about. I'm hoping to make "Talisman Five" be more focused on the talisman itself, but the other four of them are their own stories. DZ: How did you get the idea behind the storyline? Dafydd: I was watching television. There's a Highlander episode called "Methuselah's Gift". It's about the Methuselah Stone, which in Highlander mythology gives the holder of it immortality. But the neat thing about it is that it was fragmented, and the genesis for the story was that when they took all these pieces that were like rods of crystal and put them all together, it became a ball, and I thought that was really cool. There were other influences as well. There was a song on the radio going around at that time where the idea of the song was two people trying to get together, but things kept happening to prevent it and they kept moving on. And so that added a little bit to it, chasing people through the ages. And there's a series of novels called the Deverry cycle by Katherine Kerr. This series is about a wizard who commits a crime of passion, who is then doomed to live until the reincarnations of those who were wronged are able to overcome their troubles. So that was certainly another influence on the story. DZ: What kind of things have you learned through the writing of the series? Dafydd: With this whole storyline I've been doing more plotting beforehand. For "Talisman Three", which I've just finished, I did a whole outline of it section by section, which I had never done before. It made it very much easier to write, because instead of having to figure out how to get from Point A to Point B, I knew all the stops I wanted to make along the way. It was still some effort getting to those stops, but it was much easier. DZ: The series, or at least "Talisman Zero" takes place during what for contemporary Dargon is ancient history. Will this series ever catch up and integrate with the mainstream timeline? Dafydd: Yes. Because we're following the fragments of the talisman throughout time, each successive story is getting closer and closer to present-day Dargon. Although the stories being told aren't necessarily about the talisman, the talisman will become more and more of a driving force as time moves on. What I'd like to do by "Talisman Five" is have the talisman be manipulating events to get these people back together, because it's tired of being fragmented. It will eventually catch up with contemporary Dargon. DZ: In "Talisman Zero" you've introduced a quartet of people in a romantic situation. But it's far more common to see a "love triangle" than a "love quadrangle". Why did you choose to write the story with a fourth person trying to intrude on a triad rather than the more familiar established couple with a third person intruding? Dafydd: Well, I didn't think of it in those terms; it's not where I started from. In fact, the original outline for the series had three people creating the talisman and having it destroyed and them chasing it. So the bad guy didn't come in until later. And it wasn't supposed to be about that conflict. In the original idea, the conflict wasn't there. I wanted to explore a bisexual relationship, which is kind of hard to do if you only have two people, so I had to set it up with three. It wasn't until later in the creative process that I realized that there needed to be an antagonist, and the easiest thing is like you said: having somebody trying to intrude. But I didn't start with two people and add an intrusive third; I had started with three people and added an intrusive fourth. And that's how that happened. DZ: What keeps you writing for DargonZine? Dafydd: It's fun. It's a place to write where I know people will read what I'm writing. A lot of people hand out their writing to their friends and get almost exclusively praise back from them. One of the benefits of being with the project is that while everybody is friendly with each other, they will critique your work relatively honestly. And then there's the readership itself. I can put my stories out there and know that people have subscribed to DargonZine with the intention of reading it. DZ: Would you ever write on a professional level or for pay? Dafydd: That's been a dream for a long time, and with all the feedback I'm getting about "Talisman", it seems like maybe I'm getting to the level where I am publishable. But a lot of my inspiration for the kind of writing that I do comes from the Dargon Project itself. So while it would be really cool to get published, I'm not sure what stories I would write if the inspiration isn't there. DZ: If you were to spell your name phonetically, how would you spell it? Dafydd: It's D-A-V-I-T-H-E C-A-W-H-E-T-H-E-R. DZ: Is there anything else about yourself or the "Talisman" series that you would want to share with the readers? Dafydd: Not really. I hope they enjoy it! ======================================================================== Withstand the Flood by Jim Owens Seber 10, 999 It was raining as Levy and Daisy trudged over the crest of the ridge approaching the small hamlet where Daisy lived. Immediately Levy was able to see the scope of the task facing him. He paused, arms cocked on his hips, then turned to Daisy. "How long has the water level been that high?" "I don't know," she responded grimly. "It wasn't that high when I left to get you. Perhaps a day, maybe less." She looked up into the weeping sky, underscoring the urgency of their plight. "Don't worry," Levy responded, staring down into the valley, looking for what he hoped would be there. "I'll have the water level down in no time. The dam will hold." Daisy nodded, and they started down the slope into the village. As they descended Levy continued to scan the valley. He could not see what he was looking for, however, and the trees soon swallowed up the view. The path moved now in gloom, tall pines rising up all around. As they descended they passed two couples, trudging up the road, pushing or pulling carts laden with household goods. Daisy greeted them by name, but they merely nodded, saving their breath for the arduous climb. The rain washed down and down, carrying the grey earth downhill ahead of the pair. Mud squished out from under Levy's boots, and more than once he stumbled as a foot slid out from underneath him. After almost a bell the pair finally emerged into a clearing. Huts stood around a central well made of stone. Two more carts stood in the commons, as people packed to flee the impending flood. Daisy led Levy across the commons to a larger hut, then knocked twice. The door opened, and a burly man emerged. "Well met, Daisy," he said, examining Levy curiously. "Well met, Elder Tanner," she replied, greeting him with a hug. She turned to Levy. "This is Levy, of Barel. I've brought him to save the village." Levy stepped forward. "Well met, Elder Tanner." "Well met, Levy Barel," Tanner replied. His eyes examined Levy's face appraisingly. "I understand that Smith Balder built the dam," Levy said, "and kept it up until his recent death." "Yes, and for too long we took for granted that he would live forever," Tanner replied ruefully. "Had we known how ill he was, we would have sought your aid sooner. But now he is gone, and the secret of working the floodgates is gone with him." "I know something of smithy, and of Smith Balder's work," Levy stated confidently. "I think I can discern how the gates work, and relieve some of the pressure on the dam." Tanner looked skeptical. "Then you'd best hurry. The gates are closed, but the river's up anyway -- that means the dam's leaking, and could go at any time." Levy's stomach knotted at those words, but he smiled and nodded nonetheless. "I'll be leading him to Smith Balder's place now," Daisy said. Tanner nodded. "Best hurry. Your family has already sought high ground. You should join them." He looked Levy in the eye. "Don't do anything foolish, young man," he admonished. "If that dam goes, it'll wash away the whole valley, Balder's place too." "I'll be careful," commented Levy. Tanner nodded. "If the water rises suddenly, don't wait. Drop everything and start running uphill." He affixed Levy's eyes solemnly. "I will," Levy assured him, and the two left. Daisy had arrived in Barel two days before, in late afternoon. It hadn't been raining then, but the ground was saturated after days of showers. Fall always brought rain, and it had been raining for a sennight. Levy had known about Balder's Dam, as both the village and the dam were known, but had only been there once, five years before. He had been traveling as an apprentice to Barel's former blacksmith, and had visited to see the famed Balder smithy. Balder was already an old man, with no children. Levy had been shown fantastic machines and wonderful tools, but Balder had been very sparing with his secrets. Levy had recognized some of them -- he had been to Dargon for schooling, and had learned many secrets about water and iron, wood and rope. But many of the combinations Balder made eluded the casual eye, and Balder would have no snooping. Levy had left impressed, but little wiser. As they made the long walk from Barel to Balder, Daisy talked of the old smith. He had been found dead the week before the rain started. He had always been the one to work the great sluice-gates on Balder's Dam, and had allowed no one else to know their secrets. The townsfolk just assumed that he would tell someone before he died, but that had not happened. When the rain came, the gates were not open, and now the dam was leaking. Daisy knew of Levy through Levy's sister, and had come to seek his help. The new blacksmith consented to send him, and so Levy was here now, to do what he could. Before the pair even reached the Balder's smithy Levy knew they had arrived. Towering above the trees was Balder's icon; a huge, skeletal statue of himself. It had been there when Levy had visited before, and it was the one thing that stuck in Levy's mind. Now it could be seen through the treetops. "... be going back now," Daisy was saying. "I've got to go meet up with my family, on the ridgetop." She was staring at him intensely. "Don't worry, I'll be alright. Hopefully I'll be up to bring you all down soon." "Be careful," she repeated, but her eyes sparkled. "The smartest men in the village have looked at those gates, and they couldn't figure it out." "Don't worry, I will." Levy was troubled more by the look in those eyes than by the immediate peril. She suddenly hugged him, then turned and hurried away. He stood a moment, startled, and then headed for the old smithy. The smithy was actually a series of large barns and sheds, filled with blackened metal and discarded machines. In the center stood the great statue, blind eyes focused on a distant hill. Levy stared at it a long moment, contemplating its massive, articulated limbs, then hurried up the path to the dam. It was an earthen dam, constructed years before either Levy or his father was born. To one side stood the sluice gates. The path led directly to them. Below, at the base, Levy could see even now that water was flowing out from the base of the great earthen dam. The gates were large, wooden structures, strengthened with great iron bars and bolts. Beside them, built into the face of the dam, was a shed. In the gloom, Levy could not see into the shed until he was actually inside. He stood for a moment, allowing his eyes to adjust. In the center of the shed was a large, iron cylinder, man-high and twice as wide. At its base was an opening. Levy peered inside the opening, but could see nothing in the gloom. The sharp odor of ashes pierced his nostrils. Scorn arose at the ignorance of whoever had tried to use this as a stove. Levy clucked his tongue at all those who lacked his own knowledge of mechanical things. When the thought occurred that he also might not have the knowledge to work this mechanism, he pushed it aside. The top of the cylinder was a large iron plate, with two flanges on either side. Iron chains were hooked to the flanges, and ran through pulleys cemented to the floor, then out to the gates. On the floor were three other sets of chains, one for each gate. This part was obvious -- somehow the cylinder was supposed to lift the plate, pulling the chains and raising the gates. But how? Levy walked around the cylinder, carefully examining it. In the dark it was impossible, so he took a mene to light a torch from his tinder kit. By the light of that flame, he circled the massive device, looking for clues. There was a plug on the front that screwed into the front of the cylinder, with a square hole to accept a key, which was hanging by a cord off a post in the shed wall. When the well-greased plug was removed, Levy tried to see inside, but only saw a few glimmers. The cylinder was hollow, but Levy could not tell what, if anything, was inside. He could feel his own frustration and anxiety rising. Levy changed his tack. Perhaps there were other ways of raising the gates. He left his torch in the shed and walked outside. Water was running down around the edge of the thick doors, following the easiest path to freedom. Levy quickly picked out the ratchet system which would hold the gates up once they were raised, but no other clues existed to show how to raise them. An expression of sudden hope came to Levy's face, and he ran back down the path to the workshops. He searched the wood pile and soon found a maul and wedge. He chugged back up to the gates and set the wedge into the crack at the base of the gates. He knew that the water pressure was the only thing actually sealing the gates, and if he could release a bit of that, he could get some water flowing. The first blow bounced the iron wedge out of the crack, sending it skittering away on the stone paving. Levy reset it, and struck again. A fountain of water geysered up, drenching and chilling him. The wedge held, and he struck again through the fountain of water. This time the blast of water knocked him back and dislodged the wedge. The gate slammed shut again, shaking the lintels. Levy gasped and puffed, shaking the water out of his hair. He arose, realizing for the first time the enormity of his task. He set the maul down and returned to the hut, where his torch still burned. Getting to his knees, he examined the space under the cylinder. Ashes were there, and the curved floor of the cylinder. To each side were openings. Levy suddenly realized that the cylinder stood on three, wide legs -- the opening was merely the space between the two front ones. His face burned in unseen embarrassment at his own ignorance. He sat for a moment and pondered, but could think of nothing. He got up, extinguished the torch, shouldered his pack, and headed down to the complex. Balder's house was a mass of crude models with stacks of flat wooden panels with hastily drawn images of parts and schematics. Levy sat for a long time, examining everything. Some things he could understand -- a multi-horse plow was simple, for example, as was a wind-powered water pump. But others were mere shapes and symbols, made by a mind that knew what it was seeing, and didn't need detailed explanations to remind it. As the afternoon drew on, Levy rubbed his eyes and propped his head on his hands, frustrated. He could just see the man, in his mind, working on these parts. Levy felt like he was looking over the smith's shoulder, seeing clearly each movement, but not understanding how they all fit together. Levy wondered if some day he himself would be leaving scratchings and doodles behind for some poor apprentice to decode. "If I had a son, I could teach him," Levy could imagine Balder saying, "but I don't, and I'll not show those villagers anything! Can't have them stealing my secrets!" Levy shook his head. What use were secrets, anyway? Knowledge was only good if it helped someone, or brought in money. His family had its secrets, to be sure, but they were practical secrets, like where the vein of gold ore was that had helped build the family wealth, or where the source of the local stream was. "Why couldn't you just get an apprentice, like me?" He wanted to ask the old man. He could see those old eyes, suspicious and narrow, looking back at him. "You can't trust an apprentice," he replied, in Levy's mind. "Always running off when something better or shinier shows its head. I can't be chasing down some apprentice every time he runs away!" "But a villager! Just show a villager! It's their village that's threatened!" "Bah! Ignorant townsfolk! They don't appreciate my work! If they really wanted to know they could have come and asked me! I've been here since before most of them were born!" "It's no use arguing with him," Levy thought to himself. "His mind's made up. I might as well go back home." "You can't leave!" the old man shrieked. "You have to figure it out! It's your job!" "No it's not! My job is back in Barel! I don't belong here -- this isn't my problem!" "Of course it's your problem! Or aren't you smart enough to figure it out?" "I can figure it out!" But Levy could feel in his heart that the old man was right, that for all his confidence, he would never figure out how the machines worked, that all this knowledge was gone for good, dead with the old smith. "No!!" Balder was going wild, swinging his cane around like a crazy man. He hit a shelf laden with plates, sending it crashing to the floor with a loud bang. Levy came to his feet as if struck, the crashing sound still echoing in his ears. He had fallen asleep in the old smith's cabin, and had dreamed the whole conversation. But the noise was real. There were loud snapping sounds coming from outside. Levy dashed out the door just in time to see a shed fold up and collapse. He ran toward it, then stopped. The stream issuing from the base of the dam was now a torrent, overrunning its banks. It had invaded the smithy, claiming its first victim. Levy ran for the path to the dam, then stopped. The ground under his feet was trembling. Levy turned instead for the cabin, grabbing his pack. He then headed straight up the hillside beside the dam, trying to put as much distance between himself and the coming flood as possible. Levy had time to spare, once he reached the top of the hill. Below the water was already pouring over the top of the sluice gates, effectively rendering any possible solution moot. But the dam held for several long menes more, until the stream of water cut deep enough into the unprotected earthen face to undermine the dam's strength. Then, with a deep rumble, the whole massive structure sagged, molten, and poured down the valley. The lake turned from grey to brown to white, and the rumble became a roar. A hill of water rushed down the valley, hiding trees and boulders and buildings beneath a muddy froth. When it reached the complex it smashed all the buildings, consuming them. The statue stood a moment longer, then tipped on one leg and toppled. The last Levy saw of it was one articulated arm, flailing above the swirling waters. After that Levy just stared at the muddy rush in a sodden funk. "Don't feel bad." Levy started, spinning about. It was Balder's voice, but when he turned it was Daisy's face. She was wet and muddy, but whole. "What?" He blurted out, startled. "How did you get here?" "When I saw my family was safe I came back for you. I couldn't find you, though, so I climbed to safety." She looked out over the destruction. "I said don't feel bad that you couldn't figure it out. My father tried for days to figure it out, but couldn't." "But your whole village is gone," Levy exclaimed, waving at the brown wash below. "Balder built most of that village," she replied. "We moved there before I was born, but now we'll just move back to the old village in the hills. It's still there -- I go there sometimes in the summer, to tend the flocks and think." "But your homes, your things, ..." "We have our things with us, and we can build another home. The most important thing is that we have our families. We can build again." Levy stared down at the morass below. "None of this would have happened if Balder had had a family, to tell his secrets to." Daisy shrugged. "Secrets aren't everything. Your family is what's important. That's what lasts." Levy didn't entirely agree, but didn't respond. Instead he asked, "So how do we get down?" "We don't, until the water recedes. We'll have to stay here for a while, unless we want to walk all the way around the back of the lake." "No, we can wait. It's just as fast." So they sat and watched the lake empty. As the shore gradually receded, Levy noted that a series of rectangular patterns emerged, laid out on the lakebed. When the lake had formed, a village had been flooded, only to reemerge as the lake now died. The cycle continued despite him, despite them all. Birth and death, creation and destruction. It was a small consolation, but a consolation nonetheless. Their part in the cycle complete, Daisy and Levy watched as the day ended, waiting for the sunrise and a chance to move on. ======================================================================== Talisman Zero Part 6 by Dafydd Cyhoeddwr Winter, 2216 ID Part 1 of this story was printed in DargonZine 12-1 Part 7 of this story appears later in this issue Orlebb sat in his bedroom and fumed. Nothing! Two weeks of trying, and he had received nothing except a very nice wooden bust of himself from Kendil, a kiss from Eldinan, and a flat out rejection from Nikkeus. It shouldn't be working out like this. He thought that his meeting with Kendil had gone well. There had been lots of sly innuendo; a good connection on a basic level. He had been sure that an assignation was forthcoming. But no, just the bust -- head and shoulders only, so why had he had to pose like that for so long? It was fine artistry, and those tools he had been storing away in his inventory had certainly found the right hands to use them. But nothing more had come of the gift. And then there was Eldinan -- that model ship had obviously meant a great deal to her. His informants had told him of her connection to the captain of _Celene's Fire_, and he had put that together with the identity of the sailor's son in the village. It had been a small matter to put a little poison in the man's flour, and naturally the distribution of the man's effects had been left to him. And she had kissed him, only on the cheek, but still! Yet nothing more had come of it: no invitation, not even a smile and a wink as they passed in the halls. Then there was Nikkeus. He seemed so much younger than the others, though he knew the musician was a year older than Kendil. But there was an innocence about him, maybe in those large so-green eyes. The lute had been another item from Orlebb's inventory. He had acquired it several years ago, when a skaldric had come to Wudamund and had subsequently fallen on hard times. The lute had been collateral for a loan, which had led to another loan when the man's 'sure thing' at the backroom gambling tables hadn't paid off. And eventually, it had led finally to a quiet knife in an alley -- none of Orlebb's doing, strictly the result of excessive gambling debts. Orlebb hadn't recovered his loans, but the lute itself was worth far more than he had lent to the skaldric, so he didn't mind the loss. Orlebb had had the lute tuned by one of the keep's musicians, and then presented it. The Hrothgrim lute had seemed to belong in the young man's hands, and Nikkeus had played it with consummate skill. That tune had made Orlebb feel warm, happy, light inside. He hadn't planned what happened afterward, but those eyes staring at him so openly, and the good feeling inside of him, had prompted him to bypass all of his schemes and just kiss him. But it hadn't worked. It was his first direct rejection, but once the boy passed the story around, they would all hate him. The time for subtle maneuvering was over. But what could he do? He decided, finally, to meditate, as he usually did when he was confused. He stood and walked over to the small table set against a wall of his room. He knelt on the stool in front of it as if it were a shrine -- which it almost was. He took up the small clay jar of fragrant oil that rested to one side, and poured a bit into the small brass bowl on top of the contraption that seemed to be the focus of the table. It consisted of a pole atop which sat the brass bowl and from which was suspended a cylinder made of some kind of painted parchment wrapped around a brass wire frame. Hanging from the bottom of the cylinder were tiny brass bells. With practiced ease, Orlebb took hold of the cylinder carefully and spun it. The bells chimed softly, the seemingly random splotches of paint on the parchment flowed together with the cylinder's rotation, becoming pleasing and eye-catching patterns. A humming arose from the object where the cylinder's supports came into contact with the central pole. A delicate scent started to waft up from the brass bowl on top as the oil within it was heated by something inside the pole. Orlebb placed his hands flat on the table before the memory wheel and stared at the patterns. As he let the patterns ease the confusion in his mind, he mused that this was probably the last memory wheel in existence. Twenty years ago, when a teraehran of Fretheod soldiers had encountered his people's small village just to the south of the Darst mountains, they had first made overtures of friendship to the somewhat isolated group of people. But the Lord Keeper of Wudamund at the time had harbored grand plans. It had been his dream that Province Drabethel, as the Fretheod conquerors called the northern part of the continent, would become more than just a remote outpost of the empire. Wudamund had existed for hundreds and hundreds of years as just a tiny enclave of the empire. That Lord Keeper had intended to conquer the entirety of the north of Cherisk, so that proper colonization could ensue. So the very next time a Fretheod teraehran had come to his village, they had come not with trade goods, but with drawn swords. Orlebb had been eighteen at the time, and had tried to help defend his village at first. But his people were not used to fighting other people. The wall around the village had been plenty to keep the animals of the forest out, and of course they all knew how to hunt because they needed to live. But hunting people had never been a sport they took to, and so were unprepared for fighting against thinking beings. Orlebb had seen the way the tide of battle was going, and he had decided not to die with his people. He had gone back to his house, gathered up all of his things, including the memory wheel, and slipped over the wall on the other side of the village from the fighting. He had hidden in the woods until the victorious Fretheod soldiers had started marching back to their own homes. He followed, and ended up at Wudamund. Orlebb closed his left eye, and the colors of everything he looked at shifted, lightening and gaining a yellowish cast. He opened his left eye and closed his right, and the colors darkened, taking on a greenish cast. He stared at the patterns on the still moving cylinder with each eye separately, and as usual, he saw different things with either eye. He sometimes wondered about his mismatched eyes and the way they saw things differently. Had the eyes he had been born with somehow foretold the way he currently sometimes found himself two different people? His upbringing in the village had been so different from the role he had played amongst the Fretheod, a role he played well enough to attain the highest rank possible to a native. Would his father have been proud of his accomplishments? Did it matter? His father was long dead, and Orlebb had this life to lead all by himself. Different colors, different lives, but none of that was helping him work his way into the trio! He opened both eyes and a blend of the two shadings, the two sets of shapes he had seen in the spinning cylinder, took form before him. He concentrated on the patterns, in finding the meaning in them. The tinging of the bells and the hum of the inner pole soothed his thoughts, and the scent of the burning oil made those soothed thoughts drift with the shapes on the cylinder. He drifted for a time like that, the cylinder spinning and spinning far, far beyond when it should have stopped. Finally, the oil scent dissipated, and the cylinder began to slow. Orlebb started to blink as the swirling patterns became splotches of paint again, and after a moment, he smiled as broadly as he ever did. He knew what to do next. That night he took a sack and started collecting things into it from his bedroom. He chose small items mostly -- his metal comb, one of the small round stones he had played marbles with back in his village -- but some larger ones as well. One such was a statue that he kept on his mantle. As he lifted it down, he recalled with fondness winning it from his best friend at Ajee-ra, a game that was part gambling, part sport, and part puzzle. Miffet's family had put great significance on the statue, using it as a point of pride in the village. Miffet's father had supposedly found the statue in the ruins of a vast city buried underneath the Darst mountains. Everyone in the village held him to be a great explorer, despite the fact that he had never been able to lead anyone back to where he had found the city. Orlebb had envied his best friend Miffet the acclaim caused by the statue. So, he had set it up so that the Ajee-ra game had come out in his favor. The statue had passed to him, but Miffet had told his father that someone had stolen it. Orlebb had gained the statue, but Miffet's family had lost none of the acclaim. His failure to discredit Miffet's family bothered him, but the fact that he had the statue and Miffet didn't pleased him more. The statue was distinctly odd looking. It was in the shape of two obelisks fastened base to base. A quartet of limbs projected from each face of the lower obelisk and arched downward to form a four pointed base of support for the object, while the four faces of the upper obelisk had a bump on each one, as if further limbs were retracted inside the shape. Strange markings -- writing? -- covered the upper obelisk on all sides. He lowered it carefully into the sack and continued around the room. He thought about adding the memory wheel, but finally decided against it. When he felt he had gathered up enough, he took his keys and left the room. He went directly, yet cautiously, to the small workroom that had been reserved for the project that Eldinan's trio was working on. Zawk had spent a great deal of time there, and though it wasn't common knowledge, Orlebb had learned that the crucible the erlantrielk had been commissioned to build was set up in there and had been activated. While Zawk worked on creating the mold, the others were slowly feeding materials into the crucible to be melted and merged into the single substance that would form the basis of the talisman they were building. Orlebb had no difficulty entering the room, and he looked at the vat that was sitting within a lifting frame. It appeared to be made of wood, but it was about half filled with a strangely glowing liquid that gave off a lot of heat. Orlebb opened his sack and started to feed its contents one by one into the magical crucible. Item after personal item vanished into the glowing soup in the tub, some liquefying completely as they fell unnaturally slowly from the rim to the level of the contents. Orlebb was almost giggling, feeling a resurgence of a little boy's 'playing with fire' glee, by the time he pulled out that strange statue and slipped it over the edge carefully. He watched the edges of the statue start to melt, the legs going first as it slowly fell toward the liquid. He thought he saw the mixture glow a bit brighter as the statue sank beneath the surface, and then flush purplish before returning to its normal white-yellow glow. But he might have imagined it. He turned from the tub and started to walk back to his rooms. Now everything was set. Items of personal importance to him had been mixed into the talisman's substance, which made him part of the bonding. He had a couple of months to figure out how to be there when the invocation was made -- he figured that it would take his active participation in the ceremony for everything to be finalized. But then, he would be part of the group, and they would even like it, no matter how they felt now. Eldinan had made the decision the night before. She had been toying with it for a while, but it was a big step. Sacrificing her anhekova meant acknowledging that a fundamental change had come to the empire. Then again, she had just endured one of her most difficult ocean voyages thanks to the failure of the Yrmenweald, so that fundamental change was a fact whether she acknowledged it or not. That was why she was reaching into her storage chest this morning and lifting out her anhekova. She slid it out of the soft cloth bag where she kept it in off-duty times like this and gazed at it fondly. She ran her eyes over the slightly imperfect oval of milky stone, the exquisite knot-work in the wood of the shaft bearing the slight wear marks from being handled over the years. She made an attempt to remove the crystal from the setting, but realized that she wasn't going to be able to free it without damaging the shaft. It would just all have to go. She mourned the imminent loss of this material tie to her grandfather, but once it was part of the talisman, it would be with her forever. She carried the staff down to the workroom and knocked on the door. Kendil opened it and she walked in. Without much ceremony at all, she walked over to the magical vat that was almost full of glowing, molten liquid. She held the anhekova out in front of her and placed her hand on the cwicustan crystal. No contact, as usual. She silently bid it, and all it stood for, farewell, and let it drop into the vat. As it passed the lip of the vat, it slowed down as if it was falling through thick oil, and the wooden shaft started immediately to flame. The shaft was ashes by the time the crystal oval struck the liquid. Both elements sank quickly under the surface, as odd as it was for ashes to sink. Eldinan was turning away when she could have sworn that the liquid flashed an eerie blue for a brief moment, but it went back to its normal color quickly and she decided she had imagined it. Kendil was just letting Nikkeus into the room. The musician was carrying a basket full of odds and ends and he smiled at the others in the room before going over to the vat and starting to throw the objects in one by one. Eldinan watched him for a moment -- he seemed to be enjoying his task, much like a boy might play at sticking different materials into a fire to see how they burned. With a chuckle, she turned and walked over to Kendil, who was standing next to a large domed contrivance sitting on a table next to the vat. "So that's it, eh?" she said. "That's it all right," said Kendil. "The mold for the talisman's basic form. Zawk assures me that it will hold perfectly." She looked into the opening at the top of the dome, and saw that the inside of the dome was shaped as she had imagined the talisman's general shape would be. "How much longer?" "Well, Nikk is adding what should be the last load of oddments. We'll wait a bit once he's done, and then start pouring." Nikkeus took his time, but Eldinan wasn't impatient enough to make him hurry. Besides, it was fun to watch him play. In time he was finished, and after waiting a while longer to ensure that everything was melted and mixed, Kendil moved the table into position. Using the lever on the side of the lifting apparatus, he hoisted the vat into position over the mold. There was a bar attached to the bottom of the vat, and he used this to tip the vat so that the molten liquid inside poured perfectly into the opening at the top of the talisman's mold. The liquid glowed brightly with heat, but Eldinan just squinted and watched it pour. Every last drop of the liquid ran out of the vat, revealing its incongruous wooden sides. Kendil lowered it back into place on the frame, and then dragged the frame into a corner of the workroom. "Zawk says that by tomorrow the enchantment on the vat will dissipate. Until then, we should all keep clear of it." Eldinan looked at the domed form sitting on the table with the small pool of glowing liquid showing at its top. Already the glow was dimming now that the liquid had been removed from the crucible that had kept it hot. "So, all we can do now is wait, right?" As the three of them headed back to their room, Eldinan was very pleased. The first actual step had been taken, and now the first physical evidence of their talisman had been produced. The equinox was weeks away and there was still a great deal of work to do, but finally it was starting to look like their private krovelathan ceremony was going to happen! Kendil stood in the workshop and looked at the talisman on the table in front of him. Their design was slowly being revealed in the strange stone-like substance that the talisman was made from, and it looked even more magnificent as it was slowly revealed in three dimensions than it had on the parchment where it had been sketched. The disk of the talisman had been divided roughly into three equal sections, one for each of them. Three-banded Geronlel knot-work wove all over the surface of the talisman and even though it was currently composed of grooves indented into the surface to hold the metal and glass bands that made up the complicated plan, it still looked intricate and impressive. They had also worked totem beasts into the knot-work design, two examples of each of their chosen totems in each section but worked so that each of those examples blended with the totem animal of each of the others' where the sections met. The result was both beautiful and elegantly symbolic of the tripartite bond that the talisman was supposed to represent. The carving was going well, even though Elin had never carved anything before and Nikk had only carved a few things into wood. Kendil himself wasn't nearly as proficient with stone as he was with wood, but somehow, the stone-like composite material that looked like heavily veined marble carved like sandstone without that soft stone's actual softness. Once Elin and Nikk had painted the sketched design onto the talisman's surface, those parts of the stone that didn't belong to the finished product just seemed vanish under the chisels borrowed from the masons' workshops. The carving was about halfway done. The three of them had set up a schedule at Kendil's suggestion. He felt that if they did just a little at a time, and worked in pairs so that someone with some kind of carving experience was there at all times, they stood the best chance of not making any hideous mistakes. And it seemed to be working perfectly. The three sets of totem beasts were really taking shape -- Nikk's cats, Elin's falcons, and his own foxes, each entwined with one of the other totems. The reverse spaces for the knot-work were beginning to spread out from the beasts since there was a little extra work going on with them so that the two metal bands could be cast right on the talisman and would lock into place. The third band, which would be composed of glass, had been altered slightly from the original plan so that it could accommodate wedges of wood that would hold it in properly once it was created. He was early this morning. Elin was taking her time in the bathing room but he expected her down shortly. He was somewhat surprised when he arrived that the room hadn't been cleaned as it usually was. Even though they locked it up tight every night, when they came in in the morning, it was swept and polished up perfectly. Of course someone else had keys, but it wasn't normal for the workrooms to be cleaned regularly by the cleaning staff. He heard a key in the lock of the room and turned toward it. Elin would have just knocked, so who could it be? The door opened and Orlebb walked in carrying a mop and bucket, and rags. He closed the door behind him and turned around, and let out a little gasp as he saw that the room was occupied. "Oh, ah ... You are here early, Kendil. I was just ..." Orlebb lifted the bucket and rags with a shrug, then set them down next to the door. Kendil hadn't seen very much of the castellan since delivering the wooden bust he had made for the man. He still recalled the vague disquiet that he had felt while they talked. That the castellan himself was performing cleaning services in their workroom only made him even more uneasy. Orlebb walked over to the table, saying, "I hope you and the others don't mind that I undertook to keep your workspace clean myself. I understand that this project of yours is something of a secret, and thought that it would be more discreet to do it myself." He stopped by the talisman and stared down at it. Kendil didn't like the almost proprietary look that the castellan gave it. "Yes, this is an amazing work of art." He looked up and asked, "So, what might it be for?" Kendil thought that Orlebb looked smug as he asked his question, but he couldn't imagine that the man knew what their talisman was really for. "Oh, it's just something to keep Eldinan, Nikkeus and myself busy over this winter. None of us are used to the kind of inactivity that winter in Wudamund means and Nikk had this idea ... and, well, here it is." Orlebb nodded knowingly, and said, "Yes, I can understand how such a backwater place as Wudamund might be lacking in excitement for folks from the heart of the empire. And you can only stay in bed for so long per day, eh?" He chuckled, and Kendil frowned slightly. "Well, you just go ahead with your work and I'll clean up as usual. Don't mind me." He walked back to his bucket and mop, grabbed some rags, and started dusting down the table top. Kendil stood still for a moment, but finally decided that he couldn't take the humming, or the sidelong glances that were always backed by the slightest of smirks. He said, "I think I'll go see what is keeping Elin. We'll be right back." He hurried out, but he couldn't get the thought out of his head as he walked back to the Green Tower. What did Orlebb know or think he knew about the talisman? Nikkeus found himself amazed by the results the three of them had produced so far. The carving of the body of the talisman had gone flawlessly, and the stone-like base was perfectly set up for the next step. The tracks in the stone that would contain the interlaced bands had been worked just right -- the two tracks for the metal bands were flanged at the base, while the track for the glass band was dotted with slots for the wooden wedges. He was finishing up the preparatory steps to casting the first band. Each metal band would to be hollow, as well as continuous. So, a form had been constructed to take up space in the middle of each band that would dissolve as the poured metal cooled. Also, the places where the bands crossed required blockages and bridges so that each band would keep its shape and cross properly. It had been Elin who had figured out just exactly how to place the bridges and blockages. She had said it was like a puzzle whose pieces had just fit together in her mind, leaving her with the answer without her even having to put much thought into it. Nikkeus thought that it was something like his musical talent and Kendil's carving skill, just not as well recognized. It had certainly proved useful with the talisman. Once the solution had been found, the three of them took turns working on the preparation -- there was only room for one to work at a time. The other two worked on gathering and melting the metals for the first band. This melting only needed a normal crucible and a very hot fire, so it was done before he had finished the last details. But he caught up quickly, and finally everything was ready for the first pour. The crucible was moved into position carefully. All three of them held their breath as they tipped it slowly over the track for the iron band and watched the molten metal pour out and flow around the proper grooves in the talisman. Soon the track was filled properly, and Kendil and Nikkeus took the crucible back to the fire. Then they all stood around the table, watching the white-hot metal rapidly change color as it cooled. Even when it had returned to its normal dull silver, the metal still radiated enough heat to be felt a hand's breadth from its surface. So, they waited longer, chatting about the design and discussing the structural elements that would be needed for the next band. Nikkeus found himself really enjoying their conversation, the way they were all concentrated on the same thing, all bringing their different talents together to produce a single object. It was so symbolic of their relationship, that he felt himself filling with a tingling lightness whenever he thought of it. The feeling made him just want to giggle and jump, but he didn't want to seem childish in front of his lovers, so he just savored the sensations and grinned. Finally, the metal had cooled enough to handle. All three of them carefully worked to remove the forms and ease the bridges out from under the band. Then, Nikkeus tapped it with a small hammer and it rang with a very interesting tone. They all smiled at each other, and Nikkeus said, "Perfect!" Kendil fetched some polishing cloths, and in short order, with three sets of hands working on it, the metal band was soon gleaming brightly. Even though it was only one third of the knot-work, it had its own beauty as it traced a continuous path around the entire talisman, beginning in the center of one of the cats and ending in the other cat. Elin said, "It's already a work of art!" and everyone agreed with her. Elin and Kendil went to work emptying and cleaning the crucible, while Nikkeus went to work on the talisman again, starting to build the same things into the track that would contain the next band. He had barely started when Kendil came over and said, "We still don't have enough brass and such to fill out the second track. Elin and I are going out to scrounge. Would you like us to fetch some lunch?" Nikkeus said, "Yes. Thanks." Kendil hugged him, and Eldinan kissed him. "Don't work too hard. I'll take the next session," she said as the two of them walked out of the room. Nikkeus was happy that the ambitious plan had worked, but there was more to do, and the idea for the third band was even more ambitious. He was working away steadily when the door to the workshop opened and Orlebb walked in. He was carrying a sack and a tray of food. He walked right up next to Nikkeus and set both items down on the table. The sack clinked like it was full of metal as it settled. Orlebb said, "I heard that your project needs more metals of value, and I just happened to have some lying around. You know, odds and ends of fancy tableware, left behind jewelry, that sort of thing. And when I saw Captain Eldinan in a hallway, she mentioned you were wanting some lunch. I believe she and Kendil are taking their meal as they search for more materials." The castellan looked at the talisman, and said, "Oh, my health, that looks fantastic! And, yes, I see how you set it all up, bridges and forms and what's this? The bands are hollow then?" He tapped on the iron band with his fingernail, and then with the hilt of his knife when his first try produced nothing. At the tone the hilt produced from the band, he laughed -- without smiling. "A work of art visually as well as aurally. Not that I should have expected anything else from the three of you, right?" Nikkeus was not comfortable at all with the castellan in the room. He didn't like the way the man was looking at the talisman, and how did he dare rap on it with his dagger? But he liked it even less when Orlebb looked up at him -- there was a look on the man's face that seemed ... hungry? Nikkeus almost recognized something familiar in the look, but not quite. Perhaps it was that unsmiling mouth that hampered his recognition. The silence stretched longer and longer, and Orlebb just continued to look at him with that hungry stare. Finally, Nikkeus said, slowly, "Um ... Thank you. For the praise, and the food. And the metal. And ... ah ... I should get back to, well, work ..." Orlebb nodded, and said, "Yes, yes, more work. It is all moving along quite well, eh?. And I have work to do as well. Keep up the amazing work, Nikkeus." Nikkeus sighed with relief as the castellan left the room. He pulled over a chair, and started nibbling at the lunch of meat, cheese and bread, trying to regain his composure. Maybe once he and Elin and Kendil were officially, if untraditionally, bonded, he would feel safer around that strange man. Maybe. ======================================================================== Talisman Zero Part 7 by Dafydd Cyhoeddwr Spring Equinox, 2217 ID Part 1 of this story was printed in DargonZine 12-1 Nikkeus ran the fine rasp once more over the edge of the small wooden wedge and fitted it between the oval of glass and the stone in the center of one of the carved falcons. There, perfect fit. He withdrew the wedge with his fingernails, dabbed it with glue, slid it back home, and tapped it with a small hammer that had a piece of felt tied around its head. Done, finally! And none too soon, either. Nikkeus sat up and looked at the finished product. The talisman rested on the table in the workroom, every piece of glass wedged and locked into place along the third band of Geronlel knot-work. It had taken the three of them three weeks to make, shape, fit, and reshape five score lengths of glass so that they filled in the track of the third band on the talisman. Each piece was really three pieces of glass -- one piece, the largest, clear, with two other pieces, one blue, one red, attached to its underside. The work had been difficult and time consuming, but the result was worth it all. Eldinan had quickly seen the first problem with the proposal to have each segment of the band span multiple intersections. For reasons that made sense to her and ended up being absolutely accurate, each segment of rolled, shaped, and fused glass had only been able to be fitted from intersection to intersection. This had required carving more wedge slots into the stone-composite of the talisman's base, as well as requiring far more work just to shape that number of pieces. Each and every piece had then required hand-crafting, and the wooden wedges the same, which had all added up to it being the spring equinox with the talisman being unfinished. But now, it was done. It lay in front of him in all of its splendor, and he could hardly believe it was finished. He removed the felt from his tiny hammer and rapped on the metal bands. The crossings of the bands turned them into collections of individual lengths, much like the glass band, instead of one continuous length, so that when he tapped them in different places, he got all kinds of different notes. He deduced that the variation was caused by the varying lengths between each crossing, plus the different materials that composed each crossing, plus slight variations in the carving of the tracks themselves. The musicality of the talisman seemed to draw Nikkeus, who had been awake since yesterday morning, into a trance. Elin and Kendil had also stayed up the night, and into the afternoon helping with the last stages of construction, but he had sent them back to their quarters to get some rest so that someone would be fresh for the ceremony. His mind fogged by lack of sleep and somewhat giddy at having finished the talisman in time, Nikkeus slipped into a strange state. He started tapping methodically around the talisman, slowly at first, and then faster and faster, learning the notes, figuring out how to play this new instrument. On a whim, he wet a finger and stroked it along the glass band, and was surprised by the ringing vibration that rose from each segment. That result he couldn't explain at all, but he cataloged the tones produced and added them to the developing musical range of the talisman. Nikkeus thought he had learned more than half of the possible notes when the door to the workshop opened. He stopped and turned, shaking off his trance-like state. He expected that this would be Elin and Kendil come to see if he had finished. But it wasn't them, it was Orlebb. Before the still somewhat dazed Nikkeus could tense up, the castellan said, "It is growing late, Nikkeus. The sun has set already. You will need help getting your talisman, your krovelathad, to the roof of Green Tower, will you not?" Nikkeus took the revelation that Orlebb knew their secret in stride. He nodded -- the castellan was right. The talisman was somewhat heavy, and they had planned that the ceremony take place not very long after sunset. "I must fetch El--" "No, no. I'll help you carry it up there. Why should Eldinan and Kendil come all the way down here just to retrace their steps all the way back to your quarters, and then beyond to the roof? Come on, get a good grip and let's go." Orlebb strode over to the table and latched onto the talisman. Swept along by the castellan's plan, Nikkeus grabbed the other side, and they started toward the tower. Their progress through the keep was swift and surprisingly uneventful. Nikkeus was almost too befuddled to notice, but they met no one in the corridors they passed through. In the anteroom to the tower, Nikkeus finally saw someone -- a page standing by the door. The young girl opened the door for the laden pair, and Nikkeus saw Orlebb nod to the girl, who turned over the sand-glass she carried in her other hand, causing the sand in the upper bulb to start to flow into the lower bulb. Nikkeus wanted to stop when they reached the sixth floor landing and fetch Kendil and Elin, but Orlebb said, "No, no. Why don't we get everything set up up there first? That way you can get started as soon as they arrive. I'll send a page to let them know everything is ready. It'll be fine." Nikkeus shrugged and followed the still climbing castellan. Two more flights of stairs, and Orlebb opened the door onto the roof. Nikkeus trailed the castellan out onto the chilly, rainy, flat platform at the top of Green Tower and looked around. A low wall surrounded the platform, and the only other structure was the stairwell hood itself. In the center of the platform, a low table had been set up, and Orlebb was moving in that direction. Three lanterns had been set up against the parapet wall, providing just about enough illumination from their magically glowing interiors that he wouldn't trip over the table or run into the walls. They reached the table and set the talisman onto it. Nikkeus shivered as chill rain blew across the platform, and Orlebb said, "Not the best of nights for an important ceremony, is it? Come, I've brought you a robe. The page will make sure your companions bring theirs as well. It's over here behind the stair hood." Nikkeus followed Orlebb into the narrow area between the stair hood and the parapet wall. He looked over the edge and took in the view out over the keep and the village beyond. He looked left and saw the faint lights of the ships moored at the docks on the other side of the Coldwell. He looked back toward the village, and saw the circle out on the edge of the village where the more traditional krovelathan ceremony was getting ready to take place. Large bonfires ringed the circle of people, and smaller ones dotted the space inside. He had no idea how many people were getting bonded in the ceremony below -- he had been far too busy the last few months to listen to keep gossip about that sort of thing. With a little sigh of happiness at the fact that their own ceremony was really going to happen in just a little while, he turned back toward Orlebb, wondering where the robe was. He just about had time to notice that the robe was on Orlebb when the castellan's knife hilt caught him in the temple. As he crumpled into darkness, a flash of lightning lit up the top of the tower, the crash of thunder following soon enough that he heard it as he dropped into unconsciousness. Another bolt of lightning illuminated the storm-dark night as Orlebb rose over the prone body of Nikkeus. He sheathed his knife as he watched the trickle of blood at Nikkeus' temple wash away in the driving rain. He had judged the blow of the knife hilt properly: hard enough to render Nikkeus unconscious, not hard enough to kill the young man. Everything was going smoothly. He had lured Nikkeus to the roof, and had taken his place. The others would be up at any moment, and the rites could begin. All he needed to do was take up his place by the table, standing in for Nikkeus in the ceremony, and wait. Orlebb took a step and looked down at the splashing sound he made. The drainage up here wasn't as good as it should have been. He took a moment to stoop over Nikkeus and turn the young man onto his back. Another lightning flash revealed Nikkeus' pretty face framed by blond hair. "I'm sorry, but it all will be well very soon," he whispered to the unconscious young man. Orlebb walked over to the table and the talisman and stepped up onto the low pile of lumber he had placed on one side of the table. When he was on top of the lumber, he gained the two inches that Nikkeus had on him. Next, he fished a small wooden token out of his belt pouch and looked at it. It was a flat oval etched with runes of a sort that he wagered no one in this keep could read, except for himself. He touched the token to the blood that was still on his knife hilt, and then placed the wooden oval into his mouth. He clamped it between his teeth, closed his lips over the outer edge, and touched his tongue to the inner edge. Then he subvocalized, concentrating on the token, and the words, "Time to begin." issued from his closed mouth in the exact tones of Nikkeus. Lastly, he pulled the hood of the robe up to cover his face. Fortunately, Nikkeus didn't wear rings, and with the rain and the clouds, and the dim lantern light, he was pretty sure that the others weren't going to be able to tell that his hands weren't quite as long-fingered and graceful as the musician's. Now all he could do was wait. His plans were finally working out. Nothing could go wrong. The page he had signaled downstairs would climb to the sixth floor when her sand-glass ran out and inform the residents of the master suite that Nikkeus was ready on the roof for them. She would also inform them of the weather, and tell them to bring cloaks. Then all that would remain would be some blessings and the invocation, and the group binding would be finished. And he knew that the results would surprise everyone involved. Except him, of course. The door across from him opened, and the remaining two members of the group stepped out onto the rooftop platform. Their greetings to the one they thought was Nikkeus were drowned out by another clap of thunder that followed almost on the heels of a bolt of lightning striking the ocean. The thunder also drowned out the laughter that Orlebb couldn't suppress. Soon, soon, soon! Eldinan felt well rested and relaxed as she sat in the main room of their quarters that evening. Her state made her feel a hint of guilt, since Nikk hadn't taken the break he said he would, and so must still be down stairs working on the talisman. But when she had started fumbling with the precisely crafted glass pieces, and had actually dropped one -- it hadn't been damaged -- she decided that she was in no shape to continue the delicate work required. Kendil had agreed, but Nikk assured them that he had the stamina to continue. She knew about his stamina, so she reluctantly left him to work, returning to their bedroom with Kendil and falling almost instantly asleep. Kendil had just finished dressing and joined her in front of the fireplace. She snuggled up next to him and just sat that way for a bit, excitement building inside her at the impending event. Finally, she said, "It is getting pretty close to time for the ceremony, don't you think? Nikkeus hasn't returned -- I hope he has finished by now." Kendil kissed her forehead, and said, "Of course he has. It just took longer than expected. We should probably head down there to make sure, and help get everything ready upstairs." Eldinan nodded and was just rising when a knock came at their door. Kendil called out, "Yes?" The door opened, and a young page was standing there. She said, "Nikkeus sent me to tell you that everything is ready upstairs, and to come up. He also said that it is raining and chilly, and to be sure to bring your cloaks. Thank you." And she turned and left. Eldinan looked at Kendil with astonishment, and said, "Our boy's been busy, hasn't he? How nice that he took care of everything. I guess his stamina really was up to it." Kendil laughed in response, and they both fetched their cloaks and started for the stairs. Two flights up from their sixth floor quarters they came to the end of the stairs and the door to the roof. Kendil opened it and they stepped through into a dark, stormy night. In the center of the watch platform that occupied the top of the Green Tower was a low table, upon which rested the completed talisman. The light from three lanterns set against the parapet of the platform was just enough to illuminate the scene, and even from over here the talisman looked fantastic. Also revealed was Nikk, standing on the opposite side of the talisman from the stairway door. He wore a grey cloak, not his usual one, draped over his frame, its hood up and shadowing his face completely. Eldinan waved and called a greeting, but her words were drowned out by a clap of thunder that followed hard on the heels of a huge bolt of lightning that slashed down out over the ocean behind Nikk. As the rolling boom faded away, she and Kendil walked over to the table. She stood at the side of the talisman which bore the two falcons that represented her, and stared down at the thing of beauty the three of them had created. She reached out and traced the bands, especially the glass band, the one that hadn't been finished when she had gone to bed. It was finished now, those last few segments just as perfect as all the other ones that had been crafted and fitted over the last two weeks. But the final product was definitely worth the effort -- it was magnificent! Another bolt of lightning flashed, not quite as close, and Eldinan looked around. From the center of the tower nothing was visible but distant flashes of lightning -- she knew she was standing on the tallest thing around. Eldinan asked, "Do you think this is totally safe?" Kendil shrugged, and said, "It should be. The lightning wards should be in place. Orlebb might be a number of unsavory things, but he is certainly efficient when it comes to taking care of this keep. A lightning strike up here might not start a fire, but it could still do significant damage to the structure of the tower. He must have had the wards activated as soon as the storm approached." "Ah ..." said Nikk, sounding nervous. Then he continued, "Right. Still, we should hurry. It is cold ..." Eldinan laughed and said, "That it surely is. And I'll feel safer back in our quarters, wards or no. Is everyone ready?" They each reached down and touched a hand to each of their totem beasts, then nodded. Eldinan began chanting the traditional words of invocation, words that had been said over krovelathads for centuries. She forgot about the lightning flashing around her, and the chill wind trying to bite through her cloak. The two people standing around her were all that mattered just now, that and the bond they were cementing here, and the relationship that had grown over the past months to this milestone. She finished with, "In the name, and under the eyes, of Reesera, god of love, I pledge my life and love, from this day forward, to both of you. Kendil, Nikkeus, by virtue of our love and through this krovelathad, you both become part of me from this day, until there are no more tomorrows." She looked at her two lovers, her two loves, and smiled. And then she looked down at the talisman, and gasped when she saw that her falcons were glowing, as were the glass segments of the knot-work band that stretched from one raptor to the other. Purple light that sometimes flickered to red or blue shone along the winding, weaving trail around the disk of the talisman, and the falcons themselves radiated a faint greenish-yellow light. This certainly wasn't a normal part of a krovelathan ceremony! Kendil listened to Eldinan recite her part of the ceremony, and the faintly queasy sensation in his stomach that he had felt in anticipation of this bonding faded away. It was the right thing to do. The three of them belonged together. They were already bonded; this ceremony just made it official, as far as that was possible, considering the nature of what they were doing and how it ran against tradition and law. But it was official to him, anyway. Elin pledged her life to him and Nikk, and then her falcons and glass band began to glow. They shouldn't have done that! The talisman hadn't been given any inherent magic. Then again, some of the odds and ends that had gone into its making might have been magical, and Elin's anhekova was made of an innately magical substance, even if it no longer had any powers. But to stop now would mean that the ceremony was broken, and he didn't want that. So, Kendil started reciting his part of the ritual. The words flowed, and their familiar nature calmed and soothed him. He came to the last words, and said, "In the name, and under the eyes, of Reesera, god of love, I pledge my life and love, from this day forward, to both of you. Nikkeus, Eldinan, by virtue of our love and through this krovelathad, you both become part of me from this day, until there are no more tomorrows." And his two foxes began to glow with the yellowish green light, while his goldish, brassish band began to glitter and sparkle as if the metal was glowing. Kendil barely had time to register and react to this change in the talisman before Nikk began to speak. Kendil stared at the gold band circling around the talisman, and the glass band where it glowed in its path. Where the gold and glass bands crossed, there was an odd combination of glows that resulted in a different color, a combination of red-purple and gold-yellow that wasn't a color he could name, but that looked very pleasing to his eye. And slowly, he realized that something was wrong. Something seemed ... different, not as it should be. Kendil concentrated on the words that Nikk was saying -- maybe the musician had misremembered something. And as he concentrated on the words coming from Nikk, he slowly realized what was so strange. It was a subtle thing, but for some reason he was sure about what he was hearing. The voice was Nikk's, but the style of speaking was not. The way the words were inflected, the pronunciation, the *accent* ... were Orlebb's! The ersatz Nikk was almost finished with his part of the ceremony by the time Kendil came to this realization. He was saying, "In the name, and under the eyes, of Reesera, I pledge my life and love, from this day forward, to all of you. Eldinan, Kendil, Nikkeus, through this krovelathad, you all become part of me from this day, until there are no more tomorrows." Several things happened almost at once: Nikkeus' section of the talisman began to glow, the two cats a greenish yellow, the grey metal band gaining a peculiar cold luster; the hood of Nikk's robe blew back in a gust of wind, revealing not the blond Nirmalel face of the musician but the squarer, raven-haired and moustached, pale face of Orlebb; and a groan was heard, carried perhaps by that gust of wind, coming from the direction of the stair hood. And as the realization of what had happened sank into Kendil while he stared in shock at the blue and brown eyes of the Cherisk native, a lightning bolt struck the center of the glowing talisman. The rat reached the top of the tower and scurried from the drain pipe into the rain, cold, and noise. People were talking, but that didn't bother it. It knew that if it was careful, the people would never see it. It made its way around the tower by following the wall, sliding through the shadows there with ease. It came to a lantern and climbed up over it, rather than move in front of the beam of light and cast a shadow. It happened to be looking toward the center of the rooftop, where the three people were standing around a table, when the lightning bolt hit. It saw the way the bolt caused the thing on the table to glow fiercely. It saw the tiny bolts that leapt from the thing to each of the three people standing around it, making them glow as well. It also saw the fourth tiny bolt that snaked off to one side, striking a person that was beginning to sit up behind the stair hood. Then, it saw the object on the table fragment into six pieces, which flared an intense blue and vanished. Moments later, the four glowing people also vanished. The thunderclap that followed was so loud that it just overwhelmed the rat, which raced for the drain pipe and vanished back down it. The lightning strike could be heard by everyone in any proximity to the keep. The people in the krovelathan ceremony circle outside the village looked up, eyes drawn by the flash of the explosion atop the seaside tower of the keep. When those guests reached the tower, they first noticed that the lightning wards had not been set. Upon reaching the top of the tower, all that they saw was an empty watch platform, three glowing lanterns, and some charred sticks of wood that had been the legs of the table. But there was nothing else to be found; no talisman, no bodies, nothing. Which left no clues for the mystery of the disappearance of the castellan, Captain Eldinan, Alkant Kendil, and Terant Nikkeus. At the moment that the lightning bolt hit the talisman, six people around the world were struck by a prophetic vision. In the midst of their fits, they each came out with the same words. "The three make the one, which then binds the four. Cataclysm falls, and the one becomes six. The six must be one again; to this are the four yet bound. Only when six is one will four be none." Four of these prophets were alone at the time of their vision, and so it was lost. The recordist of another jotted the words down on a parchment, but did not live to produce an official copy, and the parchment was scraped and reused, destroying the record. The last prophet's words were properly recorded, and transferred to an official scroll, which was then filed to be distributed to the other churches for study. But before that could happen, the village wherein that church resided was attacked and burned, and with it the document. And so the prophecy was lost. A moment after the lightning bolt struck the talisman, the cwicustan crystals atop six anhekovel around the world flared with a bright light briefly. When the flash faded, each anhekova had, lying beside it or near it, a roughly wedge-shaped piece of carved and inlaid stone. Only one of these occurrences was noted as it happened, but the old drunk in his shack full of odds and ends was never believed when he told his story. Approximately nine months after the lightning bolt struck the talisman, there began a series of four births over two months in a small village in the south of the continent of Cherisk. The first one born had one blue eye and one brown eye. The next happy parents' child was blond, with grass-green eyes and what promised to be a prominent nose. The next baby born had brown hair and eyes, and a somewhat swarthy complexion. And the fourth birth resulted in a child with chestnut hair and grey eyes. The blond child died within a week, having been sickly from birth. About nine months later, in a town two hundred miles east along the coast of Cherisk, a baby was born with blond hair, grass green eyes, and what would one day be a prominent nose. The baby girl with black hair and the mismatched eyes died in an accident when she was five. Nine months later, in the imperial city of Frethemak, a baby was born to a very happy couple. It had black hair, and one blue eye and one brown eye. ========================================================================