‘We saw the Luxers coming down the trail,’ the magus explained cautiously. ‘We hid from them in the trees. We would have stopped them—’
‘Don’t worry,’ said another. ‘You were lucky you didn’t witness this latest attack.’
‘We saw the town burn a while ago,’ Gabel said, talking to the leader. ‘How many times have they attacked this place?’
‘Many, many times. Nowadays they come once a week, or ten days if we’re lucky. They don’t care if they kill the women or children,’ the leader replied, and now he too had tears in his eyes. He said to the magus and Sarai: ‘You must know our grief. How many times have your loved ones been cut down?’
‘I’m lucky to have avoided the hot ends of their torches thus far,’ Sarai said. ‘But I’ve lost a son and am searching for him.’
‘We may be able to help you,’ the leader of the five said. ‘Please. I am the Mayor’s son, Saykaan. I have the authority to grant you stay for two nights in what is left of Iilyani.’
‘Thank you,’ said Gabel, ‘and we’d be more than happy to help you with your duties here.’
‘The fires are all out for now, so you needn’t bother yourself. Rest if you can and move on, as I might not be able to keep you safe here for long. Few here are trusting of outsiders anymore.’
He led them through the rest of the clearing, which was made of clay that was pressed so hard that it looked almost polished. There were a few footprints, and some patches of wet where presumably some water being ferried from the river had been spilt. Other than that there was nothing but a thick trench carved by horses, coming from the trees to the town.
‘This is the track left by the Luxers?’ the magus asked.
‘Yes. You can see how many there were. We were lucky to have saved so many of the buildings here.’
‘Do you fight?’ Rowan asked, as they neared the first of the buildings.
‘Yes, some of us fight. But our weapons are primitive and few, and they are many and burdened with armaments. There is no-one nearby to protect us. Some fear our town is lost. We can’t survive long against fire and arrows.
‘These are the storehouses,’ Saykaan continued after a pause. ‘They are the first to be burned, but we place the most protection on this side. The eastern side of Iilyani, where the stables are, has suffered the most this time around. We have no more horses, bar one.’ He looked mournfully at the steeds the party were leading by the reins.
Past the large barn-like buildings were some smaller, more habitable dwellings, each a storey high. Past a bakery were the smouldering remains of two larger structures.
‘This was our inn,’ Saykaan said. ‘And this here is the mayor’s house, where my mother used to live.’
‘She died?’ Gabel asked.
‘No, she runs things now from the town hall just down this street.’
‘Where will we sleep?’ Rowan quietly asked Gabel. She hadn’t wished to be overheard, but Saykaan turned and faced her.
‘We have a new inn, but I am afraid it’s only makeshift. It’s also full with the families who have lost their homes. You’re welcome to try and see if there’s room, but I suspect that there may be none. Now I must go and speak with my mother. Will you be all right by yourselves?’
‘Yes, we can manage,’ the magus said. ‘Will you tell your mother that we’ve arrived?’
‘Yes, of course. All visitors must be logged. She may summon you in the morning. I advise you to do as she asks.’
‘Of course,’ Gabel said. ‘Can you direct us to the new inn?’
‘Down this street,’ Saykaan said, and he and the four others turned a corner and disappeared down an empty road, past the ruins of four more buildings.
‘The Luxers are selective in their destruction,’ Sarai said, noticing the rows of untouched houses and then the smoking remains of one less lucky.
‘They try and weaken their enemies before killing them,’ the magus said darkly. ‘It makes the final assault easier.’
They came to what looked like a large barn with a wide door, over which was nailed a hastily painted sign in large black letters: THE WATER WADER.
There was a racket coming from inside. The party pushed open the doors and found themselves in the middle of a dispute. The entire inn was crammed full of people, the majority of whom were huddled at the back of the place.
A young man, well-built and tall, stood just in front of where Gabel did, his face adamant, and his arms around two girls each a foot shorter than he. He was dressed head to foot in silk, colourfully reflective in the electric light: a gleaming white shirt, like a slice of porcelain, and sea-blue pantaloons bunched at the ankles. His earrings were shaped like naked figurines.
‘This is no place for your whores, Turenn!’ the barkeep was yelling, furiously waving a filthy dishrag. ‘There are families staying here now!’
‘We’re family girls!’ one of Turenn’s women called, blowing a kiss. ‘We’ll have fathers and their sons!’
The other girls laughed at this, and Turenn, standing between them, shushed angrily. They silenced immediately. ‘Mardok, these girls have a right to drink here,’ he said firmly.
‘Drink, yes, but not work. Take your wenches and be gone!’ The barkeep slammed his palms on the makeshift bar surface. ‘No more of this!’
Turenn gave a look of indignation and turned his nose to the ceiling. ‘Come on then, girls. I’m sure if there are any men interested in here, they’ll follow us outside.’
A few of the men at the far side of the inn shifted uncomfortably in their seats, but none stood. Turenn and the small group of young women trailed past Gabel and the others and out through the swinging doors.
‘That Turenn!’ one of the women at the back yelled, calling as the doors snapped to. ‘He’s turned the girls of this town into toys. If the world was a fair place…’
‘If the world was a fair place, Denise,’ the barkeep cried, ‘Turenn would have died in those fires instead of his father. Now come on, the little ones should be getting ready for bed. Those sleeping down here should prepare their sheets. And no squabbling tonight!’
There were general murmurs amongst the crowd of forty or so people, and they moved slowly and tiredly, taking youngsters upstairs or stacking the tables in the corners of the room.
The magus and Sarai moved toward the bar. The keep saw them approaching and stopped them in their tracks. ‘No! No room.’ The magus only managed to open his mouth before the keep spoke up again:
‘There is no more room in this building! No room! I’m sorry, but there’ve been fires recently and the survivors have to stay somewhere. They must take priority.’
‘Are there any other places to stay?’
‘The stables were burned down,’ the man said, moving from behind the dusty bar and helping to heave the heavy wooden tables toward the edges of the room, so that the men and women could arrange their bedding on the floor. ‘And the real inn is gone. There’s nowhere agreeable left.’
‘It needn’t be agreeable,’ the magus replied.
‘Then you can go and see the man that just walked out. His name’s Turenn, he owns a place three streets down that way. Ask him and I’m sure he’ll offer you a room in return for something.’
‘Thank you,’ the magus said, and breezed past the rest of the party and out the doors.
‘You know this Turenn probably owns a bordello,’ Caeles said quietly to Gabel as they followed. ‘He looked like a pimp.’
‘I have remarkable eyes, Caeles,’ the hunter rejoined. ‘I can see for myself.’
Outside, the magus had stopped Turenn and was quietly conversing with him. Every now and again the man looked up and shot a glance at Rowan, who was busy examining the bright dresses of the young women, admiring the fine reflective materials.
‘Yes, I own an establishment just down here,’ he was telling the old man. ‘I do very well for myself. I can offer you a room or two to stay in the next couple of nights.’
‘Thank you,’ said the magus. ‘We can pay you for your kindness.’
‘That will be required, I’m afraid,’ Turenn said almost apologetically. ‘My girls can’t live off my generosity alone.’
~
The temperature so close to the Plains was stifling, and there was also the heat from the embers, which still twinkled with red light as the remains of the burnt buildings were rekindled by the hot air. Soon all the group except Caeles were sweating profusely, including Turenn, who told them that no-one, even natives of Iilyani, really got used to the local climate.
‘We’re here,’ he said, stopping in the empty street outside the door of a large two-storey building. It stood out amongst the other smaller dwellings. ‘You see that being my father’s son has its advantages.’
‘Who’s your father?’
‘He was the mayor,’ he said.
He knocked on the door in such a way as to suggest some kind of password, and there was the click-snap of a bolt drawn from a bracket. The door opened and two young-looking girls gave warm smiles as Turenn’s dark face grinned at them through the night.
‘Hi boss!’ they chimed, and embraced him in the doorway. He kissed them both in turn and made way for his guests to enter.
Colour and colour: the walls were lavishly decorated in drapery and large portraits, and the floor was carpeted in thick rouge. A fireplace was being tended by another teenager with long wet hair and a bathrobe.
‘Come this way, please,’ Turenn asked the magus, after greeting the girl in the robe. He took them all through the room and into a back corridor. ‘I’ll see if there’s a spare room for you. All my lasses stay here with me, you see, and they all have their own apartments…’
As they walked down the corridor he knocked on each of the doors in turn, sometimes getting a response and sometimes not. When he got no reply, he carefully twisted the doorknobs to see if the door was locked. They were at a corner in the corridor before they found a room that was unoccupied.
‘Here,’ he said, letting them all through. The room was quite small, though strangely had two double-sized beds. Rowan couldn’t fathom why. ‘You’ll have to sleep together or on the floor, I’m afraid,’ he said with an apologetic smile. He made to close the door. ‘I’ve some work to do, and I like to see all of the girls when I get in at night. I imagine you’ll all be tired after your journey.’
‘Is there anywhere in town we can eat?’ asked Gabel.
‘I’ll prepare us all a meal in an hour,’ Turenn said graciously. ‘Would you care to introduce yourselves?’
‘This is Joseph,’ the magus said before anyone could stop him. ‘This is Sarai, and Caeles.’
‘Actually,’ Turenn said, ‘I was more interested in this one.’ He stood very close to Rowan. ‘What’s your name? Venus? Or Aphrodite?’
Gabel watched as Rowan lowered her eyes. He made to move forward, but stopped when he saw she had a smile on her face.
‘Her name is Rowan,’ he growled. ‘And you’ll leave her alone.’
Turenn reversed out of the door. ‘No worries,’ he said with a smile. ‘I’ll call you at meal time.’
‘Joseph,’ Rowan said quietly, once the door had closed.
‘Before this goes any further,’ the hunter said, his hands grasping her elbows, ‘you don’t listen to Turenn. He preys on people like you. He’s like a rusalki, feeding off young women. He’ll corrupt you, Rowan.’
‘I’m already corrupted!’ she snapped back, anger darkening her face. She dropped to one of the beds. ‘Or at least, damaged. Do you forget I don’t know who I am? That I’ve no memories before the past two and a half years?’
Gabel could think of nothing to say as Rowan turned away from them on the bed, ballooning a sheet up over herself.
‘I’m going to talk to Turenn,’ he muttered.
‘No,’ the magus replied. ‘We could all do with some rest. Let’s just wait until it’s time to eat. We can all talk then.’
~
Turenn knocked on the door seventy minutes later, before ushering them into a large dining room as copiously decorated as the first: a polished table; another fireplace, ornately mantled; cushioned benches along the walls and gold-bordered portraits above them; candle chandeliers and heavy, sweeping bows of satin.
Turenn gave each of the party a seat along one edge of the table. On the other side Turenn sat in the centre, six girls setting themselves down on either wing. Two others sat on both sides of the party, one next to Caeles and the other next to Gabel, who couldn’t help noticing that Turenn had seated Rowan directly opposite him.
‘These are all my girls,’ he said, once the table had been lavishly laid and everyone seated. He went through a list of flowery names that Gabel instantly forgot. ‘Are we all ready to eat?’
There were delighted laughs and claps from each of the eight young women, who began serving themselves birdy portions.
‘Help yourself,’ Turenn said generously, beaming at Rowan. ‘My food is the food of my guests.’
The party began cautiously filling their plates with the meats, vegetables and cheeses. The room tinkled with the girls’ chatter, punctuated occasionally by the odd quip from Turenn, every one of which seemed to please the girls greatly.
Caeles sat with an empty plate, doing his best not to look at the young lass beside him who traced the star on the back of his hand with a long finger, staring at him with doe-brown eyes. He was observing Turenn, watching as he laughed and flirted with his flock of youngsters.
His gaze settled on Rowan, who leaned forward to take a roll of bread from a basket in the centre of the table. Turenn rose from his chair and offered the basket to her with a smile, which she returned with a thank you.
Caeles had expected the other girls to respond with hostility to Turenn’s flirtation with Rowan, yet they laughed and talked much more with her than any of the others.
‘I don’t think Father would approve,’ Gabel was muttering quietly to the magus.
‘Perhaps not,’ the old man replied. ‘But let Turenn have his fun. As long as he stays that side of the table.’
‘He’d better,’ Gabel hissed, ‘or that soup will be the only thing he’ll be able to eat.’
When the meal ended the girls fell over themselves to clear away the plates, each eager to please their master and lover, who graciously scattered words of praise and approval as if they were confetti. One girl seemed to have charmed herself special dispensation from clearing that evening, and sat on his lap, engaging her lips with his.
Every now and again, Turenn’s eyes flickered across to Rowan. Rowan was looking back.
~
In the late hours of the following morning, arguing could be heard from the main door. Gabel stood, intending to move closer and listen, but as he did so the door opened and in walked Saykaan, closely followed by Turenn. He turned and bowed to the magus, and told him that it was time he and his party saw the Mayor.
‘I’ve been sent to escort you,’ he said. They left with him as their guide. As Gabel closed the door behind him, he saw Saykaan cast a dark parting look at his brother.
‘What should I say?’ Rowan asked him quietly.
‘You won’t need to say anything,’ Saykaan told her. ‘But if you’re spoken to, it would be appropriate to respond.’
Saykaan had taken point, flanked by two men Gabel recognised from the day before. Saykaan wore tall boots and bangles around his wrists and upper arms, which were bare. His muscles bulged with the life-long routine of manual labour about the town. He explained how he had declined his mother’s offer of secondary-Mayorship, which would lead to him later becoming Mayor himself, and instead had taken up governance of the groups devoted to repairing damage and defending Iilyani against the attacks of the Luxers.
The town was in ruins. Only half of the buildings remained, and though all the fires had now been quenched by water from the river, people were still having to shift the blackened beams and scorched bricks from the remnants
of the decimated homes. They came across ruins littered with what at first looked like burnt bodies. Upon closer inspection they turned out to be charcoaled mannequins, left to smoke in the rubble.
‘The town hall is just here,’ Saykaan said, as they pushed through a street crowded by men clearing the town’s remains. ‘My mother took over as Mayer when my father died, as Turenn and I were only youngsters. She’s had a lot of time to learn how to maintain respect here. Please be wary when you speak with her.’
Small monkey-like creatures scampered between the legs of the workers, or crouched on the few ruinous walls that still stood. Their bald faces watched the workers and the visitors, tiny luminescent green eyes blinking from shadows cast by the buildings. A large specimen meandered aimlessly across their path, and Saykaan and his two men walked by it without notice. It looked up at the visitors as they walked around. They watched as it picked dirt from its fluffy bulbous tail and scratched its ears with a dexterous paw.
As Caeles passed, the creature scampered up his leg and dug its little fingers around his belt, hanging by its toes and looking up at the man. Caeles grabbed it by the scruff of its neck, held it close to his face as it allowed itself to be carefully examined – blankly gazing around at its surroundings – and set it down on a low wall. It twitched its ears and vanished into the rubble.
‘Curious creatures,’ Sarai said.
‘They’re called shili,’ one of Saykaan’s men said. ‘Entirely friendly. They eat the mineral leaves that grow in the forests around here. It’s why their eyes glow.’
‘Dirty tree rats,’ Caeles said, scattering a small crowd of them.
The town hall was a large building with peculiar architecture, made of heavy beams of wood. The windows were pointed at the bottom, like curious arrows of bleached stained glass. The roof had a clever drainage system to carry away water via ornately carved aqueducts, and they spidered out from niches along the top of the building, directing sparkling fountains all around the outside.
On either side of the angular archway stood two massive angels, wings folded over themselves like feathery shrouds. These too were carved of wood, but were as delicately fashioned as the ugly gargoyles that protected the building from around its guttering. Each of the angels beckoned inward.
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