Once upon a time in far-off Kal-Sharok, Kriemheld was a young woman of the Artisan Caste. Her clan were stone-carvers, and Kriemheld's father made sure she was trained well in the art of chisel and file.
But Kriemheld's mother died, and her father remarried. His new wife was an evil woman, with bad intentions for Kriemheld. Because Kriemheld was very beautiful, the wife thought that she should try to attract a husband from the Noble Caste. Kriemheld's father was scandalized at the very thought and forbid it. But when he died, the evil wife was determined to have her way.
She made Kriemheld put down her chisel and her file and soak her hands in water and nug fat to make them soft. She refused to allow Kriemheld to cut her hair so that it grew out, long and prone to tangle. She took away the girl's good leather apron and put dresses of surfacer material on her, strange thin fabrics made of plants and insects. Kriemheld was miserable but smiled as her stepmother bid.
Finally, the stepmother secured an invitation to a royal ball. The king had named his heir, and the young prince would be looking for a bride. "You must go to the ball," the evil woman said. "Pretend that you do not speak, so no one will ask you for your caste. The prince will fall in love with your beauty and marry you, and then it will not matter."
"But dear mother," Kriemheld said, for she was good-hearted and loved the woman despite her bad ways, "but dear mother, the prince should marry a woman of the Noble Caste. This is not right."
"Hush! I said, you do not speak tonight! I wish to live as a noble woman, in a fine house well above my station, with all manner of fine things. I do not wish to do hard work, chipping away at stone until I am old and blind. Go to the ball, child, and make your mother happy."
So, deeply unhappy, Kriemheld went to the ball. She hoped that the prince would not see her, or that if he did see her, she would be so very plain compared to all of the noble ladies that he would pay her no mind. Then her mother's evil plans would come to naught.
Woe to Kriemheld! The prince did see her and was immediately smitten. He danced with her again and again, and as the Proving bells began to chime the latest hour, he rose to announce that he had chosen his bride. His eyes shone like lyrium in the dark as he looked at Kriemheld.
It was more than she could bear. She could not disobey her stepmother and speak, but she could also not allow such a noble prince to marry her. In dismay, she turned and fled from the room, she fled from the palace, she fled from the city itself, so great was her shame and despair.
Kriemheld found herself lost in the Deep Roads.
This was a long time ago, before the darkspawn came, so the Deep Roads were not as dangerous as they are now. But they were still no safe place for a young woman of the Artisan Caste to be by herself, at the latest hour of the day, when no travelers walked them and bandits crept from stone to stone. Frightened, Kriemheld sat down at the edge of the road and wept.
As she cried, a clutch of tezpadam heard the sounds and approached. They circled her, a hunting pack, and began to chirp in excitement. Kriemheld heard them and looked up.
"Come and take me, friendly tezpadam!" she said. "For I am miserable and lost and must make my end with honor. I could not betray my prince nor could I disobey my dear mother, and an unhappy creature am I!"
The sound of her beautiful voice and the scent of her lovely long hair touched even the wild tezpadam. They gathered around her, not to bite and claw, but to fawn and chirp. "What is this?" she asked. "Will you help me, dear tezpadam?" And they hopped and down, tails quivering.
"Well... I am a bit thirsty," she said. And the tezpadam lead her to a pool of fresh water that was hidden behind an outcropping nearby.
"Oh, my good tezpadam!" she clapped, stroking their heads. "I am also lost. Do you know the way to Kal-Sharok?" The tezpadam raced off, doubling back time and again to find Kriemheld, who was not as fast as they. And they led her without error to the gates of Kal-Sharok.
"Now, my fine tezpadam," she said, "I have told you my tale. How can I return to the city with honor?" The tezpadam milled about for a moment, chirping and quivering, and then as one they ran as fast as they could into the city. "Wait, wait!" Kriemheld cried. But the tezpadam did not wait, and Kriemheld was left behind.
But the tezpadam returned, streaked all over with blood and carrying in their double jaws a chisel, a file, and a leather apron. "Oh tezpadam, my tezpadam!" Kriemheld said, taking the items from them. "You have brought me my things. Thank you! But how did you get them? Are you hurt?" The tezpadam circled around her, pressing affectionately against her legs, before the whole pack darted off into the Deep Roads.
Mystified, Kriemheld put on her leather apron and picked up her chisel and file. She followed their trail of blood through Kal-Sharok and bit her fist when she saw that it ended at her own house door. Fearfully, she opened it but - inside was all clean and empty.
No one ever saw Kriemheld's evil stepmother again. She inherited her father's house and married another stonecutter, and they raised stonecutter children who served Kal-Sharok faithfully.
The End.