by Randy Nargi
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LHAWSTER’S PUBLIC WAYSTATION WAS LOCATED A TEN MINUTE WALK BEYOND THE WEST GATE, WHICH WAS THE CLOSEST CITY GATE TO THE CARAVAN COURT. It was north of Fisher Town, the dilapidated shanty village populated by those who eked out their livelihoods on the shore of the Slith River. Unfortunately, the waystation was not immune to the stench which blew in from the river.
Bander adjusted his couvir which did little to prevent the smell from reaching his nostrils, but did serve to hide his face from the guards and scribes who recorded Bander and Silbra Dal’s names and destinations as they entered the large circular building and paid the exorbitant fee to travel by public portal. Bander was dressed in one of Harnotis Kodd’s unwanted cloaks, a garish patchwork design favored by the upper class of Lhawster. Beneath his cloak, Bander was armed with a heavy sap—purchased an hour ago at a weapon shop on Dock Street on the edge of town. A few steps behind him, Silbra Dal, dressed in the drab borrowed skirt, shawl, and cloak of Harnotis Kodd’s serving woman, kept her eyes down and shuffled along, playing the part of a servant expertly.
The interior of the waystation was cool and relatively uncrowded, with a few dozen merchants, scholars, and even a few diplomats milling about waiting for the next portal to open. The octagonal structure was made of cut stone blocks rising up to a tall tiled ceiling. Pairs of polished stone columns were arranged in each alcove of the building. It was between these pillars that the red-robed portal mages would open their gateways to the various waystations in other cities.
Bander made a show of easing his body onto a stone bench near the portal to Laketon. Silbra Dal stood nearby, attentive. The guards did not pay them any mind, although that wasn’t entirely surprising. Portal guards were much more focused on those desiring entry to a city not departing it.
A clerk announced that the Laketon portal would be opening in a few minutes and a handful of travelers began to make their way to the pillars inscribed with the name of their destination. Bander did not particularly like to travel by portal. There were some scholars who believed that the body reacted adversely to the minute, but unnatural strain of teleportation and that every journey might shorten a man’s lifespan by a measure. But there was no denying that a few moments of disorientation were generally preferable to weeks of travel by horse. Still, most citizens of the empire could not afford nearly a year’s worth of wages for a single journey, so portal travel remained an expensive luxury.
As the portal mages gathered at the Laketon pillars and began their incantations, Bander wondered if his friend Bryn Eresthar, the Lord Governor of Laketon was back Laketon. Two days ago at Abuth Asryn’s reception in Waterside, the word was that Bryn was in the South—in the Imperial capital of Rundlun—conferring with the Viceroy. Who knew where he might be today? The reason Bander agreed to accompany Silbra Dal to Laketon was that he believed that Bryn would be able to offer assistance in freeing Vala. Soon he was about to find out if this were a good assumption.
“Laketon Portal! Opening now!” called the clerk.
Bander stood up from the bench and stretched. Before they left, Harnotis Kodd’s healer had repaired much of the damage of the past two days so Bander was feeling as good as he had in a while. When it was their turn, Bander and Silbra Dal stepped through the shimmering portal into another waystation 818 miles away.
