The Dragons of Sara Sara (9 page)

“Yellow. Yes. A good idea. I had thought that my oldest daughter would look nice in yellow on her wedding day.” said Daga, dispelling any doubts that the yellow silk dress was the object of the trade. There was no doubt that the gold coin was the offered exchange.

The coin had not been taken out of the cloth lined box in years. There was no need. Everyone in the village knew about it and all had seen it. Even held it. A king's ransom by weight alone. There were no kings in Xu Gui to ransom though so the coin sat on the shelf, dusted occasionally by the innkeeper's good lady wife. Until today.

“Master Domain. Innkeeper,” began the Trader. “As valuable as the fine sheath of silk is, as yellow and bright as it undoubtedly is, I always deal fairly with a man. What you offer is worth far more than I offer in return.”

If he expected Daga to look disappointed at what could have been a refusal he was in turn disappointed.

“You are indeed an honourable man, Trader,” said Daga. “But the offer still stands.” In case there was any misunderstanding, Daga continued.

“The gold talon – or whatever coinage it was – in exchange for the dress of yellow silk. You have judged it of a size for my daughter else you would not be here now I think.”
The Trader reached for the coin and picked it up out of its box. It truly was a valuable coin. The weight of it surprised the Trader. It was much thicker than he had realized. The folds of the cloth hiding its true size. It was nearly the size of the palm of his hand and as thick as his thumb. It was worth a fortune by weight alone, and never meant to be carried in purse or pouch.
As he held the gold coin in his hand he was reading the script that flowed across its surface. The Trader could read many languages, all Traders could, and as he mentally calculated this objects worth by weight so he also unconsciously took in the meaning of the words. Thumbing the disk over in his palm, he kept reading as he spoke. “Do you say Master Domain, that you require only a clean swap. The dress of yellow for your daughter in exchange for ….” Suddenly the Trader leapt to his feet, dropping the heavy coin as if it had suddenly become red hot. The coin rang like a chime as it fell to the polished table. The Traders chair skittered back and toppled over with a crash. The fine brandy in the glass held in his left hand slopping over and dripping from his fingers as he stared at the coin now spinning to a clattering stop on the table top. His eyes a round as the coin, he bellowed at the innkeeper, fear edging his voice with harsh tones.

“What is this you have tried to do to me innkeeper? Do you not know what this is? Why in the name of the Light did you not show this to the Wind Reader?” The words tumbled out of his mouth as he backed away from the table. “As my name is Annan Hamar,” he roared. “ I cannot take your gold. Get this to the Wind Reader and the dress is yours. It is yours now. I give it freely. It has been offered in trade for, for, for,” the Trader was actually spluttering, and his voice died to a whisper. “For the Seal of The Creator. I cannot and will not keep it.”

The Traders voice had run down to a whisper and as he had spoken the name of the Seal of the Creator, the coin as they had first thought it to be had suddenly glowed red hot for an instant and smoke and fire had spurted from its sides as it burnt into the waxed polish of the table top. In an instant it had cooled again.
By this time Daga had backed away from the table and from the Trader. Apart from being startled by the Traders sudden leap to his feet, the hint of fear in his voice really alarmed the innkeeper.
Traders knew no fear. Traders never gave their names. Traders almost certainly never gave anything away. This Trader had just done all three in the space of moments. On top of this was the still smoking coin, or Seal. Had the Trader called it The Seal of the Creator? Master Domain looked from one to the other in some consternation. The deal was going all wrong. Daga muttered under his breath. “The Seal of the Creator. Really”. His eyes grew wide in alarm as the Seal pulsed with a deep glow at mention of its name.
It seemed that the first flash of heat had only been at its first calling after so long. Neither man approached it though. Both jumped when a shriek pierced the air. The innkeeper's wife rushed into the room through the doorway and scooped up the seal and dropped it into the box in one unstoppable rush.

“Look at my table. Look at my table.” She cried at the top of her lungs. Rounding on Daga with a glare that would have stopped a runaway team she advanced on him. “What were you playing at? What have you done? You and this – this ….,” she gestured wildly in the general direction of the Trader.

“His name is Annan Hamar, wife,” said Daga into the sputtering of his wife as she fought for suitable words. Her precious table was damaged beyond repair and she was very angry. The sputtering stopped like a pinched out candle. No one had ever known the name of a Trader. That this one had given his was an indication that something was going on here that she had missed. Mistress Domain clutched her hands to her stomach in apprehension, the feeling of impending dread strong. She drew a breath and moved back to the table, wiping the burn mark with her ever present dusting cloth. The coin had left a deep clear brand in the table top. It would never come out.

“Perhaps someone had better tell me what has happened here,” she said.
The Trader was now looking a little sheepish, as was the innkeeper. Mistress Domain looked from one to the other in expectation.

“I don't know,” began Daga. His wife merely raised an eyebrow. “Well, I don't,” he continued. “We were discussing certain matters of trade when suddenly the Trader here let out a yell, and the coin caught fire.” He looked at his wife in expectation of the storm to follow such a weak explanation.
She simply turned to the Trader, her lips compressed in a thin line and eyes narrowed.

“Perhaps you have a better way with words,” said Mistress Domain to the Trader.
The Trader had regained his composure by now and moved to right the overturned chair and seat himself at the table. Although fixing his eyes on the coin now back in its box, he decided at the last minute to remain standing.

“I was appraising the object you see here,” he pointed at the seal as he now knew it to be. “When I chanced to read the inscription on it. This is not something that can be offered in trade. I know of it from my travels and readings. It has been lost for over three thousand years. It is a.. a,” he hesitated over the name ‘seal'. Everyone eyed the box on the table. “It was made by the Creator at the last turn of the Wheel. The last great battle with the Dark Lord.”
It seemed that all it took was a reference to the thing to set it glowing. Mistress Domain snapped the lid shut.

“There is more to the stories I fear.” Said the Trader. He continued after a moment. “If the seal is taken by the Dark Lord, then the peace of the world is broken and the Wheel of Time is stopped. The Dark Lord would reign forever.”

Jolin Domain looked at her husband. With a finger tapping her cheek, both men could see she was mulling over the situation. Daga was also sure that it would probably mean hardship for him. It always did when she got that look in her eye.
The trader had by now seated himself again at the table, on the chair furthest from the seal. He eyed the little box containing the seal as though it would jump up and bite him.
He poured himself a fresh glass of brandy and invited the others to sit. After a moment's hesitation Daga drew up a chair next to him. His wife sat alongside. Anyone entering the room would have wondered at the three people sitting in a row on the opposite side of the table from a small wooden box. Each with a glass of brandy in their hand, Mistress Domain having retrieved a third glass from the polished sideboard.

“I have heard of this seal,” said Daga.

“I too,” said Jolin his wife.

“I too,” said the Trader. “I have also revealed my name, and given away a dress that cost me a month's trading in the land of Hua Guo.” He said the last with some amazement in his voice. “It seems the seal can have some effect on those close around it.”
All unconsciously moved their chairs back from the table with a scrape.

Daga pondered the problem. There had been nothing from the coin, the seal, in all the years that it had sat on the shelf. Nothing until the Trader Annan Hamar had read the script and uttered it's name. It was that, that had been the key to its reactivation. What effects would this have? The Trader had not yet enlarged on what he knew of the seal, and neither Daga nor Jolin knew more than that it was an object made by the Creator at the beginning of time almost. It was an object of legends. Until now.

Daga Domain's bulk shifted. A typical innkeeper, he was almost as round as tall. Dark hair and dark complexion like all the men of the plain. He wore his clothes as always, neat and clean. His wife would have it no other way. Even if he was roused in the early hours of the morning by passing travellers, although they were few, he would appear in his neatly pressed baggy blue trousers, white cotton shirt straining over his bulk, and a leather vest covering that. It was always topped by a starched white apron. His baggy legged trousers were tucked into his boot tops, and he wore one gold ear ring in his right ear.

Jolin appeared to be part of the matching set. Black full dress swirling over boots of kid. A white blouse topped with a soft kid vest. Small blue flowers stitched into it in a swirling pattern that covered the garment. Silver rings on each finger and silver and gold chains around her neck rustled as she moved. Miniature gold bells dangled from each ear giving the softest tinkle as she moved. She had dark eyes that missed nothing and hinted that the mistress of the inn was a very intelligent woman. With three daughters to raise in a country village, she had been the bane of many a hopeful village lad.

The trader was like all his kind. A huge bulk of a man, at least head and shoulders above the innkeeper – himself taller than most of the locals. Solid muscle. Hands that could handle a team of runaway horses, or a fine silk dress with equal sureness. Close fitting long legged leather breeches were stuffed into long legged boots that a normal man could have hidden in.. A wide black leather belt circled his waist with an assortment of tools of his trade attached. This included a sheathed knife almost the size of a small sword. His thick cotton shirt had numerous buttoned pockets. It appeared to have originally been a dark green, but was faded now to a paler shade. He had a large dark blue cloth loosely knotted about his neck, and his pale blond hair was long and tied back from his face into a tail by a leather thing. The Trader's face was a contrast to the innkeeper's pleasant features. As hard as the land he travelled over. His green eyes rarely blinked. He watched everything. It was rumoured that Traders never slept, and all though everyone took that with the mirth it deserved, still no one had ever caught a Trader napping. Until now perhaps. He sat there still, shaking his head over the giving away of not only the dress but his name. He hoped the Guild would never hear of it. He would be laughed out of any Guild Hall he entered. He scratched his chin in thought at that though. Perhaps he wouldn't be. The legends and prophesies spoke of other meanings behind the giving of a Traders name.

“Daga, Mistress Domain,” he began. “You must tell no one that this day I have been surprised into giving away my true birth name, as well as a valuable item of trade.”

His voice held both a note of pleading and of warning. Both Jolin and her husband looked at him.

“Of course not,” said Jolin. “You insult us!”

“No, No. I meant no insult Mistress Domain,” said the Trader gruffly. "Surely this day it seems I should keep my mouth firmly closed.”

Jolin leaned forward, resting her hands on the table.

“Trader,” she began. “ Tell me of this dress that you have given away.” She raised an eyebrow at her husband.

“Better yet,” replied the Trader. “I will fetch it now and be done.” He pushed his chair back and went to fetch the yellow silk dress. He was a man of his word.

“What do we know of this seal?” Daga asked no one in particular.

“The dress!” Said Jolin, his wife.

“Hmmmm – well, I saw our oldest daughter wearing it on her marriage day my wife. The coin, as I thought, it is useless to us but valuable to the Trader. So I offered it in exchange.” He fell silent. He waited for the storm.

His wife leaned close and stroked her fingers across his cheeks.

“Husband, truly you still surprise me sometimes.” Her eyes were smiling as well as her mouth and Daga wondered what he had done or said right.

He had been sure she was about to skin him alive for even considering the fabulous dress without her approval.

"So,” said his wife at last. “We will talk more on that matter later with our daughter. Now we must try to recall the prophesies surrounding this … seal.”

The Trader came back into the room carrying the polished, red lacquered case that held the dress of silk. He placed it on the table by the innkeepers wife.

Sitting in his place again, he considered the scorch mark on the table.

“I recall,” he began. “That the legends speak of this seal as in some way being able to halt the Dark Lord from actually taking control, even should he break free.”

“Yes,” added Daga. “I believe it is actually the seal of the Creator.” He clapped his hand over his mouth as soon as he said it. The box holding the seal gave a low hum and the whole table vibrated.

"Sorry,” he gulped “I forgot. It must really be the one!” Daga glanced at the Trader.

“Interesting,” said the Trader. “Let us try my name instead, for legend has it that a Trader shall not reveal his true name, on pain of drawing the attention of the Creator himself.” He sounded a little uncertain, but opened his mouth to speak. A Trader feared nothing an in any case he had already called out his name once.

“My name,” he swallowed a mouth full of brandy. “Is Annan Hamar.”

The box containing the seal hummed deeply and slid across the polished surface to come to rest by the fingers of the Trader, where he gripped the table with his left hand. His right hand was clutching the brandy glass so tightly that Mistress Domain thought he must surely break the delicate glass. He did not move though. He took another gulp of the brandy, sputtering as some of the sharp liquid went down the wrong way. This was as close as he had ever come to being unsure of himself. He was not at all sure he wanted the attention of the Creator focused on him. This seal, if it was indeed an indicator, seemed to be showing that he had the full attention of the Creator focused on him right now.

“Oh how I wish I had never learnt the language of Hua Guo.” He muttered to himself.

It was his reading the scripts and giving the seals name aloud, followed in surprise by his own name that had brought the legends alive. It seemed that the Guild may have originally known that this might happen one day. That the Seal would surface one day in trade. Then it hit him like a quarter staff between the eyes. In every Guild hall he had ever been in, in every land where Traders went, there chiselled into the hearth stone of the grand fireplace in every case, were the words in ancient script "Seekers Of The Seal”.

He could not believe he had not connected the two things before. It was just a motto. Many different Guild Halls had similar. Why, blacksmiths halls had “The Forge is Life” in ancient script on their hearth stones. Who ever took notice of it. It was just there. But now Annan Hamar knew beyond doubt that what every Trader had for thousands of years truly been doing was seeking for the Great Seal of the Creator.

The One Seal. The Seal of Time, that kept time itself flowing. The seal that ensured the continuation of life, even against the ravages of the Dark Lord. Life was a balance. The Trader knew this. For every good there was an evil. As there was a Creator, so there was a Destroyer. And now the key to it all, the Seal to all creation had landed in his lap. A Trader with a name. So had the prophesies foretold.

The Seal had to be taken to Mei'An, the Wind Reader. She would know what to do. But now the question became “Where was Mei'An and her band of young warriors.” They had ridden out in the night and told no one of their destination, or indeed their going.

It would be up to the Mare Altan still in the village to locate the small band and take the Seal to them. It would also mean that the Trader must go with them.

The trio sat in silence, the men sipping their brandy while Mistress Domain taped her finger on her lips in thought. She stood up as she appeared to come to a decision.

“This is something for the mistress of the sept of the Stone Lions.” She declared.

“Riadia will know what to do. I also believe we are going to need every warrior of the Stone Lions – men and women – that she can gather in. The Dark Lord will know. He will have felt it. The Great Seal stirring to life. If he escapes the wheel and lays his hands on the Seal, well then we are all lost.”

“Yes,” responded Daga. “We must still protect the village though and those around us on the farms.”

The Trader stood, throwing down the last of his brandy.

“I go to ready the wagon for what will be a long journey I fear.” He strode out through the door into the night.

The innkeeper and his wife went back to the common room, leaving the dining room with one lamp softly burning. The box containing the Seal still resting on the table beside the red lacquer box with the yellow silk dress. Within moments of the room emptying the box with the seal began softly vibrating. It seemed hardly to move, yet the harmonics were very low in pitch and soon the walls of very room itself began to hum softly. Plaster began to trickle from cracks between the huge stones that made up the walls of the inn. Dust raised from the high beams on the roof and began to float on the soft eddies of air moving about the room from the fireplace. Soot fell in a soft swish into the fireplace almost smothering the fire. A cloud of it puffed out across the polished floor. The vibrations spread through the building and into the common room. Men looked around for the source of the sound and looked at the dust trickling from the stone walls in some alarm. Suddenly there was a mad rush for the doors, some even going head first out through the windows. If this was another earth tremor like the first one they had all felt, no one wanted to be inside for a second one. The inn was made of very solid stone, any one of them large enough to squash a man flat.

Mistress Domain came flying down the stairs with her daughters. The girls were wailing at the top of their lungs while their mother looked wild eyed in all directions at once.

Much to everyone's surprise, when they got outside the inn there was no sound. No earth tremors. Only a low moaning hum coming from the very walls of the inn it seemed.

Suddenly it dawned on the innkeeper.

“Where is the Trader, quickly, find him!”

Men raced off to the stables as there was no sign of the Trader at his wagon. A wild collision of men tumbled back around the corner of the front of the inn as the Trader came pounding from that direction even as the men had rounded the corner to find him. There was no time to waste if the inn was to be saved.

“Trader! The Seal, the Seal,” cried Daga, his voice rising in pitch as he wildly pointed toward this front door. The Trader needed no second telling. He knew immediately that it was the Seal that called him. He should not have left it on the table alone.

The Trader dashed up the steps and raced to the private dining room, scattering chairs and tables aside like debris in a flood. The whole building appeared ready to collapse as he flung himself across the wide table to grasp the box containing the Seal in both hands. The vibrations, the almost inaudible hum stopped immediately. Dust still drifted down from long undisturbed beams and the entire inn was an awful mess, but it would not collapse.

Annan Hama, Trader, stood and opened the box containing the seal. The seal had changed somehow. He could not quite see quite what it was. It was still solid gold, it still had the right weight. Yet it seemed to radiate with a life of its own. The Trader decided it would be better hanging around his neck than having to carry it around in a box all the time. He took the coin out of the box and weighed it in his hand. There was no way he could see to secure a thong to the coin. There was no hole in the coin as some had and he was not about to drill one into the Seal of The Creator! He could not begin to imagine what effect such an action might have. The Trader almost dropped the coin to the floor when as he watched in amazement a small hole appeared near the edge of the coin. It was just large enough to pass a leather thong through. He quickly unlaced a thong from his vest and strung it through the seal. The seal was soon hanging around his neck and rested warmly against his massive chest. The metal was actually warm he noticed, not cold as expected and had the feel of a living thing. Annan went back to the common room, now slowly filing with men again. Nervous laughter here and there as mugs were refilled, and scattered furniture righted. Daga looked at the Trader and returned to his place at the counter. The two men nodded in understanding as Annan patted his chest. Daga could see the thong around the neck of the Trader.

“I will make ready my team of horses. We should be gone as soon as possible.” Said the trader to Daga.

“Trader,” began the innkeeper.

“Now I have a name and all our destinies seem linked to it Daga.” Said the Trader. “You should call me Annan so that all may know that I carry the Seal.”

The room went quiet. Everyone it seemed had heard the voice of the Trader. Everyone knew that Traders did not reveal their true names. Yet here was one who gave his name openly. And what was this Seal he spoke of? All knew the legends, but no one wanted to give voice to their thoughts.