the tale with a stone continues

At the very edge of town, if one goes on the road to the Mountains of Knives, an old woman who was once a smith had her hut.  Although her trade had been with metals, she was known to be familiar with stones as well, and parted with her knowledge fairly for those who were on her good side.  Generally, the man was on everyone's good side, and the old smith was no exception.  He had more than once saved a few salt fish for her, even though she was never able to pay him more than a few copper coins when others, like Hidda's step-aunt surely, could  have given him more than five times that amount in silver.  But he liked how she muttered stories about past clients while she savored the pale flesh and she didn't mind him watching her eat.

She looked at him expectantly when she opened the door to his knock and he immediately apologized for bringing no fish.  "Oh, no matter, boy.  I know you've been doing me many favors by them," she said in her old woman's gravelly voice, but she hadn't been able to hide the disappointment in her eyes.  The young man promised himself that the first fish of the new year would be hers.  They went inside, to her long table under a dusty skylight.  Once, it had been ever full of chains and weapons and decorations, but now only a few broken broaches lay upon it.  The old smith held the stones up to the light and then under her round glass, mumbling to herself, "Good color, fine cut," and other things the young man was not sure he understood.  When she had finished her careful viewing she gave him also a look with a sharp eye, sharp even for an old smith.  "Where did you come by these, boy?  Not in the wood, of that I'm sure."

"They came from the pond.  I fished a small box with them inside," and the young man was astonished that he had not told her something closer to the truth.

"From the Salt Pond?  They are clear."

"Yes, I washed them to make them more beautiful."

The pause was almost painful.  Finally, the smith said, "They are good stones.  They could fetch you a fortune if you knew where to ask.  If you like, I will bargain for you, although my contacts are not what they once were, and I will take no reward from it except a promise: bring me the first salt fish of the year as along as I live.  It sounds like a great demand, I know, but tell me, boy, how many years can I have left?"

"Oh, many years surely, Aunt Smith."

"Now, now," she replied gruffly, "No flattery.  I'll speak with my contact tomorrow.  Come by in a few days.  Just leave me the skystone to show him, that one has the most impressive color, and keep the rest with you."  The young man hesitated, wondering if he should try to sell the stones himself, but he realized immediately that he had no idea how much they were worth, or how to even begin to bargain with them.  His past transactions had been with simple materials and with simple people.  Even if the old smith didn't bring him the highest price, it would be more than he could manage by himself.  He did as she said.

After leaving the smith's hut he rushed to the market, having just remembered his promise to meet Hidda.  He managed to get there just as she was leaving, face dark and eyes clouded, but the storm cleared immediately upon seeing him dash up to her, undoubtedly having come at great speed.  He explained he had found a chance of prosperity and could not pass it by, since she deserved the attention of one who could provide her with comfort as well as joy, and with blushing cheeks she forgave his lateness.  He promised to see her home every day after that, and that he did.

The next week he returned to the old smith's hut to find an old man dressed in grungy furs sitting at the table examining the skystone.  "Marvelous, simply marvelous," he was mumbling to himself.  The old smith cleared her throat and he turned to look at the young man.  "Are you the seller?" he asked in a raspy, whistley voice.  The young man nodded and held out the bag of stones.  The fur-man snatched it and dumped the contents on the table where they glittered coldly in the winter sunbeams stabbing down through the skylight.  He knelt so he was eye-level with them and his fingers drummed the table greedily.  Finally he straightened, grunting, joints popping, and pulled a bag of his own from under his furs and handed it to the old smith.  He swept the stones into their own little bag, which he stowed away in the furry darkness, then made a short bow and grasped the young man's hand in his own surprisingly warm and dry paw.  "A pleasure doing business, son," he practically hooted and he hobbled out the door like a lame goose hurrying to the feed trough.

The old smith handed the bag to the young man and he was amazed at its weight.  He set it on the table and upon opening it was shocked at the glittering gold within.  He had never even seen a gold coin before, and now he had a bag full of them.  He didn't even dare take one out, but just grazed them with his fingertips, running over the Duchess' own seal.  "I'd hoped to get a little more out of the old weasel," said the smith, "But you saw how he was dressed.  His glory days are long passed too, even though he'll make good use of those stones you found."

"It's more than I ever dreamed of," whispered the young man.

"Just remember your promise," said the smith kindly, gently moving him towards the door.

"Of course, the first fish, the first cow's weight of fish," replied the young man, his eyes shining brighter than the stones he'd sold or the coins he'd received.

That night his little house was bursting with laughter as he tried on fine new clothes.  He wasn't laughing, it was the voice, and it wasn't unkind laughter, it was just wild and loud, while wolf toes clackety-clacked on the old floor boards.

The townsfolk stopped and stared as he strode through the streets on his way to Hidda's step-aunt's house.  He rapped on the heavy, stained wood door with confidence and didn't wait to be asked in when it opened.  The servant girl didn't seem to mind.  "I'll fetch the lady," she mumbled and scurried off.  After only a few minutes wait, Aunt Demeter appeared.  Her cheeks were red and her eyes were black and her hair was all smoke.  She stopped in front of the young man and stared hard at his face.

"Yes, you're that little errand boy from the woods," she said, and without even shouting her voice reached every nook and cranny of the room.  "I see you've made yourself good.  I can't imagine how.  Do you think I'll believe you're a fairytale prince that has lived in poverty just to prove his pureness of heart?"

"Not at all, good lady.  I am a simple man of the wood and no stranger to toil.  I have come by my wealth only by luck."

"But by your toil you mean to keep it?  Luck is not constant, young man.  The prizes of chance easily come and go.  My step-neice thinks a great deal of you, for reasons I cannot fathom.  You may convince me of your worth this night at dinner.  Be here when the mayor's bell rings six."  Then Aunt Demeter turned abruptly and strode away.

The young man began his serious courtship of Hidda that night, to Aunt Demeter's mild disgust.  The two young people, of course, got along gloriously, and the young man was as thrifty as he could possibly be with the gold coins, so that the months of courtship demanded by good manners did not lighten the bag by much.The voice appeared only seldom, but each time more agitated that the young man was not following its new advice.

"You'll have a family soon!" it barked finally, "Start feathering your nest to care for them properly, you donkey!"

The young man was too much in his own head, dreaming of the near future, to take notice of the insult.  Finally their vow-day arrived and the couple was married in front of Aunt Demeter's house.  She attended the ceremony, of course, and had paid for the feast, but she never once hinted at feeling any joy at her step-niece's fortune.  The young man had decided to remain in the woods, although his little house would need additions, and dedicate himself to harvesting wood more than odd-jobs.  Although Hidda had spent several seasons in her step-aunt's fine town house, she was from a humble family in a small farming settlement not far off.  She had no complaints about the plan and no trouble making herself at home from the beginning of their life together.