by Ben Cassidy
The purple-caped diplomat beamed. “Steam. Ingeniously simple, isn’t it? Just a little bit of steam piped to each globe keeps them lit all night long. That old inventor, oh, what was his name…?”
“Talor Zachari.” Kendril glanced off to the side of the trail, the rifle he always carried when out in the open in his hands.
“Uh, yes, that’s it,” said Maklavir, briefly taken aback by the Ghostwalker’s reply. “Mad Zachari, they used to call him. Anyway, he developed the whole underground piping system that Vorten still uses today. With glow-globes placed on every street corner and even in some of the private residences, the town literally glows at night.” The diplomat swiped some snow off his trouser leg. “There are several large underground furnaces that supply the steam.”
Kara pulled the hood a little closer over her head. “Sounds really incredible.”
“That’s not the end of it. The piping and the furnaces also provide some nice side benefits.” He gave an impish grin. “Like hot and cold running water.”
Kara eyes widened, and her mouth dropped open.
From the rear of the procession, Kendril scowled under his raised hood. “It’s mostly just the nobles who can afford luxuries like that.”
“There’s also the bathhouse,” said Maklavir, nonplussed at Kendril’s comment. “That’s open to everyone. The central bath there can easily hold a couple hundred people.”
“What’s that?” Kara asked suddenly, peering ahead through the falling snow. A large building stood a little ways ahead by the side of the road, smoke fluming out of its chimney.
“Looks like an inn.” Joseph glanced up at the sky. “It’ll be dark soon. Might as well stop here for the night.”
“Great Eru, you mean we’re not sleeping out in the snow?” said Maklavir with a dry smile. “How terribly disappointing.”
Early the next morning all four travelers were on the road again, a hot breakfast in their stomachs and a good rest under their belts. The snowfall had dropped down to a few scattered flakes, though the wind was still stiff and cold. The trees to either side of the road were thick and menacing, smothered white with snow and dangling with icicles.
It was mid-afternoon when Joseph halted them. Curious, Kendril left Simon for a moment, trudging through the snow towards the front of the column.
The beast instantly started snuffling around in the snow, looking in vain for a blade of grass.
“What is it?” the Ghostwalker queried as he moved up.
Joseph gestured with his hand to a large wooden post to one side of the road. A carved wooden eagle sat atop it, painted black.
“Just thought you might like to know,” he said, “once we’re past this we’re officially in Valmingaard.”
Kara rubbed her red cheeks with her gloved hands, looking around them. “That’s it? I was expecting some guards, or something.”
Joseph shook his head. “The border here is pretty relaxed. Besides, it’s in the middle of nowhere. It would cost more to defend it then it’s worth.”
“Merewith doesn’t have the organization or the manpower to invade Valmingaard anyway,” Kendril noted. “Especially not in the dead of winter. Alright, enough sightseeing. Let’s get going.”
He turned back, but stopped as soon as he saw Maklavir.
The diplomat was staring at the post with a strange expression on his face.
“You all right?” Kendril asked.
Maklavir closed his eyes, shaking off whatever had possessed him. He gave a low chuckle. “Oh yes, yes, quite fine. Just—” He hesitated. “It’s been a while since I’ve been back, is all.”
Kara turned in her saddle and gave the diplomat a sympathetic look. “Are you sure you’re all right, Maklavir?”
“Yes, quite sure.” The diplomat gave his horse a kick forward. “Now let’s get moving. I can’t wait to show all of you Vorten. I remember one time, when I was younger, when…”
His voice trailed off as he rode ahead.
Kendril gave Kara a shrug, then grabbed Simon’s bridle and pulled the reluctant beast back onto the road.
“You’re certain the mercenaries you hired are dead?”
Galla took another sip of his wine, then set the glass carefully down on the tabletop. He looked at the woman across from him, but her face was shrouded in shadow beneath the large hood that she wore.
“Yes.” He paused for a moment, remembering the gaping hole in the temple floor. “There’s no way they could have gotten out of that temple alive.”
The woman didn’t move. Her hands resting lightly on the table before her. “I hope for your sake that you are correct.”
Galla swallowed. He reached for the wine glass again, trying to keep his hand from trembling. He glanced behind him out of habit, but the area of the inn they were in was empty except for them. The nearest people were sitting several tables away, laughing and jeering together.
“All I’m interested in is the money,” he said quickly. “I don’t care what you want the…artifact for.”
Galla sensed more than saw the woman smile under her hood.
“It will take time for me to get the money,” she said, her voice low and even. “How about tomorrow night?”
Galla nodded. He finished off the last of the wine. “Tomorrow’s fine.”
“Where shall we meet?”
The Baderan gave another paranoid glance over his shoulder. “Here, in the inn. Come alone.”
The woman smiled. “Of course.” She stood, drawing her dark cape around herself. “Until then.”
Without another word she turned, walking up the steps to the central portion of the inn, then towards the door.
Outside the wind was blowing hard and cold, sending tiny flurries of snow whispering across the ground.
She turned down the street, passing through a large circle of light on the corner cast by a glowing sphere set atop a large iron pole. She passed down the next street, the light of the glow-globe fading behind her. It was late, and there was no one was to be seen in either direction.
As she passed the mouth of a small alleyway another figure shrouded in shadow stepped out of the darkness, and stood silently for a moment beside her.
“The Baderan has it,” the woman said, her voice barely above a whisper. “You know what to do.”
The second figure bowed its head, then disappeared back into the dark alley.
Chapter 9
Kara woke to a hand gently shaking her shoulder. She groaned and opened one of her eyes. “My turn already?” she asked.
Joseph withdrew his hand. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I wasn’t sure if I should wake you or not.”
The thief looked up at the man. “Why wouldn’t you wake me?”
“Well…I don’t know, I just—you were so sound asleep, I didn’t—”
Kara couldn’t help but smile. “What were you going to do, Joseph, take my watch too?” She threw off the bedroll, feeling a stab of cold from the chilly air. The campfire was burning brightly a few feet away, and in the flickering light she could just make out the sleeping forms of Kendril and Maklavir. “What time is it?”
“A little after two in the morning, I think. I--” Joseph looked away for a moment, suddenly awkward.
Kara yawned, stretching her arms over her head. “Something wrong?”
“No,” Joseph responded, “I just—” he fumbled in his greatcoat pocket for a moment, then pulled something out and offered it to her. “Here.”
Kara reached down and took the object. It was a small, carved bird. She held it up in the firelight, admiring the craftsmanship. “It’s beautiful,” she said. “You carved this?”
The scout nodded. “Just finished.” He paused uncertainly for a moment. “It’s yours, if you want it.”
Kara glanced up in surprise. “You don’t want to keep it?”
Joseph fumbled with his hands for a moment. “No, I…made it for you, actually.”
The young woman stared at him for a long moment, then gave
him a sweet smile. “Thank you Joseph.” She looked down at the bird again. “I didn’t know you could carve like this.”
The scout shuffled his feet. “Just when the mood strikes me.” He looked over at the campfire, then back at Kara. “Well, I suppose I should get some sleep. It’s going to be a long day’s march tomorrow.”
Kara gave a simple nod, her eyes still on Joseph’s face. “Alright. I’ll wake Kendril when my watch is over.”
For a moment Joseph looked as if he would say something else, but didn’t. He turned, moving over towards his bedroll. “Goodnight, Kara.”
“Goodnight.” The young woman sat by the fire a few minutes longer, examining the little bird in her hands.
With a soft smile, she tucked it into her trouser pocket.
The sun was low in the sky when the four weary travelers finally caught their first sight of Vorten.
The city appeared suddenly as they turned a bend in the road, lying below them on a plain stretching to the north. A thick gray wall looped around the city’s perimeter, made of heavy, impenetrable stone. Many scattered buildings and houses clustered just outside the wall, slowly expanding the city outside of its line of fortification. Dark smudges of smoke from hundreds of chimneys rose into the clear winter air, and from one large building came the steady white puff of steam. From the Snowy Mountains, just visible far to the southwest, the Inersa River meandered down and cut through the heart of Vorten itself before lazily wandering away to the north and east. From where they stood the four travelers could see crusty borders of ice clinging to both banks of the river for its entire length. On one section of the ice just outside the city walls a large group of children were running back and forth near the river’s edge, shouting and yelling as they played.
The dying sun lit the city in a rosy light, several of the slanted roofs stained red by its light. The central cathedral stood in the center of the city, its golden minarets shining brightly in the receding light. Just visible over the city walls from where they stood were the bright flares of dozens of white glow-globes, with more flickering on every moment as evening steadily approached. They were spaced evenly throughout the spread of buildings and narrow streets of the city, like brilliant stars.
Maklavir tipped back his cap. “Now that’s quite a view.”
Kara nodded. “I’ll say.”
Joseph sat back in his saddle a moment, unfolding his red handkerchief and wiping his forehead. “We made it. I was hoping we wouldn’t have to travel far after dark.”
“There’s the Great Library,” said Maklavir, pointing to an impressive stone building towards the western end of the city. “And the Bathhouse, over there to the right.”
“First of all,” said Joseph as he replaced his bandana, “we need to get rooms for the night.”
“And find Galla,” Kendril added coldly.
They made it to the southern gate a little after nightfall. Here the city wall was even more impressive than it had seemed from a distance, towering into the night sky in front of them as they approached.
A large wagon pulled by two miserable horses clattered into the city ahead of them, the driver singing an old Arbelan drinking song as he disappeared inside. Two guards wearing heavy steel cuirasses and wielding halberds approached the four travelers, hailing them. Two more stood on either side of the gateway, and even more stood on the top of the wall, their outlines silhouetted against the starry sky.
Joseph nodded as the two guards approached, his breath puffing into clouds of white before him. “Cold night, eh?”
The first of the two men nodded noncommittally. He eyed the rag-tag group of adventurers suspiciously. “Aye, that it is. And what be your business in Vorten?”
“Travelers,” Joseph quickly responded. “On our way to Varnost. We’re looking to stay here a few days here before continuing on.”
The guard stepped back, the starlight glinting off his metal breastplate. He looked again at the group, his eyes falling on Kendril. “Varnost, you say? And what is your business there?”
“Our business is confidential.” Maklavir brought his horse up beside Joseph, a new tone of authority in his voice. He flipped a letter out of his saddlebag, handing it down with an air of indifference to the gate guard. “I believe this will explain everything.”
The guard gave Maklavir a hard look, but took the letter. He motioned over one of the guards who held up a lantern.
Joseph turned slightly in his saddle, staring at the diplomat beside him.
Maklavir ignored him, looking instead at the gateway before him with an air of indifference.
From behind Kara shifted uneasily on top of her pony as the gate guard unfolded the letter, glancing at its contents as the other guard held the lantern up.
From the rear of the procession Kendril stood silently, keeping one hand on the stock of his rifle that was now carefully packed away on Simon’s back.
The guard looked over the letter for what seemed a long time, then finally handed it back, straightening a little. “My apologies, ambassador. Please forgive the delay.”
Maklavir tucked the letter back away in his saddlebag. “Not at all, my good man. Just doing your job, and all that.”
The man cast one last glance over the other three travelers, who were all staring at Maklavir in amazement. “And these others, sir…?”
“My companions,” Maklavir replied stiffly. “Or did you expect me to wander these bandit-infested woods alone?”
The man took a deep breath. “No sir, of course not.” He gave the group one last hard look, especially Kendril, then gave a resigned wave of his hand. “Please enjoy your stay here, ambassador.”
“I will,” responded Maklavir cheerfully. He gave his horse a kick, and they were soon trotting through the gate into the city.
His friends quickly followed, glancing behind them as they went. The guards settled back into position, giving them no further notice.
“That was a nice trick,” said Kara in a low voice as they passed into the central street.
Maklavir gave a quick smile. “Ambassadors and diplomats are often allowed certain…privileges…that others are not.”
“Even when they’ve been thrown out of the royal court?” Kendril asked, his voice thick with sarcasm.
Maklavir shrugged good-naturedly. “As long as they keep their official papers with them, and no one examines them too carefully,” he explained with a grin.
As they passed through the arch of the southern gate, the street before them blossomed out, forming a wide thoroughfare that wound its way into the heart of the city.
The travelers glanced at the narrow homes and shops on both sides of them as they trundled along. The snow here had been shoveled off to both sides of the road, leaving a slushy, muddy mess in the middle.
Maklavir glanced distastefully at the morass, making sure his purple cape was well out of splatter range.
Kara stopped her pony abruptly. She pointed up ahead. “Look.”
A glowing sphere stood off to the side of the rood, set upon an intricately carved iron pole. The white light that emanated from it filled the street ahead of them with a ghostly glow, lighting the merchants and travelers that filled the road. Wisps of steam curled up from the end of the pole, caressing the globe briefly before vanishing into the cold air.
“Glow-globes,” said Maklavir with great satisfaction. “Look, they go all down the street.”
The travelers all craned their necks, staring down the wide avenue before them. Shining spheres sparkled down the entire path, reflecting off the piles of snow and sparkling off myriads of icicles that jutted off the edges of the townhomes crammed next to each other.
“The bathhouse is up there,” Maklavir said, pointing up the street. A column of steam was just visible, rising from an imposing marble edifice that dwarfed the buildings around it. “The Library is off to the left there. You can’t see it from here. The Merchant Quarter and Central Plaza are just up ahead.”
“What a
bout the Ice Gardens?” Kara asked, her voice containing a growing edge of excitement. “Where are they?”
“Past the Cathedral,” said Maklavir, gesturing once more down the main street. “We must definitely see them, if it all possible. Especially at night. The sculptures are absolutely gorgeous by glow-globe light.”
“Perhaps we could see them together,” Joseph said to Kara in a low voice. “I mean, just so you don’t have to—”
Kara turned her head slightly and smiled sweetly beneath her raised hood.
“Let’s not forget why we’re here,” said Kendril abruptly. “This isn’t a sightseeing trip.”
“Maybe not for you,” said Maklavir under his breath.
The street ahead of them began to fill even more as they traveled farther. From the sides of the road merchants and traders of all kinds shouted out to the passer-bys, displaying their wares under colorful awnings. The smell of roasted nuts, fried pastries, and cooked sausage greeted them as they rode between the middle of the merchant tents.
To one side a small crowd gathered around a man who had a performing bear on a leash. Kara leaned over, anxious to catch a glimpse. On the other side, a lively tune came from a small street band. In between everything children of various ages ran to and fro, laughing and shouting as they went.
“Everyone watch your money-purse,” Kendril said with a suspicious glance at the youngsters.
“Oh, try to lighten up, Kendril,” said Maklavir, his face beaming as he rode. “I’ve always said Vorten is best experienced after nightfall. The glow-globes make the city come alive.”
Kendril grunted, but gave no response. His eyes rested on a tavern along the side of the street. Music and laughter spilled out from within, the light shining out of the windows onto the piles of snow under the window.
“That’s the third one we’ve passed,” he said. “Galla could be staying in any one of them.”
“There must be dozens of good inns throughout Vorten,” said Maklavir, raising his cap at a particularly attractive woman manning one of the merchant booths. “I imagine you’ll be hard-pressed to find the right one.”
