The Fourth Magic Shell

This is a work of fiction. No real people, places or events were used. Copyright ã 2011 Plot Roach.

The Fourth Magic Shell

By Plot Roach

Audra snuck away from the healer’s tent and sat in the marketplace, next to the storyteller. She was supposed to be studying with Madame Lilly, but much preferred the fantastical tales the old man wove from words to the smelly elixirs and pounding of roots which she was sentenced to. She took a shaded spot next to a jewelry dealer, since the sun was at its height and scorched any who lingered under its punishment for too long. The marketplace dealers did not mind children sitting in the shade of their tents, since the hot midday sun often made shopping intolerable for those who had money to shop with. Neither a nobleman nor his servants would allow themselves to suffer a sweat and ruin their fine clothes.

The young girl set out a cloth to sit upon, cross legged and twisting herself for the maximum amount of shade to be had. The old man had just begun one of the origin stories of the First People, the ones who had come from the lands near the ocean in order to tame the desert. She loved this tale the best, for while adults told her it was just a myth, she often imagined herself as one of these first settlers, and of experiencing the hardships that they had endured.

She smiled as the old man spoke of the Spirit of the Ocean having been caught in a net by a strong young man. How in exchange for her freedom, she promised that a better place could be made from the desert, and the magical tools she would give to him for her release. When her feet once again touched the currents of the ocean floor, she sent three shells to the shore, each containing a gift for the one who had freed her. The first shell, when broken, released the first camels that ever walked upon the land. They were slower than horses, but much heartier and much more likely to make it to the haven that was to be their desert home, since they did not have to drink water. The second shell produced a sound that only one among the First People could hear. The voice shifted to that person, burrowing itself in his ear, and he became the first story teller. The third shell produced a rock that leaked water when placed into a jar, so that the First People would not have to travel in constant thirst.

So with these gifts, they set off across the burning desert sands in order to find their new home. It was a journey that lasted many months and tried the people’s patience. But each step of the way, the storyteller was with them. His words were to enchant, as well as give directions to the new land, with stories. With each new story came a clue as to how to thrive in their new home. And though the journey was fraught with hazards and hardships, not a man nor beast died along the way.

Once they had reached their new city, where their homes had been built and pens for the animals had been constructed. Someone dumped the water from the jar into the camels’ trough and the stone tumbled out unseen. It was not until the trough was empty that the stone was discovered, but by then the stone had been emptied by these thirsty beasts. The camels, now having had a taste of water, refused to go without it. And thus, two of the three gifts of the ocean spirit were lost to the First People. But the Storyteller remained, and told his stories for those who would listen and learn. And who continues to until this day.

The audience disbursed, some leaving money in the storyteller’s offering bowl, and some merely heading back to their homes to wait out the rest of the day’s heat. Audra reached into her pocket for a small paper envelope that held a powdered medicine she had been working upon before she crept out of the healer’s tent. She tossed it into his bowl and turned with a sigh. She needed to go back to Madame Lilly’s to resume her work, but knew that she would be punished for running away as soon as her foot entered the door.

“Why are you so sad, child?” the storyteller asked.

“I must return to my master and continue my training.”

“And why do you not rejoice, for at least you have found your calling, when so many are turned away from apprenticeship?”

“My heart is not in it, Storyteller.”

“Do you not wear the token of a healer about your neck?” he asked.

Audra stroked the shell that hung on a thin string about her neck. Shells were precious out here in the desert. And were often used in the healer’s elixirs. Some were worth more than their weight in gold. During her naming ceremony at the age of four, she had been presented with a plate filled with various items, each with their own meaning for her career. She had chosen the shell, the healer’s charm, and was apprenticed as soon as she was able.

“But what if it was wrong?” she asked the man, who had stood now and was rolling his mat up in order to seek shelter in a cooler spot of the marketplace.

“Well then, what do you think the shell means?”

“Like in the story, it might have held a gift once.”

“And what might that be?”

“I don’t know…People say I’m being silly. But I just don’t feel like a healer.”

“Then who do you feel like?”

“I don’t know, I was never given a choice other than healer.”

“Think back over your life, dear one. Can you not think of one other thing that you were good at?”

“When I was younger, and I heard the other storytellers in the marketplace, I would come home and tell my younger siblings about what I had learned. And when anyone was sick, I would sit beside them and comfort them with their favorite stories. Sometimes I even make them up, though I know it’s silly…”

“When do you make them up?”

“When I get bored. Like when I’m grinding herbs or working in the garden. Something catches my eye and I have to tell a story about it, even if it is one I have never heard.”

“When does this happen?”

“Almost everyday, Storyteller.”

The man studied her, rubbing his chin. Audra felt even more ashamed, now that she had dragged him into her life. “I think we need to have a talk with this master of yours. You may be misplaced after all.”

“Then where do I belong?”

“Perhaps with the Storytellers Guild, dear one.”

“Oh no!”

“What’s wrong?”

“My parents will never approve. Because you don’t… well..”

“Make a lot of money? Have high status?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Not to worry, dear child.” the Storyteller said. “It may be looked down upon, telling stories in the marketplace for your daily bread. But ours is the most necessary job in the city.”

“How?”

“We remind people of the past. We teach them what they need to know in order to be good citizens. And without us the world would cease to be.”

“Really?” Audra asked, her eyes big with panic.

“If the Storytellers stopped their talking, even for a minute, our world would end.” the old man said with a straight face. “The sun would still race about in the sky, the rain would still fall, and the creatures that walk upon the land would still be born, live and die. But our people, descendants of the First People, would forget our place in this world. We would cease to be and live no better than the creatures we tend. That is why we need as many voices as possible -maybe even that of a young girl- to remind us of who we were and who we have yet to become.”

“I still don’t think that my family will approve.”

“You leave the arguing to me, little one. No one yet has been able to out speak this storyteller.” he smiled to her, and she smiled back. “It seems we shall have to amend the Origin stories after all.”

“How so?” Audra asked.

“It seems that there was a fourth magic shell, and it brought you to me.”