His fingers idly seeking a sandflea, which had successfully found its way inside his rags, he settled himself wearily in his new roost at the edge of the market. Previously, he had frequented the large wharf until the fishermen drove him off, accusing him of stealing. Him! With all the thieves that abound in this town, they chose him for their accusations.
"Corwyn!"
He looked about him and saw a band of six urchins descending on him, their eyes bright and eager.
"Good morning, children," he grimaced, exposing his yellow teeth. "What do you wish of old Corwyn?"
"Tell us a story," they chorused, surging around him.
"Be off with you, sandfleas!" he moaned, waving an arm. "The sun will be hot today. I'll not add to the dryness of my throat telling you stories for free."
"Please, Corwyn?" one whined.
"We'll fetch you water," promised another.
"I have money."
The last offer caught at Corwyn's attention like a magnet. His eyes fastened hungrily on the copper coin extended in a grubby hand. That coin and four of its brothers would buy him a bottle of wine.
Where the boy had gotten it mattered not - he had probably stolen it. What concerned Corwyn was how to transfer the wealth from the boy to himself. He considered taking it by force, but decided against it. The market was rapidly filling with people, and open bullying of children would doubtless draw repercussions. Besides, the nimble urchins could outrun him with ease. He would just have to earn it honestly. Disgusting, the depths to which he had sunk.
"Very well, Wat," he smiled, extending his hand. "Give me the money, and you shall have any story you wish."
"After I hear the story," the boy announced haughtily. "You shall have the coin . . . if I feel the story is worth it. It is the custom."
"So it is." Corwyn forced a smile. "Come, sit here beside me so you can hear every detail."
The boy did as he was told, blissfully unaware that he was placing himself within Corwyn's long, quick reach.
"Now then, Wat, what story do you wish to hear?"
"Tell us about the history of Shanidar," the boy chirped, forgetting his pretended sophistication for the moment.
Corwyn grimaced, but the other boys jumped and clapped their hands with enthusiasm. Unlike Corwyn, they never tired of hearing this tale.
"Very well," Corwyn sighed. "Make room here!"
He shoved roughly at the forest of small legs before him, clearing a small space in the ground, which he swept smooth with his hand. With quick practiced strokes, he outlined Shanidar, the two arms of Lormyrr, and scratched a few islands in between.
"The story begins here," he began, pointing to the sea to the west of Shanidar, "in a land far across the sea, whose name is lost to our history. They were the followers of the true Faith."
" . . .Iedras, the All-Mother . . ." supplied an urchin.
" . . .and her dark son, Iedrahnc. . ." contributed another.
Corwyn leaned back on his haunches and scratched absently.
"Perhaps," he said, "the young gentlemen would like to tell the story while Corwyn listens."
"No, they wouldn't," insisted Wat. "Shut up, everyone. It's my story! Let Corwyn tell it."
Corwyn waited until silence was restored, then nodded loftily to Wat and continued.
"Fleeing a lost war, their fleet had sailed for almost two years, and had not seen land since they set sail. Supplies were almost completely gone. Prayers and entreaties were finally answered. They found a river mouth, with safe anchorage, where they founded the city of Karelia."
He paused to draw a small circle on the map, then drew several lines following the coast of the small northwest continent.
"After a few years, many of the People left in search of additional room. Eventually, these various groups founded the Eight Nations that now form Shanidar. Karelia," Corwyn began carving the continent into pieces, "Tyrolia and North Tyrolia, Icarus, Heldor, Ilmoria, Thyatis and Sirion."
A shopkeeper's wife passed by and, glancing down, recognized the map in the dust, smiled, and tossed two copper coins to Corwyn. He caught them neatly, elbowing an urchin who tried to intercept them, and secreted them in his sash.
"The People found a fertile land, populated only with sub-humans and a few heathen tribes. In the mountains, dwarves and dark folk battled each other for survival. The beast peoples roamed the land, but were not intelligent enough to create any resistance. The Elkyri," here Corwyn suddenly spat in the dirt. "The Elkyri," he continued, "were a constant menace, but too few to stop true people of faith. Your ancestors, and mine, soon established a presence throughout the land."
"Centuries later, once the Eight Kingdoms had grown prosperous, they began to spread out. They bravely crossed the Cold Sea, founding Lembda Hold and Amritsar, then risked the wrath of the Sea Elkyr to cross the Central Sea to found the Southern Kingdoms. As centuries passed, the riches of these new lands made Shanidar a quiet backwater, especially as the Sea Elkyr exerted their control of the Seas and largely isolated Shanidar."
"Then they found octiron!" crowed one urchin, then was quickly elbowed to silence by Wat.
Corwyn, feeling more mellow, now that he was halfway to the cool wine, ignored the interruption.
"Then they found octiron," Corwyn nodded. "The metal of magic! A boon to the molders of the Essence. It can turn a minor hedge wizard into an Archmage, or so the stories tell. As word spread of this discovery, Shanidar's ports were flooded," he gestured at the busy throng around them, "with fortune hunters, glory hunters, grifters and all the riff-raff of the world. Chaos reined, as greed consumed Shanidar. Many baronies, especially those with any suitable terrain for mining, ignored the good of the kingdom and closed themselves off, turning the forces that King Aelfwine needed to secure the kingdom into local "Border Guards" to protect their own fiefdoms."