“Don’t fret, young Maimun,” a voice said. A woman’s voice, it was melodic and beautiful, and not at all threatening. “I have placed upon you a spell of holding. You will be unable to move for a short time. I am sorry for it, but it had to be done.”
She stepped from the shadows, though it took me a moment to see her. She was completely covered in a dark robe, her hood pulled up, a black mask covering her face. The mask was a solid piece of obsidian, I figured, carved to look like a human face, completely blank of expression. It covered her whole face, even her eyes.
I tried to scream at her, to tell her to let me go, but I couldn’t speak through her spell.
“Do you know what the stone you carry is, Maimun?” she asked. “It is an artifact blessed by the goddess Tymora, the bearer of good fortune. To the soul it has chosen, it will bring good luck, as long as it is close at hand.”
And so I learned the answer I had wished so long for Perrault to give me, the power the stone held over me. The events of the past few moments fell into sharp focus. It was good fortune that I had found a billowing sheet to break my fall. And the melon wagon, coming at just the right moment— the stone had brought that good fortune upon me too. The pieces began to tumble into place, and they threw my whole journey, my whole life, into question. I had thought it was my choices that had led me to Sea Sprite. But had the stone itself given me the luck I needed to stow away unseen? Had it given me the strength to fight the troll, to save the ship? Without it, would I have ever found my place at sea?
“Unfortunately,” the woman said as she crept closer, “luck in this world is finite. One person’s good luck means another’s misfortune.”
The woman’s objective became crystal clear, and I struggled mightily against her spell. My own purpose became clear.
For better or for worse, the stone had shaped my past and was meant to shape my future. I could not let it go. I could never let it go. The stone had been bestowed upon me for a reason. Perrault had trusted me to discover that reason and to protect the stone at all costs. After all that he had done for me, I couldn’t betray his trust.
The woman calmly began opening my shirt. “This stone throws luck out of balance. While it favors you, it will hurt others. And that is not acceptable.”
My shirt was open, and she reached around me to gently unfasten the buckle and remove the whole sash. I felt it pull away, as if my skin were stuck to the leather, as if my body stretched out, trying to hold onto it. But then it was gone. My chest stung where the stone had rested, and my heart felt empty.
She tucked the stone under her robe and stepped back. “The stone will be kept safe from those who seek to use it for ill gains, and you shall be free of your burden.”
I had once dreamed of being free of the stone’s burden. But now that it was gone, I realized how wrong I had been. This hurt.
“Now, Maimun, I’m going to cast another spell on you. This one will put you into a deep sleep. You’ll wake up tomorrow morning, refreshed, and I urge you to look upon it as a new life.”
I don’t want a new life, I thought. I want the stone. I willed myself to reach for Perrault’s dagger and for a moment, I thought I had broken her spell.
My voice broke through the silence. “Give … it … back!” I shouted.
But the woman began an arcane chant, and soon I found myself following along mentally. I drifted along the river of soothing sound she created and soon I was fast asleep.
The strange woman was wrong. I would not sleep until morning light. I woke up sometime long past darkness, to someone prodding at my shoulder.
I found myself staring at a pair of shiny leather boots. Rising from the boots was a pair of legs, clothed in fine black silk pants, and above that, a pristine white shirt.
And above that, a snarling, red-skinned elf face.
“Where is it, boy?” Asbeel spat at me. “Where is the stone?”
