The Ultimate Stonemage: A Modest Autobiography (27 page)

She was touched at my words, and she said, “Very well, I will pay you the sum you ask. But let me arrange other employment for you. Stay with us and teach young Pandrick further. Or, if you wish, I will arrange for you to train other children within the Imperial family, for there are many who could use your loving guidance.”

I said, “If you wish, I will stay on as an occasional teacher to Pandrick, however I do not wish to train other children, for I feel my talents in that direction are subordinate to my true calling.”

She asked me then, “What do you consider your true calling to be?”

I said, “I am a stonemage by profession.”

She said, “A stonemage? Surely not!”

You see, like so many others I had met in that region of America, she considered the art of the stonemage to be a lowly one and did not realize the stonemage is the king of mages.

I said, “I am not just any stonemage, but the world’s finest.”

“Yes,” she said, “but it is a profession of rocks and mud.”

I said, “Is not teaching also a humble profession? Yet you have seen for yourself what wonders I have worked in this area. And I assure you, I am a hundred times better as a stonemage than I am as a teacher.”

My words pricked her curiosity. She said, “If this is true, what kind of marvels do you build?”

I said, “Wait, and I shall show you.” Then I ran to my chambers and took the various plans I had been working on. I quickly returned to the Imperial Aunt and rolled out the plans before her, with the topmost plan being the one for the cathedral shaped like a hand.

She said, “What is this? A drawing?”

I said, “No, it is the plan for a cathedral. See here, I have drawn a little person upon the ground, so you can see the great size of it.”

She gasped then, and spent a minute or so silently studying at my plan. Then she looked at some of the other plans. There were a number of fine towers, and a great bridge designed to span a lake or a small sea, and an arena, and a large printing shop with a tower on it styled to look like a bird in flight.

At last she said, “I am no authority on buildings, but these plans strike me as truly remarkable. You are clearly an architect and stonemage without equal, for you transform plain buildings into spectacular works of art.”

I said, “I would like to receive the funds and assistance to create all these structures. How would you advise me to proceed?”

She said, “This is the Imperial City, and only the emperor may commission great works such as these. Of course, I could speak to him, but he knows I am no expert in this discipline, and my words will carry little weight. No, if you will take my advice, you will approach the emperor through his closest courtiers, for these are the men and women who execute all the emperor’s plans, and they are also the ones with the real influence over him. Buy them wine and expensive gifts. You will win their friendship that way, and they will do you favours to aid you in your worthy cause.”

I asked her then which courtiers would have most influence in matters of architecture, but she could not advise me. “You are a clever fellow, though,” she said. “Make a study of them. I am certain you will quickly determine who can give you the best service in return for your gifts.”

I thanked her gladly for her sound advice and resolved I would follow it to the letter. So I spent some gold around the town in exchange for detailed insights into the makeup of the emperor’s court.

I discovered there were various ranks of courtier. All wore identical white robes, but, if you looked carefully, you could tell them apart by the combs in their long hair.

Those who served the various members of the emperor’s family, like the tedious man who escorted me from
Belpinian, were of the lowest rank. They were known as the Imperial Service, and they wore gold combs stamped with the mark of the family member they served.

Next up were the Imperial Bearers. These men and women, and there were hundreds of them, were courtiers who served the emperor in some minor capacity, for example, by purchasing food, or overseeing the numerous garden slaves. They wore gold combs stamped with the emperor’s mark.

Above these in rank were the Imperial Attendants. There were only about fifty, and they worked much more closely with the emperor. They too wore combs stamped with the emperor’s mark, but the combs were a little thicker and heavier, and contained more gold.

Highest of all in rank were the Imperial Advisors. These were six in number, five of them women and all of them old, and they wore combs with coloured gems along the top.

To add to the confusion, there were subtle distinctions within these four broad divisions. For example, among the Imperial Bearers, some bore special additional markings upon their comb. If they had balls there, it indicated they worked within the household. If they had tweaks, it showed they held a favoured position, and the more tweaks they had, the higher the degree of favour. There were numerous other markings, too: horses, leaves, rope, and so on, all indicating subtle differences in status.

At first, all these combs looked very much the same to me, but after a time I became so adept at recognizing the different markings that I wondered how anyone could think they were alike, and I chided myself for my blindness in not seeing the differences from the beginning.

As for the other citizens of
Saskatoon, they did not wear combs at all, nor did they wear white robes. In fact, to do so, if you were not a courtier, was considered a very grave crime, and in the market you would often hear people complaining about how unfair it was that they were not allowed to wear a gold comb or white robes even in the privacy of their own homes. For myself, though, I could not see why anybody should want to wear such a ridiculous outfit, and if a man walked the streets of
Piapa wearing such garments, he would be the laughing stock of
Cyprus. Still, the people of Saskatoon thought the costume a very fine one, which just goes to show that foreign folk are very strange.

I made a number of friends among the courtiers. I did not try to win the friendship of the high-ranking Imperial Advisors, for these people constantly received lavish gifts from members of the emperor’s family who wanted this or that, and I knew I could not compete against such great wealth. I therefore took a different strategy. I sought out those courtiers who were of low rank (and therefore cheap to impress), but who were likely to attract the emperor’s attention in some way.

For example, I discovered that one of the new courtiers, an Imperial Bearer by the name of
Sooni, was an attractive young man, and highly skilled as a dancer. I said to myself, “I will warrant he dances sometimes for the emperor, and that, on these occasions, the emperor chats with him in a friendly tone. If the emperor hears good words about me from a man such as this, it will be at such a time when he has been well entertained and is in a receptive mood, and such reports are likely to be far more influential than those coming from those ugly old Imperial Advisors.”

So, I sought the acquaintance of this man Sooni, and, for the cost of just a few arrans spent on fine meals, I made him my friend.

There were others too, of course. In the ranks of the courtiers I found two other male dancers, a man who played the harp, a woman who sang, a husband and wife who performed poetry, and also several women who possessed no special performing skills, but who struck me as unusually charming and beautiful: I had heard, you see, that the emperor has an eye for lovely women, and I was sure these women would catch his eye in a particularly favourable way.

An added advantage to my plan was that the new friends I made were very interesting and delightful people to be around, and were accomplished in many fields, so my time with them was always well spent.

I asked no difficult favours of my courtier friends, but I showed them my building plans, which impressed them greatly, then I said, “Do not make any bold overtures on my behalf, for you might risk offending the emperor. However, if, by chance, the emperor happens to strike up a conversation with you, then I would be much obliged if you would try to mention my name in a casual way, reflecting, perhaps upon my successes in training the formerly incorrigible
Pandrick, or praising my skills as a stonemage.”

And I suggested to the musicians that they might write a song in my honour, and said to the dancers that they should name a dance after me. I also asked the poetic couple if they would write a poem about me, but they said they only performed ancient works. Still, they assured me they would mention me to the emperor as a great patron of the poetic arts.

This, in any case, was my plan, and it very soon started to work. Several of my courtier friends told me they had been approached by the emperor, and they all managed to drop my name subtly into the conversation.

However, it was not these ingenious ploys which finally gained me the emperor’s attention, but rather a very remarkable feat of mine. I will tell of this next.

A Seventh Section Of The Eleventh Part

In Which I Describe How I Achieved Further Fame In
Saskatoon

One day, not long after
I had received my money for training
Pandrick, I was enjoying a fine meal in
Dochi’s pie shop, which is situated not far from the palace. Dochi, like me, was originally from
Cyprus, although he was from the western side of the island, from the town of
Limmerhat in the
Duchy of Bayon. We had little in common, really, he being a cook and I a stonemage, but we always gave each other a friendly greeting, and occasionally we would sing some of the old songs together.

I was sitting, talking pleasantly with one of Pandrick’s other tutors. Her name was
Hanna, and she was an older woman who was an expert in geometry and a great admirer of my building plans.

Suddenly our pleasant conversation was interrupted by a commotion. Three of the emperor’s minor courtiers burst into the place, carrying light hunting spears and a big yellow hare they had killed. They were staggering, and it was clear they were the worse for wine.

One of them slammed the animal down upon the counter and said to the owner, “Here, Dochi, cook this up for us, and make it into a pie, will you.”

Well, Dochi was a quiet, pleasant fellow, and he said he would do his best, but it would take some time to cook the meat.

“How long?” said the courtier.

“Two hours,” said Dochi.

His answer did not please them at all. “We have been hunting all afternoon and we are hungry,” they said. “We will not wait. Bake us our pie immediately!”

Of course, Dochi said he could not, for these things take time, but his reasonable words made them angry, and they started to curse at him, smashing his plates and calling him a fool. They said then that all Cypriots were fools.

Well, this was more than I could bear. I stood and called out to them, saying, “Hoi! You there! Stop at once.”

They looked over to me then and spoke a few words among themselves. Then the ring leader said, “Who are you to speak to the emperor’s own courtiers like that?”

I said, “My name is Yreth, and it so happens I am one of those Cypriots you are so quick to insult.”

He shook his spear then, taunting me, so I snatched out my throwing-razor, and I would have sent it through his skull on the spot had Hanna not quickly grabbed my wrist. She whispered to me, “Take care, Yreth. Do not strike at them, for any blow they receive is a blow against the emperor, and you will be put to death for it.”

Well, these words cooled me off a little, so I put the throwing-razor upon the table, then I slowly wiped my mouth with a cloth while I thought what to say, all the while keeping my eyes on those drunken courtiers with their spears.

Finally, I said, “In the first place, you would do well to remember your manners. Good Dochi has said your pie will take two hours. If that is too long for you to wait, go and cook it yourselves. In the second place, Cypriots are not fools.”

The ring leader said, “Indeed, they are fools. The world knows that Cyprus produces the greatest fools that were ever born.”

I knew he was trying to goad me, but I was determined not to be provoked. Besides, a much better plan was entering my head, for I thought to challenge them in some way, although I did not wish to be too obvious about it.

I started by saying to them, “As to the question of folly, I am no expert, and therefore I will bow to your own superior experience in this matter.”

The ring leader smirked at my words, for he did not see how cleverly I was insulting him.

Then I said, “I will say this, though: we Cypriots are better cooks than you Americans. And do not deny it, either, for you could have taken your animal to any cook in the city, yet you brought it here, to the oven of a Cypriot. Moreover, I will say that we Cypriots are better hunters than you Americans, for it took all three of you to catch just one hare. I will wager I could outdo your success, even hunting alone.”

They grew interested then, as I knew they would, and said, “How much will you wager?”

I said, “If I lose, I will pay you ten thousand arrans.”

They did not believe I possessed so much gold, but I assured them that indeed I did, and they had only to check with the courtiers who served the Imperial Aunt
Diaphrone to find out my claims were true.

Then they said, “And what if we lose?”

I said, “If you lose, I want your gold combs as trophies of my victory.”

Everyone in the room was at eyebrows-and-tongues when I made this challenge, for, as I have said, these combs are the mark of a courtier’s rank, and if these men were to surrender them, they would also lose their favoured positions.

The three courtiers talked among themselves for a few minutes, considering my wager, although I harried them as they talked, saying, “Come then, what is it to be? Is it yes or no? Do not be all day about it!” This, you see, was my way of getting back at them for interrupting my conversation with Hanna by their din.

Finally, they said, “We will accept the wager, on two conditions.”

I said, “State them.”

They said, “First, we will determine the animal you are to hunt.”

I said, “Can the animal can be found within this region?”

They said, “It can.”

I said, “Is the animal truly a wild animal, and not the property of some person?”

They said, “No no, it is wild, and it is nobody’s property.”

I said, “In that case, your first condition is acceptable to me. What is the second?”

They said, “You must not kill or injure the animal, but must instead capture it, and bring it back to the Imperial City.”

Well, that was a challenge indeed, especially if they meant me to hunt a ferocious animal, such a sand cat. Still, a number of clever plans for capturing a fierce animal popped into my head even as I stood there, so I was quite sure that, with sufficient thought, I could come up with something.

“Very well,” I said. “The terms of your wager are acceptable to me. Now, what animal do you wish me to capture?”

Then the ring leader grinned at me and said, “The
Pulsiter.”

At once, there was a great reaction from the others present. Some people laughed, while others cried out that the wager was unfair. For myself, I did not know what a Pulsiter might be, but I knew trickery of some sort was involved. Still, I also knew I had agreed to their terms for the wager, so I said, “I will bring the Pulsiter to the
Imperial City before six weeks have passed. Now, please be so good as to leave this place in peace.”

They laughed, saying, “In six weeks we will be rich men.” Then they left the shop, taking their hare with them.

Now, I soon found out the Pulsiter is a unique magical creature. Just as the chameleon can change its colour, so the Pulsiter can change its form, taking on the appearance and attributes of any living thing, large or small, that pleases it at that moment. For example, if the Pulsiter is travelling over land, it may take the form of horse and gallop along. If it comes to an ocean, it will change into a fish and swim across. If a hawk plucks it from the waves, it will change into a lion and eat the bird, then change back into a fish upon the instant it strikes the water once more.

I talked to many people about the Pulsiter, and some said it did not exist. However, the older folk I talked to assured me that it did exist, for they remembered it was kept captive in Saskatoon many years earlier, and would have been there still if an enemy of the previous emperor had not opened the door of the enclosure and allowed it to escape.

I searched through the libraries next, looking for more detailed information about the Pulsiter. I discovered many eyewitness accounts of those who had met the Pulsiter in the wild. Some had been attacked by it, and they wrote of how it changed from the form of a tree into the form of a wolf, all in the twinkling of an eye. As might be expected, many of these accounts were confused or contradictory, for doubtless the writers were very afraid when they met the Pulsiter and did not have the time to make exact observations. Nevertheless, I noticed two important facts which virtually all of the experts mentioned, and I took careful note of these, for I knew, if everyone agreed on some facts, it was very likely these facts at least were true.

The first fact was that the Pulsiter has an unusual love of areas near rivers or lakes or other bodies of water. Once I had made this observation, I was struck by its perfect sense, for such locations would allow the creature to change into a water creature, such as a fish or a frog, if a danger should approach by land, and to change into a land animal, such as a gazelle, in the event a danger should come from the water.

The second fact I noted was that the Pulsiter seemed to be attracted by music. Many of the observers wrote of how they were casually walking along, whistling or singing, before they encountered the creature. Clearly, then, it was this whistling or singing which had drawn the creature to them.

Using these two facts, I formulated my plan to catch the beast. I decided I would buy a musical instrument of some kind, something easy to learn, and I would then go to all those places in the region which were close to lakes or rivers and play the instrument. This would draw the creature to me.

Here, however, a problem arose. How would I capture the Pulsiter once it had come to hear my music? I thought hard upon this question, but I could think of no good answer. After all, if the Pulsiter had assumed the form of a bird and I tried to catch it with a net, it had only to change into some large, strong animal to tear itself free. On the other hand, if I designed a trap for a strong animal, perhaps a cage of some kind, the Pulsiter might easily change to a flea and crawl through the bars.

I examined the place where the Pulsiter had been kept when it was a prisoner in the city. I found its enclosure was a sealed area of stone and glass set into one of the side walls of the palace. The chamber was precisely crafted, with no spaces the creature could have used for escape, only a grid of very tiny holes to give the creature air. It was a good design to be sure, but not the sort of thing I might lift up and take on a hunting expedition, and so I was no closer to finding a workable plan.

One evening, I was explaining my problem to a friend of mine who was both a courtier and an artist and went by the name of
Bitian Teppel. I had won this man’s friendship not by means of gold, but because of my taming of the boy
Pandrick. The boy, you see, had formerly been in the habit of pulling Bitian’s ladder over as he painted, and the artist had suffered several grievous injuries as a result. Thanks to me, however, he could now do his painting work in safety, and he swore he would be eternally grateful to me because of it.

In any event, I told him all about the difficulties of catching such a creature as the Pulsiter. I had worked myself into such a pitch over the matter that I finally threw up my hands and said, “It is all quite futile, for no cage will hold the beast securely.”

Well, Bitian was a very witty man, and he responded by saying, “Then why not use no-cage, since you say it will hold the beast securely.”

This was a joke, you see, and he said it to cheer me up. It did cheer me up, too, when I caught the cleverness of it, and we laughed for a good few minutes.

Later on, after Bitian had left, I had another chuckle over his joke. Then, suddenly, I thought to myself, “I wonder if I could use no-cage? Perhaps there are more brains than feathers to his witty words.”

Well, I thought upon this for a bit, and I said to myself, “How might I take the creature to the city without confining it in any way?” I realized the music which first summoned the creature might also be used to keep it my prisoner. “Perhaps,” I thought, “I could simply continue to play my beautiful music and walk back to the city. If the Pulsiter is as fond of music as I suspect, it will follow me on my journey. Then I have only to lead it into the old enclosure and close the door, and it will be captured.

Of course, I had my doubts about this plan at first, for it seemed almost too simple to be workable. Yet, when I considered the matter, I realized that all those who had tried to catch the Pulsiter in the past had failed precisely because they had used clever nets and traps and cages, so there was some wisdom in my no-cage idea.

The next day, I looked around the market for a musical instrument of some kind. Most of them did not please me, for, while they looked easy to play, they were actually very difficult.

Take the pipe, for example. There are only eight holes upon a pipe, and, since eight is a low number, I reasoned the manipulation of these holes should not be too taxing. But the truth is that the holes are placed with a subtle unevenness, barely perceptible to the eye, which causes one’s fingers to become confused and tangled as they move over them.

The horn is impossibly difficult, and when I tried one I found I could not get any sound out of it at all except by humming into its mouthpiece, but the man told me this was wrong.

I said to him, “Why should this be wrong? At least it produces a sound that is in some way musical, whereas when I employ your method I can produce no sound at all.”

He had no good answer to this, however, reinforcing an opinion I have held for many years that those who play upon the horn are generally halfwitted.

The various stringed instruments, both those played with the fingers and those played with a bow, were easier to get a sound from, but the sound did not seem musical to my ears, and I quickly discovered that to play these instruments correctly required the tiresome memorization of a great many combinations of finger positions.

Eventually, though, as I scoured the market, I came across an instrument called the
rare-bellows. I had not heard of it before that time, and I have seen it only once or twice since, so I will explain how it works. In appearance, it is like a rounded box, with a pair of bellows set underneath it, and a stick down one side, connected to a wheel at the bottom. To play it, one has only to pump the bellows and push the wheel over the ground. The movement of the wheel is transmitted, by means of a strong thread, to a mechanism inside the box. As the mechanism turns, it plays beautiful music, sounding a like a troupe of highly skilled pipers.