Longing Ring

6

When he was seven, before everything went wrong, something lived in their home with them.

Their home consisted of three rooms-a sleeping room for J'role's parents, one room for J’role, and a central room between the two where they gathered and played. It was a luxurious place to live within the tunneled corridors of the kaer, but J'role's father was an important man.

The thing-a shadow of a thing-a wavering white shadow-sat in the corner of the central room for days. J'role never looked-straight at it, for it frightened him. His parents never said anything about it, so he thought it was his own problem. He never said anything.

He spent more and more of his time in his bedroom, trying to avoid the gaze of the strange thing. When he had to leave his home, he rushed through the room, desperate to avoid its gaze. His mother asked him why he was so nervous. Once he pointed at the thing. It laughed a raspy laugh. His mother saw nothing.

At noon they ate berries and roots that both J'role and Garlthik knew how to find and knew were safe. It was not easy work, finding the food, for though the sky was clear and beautiful the land around them was desolate. It spread out like death, a wasteland testament to the thoroughness of the Horrors, who had in one way or another consumed everything they encountered. Strange furrows twisted their way through the rocky brown dirt of the hills, and the ground showed odd-shaped bulges. Sometimes the weird patterns of the land grabbed J'role's attention, distracting him so that he could no longer walk, nor think on anything it but the sight before him. The chaotic pattern of the land spoke to him in a way he could not understand, as if it reflected the worn and ragged mind inside his skull.

After eating, they continued on their way. Garlthik had stopped asking questions and contented himself with humming. However, J'role's own curiosity had taken root. He tugged on Garlthik's arm and held the ring up in his palm, for Garlthik had permitted him to carry it. Still walking, Garlthik asked, "Yes?"

J'role pointed to the ring, and then shrugged his shoulders.

"Ah," said Garlthik. "Not sure, actually. Magic of some kind. But I'm just an adept, not a magician, and there's much of magic I don't understand. I only know how to think about magic in a specific way-as a means of procurement-if you will. But as to its-" he spread his arms wide, searching for the words-"as to its fundamental nature, I am blind.

Magicians know. Mordom, that crafty dragon's breath …" Garlthik's green eye gleamed bright. "He knew more than he was saying of that I'm sure." With that the ork fell silent and resumed his humming as if the matter were closed.

But what J'role wanted to know was about the ring itself. After carrying it for half the day, he had time to think about its strange effect on him. He wondered why someone had taken the time to make such a ring. As he continued to walk he slipped the ring on his finger. . and instantly began to speak, unable to resist the sweet images his mouth held.

Again, he did not know what he would say before the words came out, but as the sounds waited, touching his tongue like delicious dates and nuts, all he had to do was unleash them and listen. He stopped, unable to move on, and Garlthik turned to stare at him. J'role spoke of vaults filled with piles of artifacts and magical treasures, of pictures painted on huge marble walls that moved when anybody looked at them, of towers where ships of stone docked after traveling through the air from distant lands.

J’role pointed at his mouth, then summoned the will to remove the ring. He took it off his finger and stared up at Garlthik. The ork seemed disappointed, like a child who has just been told he must wait until the next night to hear the rest of his favorite bed-time story.

The mention of treasures had surely caught his interest.

Once more J'role pointed to the ring.

"All right," said the ork, turning and talking over his shoulder as he continued. "But let's keep moving."

J 'role hurried a few- steps to catch up, and when he had, Garlthik continued.

"The ring is from a city, I think-and I am close to convinced after seeing the odd effect it had on you. From the wonders you describe, it must be an ancient city of the Theran Empire. Perhaps it's somewhere nearby. But I don't know much about the world. Nobody does anymore. I've got to find out if anyone knows of such a city. I don't suppose you do?” He waited for a response, and J'role shook his head. "Anyway, that's why I want you by my side, young J'role. I believe you can help me to solve the mystery, though I don't know in what way yet."

J'role remembered his father telling him about the Theran Empire many years ago, but his father had obviously not known much about it either because he had said very little. What he did know was that the empire once ruled the province of Barsaive, which included J'role's village as well as lands in all directions, and had created the knowledge to build the kaers.

"Yes, you see. A mystery. What happened to the city-if there was a Theran city here in Barsaive?” Garlthik asked. "Did they survive the Scourge? If so, do they need help now?

If they do, a reward must await whoever comes to their aid. And if they did not survive, well, all the better, for then the city itself is the reward for whoever finds it. Mordom I think, knew more of the ring than he ever let on-and probably more of the city."

Garlthik touched his thick fingertips against his eye-patch. "The man possesses magic the likes of which I have never seen."

But J'role's thoughts had wandered far from the ork's words. A city filled with magicians!

A city filled with people who could make statues dance and chariots fly through the air!

What wonders might they perform on J'role himself? Could they remove the creature from his thoughts? Might he once again have his voice? Certainly if the people of the city were in trouble, and J'role helped save them, such a reward would be little enough to ask.

J'role added a skip to his walk as he continued along.

Garlthik saw this and smiled. "So, now the quest intrigues you, does it, lad?"

J'role looked back and nodded.

"I thought so. I thought I saw something of it in your eyes when first we met.”

J'role stopped now, looked carefully into Garlthik's face for an understanding of his words

"You've got the spirit, boy. That's all I meant. You are an adventurer, aren't you?" He smiled a gigantic smile, his mouth forming into a cave, his huge teeth lining the edges like stalagmites and stalactites." You long for it, don't you? And I'll bet you don't even gee it for what it is, you're so hungry for it. You're a starving man let loose upon a feast-

eating everything up so quickly you can't even taste it."

J'role shrugged, uncertain.

"No! Look about you." Garlthik stepped up to J'role and turned him around, placing a strong hand on J'role's shoulder. Standing behind the boy he gestured out to the hills and rivers and mountains that rested on the lowlands below them." I'll bet you're thinking,

'Got to get to some treasure. Got to reach some monsters. Have an adventure.' But this is it, J'role. Simply being out-wandering, traveling. You've left what you knew behind, and now you're wandering into the unknown. This walk, this walk we've taken just today, how many people from your village have ever traveled so far? Right now they're toiling away in their fields, trying to prove that they're worth something in the eyes of their neighbors, struggling to get enough to eat, to feed their families. The children grow up just like their parents. They're all going to sit around on the patch of ground where they were born. They won't learn anything about the world. They won't live through anything they haven't been taught how to live through."

Garlthik stared down into J'role's face, looking for a sign of comprehension. Finding none, he drew in a breath and started to speaking again.

"That's what an adventure is, my boy. Doing what you don't know how to do. I've never traveled to a lost city before. I've never walked over this spot before. What's over that hill? What might try to kill us next? I've no idea." He spread his arms wide and tilted his head back and smiled at the bright sun. "This is it."

Then he leaned down toward J'role and lowered his voice. "You see, it may seem quiet now, but that's just a trick. In an adventure, the adventure is always present, even if it doesn't look like it. You're an adventurer because you're alert to that. I can tell. Saw it back at the cave when I threw you the ring. You're ready to seize the moment when it presents itself. Most folks, they could even be on an adventure, and when it got quiet, they'd think the adventure had stopped. They'd let their guard down. Then, next thing they knew, something would come flying in and kill them. Or a treasure would present itself and they'd miss it. Just like that. That’s why they have to stay home. At home you know everything. Now his gaze floated away from J'role and out along the tops of the hills. "You know everything oh so well at home," he added quietly.

Garlthik stared silently out at the hills for a good, long while, and J'role joined him in contemplating the land below. At first he could make no sense of Garlthik's words. Yes?

it was true he had never seen this land-the winding rivers the barren dirt, the scraggly trees, the hills and mountain tops. But similar sights existed a day's walk from his village.

What difference did it make?

He glanced up at Garlthik, who was staring out as if hungry, feasting on the sight before him. J'role tried to imagine what Garlthik saw, and looked back out at the landscape. He tried to suck the sight in through his eyes, as Garlthik seemed to be doing.

And slowly, something began to happen.

He noticed a bird, or at least he thought it was a bird, hopping around on the ground fare far away by a lone tree. It was only a dot, but it moved and bounced around, as if struggling with something.

Then he saw how the water in the river folded over just slightly as it passed a bend in the river. And he saw how the trees, what few there were, each bent in the wind, creating an odd pattern of motion when viewed all together from this distance.

He began to understand. Though he'd noticed many of the same things in his own village, he'd never seen this particular group of objects and motion before. This combination was unique. In fact, when night fell, the shadows would change, the bird would leave. Not only had he never seen it before, it existed only in this moment.

It all seemed terribly fragile.

Thoughts of his father came to him. His father was very fragile. Now gone.

Without thinking about it, J'role began to walk, continuing along the route he and Garlthik had been traveling all day. He watched his feet take steps over the ground before him, and then vanish from sight as his body fell forward again and again.

"Wait up boy," Garlthik called. J'role did not slow his pace, but the ork quickly caught up. They walked on in silence.

A question occurred to J'role: Did Garlthik have a father he loved? What had happened to his father? Did he ever see him anymore?

That night they made camp on top of a ridge that offered them a view of anyone approaching from the south and the west. "And if they're after us," Garlthik said, "that's how they'll come."

They built a small fire in an alcove formed by rocks they piled high to keep the light from giving away their location. Then they settled down to the food they'd gathered that day.

Purple berries with a somewhat bitter taste and half-ripe fruit from a tree that J'role had never seen before, but which Garlthik assured him was safe to eat.

Despite the meal, J'role was still hungry. He caught Garlthik's attention and pointed to his stomach. "Aye, me too, lad," the ork said. "But if there's a drawback to being an adventurer, it's this: you can't always have what you want when you want it. In four days'

time we might be- as wealthy as kings. Then again, we might just starve to death before four days are out."

J'role thought about the words. He thought of how much time the farmers of his village spent tending their crops, how much toil was involved, and how often they still ended up with very little harvest to show for it. Garlthik might be wise in many ways of the world, but not in all. Everyone risked not having what he wanted when he wanted it, just by being alive, adventurer or not.

As night came on, he stood gazing out over the land below. The cool air washed gently over his face, and the fire buried between the stones kept his legs warm. The mixed sensations delighted him. Extremes, he thought. I like them more and more.

Then J'role spotted two orbs of light bobbing their way across the land, still distant, but getting closer. Crouching down, he poked at Garlthik's chest. The ork, who had just closed his eyes and begun to drift off, at first pushed J'role's hands away. But then he opened his eyes, saw the look on the boy's face. J'role pointed over the rocks.

Garlthik quickly scrambled up and looked in the direction J'role pointed. J'role thought that Garlthik looked horribly frightened as the ork removed his torn cloak and used it to smother the fire. When the flames had become no more than embers, Garlthik stood up and stared back out over the rocks. J'role joined him.

The orbs had gotten closer, and J'role saw now that they were lanterns. He had only seen such devices once before, many years ago when a group of humans and a troll had traveled through his village. Each lantern hung from poles atop wagons that were making their way across the land. Drawn by horses, the wagons rocked side to side over the sloped and rocky ground. J'role could not make out who rode in the carts, but there seemed to be about three people in each one. He also thought he saw shadows, tall, like large men, moving alongside the carts, but he could not be sure.

Next to him, Garlthik relaxed. "Not them. Just travelers. Wonder what they've got?." He lowered himself back behind their shelter of boulders. "We'll light the fire again when they've passed on a bit."

J'role knew what they might have-and he wanted it. He tugged on Garlthik's arm, then pointed at his stomach and then over the boulders at the merchants.

Garlthik laughed and brought his hand up to his mouth I and smothered it. When he'd gained control of himself he said, "And what will we do, young J'role? Go up to them and beg for alms? Those travelers are escorted by obsidimen. Not the type of folk who are usually too generous. I doubt we'd get within fifty feet of them, even with peaceful intentions, before those brutes slammed into our meager bodies with their stone hands.

Wouldn't even see them coming if they're worth their pay."

J'role wanted to know what obsidimen were, but knew that getting out the question would be too much work; he didn't even know how to begin. Instead he kept his mind fixed on the issue of food. He gestured back over the rock again, and then he mimed walking along silently, his knees bent, creeping along.

Garlthik smiled. "Steal it?"

J'role nodded vigorously.

"Lad, maybe another time. Certainly, I've stolen from more difficult marks-but I always had help."

Indignantly J'role pounded his chest with his fist.

"Yes, yes. You're here to help. But you're not especially well trained."

J'role pointed to himself again, then mimed sneaking through a door, opening a barrel, pulling out apples. Garlthik cocked his head to one side. J'role gestured back over the boulder; several times in a row, trying to build the impression of distance.

"Oh. You've stolen … You stole when you lived in your village?" Garlthik first looked astonished, then smiled again. "Well, that is a surprise. Wouldn't have … All right. Do you know the talents?”

J'role furrowed his brow, at first not understanding what Garlthik meant. Then he realized that he meant magical talents. He had never thought that there would be magical talents for thieves, just as there were magical talents for Ishar, the village metalsmith, but it made sense. He remembered the green glow that poured out of the knots that had been holding Garlthik. That was probably one of them. He shook his head.

"That's it then. We'll be building our appetites tonight." He rolled over to go back to sleep.

J'role knelt down beside Garlthik grabbed the ork's arm and shook it.

"No, no. I can't do it alone, and boy, you're just not ready."

An idea came to J'role. He pointed first to Garlthik and then to himself, over and over again. Then he took the ork's heavy hand in his and clasped it.

"What do you want, boy?”

He continued to point to Garlthik, and then himself.

"You want to-be me …? To learn from me? You want me to teach you the talents?”

J'role nodded.

The ork laughed quietly. "We won't be done in time to get that caravan …" Garlthik shook his head and waved his hand, a sober look coming s over his face. "You probably don't know this, but when you pick a discipline, it shapes how you see the world. Everything feeds into this sight. That's why the magic works. Once a thief, you'll always be a thief.

You'll always think like a thief."

J'role patted his belly. The ork laughed, then looked somberly at J'role, as if weighing something out. "All right then. In the morning." He started the fire again, and rolled over once more.

For a long time J'role stared up at the stars. The tiny points of light seemed to form countless patterns, just like the picture language common to the name-giver races.

Though J'role could not read, he'd seen words carved in stone, words formed from a picture of a dragon's head combined with a few dots and circles. Next to that would be a cat, and next to that an image of a jaguar, each altered slightly to produce different syllables.

As J'role looked at the sky he wondered if the stars too formed patterns-words written across the night.

He could not sleep, and after an hour or so he took out the ring. The silver cold against the flesh of his palm and reminded him of the wonderful, overwhelming desire he'd felt earlier. He craved to feel that longing once more, but the thought also made him afraid. It took complete possession of his thoughts. Two days ago, putting on the ring had made him forget even about his father dying on the floor of the kaer.

The memory of his father sent a shiver through J'role. What a horrible son he was! How often had he wished the man dead! How could he have wanted that for a man who had tried so hard? So, so hard. An empty ache took hold of J'role's heart; he felt incomplete, as if he still needed something from his father that would now never be provided.

Without even thinking about it, he slipped the ring onto his finger to escape the sadness.

He felt his tongue come alive without his will, and the tingling spread across his jaw. He rolled away so as to not disturb Garlthik, then stood up and walked over to a rock and stared out over the barren, windblown landscape, listening to himself speak.

He said, "Fine stones, each as pure white as sun-bleached bones, led to the city from all quarters of Barsaive." An astounding sight greeted him as he stared out over the barren, dark landscape. Several miles away a thin line glowed as pure as the stars above, reaching off in either direction as far as he could see.

A road.