by Logan Jacobs
The gate opened into a wide boulevard that sliced the city into two halves. I could see all the way to the other end of the city where the boulevard joined with one of the two bridges that connected Fornal and Druban.
“This looks easy,” Aerin said as she took in the straight road ahead.
“Remember, this is still technically Persans,” Cat replied. “They’re not always as strict here as they are in Maraz, but a woman still shouldn’t talk to a man she doesn’t know or wear anything too revealing. And pucas are definitely considered bad luck.”
“Cripes,” Lavinia complained, “I’m not sure if I can behave that much longer.”
“We better get going then,” Maruk remarked. “Or we’ll never make it out of here.”
We walked along the boulevard, lugging our travel gear. I didn’t appreciate just how much we really had until the camels were gone, and we had to carry it ourselves. I was starting to wonder how the women in our group had managed to haul everything to the camel pens in Maraz, but I was willing to wager that Yvaine had probably found a way to include some sort of camel Uber service from the inn to the pens as part of the deal.
Our group was definitely drawing interest though I wasn’t sure if it was because of the variety of people in our group or our general dusty and travel-stained appearance. We were nearly at the far wall, and I could smell the water from the river when two men in dark blue and gray uniforms walked up to our group.
“What is your business in Fornal?” one of the men asked. He had a heavy nasal accent that made it difficult to understand him.
“We are traveling to Estrovar,” Cat replied. “We are performers.”
“Performers?” nasal man said sceptically. “Who would want to watch such an ugly, ragtag group as yourselves?”
“We have a wide variety of acts,” Cat explained. “Why, that ladona is one of the best archers in all of Evreas, and our panthera puts on one of the best fire shows.”
“Bah,” nasal man replied as he waved a dismissive hand at Lavinia and Emeline. “Women. No one will pay to see them unless they can dance. Or serve other purposes.”
I saw Imogen place a restraining hand on Lavinia’s arm.
“What does the troll do?” nasal man asked.
“I am an orc!” Maruk protested.
“He sings,” Cat replied.
The two men stared at Maruk and then burst into laughter. Maruk huffed and straightened his shoulders.
“No, seriously, what does he do?” nasal man asked again. “Does he fight the halfling? Maybe he kills some local wildlife?”
Dehn was fuming, but Aerin and Yvaine each had a hand on his shoulder. Maruk refused to look at the two men, and he stared straight ahead, ignoring the growing circle of bystanders.
“He sings,” Cat insisted.
“I will not believe it until I hear it,” nasal man replied. “And if you are lying, I will arrest you all for… for… for interfering with an investigation.”
“What investigation?” I finally asked in an exasperated tone.
“The investigation of possible smugglers,” nasal man declared as he turned to look at me. I saw him study our gear and then nod to himself. “Yes, you look like smugglers.”
“Just play something,” Cat whispered to Maruk.
“If it will put an end to this travesty,” Maruk sniffed.
The orc set one of his packs on the ground and picked through it until he found what he wanted. He pulled out the lute we’d bought back in Maraz, and I heard the crowd ‘ooh’ in surprise. The rest of the Foxes looked stunned as well, but they hid it quickly before nasal man or his partner noticed.
Maruk tested the strings and made a few adjustments. He hummed something to himself as he looked off into the distance, and then with a great flourish, he started to sing.
I have no idea what the words were. It was not in a language I’d heard before. But the real surprise was Maruk’s singing voice, which was high-pitched, and dare I say, caterwauling. He hit all the high notes, and a few I suspected weren’t in the original version of the song.
The rest of our audience looked stunned, except for Yvaine, who smiled and swayed and even had a tear in her eye. As Maruk hit what I hoped was the last verse, Yvaine joined in. Merlin, who had been in his usual spot on my shoulders, slipped inside my pack and pulled a frogskin over his head.
At last, Yvaine and Maruk hit the final note, a long, high-pitched quaver that caused an involuntary wince in myself. I was surprised that I didn’t hear the sound of glass shattering, but the duet ended, and I felt the muscles in my jaw relax.
“Oh, Maruk,” Yvaine sighed. “You sing the part of Le Berony so well.”
“Thank you,” Maruk replied with a small bow to the Marchioness. “I have always been fond of Orchana opera, and I’m particularly drawn to Le Berony. The agony he feels when his life’s love is lost. Ah, such a tragic story.”
“There, you see,” Cat said with a smile to the two guards. “You should hear him in the grand halls. His voice reverberates to the rafters.”
“I’m sure it does,” nasal man replied though the comment sounded rather sarcastic to my ears.
The crowd was slowly dispersing. The novelty of hearing an orc sing had worn off, and the reality of Maruk’s voice in full opera mode had convinced most of the audience that there was a reason why they never attended an opera performance in the first place. Maruk was still strumming the lute, and when he started to hum again, nasal man held up a hand.
“This seems like the type of performance that is better suited to the lawless people of Druban,” nasal man declared.
“Oh, well,” Cat said. He even managed to sound somewhat offended.
“No, no,” nasal man assured him. “This is for the better. They are less particular in Druban. They will not arrest you for giving such a performance.”
“Well, I never,” Maruk protested. “Le Berony’s dirge is one of the highlights of Orchana opera. And yes, I may have added a few notes, but only to showcase the depth of his feelings.”
“I do not like opera,” nasal man stated. “But they enjoy such nonsense in Druban.”
Nasal man’s silent partner nodded in emphatic agreement with his partner.
“Well, then, we’ll just head to Druban,” Cat sighed.
“That would be for the best,” nasal man insisted.
Nasal man barely spared us another glance as he ambled away, his cohort still at his side. Cat shrugged, and we resumed our trek towards the gate and the bridge that lay just beyond.
There were guards on both sides of the bridge, but they all looked bored and barely even glanced at the throngs of people who walked between the two cities. One fellow even had a book and a chair, and he chuckled occasionally as he sipped from a glass and read his novel.
Druban looked much like Fornal, at least on the surface. There was the wide boulevard that led to the other side of the city, lined with stores and a few scraggly trees. But where Fornal had been orderly, chaos seemed to rule the day in Druban. People thronged the boulevard and the side streets, dressed in brighter and considerably less concealing clothing. Carts, horses, and camels all plowed a path through this sea of humanity, adding their own familiar noises to the cacophony of voices and languages that seemed to fill the air. Above it all, I realized I could suddenly hear the sound of bells ringing in a tower.
“Noon,” Cat announced as the bells began to strike the hour. “We can find someplace to stay and rest for a bit. Most of the stores and markets will be closing until later this afternoon.”
“We need to sort through everything and figure out what we’re going to sell, anyway,” Aerin said.
We pushed our way through the crowds to a cross-street. It was nearly as wide as the main boulevard but it wasn’t quite as busy. Which meant we could actually walk together instead of strung out in a line. No one here even glanced at us, not even at Maruk who still had his lute out and was strumming as we marched along.
Cat was
about to walk past one establishment when Yvaine grabbed his arm and pulled him towards the glittering gold and etched glass doors. Cat looked surprised but Yvaine strolled inside like the lady of ease and wealth that she was.
The lobby boasted a marble floor laid out in one of the intricate Persan geometric patterns, a glittering chandelier that glowed softly with a pinkish mage light, about two dozen flower displays that filled the air with the scent of lavender and freesia, and a wooden concierge desk the size of a small warship. All it needed was a cannon on the deck and a man with an eyepatch to fire it.
Judging by the look the clerk gave us when we strolled inside, he was probably wishing he had that cannon. He twitched his long, beaked nose, and his two piggish eyes squinted so tightly that I was surprised he could still see anything.
“May I help you?” he asked in a friendly voice that still managed to sound offended.
“Yes, we’ll need rooms for the evening,” Yvaine replied calmly.
“There are many fine establishments that can accomodate you here in Druban,” the clerk replied. “Unfortunately, our own hotel is completely booked at the moment.”
“This is part of the Petermore group, is it not?” Yvaine asked blandly.
“It is,” the clerk said as he peered more closely at Yvaine.
“And who is the manager of this particular hotel?” Yvaine inquired in a tone that conveyed her own boredom.
“Who is asking?” the clerk demanded.
“Yvaine Estrella,” she said as she looked around the lobby with a touch of disdain. “Well, it’s not the Petermore Grand Palace, but it will suffice. Now, your manager’s name?”
“Just a moment,” the clerk replied as he quickly retreated from the desk. He vanished through a doorway and left us stranded in the lobby.
“Don’t you have to be a member of some club to stay at one of the Petermore places?” Aerin asked.
“You do, and I am,” Yvaine replied. “I rarely use it because the Petermore hotels are seldom in places I go these days. I didn’t realize they had one here. It must be new.”
“Druban must be coming up in the world,” Imogen noted as she looked around the lobby. “Petermore hotels are only in the wealthiest cities.”
“We don’t even have one in Ovrista,” Lena added.
“Are they really that nice?” Emeline asked.
“They are more than just nice,” Maruk sighed.
The clerk returned to the desk with a tank of a woman. She was average height, but everything about her was square, from the shape of her head to her straight hips and her thick ankles. Her hair was pulled back in a bun so tight that it left stretch marks on her forehead. She regarded us from two frosty blue eyes before turning her attention on Yvaine.
“You are Yvaine Estrella?” the woman asked in an accent that made her sound like the evil Nazi villian in so many cheesy movies.
“I am,” Yvaine said graciously. “My guild and I require rooms for tonight.”
“You have proof of your identity?” the woman demanded.
Yvaine gave a gentle sniff as she searched her pack. She finally pulled out a small silver chain. It wasn’t big enough to fit around even Yvaine’s slender wrists, and it had only one bauble, a wafer-thin piece of wood about the size of a business card.
I could see that something was written on the wood, but I couldn’t make out much more than the same elaborate ‘P’ that had been carved into the door of the hotel. Yvaine presented the card to the tank lady who accepted it with the utmost care.
The card was placed on top of a square block of glass and both the woman and the clerk leaned in a little closer to watch. A small bubble of light formed inside the glass a moment later. The bubble alternated colors for several seconds and then finally settled on green.
“Marchioness,” the woman declared as she looked at the card. “Welcome to the Petermore Frontier. We are not as large as some of our sister locations, but, I assure you, we offer the same amenities and attention to detail. How may we help you today?”
“My companions and I require rooms for tonight and possibly tomorrow night,” Yvaine replied.
“You will require separate rooms?” the woman asked as she glanced at our group.
“Naturally,” Yvaine declared.
The man with the beaked nose had pulled a ledger from the depths of the desk and he and the woman were now consulting it. They whispered to each other in between quick glimpses at our group. I noticed Maruk drew most of the attention, though the ladonae had more than their fair share as well.
“If you do not have enough available rooms, then I’m sure we can find a different hotel,” Yvaine finally said. “I will simply notify management when I return to Constello that I no longer find the Petermore Hotels to be satisfactory.”
“No, no, we will find rooms for everyone,” the woman quickly assured her. “We have several members who are expected to check out shortly. We will simply need time to clean the rooms first.”
Yvaine drummed the fingers of her right hand impatiently on the desk and then looked back at the gold and glass doors.
“There’s a lovely place called the Marash Estate,” Cat offered. “It’s considered the finest place in Druban.”
“Ttch,” the tank lady protested.
“They often keep suites available for certain important guests,” Cat continued.
“The rooms are satisfactory there?” Yvaine asked.
“Oh yes,” Cat assured her. “Feather mattresses, silk sheets, private water closets.”
Maruk moaned.
“We have nine rooms available immediately,” tank lady interrupted. “The tenth room will be available later this afternoon.”
Yvaine drummed her fingers again. This time her gaze slid towards the dining room that could just be seen past a line of potted palms.
“Of course, we will check everyone in,” the woman continued. “And you may leave the bags here at the desk. They will be taken up as soon as the room has been cleaned.”
“I can wait,” I announced. “I’d like to walk around the city a bit anyway.”
“Oh, Gabriel,” Yvaine protested. “I hate to think of you without a room for the night.”
“He will have a room,” the woman declared.
“I’m sure they’ll have a room,” I agreed. “Isn’t that right, Miss...?”
“Helga,” the woman supplied.
“Helga,” I repeated as I flashed her a winning smile.
“If you’re sure,” Yvaine hesitated.
“I trust Helga,” I declared. “She seems like the type of person who can make this happen.”
“Yes,” Helga agreed with a brisk nod.
“Very well then,” Yvaine acquiesced. “Our room assignments, if you please, Helga.”
Helga was brisk and business-like after that. We were registered and assigned rooms, and no less than six bellhops appeared to organize our bags and take them upstairs. I left a pile of gear at the desk, but kept my personal satchel. Since Cat and Aerin were placed in charge of sorting out items to sell and trade, I sent another small bag to Aerin’s room.
Merlin, still buried in my satchel, refused to give up his frogskin. I cajoled and even offered to buy a bag of fresh peppermint candies, but the puca had grown attached to his personal cooler in the last few days, and he held onto it as tightly as Linus held onto his security blanket.
“It needs to be recharged,” Cat finally whispered to the puca as we stood in a corner of the lobby. Everyone else had disappeared to their rooms, and Cat was only there because I’d asked him to wait while I tried to dig out the frogskins.
“We can find you a new one,” I assured Merlin.
“There are rumors that they have frogskins for sale here in Druban that can be recharged just by dipping them in water,” Cat added. “No mages needed.”
“Would you like one of those?” I asked the puca.
Merlin’s ears twitched, and he looked back and forth between me and the elf with
narrowed eyes.
“If we can’t find one of the new ones, I will bring you the biggest frogskin I can find,” Cat promised as he held up one hand.
Merlin raspberried at the two of us, but he finally let me remove the frogskin from my bag and hand it to the elf. It had a coating of black fur which clung to the damp towel tenaciously.
“Sorry about that,” I said as the elf held the frogskin up by one corner and examined the towel.
“I’m sure they’ve seen worse,” he shrugged as he tucked the frogskin into his own pack. “If you’re really going to venture outside in this heat, I would suggest you head down this street another two blocks. You’ll find yourself at the Dancing Waters Park. It’s always open, even during the afternoon, and you’ll be able to get something to eat and drink, if you want. The best part are the fountains, which, well, dance. And they help keep the park cool. Even now, it’ll be pleasant enough to sit outside.”
“Thanks,” I said to the elf.
Cat turned towards the stairs while I made my way back to the front doors. I stepped back out into the heat and instantly wished that I had kept one of the frogskins. Merlin still pouted in my satchel but he was interested enough in his surroundings to poke his head out as we walked along. At least I still had my night lenses, a commodity that appeared to be very popular in Druban, judging by the number of people I saw wearing a pair.
The promised park was indeed noticeably cooler than the surrounding streets. It was also still noisy and busy, unlike the rest of Druban, which had emptied out in the time it took us to get our room assignments. I found a vendor selling flavored shaved ice and bought one for myself and one for Merlin. Fortunately, the man was just as happy with Persan coins as with Druban currency, and the puca and I settled into a shady spot under a large, spreading tree.