Untold Tales of Kalda: Melinar, the Stonemason [COMPLETED] ✔️

2 - An Unwelcome Guest

An Unwelcome Guest

While refining the scabbard, a knock resounded from the side door of Melinar's workshop.

Who could that be? he wondered. Melinar glanced to a nearby window allowing a view to the western parts of the city. Dusk was upon Tor, and the setting sun in the east glistened off the metal rooftops of several buildings.

Another knock resounded against the workshop's side door.

"I'm coming," Melinar shouted, stepping away from the statue. He strode across the workshop, riffler still in hand.

As Melinar reached the door he heard a faint conversation. He strained to hear the exchange, but the voices were too low.

Melinar opened the door, finding a dark-haired woman dressed in a tan-colored lady's tunic and pants. She wore a dark blue cloak and cowl with golden embroidery along its edges that looked like tiny vines and flowers. That looks Losian, he thought, then eyed a large satchel resting against the woman's waist.

The woman pursed her lips and studied Melinar with cold sea-gray eyes. She didn't look pleased to be standing there. "Your wife said you often don't hear when someone is knocking," the woman said flatly.

"That can happen when chiseling stone," Melinar replied.

"I suppose it can," she said, then gestured into the workshop. "May I enter?"

Melinar glanced beyond the woman, searching for his wife, Veydina. She was undoubtedly one of the voices he heard before opening the door. But, Veydina wasn't around.

"Your wife went back to the house," the woman said, gesturing with her head toward a three-story home with steep peaks.

Like many artisans in the city of Tor, Melinar's workshop sat behind his residence. Although, his workshop was probably larger than most, since many of his works were quite large. Luckily, the Telar District in which Melinar lived allowed for such accessory buildings.

"She said your dinner will be ready soon," the woman said, her tone growing impatient. "I suggest we get on with the delivery." Her hand was still extended toward the door.

Delivery? Melinar wondered, then glanced again to the embroidery on the blue cloak. Could this be the currier from Alath? But he wasn't expecting the currier for at least a month. Perhaps Overseer Belyn sent word ahead of my report?

During his latest report to the Overseers of Historical Preservation, it was mentioned that a currier from Alath would deliver something to help protect the statue. They didn't explain what, though.

Intrigued, Melinar's mind had raced with possibilities. During his schooling at the Kesirard–the most prestigious academy for artisans here in Tor–Melinar heard stories of the pristine statues at the Estate of Concorious Knowledge.

Many accounts claimed that the statues had withstood the effects of weathering for over a thousand years. Some people claimed tevisrals–devices that channeled magic–were responsible for such preservation. Others said the statues were often repaired by mages by use of transmutive magic. Melinar thought that unlikely. He had a broader understanding of magic than most people, and knew that the moment the mage ceased concentrating the transmutation would crumble. But the use of tevisrals seemed even more unlikely, as the supreme law of the Kingdom of Los–the nation where Alath was located–forbade the use of tevisrals.

"You're the currier from Alath?" Melinar asked.

The woman rolled her eyes. "Isn't that obvious?" she demanded. "Now, are you going to let me in or not?"

Melinar stepped aside, and the woman entered, now shaking her head. As he closed the door, the currier stepped across the workshop and studied the statue.

"Very impressive," she said, "a befitting likeness for a mis'thralim..."

A what...? Melinar wondered, following the woman.

She continued talking to herself, mentioning strange words Melinar had never heard. Amid her deranged monologue, the currier moved to a nearby worktable with several tools: mallets of varying sizes, fine point chisels, rasps, rifflers, and polishing cloths. The woman studied the table, then disappointedly turned back to Melinar. "Do you have someplace that is clutter-free?" she asked, gesturing to the worktable.

"Yes," Melinar replied, pointing beyond the statue. "There's a spot along the far wall."

The currier moved ahead of Melinar, rounding the statue. Once at the empty table she set her large satchel upon it, then studied one of the reference paintings.

"At first glance one might think you egocentric," she said, as Melinar stepped beside her. "But I must admit, you do look like him. You're too young to be his son... a grandson, perhaps?"

Melinar nodded with a chuckle. "Most people think I look like my father," he said. "And my father looks like his father. Overseer Belyn claimed that as one of the reasons they wanted to commission me. They thought I might have an easier time than another when sculpting my grandfather's likeness. After all, I can draw inspiration from myself and my father."

"How fitting," she grunted, then opened her satchel, revealing several glistening spheres.

What are those? Melinar wondered, coming beside the woman. Those weren't tevisrals, were they? They couldn't be, he thought, an Alathian wouldn't violate their nation's supreme law...

"I suppose you weren't told what these are," the currier said, lifting one of the spheres from the satchel.

Melinar shook his head.

"That is well," she grinned. The sphere was palm-size, transparent with tiny glistening specks. A thin golden frame encased the sphere, dividing it into thirds. Tiny inscriptions were scrawled all along the golden frame, but not too small to see that it was not the written characters of the Common tongue.

"Where are the weapons you sculpted?" she asked, grabbing another palm-sized sphere.

"Wait..." Melinar said, stepping between her and the path that led to the sculpted weapons. "Before you do anything else I need to understand what is going on. The Overseers didn't mention anything about additions to my work."

The currier looked even more displeased than when she was at the door. "You wouldn't understand," she said, her tone condescending. "Now please step aside and give me access to the weapons."

"If you add those to the weapons it won't be accurate," Melinar said. "You'll be destroying the aesthetics of its authenticity. Besides, the gem in the serrated dagger's pommel is triangular."

"Step aside," the currier insisted, "and show me to the weapons."

Authors' Note:

Pre-order your copy of A Prince's Errand , Book One of TALES OF THE AMULET over on Backerkit and receive all the exclusive bonuses available to our backers on Kickstarter: https://a-princes-errand.backerkit.com/hosted_preorders

You can also purchase my previously published works that are currently not available anywhere else.

Pre-order availability coming soon to all major retailers.