Charming Sharra, page 17
And finally, she described how Morvash of the Shadows had set out to save all the petrified people in Lord Landessin’s collection, and had succeeded after months of effort – and how she had stupidly refused his offer of help because she was so eager to get home to her own city.
“…and when I went back he was gone,” she said. “The front door of the house was broken, and the place was empty. A demon had smashed its way in.”
At the mention of a demon Shallis began paying attention again. The three girls at the table, Kirris, Linnis, and Shallis, looked at one another. “Was that Tarker?” Shallis asked.
“Who?” Sharra asked, startled.
“Tarker the Unrelenting,” Kirris said. “It’s a demon that’s stuck in our world until it finishes killing this gigantic stone dragon. Last month it broke off a piece and brought it to a place near the overlord’s palace where wizards’ spells don’t work, and since it had been wizardry that brought the dragon to life, the broken-off piece died when it got there.”
“We didn’t see it,” Shallis said.
“But we heard about it from people who were there,” Linnis said.
“They say that Tarker will be bringing the rest of the dragon there, one piece at a time, until it’s all gone,” Kirris said. “I think the next piece should be coming soon; maybe we can arrange to watch, though they say there isn’t much to see, just a demon carrying a big rock.”
“The overlord’s men broke up the first rock, and sold the pieces as souvenirs,” Linnis said. “My friend Helmira has one.” She turned up an empty palm. “It just looks like a rock.”
“Why do you think it might be the same demon?” Sharra asked.
“Well, there are stories about where the demon came from, and where the dragon came from,” Kirris explained. “And one story was that the dragon was brought to life by a wizard who had practiced for it by turning statues into people, so we thought maybe that was your Morvash, and you were one of the people he practiced on, and the demon that’s trying to kill the dragon had tried to kill you…”
“No, there were two wizards,” Linnis interrupted.
“There were two wizards,” Sharra confirmed, reaching for another chunk of bread. “Morvash and that tall thin one who spoke some other language. I’m guessing he was the one who brought the dragon to life, if either of them did it; he seemed much more powerful than Morvash.”
“Well, anyway, wizards were bringing stone to life and a demon was involved both times,” Kirris said. “It’s not unreasonable to think it might be the same demon.”
“I suppose not,” Sharra agreed.
“Go on and tell us the rest!” Shallis demanded. “How did you get back to the Sands?”
“Oh, I think I’ve talked enough for now,” Sharra said. “Suppose you tell me what’s happened while I was away.”
The two older girls exchanged glances.
“Well, we were born,” Linnis said.
“I noticed that,” Sharra said. “Marai, why don’t you tell me how you met Dulzan?”
“What? Oh, that’s not…”
“Go on, Mama, it’s a cute story!” Kirris exclaimed.
“I’ll tell it,” Dulzan said. “And you’ve heard it before, you four, so if you want to leave you may.”
Dunrel left; the three girls stayed.
After Sharra was petrified, Dulzan had gone about his life, spending his days at the shop and his evenings at Tizzi’s Tavern, and occasionally going home with someone female, but not becoming particularly attached to anyone – nor they to him.
But on one such occasion a widow had been interested in commissioning a chest of drawers, and in Dulzan’s attempts to measure the space it was intended to fit he had bumped against an iron lamp-stand, which had toppled and set off a chain reaction that resulted in a hole in the wall separating the widow’s apartment from an adjoining one.
Marai’s mother had lived on the other side of that hole, and one thing had led to another…
By the time the story was over dinner was long since finished. Shallis had departed, while Marai, Dulzan, and Kirris were cleaning up.
Chapter Twenty
During her stay with Dulzan’s family Sharra finished telling her hosts the details of her adventures, and in exchange learned about how the Empress Tabaea had taken over the city, how the now-powerless warlocks had returned from Aldagmor, how magnificent old Ederd IV’s funeral had been, and much more. She and the family talked at length about the area near the palace where wizardry didn’t work; if she had been taken there as a statue, would that have broken the spell and restored her to life, or would it have turned her entirely to stone and killed her? So far as any of them knew, it had never been tested – after all, there weren’t all that many petrified people around; Lord Landessin had bought most of them long ago and hauled them off to Ethshar of the Spices.
And of course, the magic-stopping spell hadn’t existed until after Tabaea was killed, only about ten or twelve years ago, so it couldn’t have helped for the first twenty years she spent as a statue.
If Morvash had known about that special place, they speculated, he might have tested it, but the Wizards’ Guild had tried to keep it secret – right up until Tarker began dragging pieces of dragon there.
Even if Morvash had known about it, it might not have occurred to him to try it.
In return, Sharra told Dulzan’s children what she remembered of some of the major events that happened before they were born, such as the Night of Madness, and the day Helikar the Mage inadvertently unleashed thousands of pink rabbits on the city’s streets.
On the second day after her arrival in the city she visited Poldrian’s shop. Four spriggans were hanging around outside, and she worried that they might follow her in, but apparently there was a protective spell that prevented them from entering the shop. They simply watched with unhappy expressions as she went in.
Poldrian’s old apprentice was long gone, of course, but he had a new one, a boy of no more than fourteen, who was not yet entirely sure of his duties. He seemed very impressed with Sharra’s beauty, and she had no trouble talking her way past him into Poldrian’s workroom.
The wizard was seated on a stool by a rough wooden table, reading a large book; he had not aged visibly, and in fact she thought he appeared a little younger than she remembered, but after all, as Sharra was well aware, he knew at least one youth spell. He looked up as she entered, and sighed.
“I really need to have a word with that apprentice of mine,” he said.
“I’m sorry to bother you,” Sharra said. “I just had a question.”
“About my fee?”
“You remember me, after all this time?”
“The first person I ever petrified? Of course I do.”
“Well, then – about your fee…”
He waved a hand in dismissal. “Forget it,” he said. “I don’t need the money, I made my point, and even if I did turn you back to stone, someone would probably just haul you down to the plaza to see whether that…that dead spot would reverse it.”
“Would it?”
“How should I know? I haven’t tested it. Anyway, I said I’d turn you to stone if you didn’t pay me, I did turn you to stone, and that’s the end of it. I said I’d turn you back if someone paid me the balance, but obviously someone else beat me to it, so we’re done. Go; we’re done.”
“Thank you!” She bowed quickly, and hurried out before he could change his mind.
On the third day after her return Sharra finally got up the courage to visit Nerra and their mother. She approached warily, and knocked, just once.
Nerra’s voice – familiar, but changed by age – called, “Who is it?”
“Sharra.”
There was a clatter of footsteps; then Nerra flung the door open and immediately threw her arms around her sister in a powerful hug.
That was a pleasant surprise; after the reception she had from Dallisa, she had not anticipated much of a welcome from her other sister. Nerra, too, had aged normally through the entire thirty years; her hair was white and thinning, and her face was lined, but her breath against Sharra’s cheek was warm and her hands were steady.
“We were worried about you!” Nerra said, releasing her hold. “When Lador told us you were back we expected you to come here right away, and then you never came!”
“I…was visiting friends,” Sharra said.
“Friends?” Nerra blinked.
Sharra did not explain; she just nodded.
“Well, it’s amazing to see you after so long! I was so happy to hear that the spell had been broken and you were all right. And you still look so young, just like the statue – though you’re in more sensible clothes, I see.”
“I sold the dress,” Sharra said.
“That was probably for the best. Come in!”
“I needed the money,” she said as she stepped into the apartment. “Did I tell Dallisa I sold it? I meant to. It was so kind of her to make it.”
“You told her. Lador said you were stranded in Ethshar of the Spices?”
“Yes. It’s a long story. Is Mama here? Lador said she was living with you.”
“Oh, of course she’s here! She doesn’t go out much. I’ll see if she’s awake.” Nerra headed into another room; Sharra followed, and her sister did not object.
Kirsha was sitting in a chair by the window, her head sunk forward in a doze. “Mama?” Nerra called.
Sharra felt tears starting at the sight of her mother, shrunken and wrinkled, raising her head as if that simple movement required effort and concentration. “Mama?” she said. “It’s me. I’ve come back.”
Kirsha turned to look at her, and her face slowly broke into a smile. “Sharra?” she said, her voice brittle with age. “Where have you been?”
Sharra was not sure just how aware her mother was. Was she asking where Sharra had been for the last three days, or for the last thirty years? “Staying with friends, Mama,” she said.
That seemed to satisfy Kirsha. “Come give me a hug!” she said.
Sharra did not need to be asked twice; she hurried and knelt by the chair, and wrapped her mother in her arms, her head on the old woman’s shoulder.
Sharra stayed for most of the afternoon, and quickly saw that sometimes Kirsha knew what was going on, and sometimes she slipped back into the past. Once she asked Sharra how the plans for her wedding to Dulzan were going, and when Sharra said it had been cancelled she seemed upset for a few minutes, but then remembered.
“Oh, he left you, didn’t he?”
“Yes, Mama. He found someone else, someone better for him. Her name is Marai, and he’s happy with her.”
“But what about you?”
“I’m still young, Mama,” she said, and she realized that physically, she still was. She had been telling everyone she was older than she looked, and in a way she always would be, but she didn’t need to be older anymore as far as others were concerned. “I’ll find someone else.”
That confused her. “You’re…young?”
“Look at me, Mama. I’ll be fine.”
Kirsha looked up at her, and then over at Nerra, who was obviously not young. “I don’t understand.”
“It’s magic, Mama. A wizard did it.”
“A wizard? Why were you fooling around with wizards?”
“It was a mistake, Mama. I won’t do it again.”
“That’s good. Wizards are dangerous.” With that, her head started to fall forward, but she caught herself.
“Do you need to rest, Mama?” Nerra asked.
“That would be nice.”
“Then we’ll let you rest.” She beckoned to Sharra.
Reluctantly, Sharra pulled away. “Sleep well, Mama,” she said. “I love you.”
She and Nerra left their mother asleep in the sunlight and went into the other room.
It was the following day when Lador found her and presented her with a bag of gold. “Nine rounds,” he said. “That’s all Mother would give me, but it should be enough to make a new start.”
“It will,” Sharra agreed, accepting the money.
She had been asking around; she did not want to impose on Dulzan any longer than necessary. She had found a pleasant little room on the third floor above a dressmaker’s shop that she thought might suit her, but she hadn’t had any way to pay the rent.
Now she did.
She took two days to furnish the room, and then moved in, with Kirris helping.
It was an odd thing, but during her stay with Dulzan she had spent progressively less and less time with Dulzan himself, or even with Marai, and more and more with Kirris, and to a lesser extent with Linnis. To all appearances she fell between them in age, and she was growing steadily more comfortable with that apparent age. Dulzan had been part of her old life, the life she had been so desperate to return to, but she had finally realized that that life was gone, irretrievably lost. She needed to build a new one.
And while she might not have a family to support her in the usual ways, she had an advantage over any other young woman of eighteen or nineteen – she knew many mistakes to avoid.
She knew she should have finished her apprenticeship, rather than throwing it away to marry Dulzan, and she thought she might be able to talk a weaver into taking her on to fix that mistake. Explaining that she had been enchanted, so her old master was no longer available, without mentioning that she had quit long before being enchanted – that would be a deceit, but she thought it would be a forgivable one.
Or if all else failed, she could apprentice herself to Lador. He owed her that much.
She realized now that her appearance and her status were not the most important things in the World.
She had seen how happy, how comfortable, Dulzan was in his new marriage, and she hoped she might find something like that someday. She wished she hadn’t prevented him from finding his happiness sooner; maybe if she hadn’t made those regular visits to Mother Maffi she and Dulzan could have made a loving family, but that possibility was long past now.
But there were many more possibilities ahead. After all, she was still young.
Epilogue
Sharra and Kirris were standing on Circle Street, near where Quarter Street emptied into the plaza, waiting for Tarker the Unrelenting to bring the next chunk of the stone dragon to be destroyed. They had been chattering about the young man Kirris had met the day before at her father’s shop, and about the young man Sharra had met a few days earlier at Grandgate Market, when Sharra noticed someone staring at them. She stopped talking and looked at the woman.
She looked familiar.
When she saw that Sharra had noticed her, the woman came over, and despite her age Sharra recognized her. This was Lady Ramassa, one of the people that Sharra had tried so very, very hard to impress during her marriage to Dulzan.
“Excuse me,” Ramassa said. “It’s been a long time, but aren’t you Sharra the…the Charming?”
Sharra smiled. “No,” she said. “I’m Sharra the Younger.”
Lawrence Watt-Evans, Charming Sharra
