The Ultimate Stonemage: A Modest Autobiography by Duncan McKenzie Page A

carcass, and above him was a peacock in flight. The giant then spoke to me, saying: “Yreth, heed this—what you must lose to the fox, you will gain one hundredfold from the bird.” He said this three times, then the scene vanished, and I found myself staring once again at my cabin wall, with nothing but empty ocean beyond the porthole.
    Within an hour of this last vision, we finally sighted the shores of America. We sailed south, following the shoreline for a time until we reached the mouth of the mighty riverRam, then we sailed up this river toRamport.
    I had selected Ramport as my destination some weeks earlier, for my head slave had told me the people of the town loved fine buildings and had plenty of arrans to pay for them. In this, he was correct, for the town was attractively plotted, with buildings of every colour, bearing numerous spires, domes, and towers, all decorated with gold and silver. In addition, almost every building in the town had a mast upon its roof, of the sort you would find upon a small sailing boat, and at the top of this mast was fastened a rectangular banner of coloured fabric called a “flag.”
    These flags worked as follows: each was fastened at two of its corners by a rope, much as a sail or banner is, except the flag was fastened vertically to the mast, without the benefit of booms, arms or stays. Further, the remaining two corners of the flag were left unbound, so, when the wind blew, the flags were pulled out, displaying their designs and making a beating sound, like the wings of a large bird. I was much taken by these flags, and later I purchased a large number to trade in the east, but the fashion has never caught on here, since American ways are unjustly considered crude, and I was quite unable to sell them again.
    I spent some two weeks exploring this town and acquainting myself with its buildings and its people. During this time, I roomed at the most expensive inns, staying no more than two nights at any one, and at each inn I let it be known I was a stonemage from Cyprus with a plan for a great construction. Naturally, word of my arrival soon spread among the rich, and before long a letter arrived inviting me to take luncheon with the town’s magistrate-in-chief.
    During the meal, this gentleman informed me that, while he had no power to authorize constructions (except for work of a trivial nature which would be beneath my skills), he knew of a project that would shortly be open to the bids of builders. The northernmost section of the town, he told me, had been destroyed by fire ten years previously, and it was now desired that this area be rebuilt. “If you feel the task to be worthy of your talents,” he said, “then I will mention your name to our principal watchman.”
    Of course, I assured the magistrate-in-chief that this commission was exactly the sort I had been seeking, and I thanked him very copiously for his kindness.
    For the next day or two, I wandered around the area which was to be rebuilt. Most of its buildings were burnt-out shells, although some retained sections of roof, and these served as homes for the impoverished and for thieves. The area was situated far from the river, and this, perhaps, was why the fire had done such damage, there being little water nearby to douse the flames.
    As I beheld the ruined houses, I marvelled at the opportunity providence had given to me, for it was clear this would be an ideal site for the construction of my Grief .
    Some days after my dinner with the magistrate-in-chief, a second invitation arrived, this time to take dinner with the principal watchman, whose name wasEon Vulpine. On seeing this name, certain doubts were immediately aroused in my head, for vulpine is a very ancient word meaning “like a fox,” and in my vision I had been warned I would suffer losses to the fox.
    Still, I dined with him anyway, and I was favourably impressed by his knowledge of the builder’s art. And, I must admit, I was impressed by the