The TaleMaster 3…Seth’s Dream

This little tale started itself about a dozen years ago. It was originally a one page background for a D&D character. Then came a dream or three which added so much more. Life & Death interfered for many years. I’ve begun dreaming of the tale again, recently. This will eventually be a book, I hope.

So please, go get yourself a tall cold beverage, adjust your reading glasses and settle into your comfy chair…

Durlije rises, working out the cramps from legs and back, stretching, then speaks to The Seth. “I thank you for the tale, you honour the Dwarves. As always, the tale was told with accuracy.” He bows low to The Seth. Then he turns and makes his way up to the Bazaar, becoming lost in the crowds.  

  The children rise, gathering their possessions. “That was the best you ever told it, The Seth,” says Dawyn, “but what happened to the part about the war of the Black and the Red?”
  “Dawyn, don’t you know anything?” replies her brother, “that’s a whole nother tale.”

  The Seth smiles fully at this, his face crinkling into a thousand creases. “Yes,” he says, “that is another tale for another time.”

  Thanking him for the story, the children move to go. A’drui hurries to his brother and tells him he’ll be along in a minute, to go with the others. After watching them head down the ramp he turns, picking up the copper bowl, and makes his way back, kneeling next to the TaleMaster. “Heard something at the Bazaar this morning.” he states. The Seth nods his head, eyes scanning the crowds that pass before his tent, watching for loiterers.

  “Heard it at Baji’s, around noon.” The boy watches the man intently during his disclosure, alert for his signals. “Seems to be a group of adventurers, from all over, setting out in four days time, at Celebrations end. Going to the old…then I bought her this fine pair of gloves.” The boy switches in midstream with hardly a pause when he sees the old man wipe at his left eye. He continues telling of the childrens doings that morning until the signal comes again. “They’re going to the old moat house, seems to be some type of evil coming from there. Heard Slauti telling Nah’lei last night. I’uz behind their cave in the tunnel, coming in late from the bazaar.”

  The boy takes a small leather pouch from inside his shirt and empties it into his hand. He puts the assortment of silver and gold coins into the mans lap where they vanish into the folds of his robes. “From Slauti.” he says. He then slips a pair of parchment coloured gloves from his shirt and into the mans lap.

  The old man picks them up to admire the finely detailed embroideries upon their backs: matching minute forests of pine. Their scent wafts subtly through the air. “Been practicing some other skills this morning too, I see.” he says with a wink. The gloves disappear again.  This time into the old mans voluminous robes. “More?” asks The Seth. The boy nods. “Seems Slauti’s gonna let Nah’lei go with ’em.”

  The Seth starts at this information. “It’s about time. The…boy is nearing seventeen and still an apprentice.”  A’drui grumbles sullenly. “They’ve gotten to be friends or something, hanging around at the Bazaar and all, since day before Celebration. And they’re a pretty strange group: a gnome, a ranger that looks maybe part troll and a Bard that tells really good tales. Slauti told them about the moat house this morning. Seems they’re all excited about going and they got Nah’lei fired up enough to ask Slauti if he could go too. Do you think he’ll come back?” asks the boy plaintively.

  The Seth nods and tousles the boys head, “Of course he will. He’s a Fast. More?” At the boys shake of his head he nods and takes a small silver from the hidden pile in his lap. Giving it to the boy he says, “Rungo through my cave, quick! Catch up with the rest.” A’drui nods and runs off.

  The Seth ponders this information for long minutes, watching the stream of traffic going by his tent. He calls to a boy in the crowd and waves him over. “Rungo get Slauti. Tell him I need to see him and the Guild Master.” The boy nods, repeats the message then races off down the mountain. The old man begins to rise, then remembering the coins; he slips a faded leather pouch from within his robes and deposits the coins within. Replacing the pouch in its hidden pocket he gathers the wine skins provided by Durlije and the forested gloves. Rising, he turns and enters his cave.

  After securing the dull silverish lacework gate at the cave front he closes the curtain over it. Moving through the antechamber into the between-chamber he places the wine skins on a table and he moves to the rear antechamber, securing the gate there. The old man makes his way around furniture and through tapestries into his private quarters. Moving to the wall past the massive desk, he awkwardly steps on the stone beneath the three legs of the glow stand. He listens to the mechanism click then moves farther north along the wall. Pushing aside a tapestry, he reaches into a small hole and extracts a crystal flagon. Round on the bottom, with a long narrow neck, the container is nearly empty, half a boy’s hands breadth of the silvery/violet liquid left, if that much. He unstoppers the vessel then reaches into the hole for a tiny crystal goblet. He half fills the goblet and places it on the floor beside him. Resealing and then replacing the flagon he turns, picks up the tiny glass and sips of the viscous fluid. He stands and drinks, one or two drops at a time, until the liquid is gone, then replaces the glass. Taking the pouch from inside his robes he places it in the hole too. Again he awkwardly steps on the stone, listening for the mechanism.

  Not much left, he thinks to himself, maybe seven or eight, at the most ten years worth. And then … The Seth shuts his eyes against the vision, not quite blocking it from his mind. How long would he last once the flagon was empty? A question that could only be answered by the future.

  Turning he heads through the stark cave passage, toward the sanctuary of the rear chamber and his bed. He strokes the ancient carved black dragon then lies down, awaiting the arrival of Slauti and the thieves’ Guild Master, thinking of the boy A’drui and the information imparted. There was much to be discussed, mainly why he hadn’t been informed of Nah’lei’s upcoming adventure.

  So, Slauti had realized at last that he had to let Nah’lei go, allowing journeymans’ status to be attained. About time! The child, no, not a child any longer, but almost grown. Gods, the time flew! It seemed he had just held that squirming baby, Slauti’s first and only living child, heir to the guild, as it turned out, when Slaight had no living child. Now, that baby had grown into a fine person, setting off on adventures. And when did that other old fool, Slaight propose to spill the secret? Probably never, leaving it to Nah’lei, or more properly Hannah-leigh, to explain her sudden change in gender. Pray to the Gods she wasn’t found out on this, her first adventure. Why had Slaight not told the truth at her birth, when his influence had been so much greater? He had vowed to have no more wives before her birth, knew he would have no heir. He could have made them accept her, his brothers first born, as his successor then. Or when it was seen she was the last of the line. Now she would have to fight to keep the position when it fell to her. And the boy A’drui, Gods he resembles me at that age! After all the generations, the thinning of the blood and still, almost a mirror image, in appearance and demeanor. He had a bad case of hero worship for Nah’lei, but with time that would fade. He would be a fine one upon reaching maturity.

  The Seth drifts off, an old man dreaming of his youth…

  A small bedraggled lonely boy, wanders through the caves and tunnels stopping at last and sitting down to cry. Why is everything so unfair? Ma & Pa captured by that wicked awful king and I don’t even know if they’re still alive. Uncle had made him and his little brother Surgel go with them, escaping just ahead of the guards. The guards had been heading toward the huddle of hovels as the small band had made their way over the rooftops and then over the walls and out of the city. And the journey, I don’t even want to think about it! Walking in a daze, stumbling over his own feet for miles. Finally they had bought a pair of mules and a small wagon at some little village. Still it wasn’t big enough for all and they had to take turns riding so that Aunt Beruch, heavy with child, could ride. And then, far into the desert, almost out of water, his brothers’ death. Gods, life was so damn unfair! Surgel had been so young.

  Seth pours out his grief, mourning his many losses at last.
  Much later, he wipes his eyes and runny nose on his sleeve. Feeling a little better, he looks around. Where in seven hells am I? I’ve never been here before! Curious he rises at last and starts wandering through the tunnels again.

  At least the dwarves have given us welcome after the long trek, nursed us all back to health, and allow us to stay. But then Uncle hadn’t told them the whole story, had he? Would the dwarves have let them stay had they known the whole truth? Moot point now.

  Why were the dwarves so quiet, taciturn? Seth could get almost no information from them. Maybe they were hiding something, had secrets of their own. Maybe that was why the dwarves had them living on the east rather than the west of the mountain. Of course it WAS a nice location. Near the summit, in easy reach of the water, open to the constant breezes. Why Uncle Shadow wanted to live near the base was beyond him. Something about being closer in case of attack, but who even knew about this place? Uncle Shad hadn’t, or the other men either.

  Seth wanders on and on, lost in his thoughts, crossing and re-crossing, going down paths he had already been down.
  Seth, the loner, they call him. The boy chuckles to himself. Why shouldn’t he keep to himself? He had nothing in common with the other children. THEY all had parents. THEY had sibs. THEY caught onto the skills they were all taught each day. Picking pockets, moving with no noise, rapelling off the side of the mountain. All the skills of thievery and where were they going to use them? Surely not on the dwarves; they’d be banished from here too! Only three or four ever go on the trading runs. Useless to spend hours a day at thieving.

  Seth stumbles, in his solitary wandering, over a pile of rubble. Pulling his thoughts together, he looks down to investigate what he’d tripped on. A pile of rocks & rubble! Looking up he notices a minor cave-in to the right. He looks up and down the tunnel with care. He knew where he was now, the back of the tunnels, the western most loop on the northern side. Hadn’t that been a solid wall just yesterday?

  Shining the glow-globe ahead he picks his way over the rubble. More tunnels! Just when he thought he’d see them all! Slowly, carefully he makes his way through these new, unexplored warrens. There were miles of them! Most looked like ancient dwarven work, for some reason unused now. But there, another cave in, a hole, just big enough to squirm through, that looked much more ancient, unused for ages.

  The dust was thick on the floors, making him cough. Seth tears a piece of cloth from his shirt bottom, wets it from his water skin, then ties it over mouth and nose. Much better! On he wanders through the dust drenched passageways, over rubble piles until at last, hunger overriding curiosity, he settles down. Pulling out the bread and cheese, snatched just that morning, from inside his shirt, he inhales it. Washing it down with a long pull from the skin, he wishes he’d taken more. He leans back against the wall and practices with the skin, trying to get the water in his mouth from arms length, and not all over himself. Well, maybe with more practice I’ll get the hang of it, impress the dwarves. Settling back against the smooth wall, he rests awhile before heading back. It must be late.  Aunt Beruch would be getting worried. He dozes off, more tired than he’d realized, from the trek and the tears.

  Seth awakens to the distant sound of voices. Unconsciously using his skills, oh so recently learned, he silently makes his way toward the sound. The tunnel opens into a small cavern, empty except for the boy and the dust. The voices can be distinctly heard here, but where are they coming from? He’s passed no one in the tunnel and by the depth of the dust, these are unused at any rate. Glancing around in perplexity he notices a tiny beam of light from coming from the floor. Tucking the globe in his shirt, cautiously making his way over, he investigates.

  It is a hole through to the ceiling of what appears to be the dwarven caves! Recognizing some of the voices, he settles down to listen. They seem to be telling how they came here and found this place! Seth settles in, enjoying the tale. After the telling of the tale the dwarves begin to discuss what to send with the humans on the next trade run. Seth soon becomes bored with this and leaves, returning to his home-cave.

  The boy returns often to these hidden tunnels and the secret cave, especially when he learns there is to be a council. He listens, fascinated by the tales.  Soon he realizes that they are not different tales, but the same one, told a little differently each time, some parts left out or new parts added that he has never before heard, all part of a wonderful whole. Seth begins to memorize the tale adding each piece of information as he hears it.

After an especially good telling (maybe by the GoldSmith!) he makes his way back through the tunnels. Wrapped up in the tale, remembering inflection and cadence and every new part, he makes his way blindly home.

  A hand grabs the back of his shirt!
  Seth screams, struggling to get away, sure that a monster has him, is going to eat him. A voice rumbles near his ear “Hush you idiot!” The boy, surprised the beast can talk, turns to see what has him. A powerful dwarf is standing just behind him, holding his shirt and arm. It is Olriad the GoldSmiths son, a dwarf huge with muscle from long days at the forge. Seth, knowing he can never hope to escape, goes limp.

  “What are you doing boy? Why are you wandering where you shouldn’t be?” asks the dwarf.
  Seth, confused looks around and realizes he made a wrong turn somewhere and is in the dwarven tunnels. “I’m lost” he exclaims.
  “Oh, we’ll see about that” says Olriad and hauls the boy up, like a sack of grain, under his massive arm. Down the tunnel he goes further into the dwarven section.

  Oh Gods, what have I done now? Uncle told me curiosity would be the death of me.  I didn’t know he meant it literally. They’ll probably torture me with irons hot from the forge, or cut me up and make me eat my own flesh, ugh! They might even KILL me. Or worse they might banish me. AND all the humans! Oh Gods, what have I done? What should I do?

  They arrive, after a long trek, at the council cavern where the council looks to be in the process of ending. As the dwarves notice Olriad in the door, one by one they stop their discussion. The GoldSmith looks up, puzzled, at the scene before him. “What have you there?”

  “A foundling” he chuckles deeply, “I found him wandering in the tunnels. He says he was lost.” He laughs again. “I think he was thieving, or maybe spying.”
  Seth begins to shake, knowing his torture is at hand. The giant Olriad KNOWS what he’s been up to! Maybe the truth would be best now, allow him to retain his life.
  “Well boy, answer the question” booms the GoldSmith.
  “I’m sorry Sirrah, what question?” he mumbles.
  “What were you doing in my tunnels?”
  “Well Sirrah, I really was lost, you see I was wandering around, thinking of other things and then he found me.” Seth points his chin toward the GoldSmiths son, not daring to meet his eyes.
  “Yes, and how did you get in my tunnels?”

  Seth, frightened out of his wits, sure of his imminent death, begins to babble. Tripping over his words, eyes darting here and there blindly, getting everything out of sync, he tells the story. How he found the tunnels and cave, how he listened to the tales, how he has returned frequently to hear them over and over. Finally running down he ends naively with “It’s a very good tale, Sirrah, I’ve enjoyed hearing it, except you really should tell the whole of it each time.” He finally looks at the GoldSmith.

  The dwarves rock back in amazement at this audacity, staring at the scrawny boy. The GoldSmith, sure the boy is lying, sits back in his huge chair and stares into the childs’ eyes. Seth stares back never once dropping his gaze.
  “Well then boy, tell us this tale, how you think it should be told.”

  Seth closes his eyes blocking out the intimidating sight of the dwarves. He begins the tale, his voice high in timidity, then unconsciously lowering, mimicking the inflection and form of the dwarves. He tells how and why they left, how the dwarves came all the long way, found and carved their homes in the mountain, grew and thrived and became a new clan. Although he knows it well, never before has he told it aloud. Scared and trying to impress them he strives for the inflections he enjoyed most, hoping he is not botching it up. When he ends the tale he opens his eyes, looking around at the council at last. One very ancient wrinkled dwarf is wiping his eye. The rest sit like statues. Seth turns and looks at the GoldSmith.

  “Take him to your cave. I’ll send someone.” he says gruffly.

The boy jumps up and Olriad moves to pick him up again. The old dwarf speaks, his voice deep, rasping with age, “He knows how to walk”
  Seth smiles at him before holding his arm out to Olriad. “If you’re afraid I’ll run you can hold my arm.” Olriad takes his arm, surprising Seth, and leads him from the cavern. He leads the boy through the tunnels to a comfortable, well appointed cave. “Hungry?” he asks as he pulls vast amounts of food from various containers and pouches and places them on a table.

  Seths’ mouth begins to water, eying the feast. Olriad waves him over as he sits and begins to eat, nodding toward a low chair. At first the boy eats as if starved, shoving things into his mouth, hardly taking time to chew before swallowing. He slows and then stops, becoming sated at last. Olriad continues to eat. The boy watches, at first from lack of anything better to do, and then in amazement as Olriad continues eating. The dwarf finishes finally, having eaten everything he set out.

  Just then a dwarf arrives at the cave and asking Olriad to bring the boy back. They begin the walk back, the messenger walking behind Seth. Arriving at last at the council cavern, Seth again begins to get nervous. Will they kill me now? Was that my last meal? At least it was really, really good!

  “We have decided that you have done little harm. Your telling of the tale was accurate, far more accurate than usual. Your only fault was in speed, although I understand that humans and dwarves move to different rhythms; our haste is your normal, our slow is your ponderous. Baagh! What does a mere lad understand of rhythms?” He stops to look at each face around the table “We would like you to continue in this, by coming to the councils. You will be here only to tell the tale then you will leave. Is this understood?” At the boys nervous nod the GoldSmith continues, “We want you to learn all of our tales, to be the Teller, to teach the children and keep the stories alive.” Seth is amazed. Had he done that well? Apparently so if they had asked him to be the Teller.

  “I will have to ask my Uncle” Seth stammers, “I don’t know what he will say.”
  “That has been taken care of. He has agreed.” The GoldSmith lifts his chin toward a chair off by the entrance to the cavern. Uncle Shad sits there and nods at the boy.
  “I am honored, Sirrah. I will try always to tell the tales with accuracy and never with haste as I have now been taught.” Seth bows low, his hair brushing the floor.

  The GoldSmith nods, well pleased with the boys deference and manners, almost dwarven, perhaps in unconscious mimic. “Come back in three days time, at the setting of the sun and begin your work. Until then you will be allowed access to these caves, during daylight only, to hear and learn the tales from my people.”
  “Yes Sirrah.” says the boy and turns to go, recognizing the dismissal. Halfway to the doorway he turns back and finds the golden eyes still on him. “Thank you Sirrah. I really thought you were going to eat me.”
  All the dwarves burst into laughter at this, rising and coming over to surround him with their hugeness. They thump him on the back, telling him how much they enjoyed the tale. They keep thumping, talking, thumping, banging……

  The Seth awakens to find Slauti banging at his gate, the Guild Master just behind.

continued in Part 4

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