Longing Ring

8

In one of his nightmares, J'role wakes from his sleep.

He is six or so. From the central room his mother has just let out a cry so loud it woke him. He is startled for a moment but then hears a soothing whisper. He thinks at first it is his father. But the voice is too deep. It is strange. Not the voice of anyone in the kaer.

Then J'role realizes that it is the voice of the thing in the corner.

In the center of the village they found the local tavern, a big inn very much like Brandson's, the tavern in J'role's village. When Garlthik first presented the diamond to the tavern keeper, a thick-bodied woman with red cheeks and clever eyes, she looked slightly left and right, knowing instinctively that the ork had gained the treasure in some underhanded manner.

But when Garlthik began to speak with her, it was in a voice J'role had never heard from him before. The ork's tone was at once soothing and cunning. He never stated that the stone was stolen, yet with sly glances he clearly implied it was. J'role watched the woman, and realized that part of her wanted nothing to do with the stolen diamond, yet another part was drawn to the idea of buying such merchandise. Not only would she get it at a bargain price, but it would be stolen treasure. He saw the eagerness building in her eyes. A story to tell her select friends, J'role guessed: "Well, in walked this ork, hungry as could be, tattered cloak and such, and he comes straight up to the bar, making sure no one else could overhear, of courses and in his hand he's holding. ."

She didn't seem the sort to have trafficked much in stolen goods, but from the strange look in her eyes, J'role saw that she wanted to give it a try, if only once.

J'role wondered if he was any different. He had left his village, a place where most people stayed forever, to take up traveling with a creature who had one green eye and thick yellow teeth so big they poked up over his lips. Watching Garlthik bargain, J'role realized how thankful he was to the ork for getting him away from his village.

“I can't give you coins," the woman said, staring at the diamond, the negotiations finished, "but I'll give you the food and lodging you asked for, and I'll make arrangements with Hyruss the miller's son about that horse. She won't be fast, but she'll carry the food you've bought."

"And the sword and the dagger?"

"Yes, yes," the woman said with distaste. "The weapons as well." J'role did not think she minded the sword by itself; it was arming an ork with a sword that was giving her trouble.

"You've been most kind," said Garlthik. "Now if you could let us have two legs of lamb, stew, and ale, we'll fill our bellies well and then we'll retire upstairs."

“I can't give you anything until I've been paid," the woman said, hand outstretched.

"Good tavernkeep, we have nothing to pay you with but this stone, and certainly its value exceeds the meal and one night's lodging-as we have already discussed. When you have arranged the food and the horse, I'll gladly give you the stone. I assure you, the investment will be well worth your time." The words sounded awkward coming from Garlthik's mouth, as if they were too large to fit comfortably. Too formal and friendly.

Yet he got them out, and the woman agreed. She turned to shout at a boy-her son? — to bring some lamb and stew.

J'role and Garlthik took a table near a window looking out in the direction they had just traveled. Garlthik stared from the window with the same haunted look he had worn when first they'd met and the ork had turned around to see if anyone-Mordom, J'role knew now-followed.

The ring now hung under J'role's shirt, tied around his neck by a thong. Thinking about the past brought thoughts of his father, which suddenly made him acutely aware of the ring. The cold metal against his chest tempted him to put it back on his finger. He suddenly felt incomplete again, and wanted the thing that would finally make him whole.

Despite the desire, J'role did not put on the ring. He didn't want to begin babbling uncontrollably about a lost city while surrounded by strangers; he and Garlthik had already attracted enough attention. Instead he joined Garlthik in looking silently out the window.

It seemed strange now to see the world outside enclosed in a frame. J'role longed to step outside the tavern and be lost once more in the boundless world, feeling his connection with everything continuing on forever-a sensation nearly impossible to experience while looking through the square edges of a window. Yet he also felt a strong desire to stay right where he was. Though the world lost its indefinable, lovely quality when framed, he found it easier to relax.

The boy soon brought the food. The lamb was so tender it seemed to melt in J'role's mouth; and the stew, warm and full of carrots and corn and beef, made his cheeks tingle and filled his belly so deeply that he thought he might never want to eat again.

J'role and Garlthik swayed as they stood, their full meals mixing with their exhaustion.

The boy who had served them led them upstairs to a room with two mats on the floor and a window covered with a coarse, ragged cloth. The sun still shone, and small circles of light formed by holes in the cloth dotted the floor. Without any thought of either future or past, J'role dropped to his knees and spread himself out on one of the mats.

Just as he closed his eyes the creature in his thoughts said, "So, you'll find the city?"

It had been so long since the creature had spoken that it took J'role by surprise. "Yes," he thought, his mind slipping into a pleasant darkness.

The creature slid back into his thoughts, curling up as comfortably as a cat before a fire, and said no more.

The slow, precise sound of hoof beats, the snort of horses, words whispered, a clatter of metal all floated into J'role's awareness. He awoke with a start.

Darkness. Outside the window he heard the sounds continue. Through the holes in the cloth he saw the stars. Garlthik still slept.

J'role rose quietly to his feet. In three steps he was across the bare floorboards and looking out the window through a tear in the cloth.

Below he saw at man handing his horse's reins over to the tavernkeep's son. The man was round in the middle, and wore a thick scarlet jacket with matching pants, all trimmed with gold. A large man-no, not a man-one of the lizardfolk his father had talked about.

Green-skinned, tall, with a long, thick tail. He held a-large sword and stood warily, obviously guarding the man, keeping an eye out for anyone who might approach out of the darkness. J'role wondered what if was like to be so big. Big as Garlthik, and then bigger. With a huge tail that could be used to trip enemies. The guard's long, snouted head turned right and then left, as if sniffing for possible danger.

Suddenly J’role felt something beside him. He gave out a gasp, and felt a rough hand cover his mouth. "Shhh," said Garlthik, releasing J'role immediately. "If we travel together, you must always wake me when there's news. Understand?”

J'role nodded and stepped aside to give Garlthik a clear view of the scene outside. "Ah.

Good. He's the one." With that cryptic statement Garlthik turned from the window and returned to his mat. "Might as well turn in. Unless I miss my guess, there won't be anything more to do with them tonight. We'll let them get comfortable."

J'role had no idea what Garlthik was talking about, but he had no wish to try and sort it out now. He was too tired.

The fat man and his guard entered the tavern. J'role heard their voices, but could not make out the words. Unable to gain any more information-and with not the slightest idea what he might have been trying to find out anyway-he too returned to his mat and the sweetness of sleep.

The next day J'role and Garlthik went down to the common area to enjoy a breakfast of warm bread, cheese, and milk. They had just sat down when the lizard-folk guard came down and took a seat across the room. Though armed with a sword and possessing a fine row of razor-sharp teeth, the lizard-folk seemed oddly shy and small. He curled his clawed hands around his broth and glanced about furtively as if afraid someone would see him looking.

One time J'role's eyes met the guard's, and instead of turning away, as J'role would have expected, the lizard-folk smiled, the tip of his tail thumping up and down against the floor.

"What are you doing?" Garlthik muttered his voice not much louder than a whisper, but strong and serious.

J'role saw that the ork kept his head down, as if concerned only with swirling the mead in his mug. He didn't know what Garlthik was talking about.

"What are you doing looking about like that, making eye contact? You only do that if you need a mark to take a liking to you. We don't need that. Now he's paid attention to you.

Now he'll remember you. You are a thief. You don't befriend anybody, understand?

There are the people you steal from, and that's it. The only people you don't steal from are the people who don't own anything worth stealing. And you don't befriend them because they're not worth befriending. If they ever end up owning something, then you can steal it. But they're not your friends. Understand?"

J'role did-just barely-and he nodded his head.

Soon the portly, finely dressed man also came down to the common area. J'role eyed him carefully, keeping Garlthik's warning in his thoughts. He noticed that the rich man wore a ring with a bright stone that shone blue with the light it caught from the windows. It was bigger, much bigger, than the one Garlthik had bartered to the tavernkeep. The rich man took a table separate from the one where the guard sat.

"Tonight, when the reptile is on watch," said Garlthik, "you'll go in and steal that diamond-the one on the trader's finger. They're going to stay at least another night. He's well-fed and well-dressed. Once his kind stop moving, they stay put for a while."

J'role looked up at Garlthik's face and then down at his food, afraid of showing undue attention to the conversation.

"It's your test, boy. Your initiation. And your payment. I paid my mentor with coins I begged in the citadel. You haven't paid me yet. And you owe me for my diamond. That ring on his finger. You owe me. We'll do it tonight. Best be back on the road by then. I do believe Mordom has lost our trail, but better to be on the safe side."

A tight tension crawled over J'role's chest. The lizard-folk looked very strong. To steal something from him would be a difficult task. Dangerous.-

"You'll do just fine," said the creature, even as J'role's thoughts slipped into fear. He had the strange desire to be sitting alongside his drunken father back at the kaer. "You'll do just fine.'' "What?" thought J'role. It was the first time the thing in his thoughts had ever tried to offer comfort, and the words startled him. "I like you, boy. Didn't you know that?"

"No." "Well, I do."

"Will you let me talk now?"

"Talk? I'll always let you talk." The creature laughed: something oily passed through J'role's thoughts.

“I mean …like other people."

"Why would you want to talk like other people? I've given you an amazing gift."

“I don't want it."

"Well, no matter. No. I told you years ago, we'll be together until you die. I don't suppose you want to kill yourself?"

“No”

"Well, then there's nothing to be done, is there?"

"Why: don't you leave?"

"Not until you're dead. Not until you're dead."

The cold ring hanging against J'role's chest seemed to dig into his flesh. If he could only find the city. They would be able to help him.

"I'm going to go speak with the weaponsmith," said Garlthik, standing up. "Do what you will, but be back here tonight. Get some rest, as a matter of fact. It's going to be a busy night."

That night, long after the sky had turned black and the stars- blanketed the world and the people in the village and all throughout the land were asleep, Garlthik woke J'role. J'role's mind stirred itself from at deep dream: his mother, holding him in her arms when he was a child. Her flesh was a light gray, strong as stone, but soft and comfortable.

"Wake up. It's time."

The moon had passed toward her monthly death, and only dim light from the stars passed through the holes in the curtain. J'role made out Garlthik's big body, no more than a thick shadow, moving on all fours on the floor. The old, worn floorboards creaked under him.

But softly. Softer than they should have.

A scrape of stone against metal, once, twice, a spark, a sudden flame. An oil-soaked rag wrapped around a short stick set on a metal plate bursting with white illumination. It lit Garlthik's face now, the shadows carving up through the heavy fat and muscles, and fear came to J'role. A monster, he thought, just as his father had told him about monsters when he was at little boy.

A little boy? When had he become a big boy? Why did he no longer feel like a boy at all?

The light cast Garlthik's shadow huge against the wall as he hunched over the flame.

"Come here.”

Garlthik did not look at J'role as he spoke, but continued staring at the flame, as if it were a memory of years gone by, burning away. His voice was gruff and serious, not at all the way J'role was used to hearing the ork talk. The voice commanded him, drew him to something he not understand. He moved closer, crawling on his hands and knees.

"Here," Garlthik said, almost angry, but J 'role could not be sure. The ork extended his long arms and grabbed J'role by each wrist, tugging him closer to the flame until the two of them faced each other, The heat of the fire between them, the oily smoke rising up into their faces.

The heat turned J'role's flesh warm, making him think of when he was five and had the fever, and how Xiasass, the priestess of Garlen, old then, dead now, came to his room in the kaer and prayed for his health. Her hands were Thin and wrinkled, but her touch was gentle, like smooth stone. Marble. The marble of Garlen's statue itself, which J'role had once touched out of curiosity when no one was looking.

Xiasass soothed him as he looked into her face. She smiled at him as she prayed. People get so old, he had thought, looking up into her face. I might live after all.

Garlthik's hands were thick and coarse, not comforting at all. He gripped J'-role's wrists tightly, his face set and staring at J'role's, as if daring J'role to look back at him. But J'role could not bring himself to stare into the ork's face. It overpowered him, forcing his courage back.

He took a quick glance at Garlthik, saw the eye patch, thought of Mordom for some reason he did not understand, and then realized that Garlthik’s green eye matched the green eye on Mordom's palm!

What enemies the ork had! Did he really want to be with Garlthik? What was he doing?

He could die-or worse. Why did he want to be an adventurer, as Garlthik described?

Because of his father's stories? His father was a liar who had fed off the tales of his ancestors but never done anything to actually live what he spoke of. To get away from his village? As J'role thought of his home, it suddenly seemed more pleasant than he realized Why not go back? He could get by; some stolen fruit here, an egg there, a crust, some scraps. Watching the villagers live their lives, raising their families. A comfortable observer. Why not just go back?

But Garlthik‘s thick, strong grip against the muscles of J'role's wrists held him against the desire. The hands were not thin and old and caring like those of Xiasass. They were huge, hardy rough. They did not comfort. But they did hold. They possessed a different kind of strength. The hands of Xiasass had cared for him when he was weak. Garlthik's hands asked him to be stronger.

Did J'role want to be stronger?

He looked at Garlthik's broad face, toothy and maimed. The ork merely continued staring back at him, expressionless, waiting. J'role held his gaze. For a long time they gazed at each other. The heat of the flame made the air between them waver; the coiling, black smoke rose into J'role's nostrils, making him dizzy. But he held Garlthik’s stare until he thought he saw the tug of a smile at the edge of the ork's mouth.

Garlthik did not smile, though. "J'role," he said finally, "do you want to be a thief?"

Not just steal, J'role thought. Be a thief. Not to be me stealing, but be someone who steals. To be someone new.

J'role wanted very much to be someone new.

Yes, he nodded. Yes.