The Brazen City

by Torsten Weitze

  I’m not surprised with your bad breath, teased Ahren. He pushed past Trogadon and opened the door. ‘Culhen is frightening the natives. I’d better go to him’, he said and left the tiny room.

  The air in the passageway was actually refreshing compared to their tiny room, and as he stepped onto the wooden steps, he gratefully inhaled the fresh mountain air, which only had a hint of the smoke coming from the many forges which were starting to spew their fumes into the early morning air.

  He hurried down the stairs and embraced the wolf, who was still sitting there confused. What was wrong with her? he asked sulkily, and Ahren wondered how he could explain to Culhen gently that many people saw him as a threat. Up until now they had spent a lot of their time in the wilderness or among groups who accepted the animal, but his friend had undergone another dramatic growth spurt since then, and no magic would be able to camouflage him as a sheepdog in the way that Jelninolan had done the previous year in the Knight Marshes.

  ‘Alright then’, he said loudly. ‘We’ll try it like this.’ He imagined a picture of a little girl who was just coming around the corner and almost running into Culhen – only it wasn’t Culhen – it was a snarling red-eyed, nasty version of the animal.

  His four-pawed friend whimpered. But that’s not what I’m like at all! he complained.

  I know that and our companions know that. But strangers see a starving wolf ready to eat anything, whether its prey has two legs or four, said Ahren in an attempt at lightening the theme. He looked lovingly into the amber-coloured eyes of the wolf, who was looking back at him, his head tilted quizzically.

  Culhen gave an offended bark, but the feeling of sadness disappeared from Ahren’s head. It’s not my fault that you people are scaredy-cats, he sulked and butted Ahren with his head, almost knocking him to the ground.

  ‘You’re right’, said Ahren laughing and embraced the animal again. ‘Come on, we’ll look for something to eat.’

  Culhen gave a bark of joy, and Ahren commanded him to stay by his side.

  Trogadon had just come out the door at the stop of the stairs, and he raised his hand in warning. ‘We’d better all stick together until we know our way around here.’ Then he quickly came down the stairs, followed a moment later by Khara.

  Ahren smelled the stench coming from his companions and pulled a face. ‘Do I smell the same?’ he asked worriedly.

  Like a dead rabbit from last week, was Culhen’s prompt reply.

  The smell didn’t seem to bother Trogadon. ‘We have to pass ourselves off as mercenaries, and they don’t smell of roses. And anyway, I’d imagine that washing facilities in the city are beyond our price range by now.’ He scratched his head thoughtfully. ‘Illnesses inevitably break out if a siege lasts any length of time, and then it gets nasty. We should try and find our friend as quickly as possible. You know who I’m talking about.’

  Trogadon was about to lead them to the marketplace in the middle of the city but was stopped by a patrol that had just come around the corner. An old lady was cowering behind the guards. She pointed accusingly at Culhen. There’s the monster!’ she cried out fearfully.

  How about putting your best paw forward now? Ahren asked his friend, and the wolf obeyed unwillingly.

  The large animal threw himself in front of the startled guards, rolled around on his back and looked at them with wide eyes, panting, as he presented the soft fur of his stomach to be tickled. Ahren sensed that the wolf’s self-worth had increased along with his understanding, and the apprentice could feel that these overblown theatrics were distasteful to his friend.

  Khara had to turn her face, unable to suppress a giggle, and Ahren struggled to remain serious as he addressed the leader of the troop nonchalantly. ‘Oh, he’s harmless as long as nobody attacks us.’

  Trogadon seized on what Ahren had said and followed the same tack. ‘He always manages to get our pay raised during negotiations because he looks so ferocious and could do the job of a night watch.’

  The captain nodded and hissed a warning to one of his men, who was bending down to tickle the wolf. ‘Then it seems we just had a misunderstanding here. Pangram’s mercenaries in the north barracks even have a tiger with them, but he stays in his cage at least. Make sure you keep the animal with you, so we don’t have any more false alarms. The populace is likely to overreact to animals straying about the place’, he said brusquely, and then the soldiers let them pass.

  Culhen leaped up onto his paws and trotted cheerfully by Ahren’s side, playing the well-behaved pet as long as the guards could still see them. They could hear a lively discussion among the soldiers before their leader finally said in a loud, annoyed voice: ‘No, we are not getting ourselves a wolf, and there’s an end to it!’

  Trogadon looked over at Culhen and grinned. ‘I think you might have created the job of Guard Wolf. Congratulations!’

  Culhen craned his neck superciliously and deliberately looked in the other direction. Please inform the dwarf that I am going to piss into his boots this evening, he said firmly and sniffed the air.

  ‘Did he just say something?’ asked Trogadon curiously, noticing Ahren’s reaction.

  ‘Nothing important’, mumbled the apprentice, hoping the wolf wouldn’t be so unforgiving as to carry out his threat.

  They walked through the awakening city, and Ahren was amazed to see so many people looking as if they had nothing better to do than stare distrustfully out of their windows at the passers-by on the streets. But then the penny dropped. Normal life had been severely affected by the siege and many of the people were now unable to work and were surviving on their savings. The young man thought back to the large amount of money they had handed out the previous day for food and lodgings, and he realised it would only be a matter of time before tensions in the Brazen City would reach boiling point.

  They reached the first broad street that Ahren had seen in the city, and when he craned his head, he could actually see the city gates. He looked in the opposite direction and spotted a tall building with four floors at the end of a large marketplace. It had the same square form and whitewashed walls as the other houses in the Sunplains style around it, except that it also had a wooden porch reminiscent of the longhouses. Broad steps led down into a tunnel in front of the house, which Ahren looked at with interest.

  ‘Don’t be so obvious! We belong here, remember?’ hissed Khara in a low voice as she poked him in the ribs with her elbow.

  The young Paladin started in shock and quickly looked away. ‘What sort of a stairway is that?’ he whispered to Trogadon, without looking back at it.

  ‘It leads to the Brazen Clan. The dwarves that do trade with people decided at one time to stay here. First only a few, then more and more until finally they founded their own clan. They’re all traders through and through. They buy the ore or Dwarf Steel from Thousand Halls and they sell it in front of the Place of the Smiths. They save the dwarf kingdom from having to haggle with the people. It’s the ideal situation for Thousand Halls because they don’t have to deal directly with the humans – which is why they value the Brazen Clan so highly.’

  Ahren raised his eyebrows in surprise and Trogadon snorted. ‘We dwarves are nothing if not pragmatic and this city has been built as a result of mutual self-interest of the various parties. Of course, we’ve settled down here over the years, because we’re never going to pass up such a good trading opportunity.’ He craned his neck and looked around. ‘This is the main street. This is where the traders used to sell nuts, fruit and other goods from the Sunplains, but it looks as if there’s nothing left to sell.’

  Ahren saw the many weathered market stalls and could easily imagine how it was in normal times with the stallholders calling out their offers loudly.

  Culhen tested the air with his nose. I smell something to eat, he said excitedly and looked towards the city centre.

  A row of people could be seen and also a few dwarves, all standing in a long line which led to a longhouse situated a little out
of the way at the edge of the market.

  ‘There seems to be food there’, said Ahren, pointing at the waiting citizens.

  Trogadon grunted in agreement and they wandered over to stand in line. Culhen attracted some attention, but Ahren patted him demonstratively on the head and soon the interest died down.

  I’m going to bite you in the hand sometime, said Culhen, annoyed that he had to take on the role of lap wolf again. Just for the fun of it.

  Ahren sensed that the vain animal’s pride was being severely injured, and so he tried smothering him with loving thoughts. Once we’re out of here I’ll buy you a complete cow, he said reassuringly, but not even this temptation could cheer the wolf up.

  ‘You’re talking with Culhen again, aren’t you?’ asked Khara. Ahren frowned. ‘How do you know that?’

  Khara giggled. ‘Firstly, you look even more stupid than usual’, she said in a teasing voice. ‘And secondly, you tilt your head when you’re doing it.’

  Ahren was stunned. He’d noticed this quirk with Falk, whenever his master was talking to Selsena but was completely unaware of the fact that he had been doing the same. On the other hand, he thought it was useful that the others would know when he was communicating with the wolf.

  While the queue was moving forward at a snail’s pace, Ahren eavesdropped on the people behind him.

  ‘It’s getting more difficult to get food every day’, said a woman with a little child in her arms in a concerned whisper.

  ‘It will all work out, Elvira’, replied her husband hopefully. ‘The Emperor has sent an emissary, and there’s a Paladin with him. Two of them are already in the city. They’re certain to protect us.’

  At first Ahren thought that he had been discovered, but then it struck him that the man must have been referring to Bergen. The confidence in the man’s voice warmed his heart, and he swore to himself that he would help to fulfil the man’s expectations in so far as was possible.

  He spent a large proportion of the time they were waiting pondering over the situation until suddenly there was a tumult in front of them. They were still twenty paces away from the entrance to the longhouse when the scuffle broke out and several of the people queuing were knocked to the ground. Two men from the Ice Folk were coming out through the entrance with a fuming man held between them. This person had curly hair and the pale skin of the Sunplainers from the Heartland. They dragged him several paces onto the street and tossed him carelessly among the waiting citizens.

  ‘It’s disgraceful!’ screamed the man, whose white tunic was torn and covered in dust. ‘How can you just double the price like that?’ His voice cracked as walked along beside the queue. ‘Five gold coins for one bowl of stew?’ he shouted at the top of his voice and pointed dramatically at the longhouse. ‘How long are we going to put up with it? The Ice Landers are using this critical situation to make themselves rich at our expense!’

  There were murmurs of agreement and many were appalled to hear the price they were expected to pay for their miserable meal.

  The man continued complaining, but as he was passing them Trogadon quickly yanked him towards them and whispered something into his ear. He also pressed a few coins into his hand, and the man quickly walked away.

  The dwarf noticed Ahren’s questioning look and leaned in towards him. ‘I gave him three gold coins, told him to stop his yelling and to politely join the queue again later. The last thing we need is a loudmouth inciting the people to riot.’

  At last they reached the entrance to the longhouse and Ahren caught a glimpse inside. People and dwarves were sitting on long wooden benches eating. The walls were packed with personal belongings to make room for the needy. Over a dozen Ice Landers were standing at the other end preparing cauldrons of stew, which they poured into large bowls to the clinking of coins. Each customer also received a large piece of dark bread. Anyone who didn’t want to eat in the hall went out through a door at the back, making room for the next hungry mouth to feed.

  Ahren smelled the tangy aromas coming from the large cauldrons, and his mouth watered. By the time it was their turn he was absolutely ravenous, and Culhen was dripping saliva onto the straw-covered floor in a most inelegant manner.

  A plump woman with chubby cheeks and grey hair gave them a friendly look. Although she was at least sixty winters old, she was still a good half a head taller than Ahren. ‘My. But you have an impressive Ice Wolf, my dear’, she said joyfully. ‘I’ve only heard about such animals from the stories of my ancestors, from when our Clan lived in the cold north.’

  Annoyed, Culhen was about to re-enact his performance as the puppyish, tame little wolf by rolling about on his back, but Ahren stopped him. You can allow yourself to be admired here, he invited his friend. The wolf didn’t need to be asked twice.

  Culhen immediately sat bolt upright, bared his fangs and finally let out a long howl which echoed around the hall. Half of the guests dropped their spoons, and everyone turned around in shock, but the Ice Landers laughed and clapped their hands as if Culhen had just performed a couple of somersaults.

  The old woman came around the cauldron and embraced the astonished wolf in a bear hug. Ahren was sure that he heard Culhen’s shoulders crack and ignored his strangled cry for help. You wanted to be treated in the manner of the big bad wolf, so you can hardly complain now.

  The Ice Lander went around to the back of her cauldron again while some of the braver guests made a move to embrace the wolf in the same manner. Culhen let out a low growl and the outstretched hands were quickly drawn back again.

  Enough is enough, he said with as much dignity as he could muster and ignored Ahren’s laughter which was echoing in his head.

  The old Ice Lander filled their bowls with generous portions and gestured to the travellers to sit down. ‘I’ll get a few scraps of meat for your wolf’, she said in a conspiratorial voice.

  And so they sat down and dived into their meal, which proved to be just as tasty as it had smelled. It only took a few spoonfuls for Ahren to realise how wholesome it was, and he revised his original opinion. One portion like that, you could easily manage until the next day. He was enjoying the remains of it when the old woman returned to them and threw a heap of scraps in front of the wolf. The scraps looked far from tasty – unless, of course, you were a wolf.

  Culhen set about consuming his portion in an instant, and the old woman looked at him with a well-meaning smile. Then she became serious when she laid a calloused hand on Ahren’s cheek. She bent down until her mouth was right beside his ear. ‘If you love your wolf, get him out of the city as soon as possible. In a few days we’ll have to resort to cooking the innards, which nobody here wants to have yet. And it won’t be long before people will be eyeing your friend, not as a ferocious beast, but as a feast for two dozen people.’

  Ahren stared at the old woman, his face a picture of disbelief mixed with shock. Was she really serious? Could people really go that far? The sadness in the woman’s eyes was certainly real, and Ahren stood up abruptly. ‘We mustn’t waste any more time’, he said in a flat voice, and there was something in his face that persuaded his companions to follow him without saying a word. Culhen gulped down a last portion of liver and they went out the back door of the longhouse and went over to q quiet part of the market square. One or two stallholders were offering food at exorbitant prices, and the meagre portions reminded the apprentice that soon all the food would be used up.

  ‘What did the woman say to you?’ asked Trogadon in a concerned voice.

  ‘That Culhen could be in danger soon’, answered Ahren in a horrified voice. ‘Why did none of you warn me?’ he asked forcefully. ‘Why did nobody tell me that they might try to eat him?!’

  ‘We’re all risking our lives’, said Trogadon calmly. ‘If they’d caught us on the city walls yesterday, we’d have been done for. And if we trust the wrong people, we might end up with our throats cut’, continued the dwarf, in a tone that suggested he was talking about the weather. ‘The
trick is, not to let it come to that. We’re all going to face danger again and again during our journey. I thought that was obvious to you since the arrow pierced through your master’s chest.’

  Ahren nodded. ‘It was just the thought that someone might want to eat him that really bothered me’, he said with anger in his voice.

  Khara laid her hand on his forearm. ‘If they want Culhen, they’ll have to get past all of us first’, she said soothingly, trying to calm the outraged Forest Guardian, who nodded defiantly.

  And I prefer to eat than be eaten, interjected the wolf coolly, baring his teeth.

  Ahren burst out laughing and Trogadon nodded contentedly. ‘Now we’ve sorted that out, we need to plan our next move’, said the warrior quietly. ‘Most of the Plainers who are supporters of the Irenius family are in favour of extraditing Bergen which means we can take it as given that the Blue Cohorts will not be hiding out in any part of the city heavily populated by Sunplainers.’

  ‘Would they be with the dwarves?’ asked Ahren and gestured towards the enormous staircase.

  Trogadon shook his head and pointed at the large building with the wooden porch. ‘That’s the main building in the city where the Triumvirate meet, and those steps are the only entrance to the Clan Halls of the dwarves. ‘They’d have to have smuggled the Blue Cohorts directly under the eyes of the guards across half the market square to get to the steps. And anyway, humans are not allowed into the Clan Halls. So, I can’t imagine that having happened.’

  ‘Which leave the longhouses’, suggested Khara.

  Trogadon nodded. ‘They could easily find refuge in one of them. There are also a few warehouses on the edge of the city, but if I were a betting man, I’d put my money on the longhouses.’