Games of the Gods

There was a phrase Mam would sometimes say – “Whom the gods would destroy they first make mad.” She never really explained what it meant, save that I think it pertained to some part of her past, before her arrival in Iero. Her memories of life before then were patchy at best, save for the songs and stories, so it is possible she did not know what it was that had passed, or who it was that had been made mad. I know little of the gods of her land, and that only from where they appeared in the songs she taught me, but they did not seem to be vastly different from the ones I know. She quickly learned the ways of Iera, and raised me to give due reverence thereto. But not overly so. If I understood anything from the times she used that phrase, it was that, in some way, her singing, her joy in music was a kind of madness and that, when it came to gods, it was prudent to not draw to much attention to oneself.

Of course, gods being gods, it scarce matters. If they want to give attention to us, they will, however much, or little reverence we give. There has been much excitement of late, with reports of loud noises, bright lights in the sky and meteors crashing to the ground in the isles. There have also been reports of the seers having strange dreams and visions. Whether all this was some boon from the gods, or some ominous portent, I do not know. I leave such questions to the scholars and the priests who know these things better than I. And yet, despite being no scholar nor priest, I find myself involved.

I was at home, working on drawings for the Cania’s armour and cutting patterns for Ithildin’s corset, when somebody knocked upon my door. It was not latched, so I called out for her to enter. Again, it was well that I am tidy of habit, for it was the good captain herself. She was on her way to Mindon’i Anor and asked if I wished to accompany her, so that I might visit the library there. I told her I would be delighted to peruse the library and even more so in her company, and bade her wait a few seconds while I finished up my drawing, pounced the ink and made my desk in good order.

She regarded the drawings and said she was looking forward to seeing it come together. Mellonamin, she called me, which, from what little I knew of the Elven tongue, I understood to mean “my friend”. I said I was honoured to be considered friend, and told her that would be fy ffrind in my mother’s tongue.

We didn’t have much chance to converse on the way to Mindon’i Anor. The captain must give her attention to the ship, after all. I just stood in the bow, and perhaps allowed myself a little theatricality, letting the breeze blow my hair back in dramatic fashion. Not that I suppose the good captain noticed, since she was busy steering. Once we were under sail, she did get the chance to tell me that the Cania’s name was Vaeta Lofgren. I later learned from the Cania herself that she was of the Clan Draken Dal, and that her arms were the Tree of Life, the Yggdrasil. Later still, the servant, Bevda gave me an embroidered favour bearing said arms. This was going to be a challenging design.

I had thought that we would go directly to the library, but it was not to be. The Cania was preparing for some sort of meal and intercepted us, directing us to take a seat and join her for food, and for some manner of a meeting. The meal was much fancier than I am used to. Rosemary roasted quail, potatoes, vegetables, bread and herb butter, mulled cider from my neighbour in the market, Ornendil. The latter also turned up for the meeting, though I suspect he was there on other business, and, like me, got drawn in.

I would have made my excuses, and gone on to the library, but Ithildin told me I had as much right to be there as any. As well as the captain and I, and Ornendil, there was a fae in attendance – Ishva or some such. I did not quite hear his name. This was not a private meeting, rather it was an opportunity to discuss the various dreams and visions. Indeed, as she was telling me this, the Cania brought the meeting to order.

She summarised the various events. First there was the vision of darkness, an ominous darkness split by bright lights. Then came visions of the night sky in the forest, lit by comets, one of which crashed to earth and split into six pieces. The Cania herself had had these visions, and Ornendil said that a friend of his had likewise had the vision of light and darkness. The Cania said that one Elain of Iero had thought it to be about the Abyss, but she disagreed, as she had not felt any foreboding with the second vision.

The Cania was of the impression that this was some sort of test, a game of the Gods. There were clues, riddles, which she believed would lead those who solved them to whatever it was had fallen to earth. Ishva, the fae, seemed amused, saying that the Gods send their boons, and saying that his father liked a good game. I don’t know if that meant his father was a god. The Cania was relieved, as she had been worrying that this was some fearful portent, but was now, more inclined to think, as she had already said, that this was some game. It was now down to us, and others, to solve the riddles and find whatever it was, these alleged boons that had been sent to us. She showed us two of the riddles that she had found so far.

• 

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I read them, but could not really offer much insight. I commented that the visions of the comets and bright lights put me in mind of some of the stories Mam used to tell, and sing of. In particular, the tale about Myrddin, the seer and sorcerer, in which one of the meteors that fell to earth, became the dragon that was the symbol of her homeland before she arrived in Iero. I ventured that I was no scholar, nor seer, but, if they needed some tongs to retrieve the meteors when they were found, I could surely supply or make them. That, at least, got a smile from the Cania.

The outcome of the discussion, overall, was that this was some game of the Gods and likely not malevolent, although we agreed that caution was appropriate. The task now would be to solve the riddles and determine what boons, if indeed, they were boons, might be found. The Cania bid us finish our meal and then stay or go as we wished, before joining Ornendil to discuss whatever business it was he had with her that was not to do with the visions.

Ithildin decided to accompany me to the library, as she had not been there in a while. It was fortunate that she did so. While I am lucky enough to be literate, I rapidly realised my limitations when we reached the library, for I had not considered, up until I arrived there and started perusing the spines of the books, that they would not be in the human tongue. While I know a few words and phrases of the elven tongue, I found I was quite unable to read it. Thus it was well that Ithildin had accompanied me, and was able to find the books relating to heraldry and locate therein, the appropriate sections. The heraldry itself I could understand, for the books were exquisitely illustrated.  I copied the illustrations as best I could into my notebook and wrote down such details as Ithildin translated for me. I should now have enough to begin working on designs for the armour.

I was glad of the opportunity to spend time with the good captain. Even in our brief acquaintance, I have come to appreciate her as a friend. She is smart and accomplished and yet kind and courteous to a humble craftsman such as myself. She is also very pleasing to the eye, but such thoughts I should not entertain. Friends we may be, but alike we are not and equal we are not. “Know your place,” old Savaric would say to me, often enough, when I was overly familiar with customers of rank. And I do.

Captain and Cania

I had always supposed that there had to be discourse between different realms, between kings and queens of different lands. Lofty discussions conveyed on their behalf by their diplomats and ambassadors. Indeed, such things featured in the songs I learned from my mother, but otherwise, in the real world, they did not impinge upon my notice, save when proclamations were issued and disseminated by the town criers and heralds. Even then, they were of little impact on my life except those rare occasions when some war or other might be declared, and I would be called upon to make more weapons. And those occasions, thank Iero, have been rare in my lifetime.

I had not otherwise thought that matters diplomatic would be a part of my life, and yet, I have, of late, had personal dealings with the royals of two different realms, and can now claim to be friends with one who is ambassador between those realms. The good Captain Ithildin, ambassador for Mindon’i Anor to Iero, and now, a friend, although it is early days yet.

I happened upon the good Captain at the Cross Keys, where she was dining with Nessa the weaver. Since I had gone there in search of sustenance, I asked if I might join them, rather than dining alone. They were both amenable to this, so I sat myself at their table and ordered some food from Millicent, as well as a flagon of ale. I realised that I had not eaten since breaking my fast, which might explain my overwhelming hunger.

We spoke of Ithildin’s appointment as ambassador to Iero from Mindon’i Anor. Nessa was keen to convey this good news, but, of course, I already knew, having been there when the appointment was made. Nessa spoke about having not had the chance to visit Mindon’i Anor yet and asked what it was like. I told her that what I had seen was very pretty and we both, the captain and I, encouraged her to make the trip there as soon as possible and make herself known to the Cania if she wished to be a part of the merchants’ faire.

We also spoke of music, and the captain kindly complimented me on my playing and hoped she would hear me play again. I told her that since we were neighbours, it was likely she would hear me practicing. Nessa asked about the visions that the seers had been having and Ithildin said that this was a matter she would be bringing up with the Cania.

Speaking of the Cania, I asked about being able to visit in order to measure her for the armour she had commissioned. Ithildin said that she would be heading to Mindon’i Anor after dinner and I was welcome to join her. 

We finished our meal pleasantly enough. Nessa left us as she had other duties to attend to. Ithildin asked if I was coming to Mindon’i Anor or should she leave me here. “The gods forbid that you should ever leave me, dear Captain,” I said, affecting a mock swoon. She laughed at that and we made ready to leave, pausing only to pay for our meals.

We paused further at my home, so that I could change into something more befitting a visit to the Cania. I had gone to the tavern straight from the shop, so was dressed only in my workaday clothing. I also wanted to collect my pack, so that I would have my notebooks, tape and suchlike with me. Fortunately, I am neat in my habits, so the house was presentable for a visitor, even if it was likely more humble a dwelling that her own.

It was a pleasant journey to Mindon’i Anor on the good captain’s airship, the Naurelen, although we did not have much time to converse. She is the captain, after all, and had to direct her attention to the piloting of her ship. I have been called upon many times to fabricate various pieces of hardware for the airships – pulleys, pulley blocks, hooks and grapples and such – but have only rarely travelled on them, so I took the opportunity to enjoy the experience. As we approached the landing dock, I found myself once again contemplating that I would have to once again be measuring a member of the fairer sex. I don’t know why this worried me, as I had managed perfectly well with the good captain. As it turned out, I need not have worried, for the Cania, when we arrived, declined to be touched, asking instead that I hand my tape measure to her servant, Bevda, and instruct her as to the measurements required.

I acceded to this, saying that I would not presume to touch anyone, much less the royal personage, without permission. I said that this was always my practice and always had been, and gave, among my reasons, my mother’s experience with unwanted attentions. The Cania seemed pleased with this, but said that it was not so much that she did not wish to be touched, so much as for my own benefit, in that, if we were to touch, I might reveal more of myself than I might wish to. It was for my own protection and privacy, she said. I took this to mean that she had the power to read the hearts and minds of those she touched. I laughed and said that there was precious little to reveal that I would not say openly. Save for such things as were said in confidence by my customers, trade secrets as it were, there was nothing I would fear being known.

While Bevda was taking the measurements, Ithildin and the Cania were discussing the matter of her ambassadorship to Iero. Apparently, the Crown initially rejected the good captain as ambassador, however, he had consented to further discussion, after which he had changed his mind and accepted her appointment. Understandably, the Cania was angered by this and demanded to know the Crown’s reasons. She then turned to me, asking if I was human, and what I thought of the Crown. She came closer, as if tempted, despite her previous words, to touch me, to determine the truth of my words.

I did not back away. I had nothing to hide in that respect. I told her that I was, so far as I knew, human, and I could say very little of the Crown, having met him only the once. On that occasion, he had seemed straightforward enough, and that he was courteous to those of his subjects, including myself, he had met at that time. He had seemed genuinely interested in us as individuals and, but for the interruption of palace business, would have sat and supped with us in the tavern. I could not comment on his meeting with the captain, as I was not present, nor could I comment on his reasons for his initial rejection. I did say that his eventual acceptance of the captain was likely tribute to her skills as an ambassador.

The Cania addressed the captain, saying she should not grovel to Sevestryn, nor back down like a dog with its tail between its legs. Ithildin told her that it was precisely because she did not react badly to his rejection that he consented to further discussion and eventually accepted her. She asked me then to return to the airship, so that she might discuss matters in private. This I did, reflecting as I went that while I might not be a diplomat, it was often incumbent upon me to be diplomatic. To know when to speak and what to say, and when to keep my own counsel.

Later, the good captain returned to her ship and made ready to depart. She apologised for the scene I had witnessed and thanked me for my handling of the situation. I assured her that there was no need for apology. We both had business with the Cania, and it had been the Cania’s choice to conduct both businesses at once. I told her that it was not the first time that I had been present during sensitive discussions. I forbore to mention that in my experience, those in the upper classes tend to dismiss servants and artisans from their notice, as if they were not really people, and thus speak of matters as if they were not there. I told her of the things I had reflected upon while returning to the ship, assuring her that I knew when to keep my own counsel.

She was grateful for that, and expressed hope that she would be able to navigate the relations between Mindon’i Anor and Iero, hinting that there were two very different personalities to deal with. She changed the subject then and asked if I had been able to visit the library yet to investigate the heraldry and asking if I had been to the library yet. I said I had not yet done so and she said to let her know when I wanted to go, in case I wanted the company.

I told her that I would very much appreciate her company for that visit, and then, I do not know quite why, save that she had treated me courteously, despite the differences in our status, said that I appreciated her company anyway, and hoped that we could perhaps be friends outside of our professional dealings. For a moment, I thought that I had perhaps overstepped the mark, but, no. She said I was a kind and honest man, and that I would honour her with my friendship.

And that was it. She had to give her attention to the airship, and save for a vague agreement that we should dine together some time at the Cross Keys, we did not really converse much after that. How life changes. Who would have thought that a humble smith would converse with royalty and claim an ambassador as a friend? I wonder what mother would have made of it all.

Corset and Tongs

Old Savaric was a great one for challenging me, making me try things that I thought too difficult, or too new. “You have to stretch yourself, young Rafe, else how will you grow? How will you learn new things?” I had been making workaday knives, such as one might use for general purposes in the kitchen, or smaller ones for dining and had just started learning to make daggers. At least, just the basic dagger that any common man might carry for his defence. No decoration, no embellishment, save for the stamp of my initials near the hilt. “Make a sheath for it,” he said, on observing my first attempt. He handed me a piece of leather. “How?” I asked. I had not done any leatherwork at that time, although I had observed him doing so. “Use your wits, boy,” he said, and then gave his attention to his other work.

And so I did. I went to the shelf in the shop and took one he had made. I studied it carefully, copied the shape onto my own piece of leather. I went to the workbench and tried to recall what tools I had seen him using, and how he had cut, shaped, pierced and sewn the leather. And, I tried to reproduce that. I achieved some measure of success. It was not elegant, and lacked symmetry, but it served the purpose. Savaric looked at it and pronounced it satisfactory, for a beginner. “Now, you must wear it,” he told me. I had not had a dagger of my own until then. “Until you have the skill to make better.” I have honed my skills over the years, making sheaths, straps, jerkins and tunics and such as were required for set of armour, assorted workaday bags and cases. And I have learned to make all manner of items.

But never a corset. Nevertheless, now I am called upon to make one, by no less than the good captain Ithildin. The good captain came by this afternoon. She greeted me and asked after my health. I reciprocated, but asked her to please call me Radulf. While Master Radulf is a good and proper greeting, it reminds me of my younger days when I was apprenticed to Savaric and he would address me so. We spoke briefly of the stranger who had been about the mid-docks yester eve, and I updated her on what had passed after she left.

Then she asked me if I could make her a corset of leather. Something daring, she said, with maybe some embellishments in the way of grommets or rivets. An interesting proposition, I said. I had not made a corset, but I had made jerkins and tunics and similar, so I was sure I could adapt, especially if I had a regular corset as a model to work from. I was fairly sure there was an old one of Mam’s somewhere about the house, or if not, I was pretty sure Mistress Hawisa would lend me an old one of hers. Then I remembered that I had made something akin to a corset, albeit one with quite a lot of extra straps. A special commission from a nobleman whose name I should probably not mention, but who, how shall I put it, liked a bit of restraint in his love life.  

So yes, I told her, I was fairly sure I could manage that.  Very well, she said, and said it would be good practice for the armour I was making for the Cania. She stood with her arms akimbo. I blinked a couple of times before I realised she was expecting me to measure her. I managed to contain my slight embarrassment, realising it had been a long time since I had taken measurements of a lady. While I am no stranger to female company, it has been a while since I have been close to one, much less one as comely as the good captain. But, ever the professional, I did so carefully and with utmost propriety, having her hold my measuring tape for the more personal regions.

I took a few more details, including asking how much décolletage she wished. I then did a quick sketch to show her what I thought I could make. She was pleased with that, and likewise pleased when I produced a couple of leather hides I had, which were a little light for armour, but would serve well for a corset. We agreed a suitable price and then she had to depart, but not before giving me her address, which was not far from mine own, making us almost neighbours.

I made a few more notes, and then wandered over to the market to get something for my supper. There I found the djinn who had been around the previous evening, with a companion. I gave them greeting. The djinn asked after my health and general weal. I told her I was well enough and well pleased with my recent commissions, telling her about the corset and the armour for the Cania.

She then spoke about the events of the previous evening and asked if the one known as Eidar had made any more mischief after she had departed. I told her what had passed with Fala and offered the opinion that Fala had not been overly pleased with Eidar’s arrival.

Her companion, whose name I learned was Elidon, asked if I worked with leather and iron. I pointed at the shed and told him that indeed I was skilled with those. He asked me then if I would be able to make an alembic stand and tongs. I assured him that I could indeed do that, having made many such things for the alchemists, distillers and potion-makers. He was most delighted with that and asked if he might drop by the shop with some sketches and measurements later, since his requirements were quite precise and specific. I told him that I would be happy if he could. He also suggested that perhaps, in return, he could do something for me. Enchant my hammer, perhaps, so that it might always strike true.

I tried not to take offence at that, as I am sure he meant well. I refrained from pointing out that I had been using a hammer since I was seven years old and barely able to lift any but the lightest in Savaric’s arsenal, and with 30 years’ experience, my hammer always struck true. I mooted the idea that perhaps we could do business in the future, combining my skills with his, to enchant weapons and armour. The djinn thought that an appropriate idea, although he did not seem so sure, but he agreed we should speak again anon. I left them then. She seemed keen to be getting home, and I was keen to have myself some supper.

Strangers at the Market

I feel somewhat vindicated that this third day of my journal does not feature any of royal blood, as I had predicted in my previous entry. So far as I know anyway. There were strangers about the market today and I suppose it is possible that they were of the blood royal if I did but know it. Somehow I find it unlikely.

I was at the shop, sharpening knives and sickles, and, as is my wont, I was singing a song, “Drink from the Cup*”, while I did so. Sharpening blades is such second nature to me now that I had leisure to observe the comings and goings of people in the market, including the strangers.

One was a lady of elegant dress and visage with long, red hair. A most pleasing combination. She was wandering the market with the air of one unfamiliar to the area. She was perhaps also hungry, for she was looking over the various foodstuffs on sale with longing. I did manage to speak with her later, but did not gain her name, learning only that she had not the coin to pay for any food. She left before I was able to offer, seeming both confused and a little worried by the other stranger.

This other stranger was a tall man with much of his appearance concealed within a hood, save for his hands, which seemed much more claw-like that might be expected of human or elf. His manner and speech seemed more of the common man from the Traps perhaps. He was wandering around, inspecting the various wares on sale and commenting in an overly familiar manner with those he encountered. One such was a djinn, whose name I did not quite catch at the time. The stranger had jostled her, for which he apologised, but making some comment regarding her scent, which seemed an odd way to begin a conversation. He introduced himself as Eidar and said that he had been here and there and away for some time, and had missed the coronation of the new crown of Iero, but hoped some time to meet him.

The good captain Ithildin was around, doing some shopping too. She too had noticed this Eidar and looked to be perturbed by him. Certainly, she took a more defensive posture, as if ready to draw her sword and, I fancy, cast some magic spell.  I do not know if she knew the stranger, or had other reason to be suspicious, but it was enough to warrant my attention. I am no warrior, but perhaps the presence of another person, by chance armed with a sickle, might be enough to tip the balance towards a peaceful resolution. I wandered over and gave the captain, and the others, greeting.

The djinn was doubtful about the stranger’s explanation, since it had been 10 years since Vestryn took the throne. She was also sceptical of his chances of getting near the castle, wondering if the guards would permit him to go there. I remarked that he might not need to, since the Crown did seem to occasionally come by the Branch and Mid-Docks. 

He was more interested in the captain, asking her of what she was captain. She replied with the name of her vessel, the Naurelen, before greeting me in turn. What further might have passed between them I do not know, for his attention was distracted by new arrivals. I looked across the market and saw Elkee, who often buys tools and arrowheads from me, and another woman, who I think is her grandmother. It was the latter that drew Eidar’s attention, as he greeted her warmly and went over to greet her, wanting to do so with a hug. The captain took this opportunity to depart, wishing the djinn and myself safe paths. The djinn also departed. I wandered over as I had recently finished making a batch of arrowheads and wanted to tell Elkee that they were available if she wanted some. I also broke off a piece of my ham to give to Runda, her pet ferret, who came scampering over onto my shoulder.

Fala did not look to be overly pleased by the arrival of the stranger and neither did Elkee, as they moved closer to one another, protectively. Fala evidently knew the stranger, though her greeting was wary. He could not have missed her as it had only been a few decades. She asked after his health, which confused him somewhat, as if he doubted her motives, asking if this was some trickery on her part. She claimed there was no trickery intended and that perhaps they could catch up later over a drink. Elkee was suspicious, asking if this was an old friend. Fala said yes, but only in the loosest sense of the word. Eidar said it was something like that, although Fala might see it differently. He then departed with a see you later. Further information did not seem to be forthcoming, so I left them to it, telling Elkee to come by the store some time.

So, a mysterious hooded stranger with a past is in town. I shall have to keep an eye out. For one, like all the stall-holders, I don’t want trouble in the market. And besides, a mysterious hooded stranger with a past? Sounds like something that could go in a song.

*Drink from the Cup by Marcus de la Forest, from the Calontir Song Book – a few lines from which were borrowed during the role-play as being the sort of thing Radulf would sing, although not reproduced here.

Another Crown

What songs should I sing, one day, of mine own exploits? A humble artisan who, but for the interruption of royal business, might have spent an evening in a tavern with the Crown of Iero. And now, a day later, receiving a commission from no less than the Cania of Mindon’i Anor, and being honoured with the chance of performing for her. And I feared my journal might not live up to the promise of its first day. Of course, subsequent days may prove less interesting. In my 37 years, only two, so far, have featured such interactions with royalty, so it would seem likely that many more days will not. But that sits well enough with me. When I started this journal, I made comment that it would be a record of an ordinary life, because such lives are less well recorded than the lives of the great and the good. So there is some irony in the fact that my first two entries should concern my interactions with the great and the good.

Having been pressed by the good captain to make myself known to the Cania, I resolved to take some examples of my work and make myself known to her. I made myself presentable, or at least, as presentable as a man of modest means, not used to courtly affairs can, and headed down to the shop to collect a few more samples.

On the way, outside the dwelling of Nessa the weaver, I encountered a red-haired elven gentleman and a lady of the fae persuasion, a faun perhaps. I greeted them and they greeted me in return. He was Narandir, son of, well, some name I do not recall, and she was Elain of the Forest. He is apparently a provider of fine ores and stones. I told him I would bear it in mind, though I was usually one stage removed from ore, dealing only with the metals refined therefrom. When I spoke of my intentions, he said that he was cousin to the good captain and known to the Cania, saying also that I should not delay in making myself known.

And so, I took myself by one of the airships from the docks to the Sapisio Mountains and Mindon’i Anor. A path led from the docks to an elegant building on a hill, where I found the good captain in conversation with a fair lady and an older couple, who I later learned were the captain’s parents. I waited for a suitable moment before making myself known. The good captain made the introductions, and the other lady was indeed the Cania, by name, Vaeta Lofgren. She did not seem the slightest bit perturbed by random strangers turning up, even though she appeared to already have some business with the captain and her parents. She summoned a servant, Bevda, and bade her make place for me at the table, where we were served cider and sundry snacks, cheese, nuts and fruits.

Introductions were made, both to the good captain’s parents and to the Cania, and I explained why it was I had come, at both the captain’s and her cousin, Narandir’s urging. The Cania was most gracious to me and pleased that I had done so. First though, there was the business she had with the captain and her parents.This was mostly that the aforementioned Narandir was to be on the Cania’s council as her Cultural Advisor, and that she was minded to offer the good captain the role of Ambassador to Iero. Naturally, the captain’s parents were effusively delighted and honoured. The captain said that she was honoured, although, I wasn’t convinced she was entirely delighted. Possibly at the implication that she did not have much to do while she was in Iero. I congratulated her on the appointment and she thanked me for that anyway.

The Cania explained that she intended to hold a festival some time closer to Yuletide, which she hoped would feature merchants, craftsmen and entertainers. I was then permitted to display my wares. I had but a few items in my pack – some knives, a dagger in a sheath, scissors, a pair of bookends that I had yet to deliver to the client, and a sickle. Plus, of course, my own dagger, Amaris.  I explained that I could make most things and listed a few of the larger tools and implements that I currently had on display at the shop. The Cania looked them over carefully, with apparent approval, but her hands hovered, as though she were reluctant to touch anything strange to her. Possibly she noted that they were properly oiled for protection, and did not wish to soil her hands. The others appeared pleased with them, so far as I could tell. The captain’s father suggested that there might be work for me making hardware for his ships, and he would enquire of the captains, presumably Ithildin among them, as to what they might require.

While they were looking, I got my citole out and rendered them a few tunes. That got a more enthusiastic reception and applause. The Cania looked to be particularly delighted, although I think I startled her when I began to play. She and the captain’s parents applauded, as did the captain, who complimented me on my playing. I explained how I had learned music from my mother, and gave brief account of her life, including the matter of my father, unknown to me, save that he had been a nobleman of Iero. The captain was interested that my mother was a Skylander and asked about her mark, and whether or not I had inherited it. I had to say that I had never seen my mother’s mark, it being about her body in a place her son would not see, and that no, I had no mark of my own.

We spoke then of the festival. The Cania asked if I could display my wares, and perhaps occasionally, wander around giving a tune. I was able to say that I could do this, since it was not far removed from my everyday life, as I sometimes play a tune as I sit in the shop. The Cania then asked if I could make some piece of leather armour, perhaps embellished with mail or scale. The captain asked if I was familiar with elven sigils and style of decoration, which I was not. The Cania said that I could make use of the library if I wished. She also had the servant give me a favour, a small cloth embroidered with the Tree of Life, or Yggdrasil, as it was also known, being the symbol of her house. That gave me pause for thought, as it was a complex design, but not outwith my abilities, pending, of course, further research in the library.

The Cania then thanked us all for our company and gave us leave to depart as she wished to rest. She bade the servants make ready a guest house for the captain’s parents and then took her leave of us. The captain had other duties, so was unable to show me the library at that time. I packed my bags and departed, well pleased with the afternoon’s happenings. A commission from the Cania, and the possibility of supplying hardware for some airships. Would that all days should bring me such good fortune.

Crown and Thorns

I have always had a neat hand. Savaric and Mam taught me my letters – the reading and the writing, but it was Mistress Hawisa who spent time with me, helping me practice. “Keeps your loops nice and even, young Rafe,” she would tell me, “and take your time,” and she would place her hand over mine, guiding me until the shapes became second nature. Of course, this would stand me in good stead later, during my apprenticeship with Savaric, when doing some engraving, or casting the detail for an elaborate hilt. And now, I can sit and admire the shapes of the letters, words, sentences, paragraphs, as they fill the page. Whether or not the elegance extends to the words remains to be seen. I can tell a pretty tale in a song, but, writing it down, seems a different matter entirely. Of course, my songs tell of kings and queens, or lords and ladies, of travellers and vagabonds, of adventures and dragons and long lost loves. My journal, however, will speak of more mundane things. Or will it?

Even so, I can record that today, I made the acquaintance of a king. The Crown of Iero himself, Sevestryn Aetheria, first of that name, so far as I know. For all of my songs, I have had little discourse with royalty in the flesh. I took myself for a walk in the gardens near my home, where I encountered Mistress Nessa Weaver. I have seen her around, and she dwells not far from me, but have, until now had not had conversation with her. She is, like me, an artisan, but in fabric and thread, in silks and satins and such. A much softer art than mine. She was speaking with Zayd, a djinn in the service of the Lyer family, and proprietor of the Stoppe and Shoppe.

The djinn was lamenting many things. He was not pleased that so many pumpkins had been picked too early, to make displays for All Souls day, or Samhain, as some would call it. He also lamented that the thorns, which make up a part of his skin, were always ripping the silks of his clothes. By nature, he would go unclad, for that was his way, but his family, would not countenance that. Nor would they deem more sturdy clothing worthy of expenditure. Nessa and I suggested various solutions, but only one appeared to please him. I suggested that I might make some tiny leather sheaths, such as I might make to protect the tip of a knife, which he could fit over such thorns as came into contact with his clothing. He found this idea pleasing, save that he had little in the way of coin to pay me. I was feeling in a generous mood, and, in truth, the outlay on my part would be minimal – a few scraps of left-over leather, and a matter of but an hour of my time. If my solution proved successful, I said, perhaps other djinn, possessed of more coin, would buy them from me and thus I would not be out of pocket.

It was not to be the only work I would pick up. Mistress Nessa, on learning of my skills, asked if I could make sundry tools for her – combs, and shuttles and blades used for preparing particular styles of fabric. I assured her that I could indeed do these, if she would but bring me examples that I could follow. I am not familiar with the weaver’s craft, and know little of their tools, save for shears and regular knives.

Zayd wanderd off for a while, breathing new life into the unripe pumpkins, while still continuing to lament his lot in life. A more melancholy and self-deprecating fellow I have yet to meet. He cheered up when he met one of the Blessed, a healer by the name of Niamh, who had come to collect water from the fountain, which she no doubt intended to bless for her healing purposes.

We were joined by a fair lady, of the elven folk, I would guess, at least in appearance. Ithildin of House Elennan, Captain of the Airship Naurelen. A lady of most pleasing appearance, and, it turned out, of manner too. She, and some of her kin, were known to Nessa, if not to me. She told us that the Lady Vaeta, the new Cania of Mindon’i Anor, wished to hold a festival in December, to feature artisans and entertainers, and the good captain was here seeking such on her behalf. She already knew of Nessa’s skills, but sought more. I told her that she was in luck, for I was both artisan and entertainer. The good captain advised me to take an airship to the Sapisio Mountains and present myself to the Cania. That seemed to me to be somewhat presumptuous; a mere artisan such as myself presenting himself, unannounced, to one who surely is of rank with our Crown. But, she advised me this would be acceptable.

I would not have thought that I would be one to consort with royals, but no sooner had I accepted the good captain’s invitation, than I found myself doing that. A man of stately, and somewhat elven appearance came and joined our little gathering, greeting us courteously, as if we were equals. I knew him not by face, but quickly surmised from the crown, the robes, and the accompanying guards, that this was none other than the Crown of Iero himself. I was surprised, but recovered quickly. I could hear Mam saying, as she had once, “A man is just a man, be they king, noble or commoner, no better or worse than you or I.” And then mistress Hawisa tutting and chiding her. “That may be so, Val, but each should be given the courtesy due their station.” Of course, Mam knew that well enough, having performed her songs for commoners and nobles. I gave the Crown due courtesy with a bow, and gave my name, saying I was at his service.

He acknowledged me graciously and asked if I dwelled in the city, which I told him I did. He already knew Captain Ithildin and enquired as to the rest of us. The blessed introduced herself as Niamh of the Sanandum Infirmaries and made introduction for the djinn. Zayd made further mention of his position as a shop-keeper, so I made further introduction of myself as craftsman and proprietor of the Tool Shed. For all that he was Crown, he responded in good grace to all of us, showing genuine interest in what each of us did, and conversing briefly with each of us. I suppose that the Crown must meet many people in all walks of life, and it is incumbent on them to be able to deal with each in good manner.

He spoke of the formation of a Chamber of Commerce for all Iero business owners, which seemed to me to be a good idea. Ithildin told him of her mission here, to find craftsmen and entertainers for the Cania’s proposed festival, and they spoke of letters he had written to the Cania concerning the need for an ambassador between Iero and Mindoni’ Anor. When he spoke of the mountains of Sapisio, he said that he had not been there since when he had been a priest. That was of note. If the priesthood had been his previous calling, that could be why he seemed skilled at showing an interest in people.

He further confounded my expectations by announcing that he was minded to take a drink in a tavern. There was some discussion about the various options available, from the seedy dives in the Maw and the Traps, to the more salubrious venues here in the Branch and the Mid-Docks. He was amused by the idea of going to the Maw, but doubted that his guard would permit that. I told him of my mother’s times, earning her living by singing in taverns, and that how too, I liked to sing and perform, although that was more for the fun of it than for any monetary gain.

Before we could agree on a suitable destination, a page came from the castle with a message for the Crown. What the nature of that message was, he did not reveal, save that he would regretfully have to take his leave of us and return to said castle. He did seem genuinely disappointed, as was I. It would have been most interesting to sit and sup ale with a king. I might even have gotten a song out of that. He departed, and with that, out little gathering dispersed, each about their business. In my case, the acquisition of some ham and cheese for my supper. Which, along with a jar of cider, is a pleasant accompaniment to my writing. Meeting one royal, and being invited to meet another. An auspicious start to my journal.

Pen to Paper

I am not a man of words. Not of the written kind. Oh, I read and write well enough. Master Savaric and Mam made sure of that. “Else, Master Radulf, how will you record a customer’s requirements? How will you know send letters requesting payment? How will you list what materials you will need for a job?” I can hear his voice so clearly. “It is not like your mother’s songs. Those you can remember, but these things must be written down.”

And Mam would agree. “Listen to him, Rafe, and learn your letters, as you will need them to prosper in this world.” She encouraged me to read and write, which I did. All sorts of things, save for the songs and stories she taught me. Those were an oral tradition, she said. The songs and stories, the tales she would tell and sing, I would have to learn, as she had learned them.

I suppose, in that respect, I am a man of words. In the songs I sing, and the tales I tell, even the ones I make up to fuel the rumours about myself. I must confess, however, that since Mam died, I have taken to making notes, writing the titles of the songs and brief summaries, lest my memory fail me. I have no children to pass the songs on to, so I would that they were preserved somehow.

And now, I find myself in possession of a number of books. Too nice to use for my everyday jottings of measurements and quantities and sketches of designs. Master Neville, the bookbinder gave them to me in part-payment for some tools I had made for him. An order that some other client had failed to collect, or pay for, and since he was temporarily short of coin to pay me, I agreed to take those instead.

So now I have some handsome volumes to write in. Some, perhaps, I shall use to record more of the songs I learned from Mam, for I would not have them lost. But, some others perhaps, I might put to different purpose. I am minded to tell my own story. A journal of my life. The stories of the great and the good are recorded in the histories, but the stories of others, like me, are lost, or, at best, reduced to a few entries in the city records, of births, deaths, marriages, a few lines in the tax ledgers and nothing more. My story may never be told in songs, may never become part of the oral tradition that my mother loved so much. But, if I do this, at least it will be told.