Chapter 4

The sun poked between drawn curtains, a light haze in the room clearly 
showing it's path to the bed.  Somehow, it came in just right and hit 
Jonas square in the face, no matter where he tried to hide while sleeping.  
He grumbled incoherently, scratched his head and sat up.  His left arm was 
a bit numb, and the pattern of the sheets ran up it in a zigzag from wrist 
to shoulder.  The lack of feeling made his search for his glasses on the 
table beside him almost comical, as they slipped from between his stiff 
fingers and darted around the table with each try to pick them up.  
Finally, snagging them firmly, he slipped them on.  The tiny, bare room 
came into focus.  The walls were a dull white, slightly stained at the top 
by nicotine.  The ceiling fan hummed away above him, almost unnoticed.  It 
had developed a bothersome squeak a few nights ago.

Jonas swung his legs around and hopped down out of the bed.  One of these 
days, he'd find a frame that was right for his vertically challanged 
stature.  As he walked towards the bathroom, cobwebs still lingering in 
his head, he grabbed a Camel, found the hole in his beard that most 
resembled his mouth and lighting it, began his morning routine.

He stumbled over the cat on his way down the hall to the kitchen and let 
out a sting of names at it, none of them it's own.  The coffee pot was 
full and steaming, just the kick he'd need to get started and get the last 
of the ache from last night's binge out of his head.  He'd sworn to 
himself the last time that he'd never do it again. But, didn't he always?

Jonas poured his coffee; cream and extra sugar for the quick boost.  He 
headed back upstairs from the kitchen and into the office, taking study of 
the oak desk that rapped around 3 of the 4 walls, or what was visible of 
it under the piles of paperwork and the assortment of baubles he hadn't 
had a chance to categorize and drop into the safe yet.  Something seemed 
different from when he had left the desk the previous evening. He began 
looking around the room for other signs of change.  He was certain there 
had been a set of three rings lying near his laptop where there were now 
only two.  Some of the papers near the sleeping Thinkpad were scattered a 
bit more than usual, and he suspected Calliope's handiwork.  He took one 
more sip of coffee before setting it at the edge of the desk and getting 
down on all four to begin his search. 

Hopefully his latest acquisitions hadn't wound up under the refrigerator 
again, or worse yet, caught in the filter of the furnace.  The damned cat 
was always poking around in here when he forgot to close the door, and it 
had almost cost him several clients in the past.  His beard, in serious 
need of a trim - something only he would realize as it hung well past his 
chest - dragged the floor as he searched, and every few feet he'd dust run 
his fingers through the end to clear out any foreign debris that may have 
decided to collect.  Nothing under this side of the desk, Jonas made his 
way towards the outer edges of the room and the doorway.

"Please don't let it be in the furnace, please, please, please.  I'll kill 
the thing if it is."

His pleading was answered by an innocent, "Mew", as he reached the 
doorway, and looked up.  Face to face with Calliope, her yellow eyes 
looking at him from a tiny black face, he glared sternly at her.   She 
poked her damp nose to his and he let out a small sigh.

"Get out of here, can't you see I'm mad at you?"

She didn't seem to care and dipped her head, rubbing it under his chin and 
against the beard, while purring softly.

"Callie! Get!"

And off she went, darting back towards the bedroom at full throttle.  As 
he turned his head to see her sprint away, he caught a small shimmer from 
the edge of the corner between the door and the frame.  The ring!  It had 
to be, or he'd risk losing the biggest client he'd had in years, and one 
of the few he knew he could count on for more work in the future.  

Jonas stood up, closed the door and brushed off his knees.  The little 
glimmer caught behind the door was indeed the ring, and he bent over to 
pick it up.  A dizzy wave washed over him as his fingers wrapped around 
it, something he hadn't gotten used to when handling this particular 
clients wares.  As he stabled himself against the wall and stood back up, 
Calliope scratched at mewed at the closed door.  She'd just have to deal 
with being stuck in the rest of the condo for now, Jonas needed to start 
working.

He sunk into the straight-backed leather seat, the headrest a foot or so 
too high for his head and turned to face his desk. He looped the chain for 
his eyepiece around his ear and tapped the touch pad of his laptop to 
activate it. With his free hand he set the ring on a stack of papers and 
moved the matching rings from the other side of the desk next to it.
Jonas lifted the ring he'd found on the floor close to his face, pushed 
his glasses up on top of his head, and pulled the magnifying eyepiece up 
to study it. As examined the curve of the ring, making extra sure that the 
cat hadn't done any damage that had gone unnoticed at first examination, 
his attention was drawn to the inside of the band.

Extremely fine craftsmanship had been used to carve the inscription that 
circled the inside of the plain gold band. To most, it would have looked 
like a Celtic weave of some sort, purely for aesthetics. He was one of the 
few people that still recognized it for what it was. Most of his people 
had long given up on the old histories, and the few that hadn't given up 
hadn't found it worth their time to mix with the other ancient races, or 
any race for that matter in the new world. 


Jonas raised his head just enough to see his the screen of his laptop on 
the desk and clicked to open the appraisal and history for the ring he was 
turning round in his fingers.  Doing so also turned on the audio recorder 
so that he could dictate his findings. Out of habit, he then reached out 
for a drink of his coffee, finding the mug with little effort and sipping 
the lukewarm hazelnut he'd had brewing that morning with a bit less 
pleasure than he'd shown when it was still piping hot. Setting the mug 
back down, Jonas began translating the inscription. He read slowly, 
syllable by syllable in the original language first, or as close to the 
original language as anyone that wasn't an elf could get. He knew he'd 
have to go back and edit the incorrectly dictated portionslater, but this 
was far easier than trying to type it one handed. He then repeated the 
translation, in English so that he'd have an easier reference when editing 
later.

The inscription read: [coming soon]

Jonas, satisfied that he'd read the entire inscription, and had reexamined 
it thoroughly, searched for the carved oak box he'd gotten the rings in 
and seated it inside. He let the eyepiece drop and rubbed blinked his eyes 
a few times, then closed them, brought his fingers up to his temples and 
rubbed away the strain.  As he relaxed a bit, his eyes starting to feel 
normal again, he turned over the inscription in his head.  It was 
obviously a small piece of something much larger, and he hoped the other 
rings might complete the picture for him.