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A Tale of
Thingule Manor
by Tanri Yarmuda
My hand cramped above the ledger I was copying, protesting the work I’d been doing. As I sat back and massaged the ache out of my fingers, the dancing motes of dust caught my eye. Judging by the position of the sunbeams through the window, I’d spent the whole morning doing work for Aspis. Enough was enough! The sun was shining and I was tired of being hidden away in this room with only old dusty tomes for company.
It took but a few moments to change into my busking clothes and grab my instruments. It had been a few months since I’d had the free time to perform and I missed it sorely. As I neared the marketplace my steps slowed and a smile crossed my face. It never ceased to thrill me, the music of Wehnimer’s Landing. Each town has it’s own underlying chorus. River’s Rest being a slow drawl that echoes the river as it wends its way by. Ice Mule is a study in contrasts, sharp clear tones that ring off the ice, and soft murmurings muffled by the snow. Neither of those compare with the steady rhythmic beat of Landing for me, there is an energy to it that lightens my spirits ever and always. It didn’t take long to find where my daughter had set up and was performing.
It was during a break to rest my voice that I noticed him. Rough woven clothing, hair so shaggy it had to have been trimmed with a knife. He was standing at the jewelers stall, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, looking down at something he held in his hand, then gazing with indecision at the display case. My curiosity piqued, I got up and drifted over to see what it was that was causing such agony of choice for him.
In his hand he held a plain copper band and the display case he was staring into held a tray of braided silver and gold wedding rings. He handed the band back to the clerk and pointed at the simplest of the rings within the case. A pained expression crossed his face when the clerk quoted the price to him. Pretending an interest in the necklaces, I wandered over to where the jeweler was standing. I’ve been a good customer to Cianwy over the years so I know she’ll ease my curiosity.
"That lad over there looking at the rings," I asked, leaning close to her so my voice wouldn’t carry. Cianwy snorts, "It’s been a good half hour he’s been standing there looking at the rings! You’d think the fate of the world was resting on his decision." I turned to the side, leaning against the counter so I could see him. "Maybe it is Cianwy," I murmur back to her, "maybe it is."
An idea crystallized in my mind and as I was in good spirits, I acted on it. Leaning close to Cianwy, I whispered to her what I had in mind. A slow smile spread across her face and she nodded to me. For all she’s a shrewd merchant, she’s a soft touch when it comes to matters of the heart. She bustled over to the clerk and sent him on a break. Smiling up at the lad, she began an animated conversation with him, pointing to the rings in the display case. He shook his head and replied, tapping the copper band and glancing at the rings in the display with regret. Cianwy frowned at that, and cast an angry glare in the direction the clerk had taken.
Turning back to the lad, she tapped her finger against the display and shook her head. A stunned look crossed his face at her words. She nodded to him and unlocked the display, pulling the tray of rings out for him to see. He held his hands up to Cianwy, then rushed from the stall, returning a few scant moments later dragging a young lass by the hand. A look of joy lit her face as he pointed to the tray of rings Cianwy was holding up for her to see.
Cianwy winked at me from over the bent heads of the young couple. I settled back against the counter to watch the bonny pair pick out the ring they wanted, their delight bringing a smile to my face. Cianwy would make me pay but I wasn’t bothered. I was continuing a tradition begun by my friends and family on my wedding day. Wedded in borrowed finery, and my heart was full of the joy of knowing I was loved with each piece of clothing handed me. A small gesture on their part, but one that stayed with me.
My daughter wandered in while I was watching and walked over to where I stood. I dropped my arm over her shoulder and leaned close to whisper to her the tale of what had occurred. I couldn’t see her face, but I knew she was smiling, she’d find someway to turn the it into a song. As we watched the lad and lass, the three walked in. I’d never seen them before, but I knew their spirits the moment I looked at them. Malice glittered in their eyes and disdain the expression on their faces. Honey sweet were their voices to hide the poison barbs in their words. They were the very best of well bred ladies.
Their leader frowned at my daughter and myself, putting us in our place. As she turned away I could feel Kesya shaking with supressed laughter. In truth, it was all I could do to keep from laughing myself. Their leader waved her hand imperiously at Cianwy, motioning her to come and wait on them. Cianwy, bless her, studiously ignored them. I had to pinch Kesya then, she was turning purple trying to hold the laughter in. When help did not instantly appear a look of fury crossed her face. Stalking over to where Cianwy was, she looked down to see what was occupying her attention. She looked once at the tray of rings, then announced her opinion of their quality of craftsmenship.
I straightened at her words, grabbing hold of Kesya to keep her from punching the girl. Turning Kesya’s face to me, I silently mouthed a word to her and winked. She stopped fighting me at that and nodded, an evil grin crossing her face then ran from the stall. I turned to see the three with smug smiles on their faces. The young lad stood motionless, a hot flush of shame creeping up his face while his lass stood staring up at him. Cianwy made strangled choking noises in the background.
"So it’s only the best you deserve is it?" I spun the girl around to face me, "Then I’ll take you to where only the best was served." I grabbed the three’s leader by the hand and dragged her from the stall, heading away from the heart of town through the twisting streets until at last we reached an old iron gate. "Here!" I pushed the girl towards the gate, ‘Look upon the ruin wrought by the very best of men." I looked over the girl’s shoulder at the weed and vine-choked courtyard of Thingul Manor and shuddered.
The girl raised her chin at me, a haughty expression on her face and turned to walk back to the center of town. I gave her another push, and she fell against the gate, her hands grasping the bars to save her from falling. She swung around to glare at me, then gasped in horror. Her hands were stuck to the gate. I watched her attempt to free herself for a minute, then grabbed her by the chin so I could look her full in the face. "Are you done, are you ready to listen?’ I asked, "You’ll not be free until you’ve heard me out."
I tsked at her, "I didn’t think well bred ladies knew those words." I leaned back against the brick walls supporting the gate and whistled a merry tune while I watched her struggle. Finally she sagged against the gate, the fight going out of her. I pushed myself away from the wall and walked behind her, adroitly avoiding the foot she kicked back at me. I leaned close to her and began my tale.
"Lord
Thingule was a well respected man, the most gifted of all the
mages. He was able to weave enchantments higher than any other
mage was able to do. Yet for all the respect of his peers and
acclaim for his skill he suffered uncertainty. For you see the
shadows mocked him, laughing at his efforts." I lowered my
voice to a harsh rasp and hissed the words as I spoke them.
"This blade
you’ve wrought
Be brittle and weak
Yet listen to us
For the power you seek."
I stopped the girl from looking over her shoulder, turning her face back towards the Manor and sliding my fingers easily away from her mouth when she tried biting me. "Over and over they whispered to him, promising him power such as he’d never known. They wore him down and he begain listening to them." I leaned close again to hiss the words.
"Take the life
And make it bleed
Then you’ll have
The blade you need."
"The beggar asleep in the kitchen was the first of many to disappear." I ignored the girls gasp of horror and continued. "No longer suffering uncertainty, he created new blades. Each blade with a higher enchantment than the prior. And yet the shadows began mocking him again, their laughter ringing in his ears."
"These blades
you’ve wrought
Are brittle and weak
Yet listen to us
For the power you seek."
"He ignored them until his blades started breaking. And the shadows laughed at his efforts to create new blades. All his efforts were for nothing, all the blades broke and his uncertainty returned greater than before." A low mocking laugh came rolling from somewhere beyond the gate. The girl whipped her head around to stare at me her eyes wide. "What was that noise!" she exclaimed in a shrill voice. I shook my head at her, "I didn’t hear anything." I grabbed the girl by the chin and turned her face back to the Manor, picking up the thread of my tale. "With each failure, Thingule’s obsession to create grew. He would enchant a blade of unsurpassed power or die. So once again, when the shadows whispered, he listened."
"These lives
you take
Mean naught to you
But there is one
Dear to your view."
The mocking laughter sounded again, closer this time and the girl began to pull on the gate, attempting to free her hands. I spoke to the girl's back, ignoring her attempts at escape. "With the final unbroken blade in his grasp, he went in search of his wife. He struck her with its hilt, knocking her unconcious and carried her down to the hidden room below where he worked his dark magics. He dealt his wife a mortal wound, and as her life’s blood flowed from her, he tempered the blade in her blood. He chanted the words of the spell, unconsciously echoing the rythym of the shadow's chant"
"Take the
woman
And her life bleed
Then you’ll have
The blade you need."
The girl began to moan and pulled harder at the gate, almost desperate in her attempts to free her hands. I grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her hard, "Look at the Manor!" I cried, "See what the best was served." The mocking laughter sounded, louder and closer with each word I spoke. "The spell complete, Thingule picked up the blade from where it lay in his wife’s blood. And at the moment he touched it, his wife’s body became dust. The spell having ripped her soul from her body. With the shadows' laughter ringing in his ears, he worked one final spell. Sealing himself away in the Manor with only the shadows for company."
The mocking laughter halted abruptly and the girl sagged against the gate with relief. She rested there a moment, then gathered herself and turned to glare at me. "A fanciful tale, but I doubt that any of it was true. You were behind me where I couldn’t see you, you must have thrown your voice to make the laughter sound." I nodded at the girl, "That is a possibility, but I wasn’t doing anything more than speaking the words you heard me say."
With the girl watching me I backed away from her and from the gate, "Thingule is still in the Manor with the shadows for company." At my words the sides of the gate began to shake and crash and the laughter began again. The girl screamed and cried as she tried to pull her hands free. I watched for just a moment, then took pity on her and pulled a scroll from my cloak. I recited the words and cast the spell at the gate which glowed with an intensly bright light. The girl fell backwards, scrambled to her feet and ran away shrieking, the laughter following her.
I watched her retreating back, and mused "I wonder how far she’ll go before she stops running?" The mocking laughter turned into an uncontrollable giggle behind me. I smiled over my shoulder at my daughter who was bent over double with laughter, vines and leaves tangled in her hair and draped over her clothes. She’d cursed the gate and hidden herself where the vines grow thickest over the gate. I slipped my arm through Kesya’s and we headed back towards Cianwy’s stall, we had a story to tell her.