When the lazy sun started its climb over the horizon, its rays struck Percy's face and eased him out of his slumber. Rubbing his eyes, he slowly sat up on his bed. The oaken floor was cold under his feet. He massaged his aching back and stretched his sore legs.
Beside the bed was a row of shelves covered with objects that he had collected over the years. Broken shells collected from the Oizys littered the lowermost shelves. Rocks that had broken to reveal shiny interiors and strips of rope that had been tied into naval knots made up the rest. The rest of the room was bare and had bits of paint peeling off the walls. On the nightstand stood his favorite item, a conch horn, with a pattern so intricate that he never tired of looking at it.
He pulled on his clothes, thinking. The rain of last night had now cleaned the tavern, saving him the duty of wiping down the outside. The weather, now turning into a glorious morning with the sun shining through the last of the grey clouds, brought him into a pensive state.
It was very near this hour, about thirteen years ago, Fergal had almost given up hope. His father Charis had become a shell of the noble that he used to be, brought into a state of depression with the deaths of his younger son, his daughter-in-law, and his own wife. By the time Fergal had returned from his mandatory service in the Athenian army, he found his father in the graveyard in an edifice just like the tombs he had spent his last days with.
The Great Storm-Quake of 234 BC had been devastating all over the world. Any person out sailing, on trireme or a raft, had drowned in the violent storms while those on the ground had fallen to their own homes fell by earthquakes. Charis and his family had been just another casualty to the wrath of nature.
Fergal's own past haunted him; his deeds as a soldier would remain imprinted on his heart far deeper than any healer could heal. It was in the aftermath of the tempest, both personal and natural, that Fergal took a long walk near the sea, hoping any one of the waves would overtake him and claim his life. He had a wife, a daughter and a baby boy, but he could not bring himself to care.
It was in this moment of despair that the sea came back to life in a violent manner as if it would destroy what it had not already made into rubble. His sharp eyes were able to spy a piece of dark wood riding the crest, threatening to capsize any moment. But it did not sink.
As the swell came closer to the shore it decreased in size rapidly, till it was nothing more than froth, still bearing the cradle. After it gently laid the treasure on the beach, it receded just as quickly as it had arrived.
Percy still remembered how he had felt when Marianne had told him the story before she died. The realization that Fergal and Marianne were not his parents had disturbed him greatly. Things that had been unquestionably were suddenly thrown into doubt. Eventually Percy had learned to live with it, but he always had a desire to seek out where he came from. I'm sure the gods had a good reason for what they did; besides, the way the sea was, I could just as easily be Roman as I am Greek. It would be impossible to find my blood relatives.
One other thing bothered him: Who was his father? Percy wished that he knew who it was, if only to have a second name. It would be nice to know his heritage.
He sighed and went to the nightstand, where he splashed his face, shuddering as the water trickled down his neck. Refreshed, Percy retrieved the stone from under the bed and set it on a shelf. The morning rays of the sun stroke it, throwing a tantalizing blue shadow on the wall. He touched it one more time, then hurried to the dining hall, eager to see his family. Fergal and his four brothers were already there, eating chicken. As Percy bade them a good morning, his older brothers stood with a grin.
Draco was five years older than Percy, muscular, sturdy and careful with his movements. They could not have been closer even if they had been real brothers.
Siarl and Kiarl, twins, had a devilish look about them and were always up for mischief with their younger brother.
Draco smiled. "I'm glad that you were able to survive your swim in the Nidaros."
Siarl started, "Didn't you know… he did go for a swim, "
Kiarl finished, "but in the sea past the Oizys!"
Percy grimaced. He had thought Myron would at least spare him the glare of Draco and Fergal, but he guessed it would have been too merciful.
"Didn't Myron tell you what happened?" Percy helped himself to a bit of the chicken, which he devoured hungrily. There, that should shift some of the blame off of me to that evil tyrant.
"No," replied all four, and the story was quickly told. At Siarl's insistence, Percy left his breakfast to show them the stone. This evoked a satisfying amount of awe, but Fergal was quick to reply, "Better not get to used to it, Percy. When the traders come, we will have it sold. The less we do with magic and the like, the better off we are."
They returned to their meals in the taciturn presence of Fergal. When they had devoured the last few bites, all four went to work in the fields. The sun was warm and bright, providing little comfort. Under its watchful eye, the last of the winter barley was stored in the barn. They soon gathered mints and herbs as well as the rutabagas, beets, peas, turnips, and beans which were stored in the cellar. After a few hours of labor, they stretched their sore muscles, pleased that their harvests were finished. Afterwards, Fergal and his sons had finished setting the tavern for another night of entertainment.
The following days were spent getting the fields plowed and seeded to get a head start for the coming storms.
A week after Percy's return, a vicious storm blew out of the seas and settled over the valley. The tempest stormed for many days, blanketing the countryside in shades of grey. They only left the house for firewood and to feed the animals, for they had plenty on their hands as the visitors to the taverns had increased in number.
"I'm afraid the traders may not come within the next few months, with the harvest not yet started and roads in terrible condition," said Fergal. "They're late as it is. We'll have to give them a chance and wait before going to Apollonas. But if they don't show soon, we'll have to make do with any spare supplies in the town."
They grew anxious as the days crept by without even a whisper of the traders. Talk was sparse, and even the twins seemed depressed.
On the eighth morning, Myron walked to the road and confirmed that the traders had not yet passed. The day was spent readying for the trip into Apollonas, scrounging for anything that may come of use. That evening, out of desperation, Percy checked the roads again. He found deep tread marks and a few hoof prints between them. He ran back to the house, with fervor unseen in anybody but Kiarl and Siarl, breathing new life into the family.
They packed whatever surplus the bounty had yielded, and the few miscellaneous trinkets that Kiarl and Siarl picked from unsuspecting drunkards. into the wagon before sunrise. Fergal put the year's money in a leather pouch that he carefully fastened to his tunic. Percy wrapped the stone and never let it leave is hands so it would not fall from when the wagon hit bumps.
After a rushed breakfast, they harnessed the horses and blazed a path from their fields to the road. The traders' wagon had already left a trail to follow, which hastened their progress. By morning, Apollonas was visible.
In daylight, it was a small earthy village filled with sounds of laughter and shouts. The traders had made a camp in an empty field on the outskirts of town. Groups of wagons, tents, and campfires were spread across it, spots of bright colors against the earthy greens of early summer. The minstrels tents were garishly decorated and harshly reflected the light of the sun. A steady stream of people formed a bridge between the camp and the village.
Crowds churned around a line of bright tents and booths, clogging the main street. Horses and other beasts of the farms whinnied at the noise. The spices and herbs of the merchants from Naxos added a rich aroma to the smells wafting around them.
Fergal parked the wagon and picketed the horses, then withdrew some coins from his pouch. "Get yourselves some treats. Myron, Draco, Skiarl and Kiarl, do what you want but spread the word of the Sapphire Nymph Hall and discount ale, only be at the wagon before the sun touches the horizon. Aspasia, take your sisters and buy yourselves whatever you please. Percy, bring the stone and come with me." Percy grinned at Skiarl and Kiarl while he pocketed his money.
The twins departed immediately with a determined expression in their faces. Percy broke out into a smile as he knew that the two had their eyes on a set of twin girls from town and would most definitely waste their money on something for them. Fergal led Percy into the hustle and bustle, shouldering his way through the crowd. Women were eyeing jewelry and cloth while their husbands examined tools. Children ran free and wild, hollering with excitement. Herbs were sold here, pots were laid there, and coins were exchanging hands everywhere. Meanwhile, Fergal pushed down the street searching for Agaue, a trader who specialized in trinkets and pieces of jewelry.
They found him behind a stall, displaying brooches to a group of women. As each new piece was revealed, he used his silver tongue to enchant the crowd. Agaue seemed to flourish and swell with pride at each exclamation of admiration. Decked in fine robes and wearing a goatee, he held himself with ease, and seemed to regard himself a touch above the village folk. Percy was sure that quite a few purses would soon be empty.
The excited group seemed to bar Percy and Fergal from gaining an audience with Agaue, so they sat down on a nearby step and waited. As soon as Agaue seemed to be unoccupied, they hurried over.
"And how may I help you today Fergal?" asked Agaue. "I'm sure that trinkets and brooches are not what you are looking for." With a twirl he pulled out a delicately carved dagger of excellent craftsmanship. The polished metal caught Percy's attention, and he eyed it appreciatively. "Not even three denarii, though it came the famed smiths of Kalkeus."
Fergal spoke with a soft voice. "I hardly ever look to buy, but to sell." Agaue immediately replaced the dagger and looked at them with new interest.
"I see. Maybe, if this item happens to be of any value, you would like to trade it for a few of these exquisite pieces." He paused for a moment when both Percy and Fergal stood uncomfortably. "You did bring this object with you?"
"We have it, but I would rather share it in privacy," said Fergal with a firm voice.
Agaue raised an eyebrow, but spoke as smooth as ever. "In that case, follow me to my tent." He gathered his merchandise and gently laid them in an iron bound chest which was promptly locked. Then he quickly ushered them into his tent. It was crimson at the top and beige at the bottom, with a thin triangles of gold and red stabbing into each other. Agaue untied the opening and swung the flap open.
Small trinkets and strange furniture, such as rounded beds and seats carved from stumps, filled the tent. A gnarled sword with a sapphire in the pommel rested on a white cushion.
Agaue closed the flap behind them. "Please, seat yourselves." When they had, he said, "Now show me why we are meeting in my private camp." Percy gently unwrapped the stone and set it between the two men. Agaue reached for it with a glint in his eye, then stopped to ask, "May I?" As soon as Fergal tilted his head forward, Agaue picked it up. He put the stone in his palm and reached for a balance. After weighing the stone, he tapped it gently with a wooden mallet, and drew the point of a clear diamond over it. He measured its length, breadth, and depth. He considered the results for a while. "Do you know what it's worth?"
"No," admitted Fergal.
Agaue grimaced. "Unfortunately, neither do I. But I can tell you this much: the light blue veins are the made of the same thing that surrounds them. What the material, is I don't know. It's harder than any rock that I have seen, even the diamond that I used to test it before. Whoever shaped it used tools and materials that I have never seen… or magic."
Fergal crossed his arms with a reserved expression. A wall of silence surrounded them. Percy was puzzled. I knew that the stone was probably placed in the Oizys by those not human, but made by magic? What is its purpose? He blurted, "But what is it worth?"
"I can't tell you that," said Agaue in a pained voice. "I am sure that there are people who would pay dearly to have it, but none of them in Apollonas or maybe even Naxos. You would have to go to Greece or one of the southern lands to find a buyer. This is a curiosity for most people, not an item to spend precious denarii when practical things are needed."
Fergal stared at the tent ceiling like a gambler calculating the odds. "Will you buy it?"
The trader answered instantly, "It's not worth the risk. I might be able to find a wealthy buyer in my spring travels, but I can't be certain. Even then, you would have to wait till next summer for your money for I won't be paid until then. I am curious, however… why did you insist on meeting in private?"
Percy put the stone away before answering. "Because," he glanced at the man, wondering what his reaction would be, "I found this in the Oizys and folks of this island don't like that."
Agaue game him a startled look. "Do you know the meaning behind the name of that accursed forest?"
Percy shook his head.
"The entire world that is around you has already been explored and conquered by the ancients. And they in turn were able to name everything. Surely you've heard of the myths of the elder god of creation Khaox and the god of Nyx, where you get the name of Naxos. But what you may not have heard is one of Nix's daughter, Oizys. Her life was tragic as any of the children of the elders, and her power was Misery. I had heard tales of strange things, but put them out of my mind considering I would never come across them in Apollonas. But here I am, in front of something whose value cannot be estimated after my decades of experience in the mines and the routes of commerce but only by tales of the troubadours. I will warn you however. No one knows why these rocks came into being or how, except they bring some form of misery to the discoverer. Worst of all are reports of monsters coming back from both the dead and mythology, though such stories are unconfirmed."
"Why haven't we heard of this?" cried Percy.
"Because," Agaue said grimly, "it only began a few months ago. Whole villages have been forced to move because these mythical beasts destroyed their fields and starvation threatens."
"Nonsense," growled Fergal. "I haven't seen any beasts aside from the cow and the horse. The last of the kind that you talk of was defeated by the end of the Great Storm-Quake."
Agaue arched an eyebrow. "Maybe so, but this small village is hidden by the mountains and the monstrosity of town Naxos. It's not surprising that you've escaped notice. However, I wouldn't expect that to last. I only mentioned this because strange things are happening here as well if you found such a stone in the Oizys." With that sobering statement, he bid them farewell with a bow and a sardonic smile.
Fergal headed back to his wagon with Percy trailing behind. "What do you think?" asked Percy.
"I'm going to get more information before I make up my mind. Take the stone back to the wagon, then do what you want. Inform Myron to take the carriage home and I will arrive home by opening time with Morn."
He walked from one booth to another stall, evaluating the goods with a buyer's eye, despite his meager supply of coins. When he had talked with the traveling bards and dancers, they confirmed Agaue's report on the instability. Time again and again, the message was repeated: last year's security has deserted us; new dangers have awakened; nothing is as safe as it was. At least I convinced them to stop at the tavern for tonight.
Later in the day, he bought a few sticks of candy and a small blueberry jamboree. The cool dessert food felt refreshing after hours of standing in the sun. He licked the sticky syrup from his fingers regretfully, wishing for more, then sat on the edge of a porch.
As the day became late afternoon, the trader's started traveling door to door. Percy now joined up with his brothers and headed to the tavern. Myron had informed him that a few troubadours would come out and tell stories while performing tricks, all for a "glimpse at the lass with fiery hair". Percy snickered when he realized that Aspasia would most definitely stay away from them.
The troubadours would tell their stories from either history of the ancients or the stories of the gods, and, if he were especially lucky, the Heroes. Apollonas had its own storyteller, Rapsodos (a friend of Percy's), but his tales grew old over the years whereas the traveling bards always had a new one that he listened to so eagerly.
Percy had just broken off a twig off the underside of a tree when the Sapphire Nymph Hall came into view. From the raucous laughter he could already hear, Fergal must have showed up early and Morn must be creating some of his more potent concoctions.
The inside was hot and filled with greasy smoke from tallow candles already turned midgets. I suppose I will have to go around and replace them if Myron is in charge today. The bar was long and low, with a stack of staves on one end for paying customers to carve. Morn tended the bar, his sleeves rolled up past his elbows. The bottom half of his face was short and mashed, as if he had used a grinding wheel as a pillow during one of his drunken escapades. People crowded solid oak tables and listened to two traders who had finished their business early and come for some ale.
Morn looked up from a mug he was cleaning. "Percy! So good to see you. Where are your brothers?"
"They just went to the kitchen to talk to Fergal," said Percy. "They may be a while."
"And Skiarl and Kiarl, are they here?" asked Morn as he swiped the cloth through another pitcher.
"Yes, no ladies tonight to keep them up all night."
"What about the twin girls they had set their eye on?"
"You mean Acantha and Alla? The twins gave them both daisies but they would not accept anything less than a rose. Honestly, I think they are playing hard to get. Everyone falls to Skiarl's and Kiarl's charms eventually and they are not an exception."
At this, Morn let out a deep chuckle. Percy gestured at the two traders. "Who are they?"
"Grain buyers. They bought everyone's seed at outrageously low prices, and now they're telling wild stories, expecting us to believe them."
Percy understood why Morn was so upset. Apollonas needs that money. We can't get by without it. "What kind of stories?"
Morn snickered. "They say that the Romans have formed a pact with the monsters of days old and are amassing an army to attack us. Supposedly, the only reason we haven't been slaughtered is through the grace of King Philip up in Greece and Duke Naxos… as if either of them would give a rat's arse if we burned to ashes. Go listen to them. I have enough on my hands mixing drinks without explaining their lies."