The marshes were what made any sea trade here impractical, forcing merchants to send caravans across the Desolation instead. Arlian knew that somewhere to the east lay the sea, near enough that the tides washed up to the walls of Pon Ashti and raised those grasses up, but he could not see it; the marsh grass seemed endless.
And somewhere to the south the Darambar made its way through a hundred shallow, twisting channels in the marshes to the sea—but it also passed through miles of territory that had always been outside the borders, even when the dragons had been at their mightiest. Foreigners sometimes sailed their little flat-bottomed boats up through that maze, but no northern merchant had attempted it in centuries.
Beside Arlian the Darambar flowed smoothly over polished stone, water and stone glittering in the afternoon sunlight; behind him the land and the road rose up gently, well above the marshes, and houses and cultivated fields lined the road and covered the land.
Those farms were almost ordinary, while the marshes were utterly strange. Arlian reined in his mount for a moment, to take a better look.
He was astride the chestnut gelding, approaching Pon Ashti alone, and he did not care to ride directly into some sort of magical trap or ambush. He wished once again that Isein had accompanied him, but she had flatly refused.
"I came south with you because you said you were going to Arithei,"
she said. "I have no interest in Pon Ashti or the Blue Mage, except as things best avoided."
He had tried to persuade her, to convince her that knowing more about the Blue Mage could help Arithei, but she would have none of it.
Once that was settled, the decision to leave the wagon and his two men behind had been easy; without a magician along, his best course was to be unobtrusive. One man on a horse was less noticeable than three men in a wagon.
No one seemed inclined to notice him, however; he could see no guards on the ramparts of Pon Ashti, and several of the houses he had passed on the way had been standing empty and deserted, while the inhabitants of the others were going about their business and ignoring the passing horseman.
This lack of interest could be a problem, he thought. Despite what the people of Orange River had told him, the city gates were closed—at least, the set directly ahead of him; he knew there were others, and in fact could see the next to the west, on the far side of the river. If there were no guards to open the gate, how was he to enter the city?
He supposed he could wade out into the Darambar and scale the great stone lattice that allowed the water to flow freely through the wall, but the openings were not large enough for a man his size to squeeze through, and the overhanging rampart at the top would make climbing over a challenge—not to mention that his horse could hardly take that route.
Well, perhaps there were guards concealed somewhere, watching him. He shook the reins and urged the horse forward with his knees.
Sure enough, the gates swung open as he approached, and a man's voice called, "State your business in Pon Ashti!"
Arlian still did not see anyone manning the defenses; he could see a few people on the street beyond the gate, hurrying about their own affairs, but he could not see who spoke, nor anyone on the ramparts or moving the gates.
"I'm here to discuss trade agreements," he replied. He had settled on this as his best approach, and it was arguably true—he wanted information, and was willing to trade his own knowledge for it.
"Discuss with whom?" the voice asked—though the tone gave no indication that the speaker actually cared about Arlian's answer.
"With anyone interested," he replied.
"Do you carry cold iron or steel ?"
Arlian blinked at the sudden change in subject. "I have a sword," he said. "And a swordbreaker, and a knife, and, oh, some of my mount's harness, and a steel with my flint..." He suspected he was about to be asked to surrender them all, and he did not like the idea—but it was not entirely unexpected.
"Do you carry silver?"
"A few coins, and the chain about my neck."
"Then there are places in the city forbidden to you—but enter freely, and of your own will, and be welcome in the name of Her Majesty the Blue Mage."
That was interesting. "Her Majesty?" Parts of the city forbidden, but not all of it?
He noticed no one had asked about amethysts or obsidian; was that because those substances had no power against the Blue Mage and her minions, or simply because they were so rare that travelers were assumed not to carry them?
He carried them; he had an obsidian dagger in his blouse, a large amethyst on the silver chain about his throat, and a smaller amethyst in his pocket. He saw no need to say so, however.
He rode forward through the gates, and still saw no guards until at last, as the gates started to close behind him, he saw something from the corner of one eye. He whirled as best he could in the saddle and caught a fleeting glimpse, and then it was gone again.
He was unsure what it was, but it was big and yellow, with wings and horns, and oddly insubstantial. It moved impossibly fast—but then, it was clearly magic.
"You are forbidden the water steps, and the Mage's palace," the voice said from somewhere behind him. "The granaries and fisheries you may only approach if you have first disarmed and given up flint and steel, but you may keep your silver in those."
"Thank you," Arlian called back, still unsure who he was addressing; then he rode on, into the empty plaza inside the gate.
This, he thought, should have been a busy market, but instead it was a bare expanse of brown brick pavement, bounded to the north by the city wall, to the west by the river, and to the south and east by tall, narrow houses. Three streets led out of the square, one along the water-front, the others piercing the rows of houses.
Beyond the plaza people were moving about the streets, clad in the loose robes common in the southern lands, though the robes here were cut longer than the Aritheian style, and bleached to white or pale, subtle hues where the Aritheians preferred vivid reds and oranges. Arlian noticed that most of the city's inhabitants seemed to be barefoot; he had expected to see sandals. Any more solid footwear was scarce this far south, but sandals were common.
Some of the people glanced at him, then quickly looked away.
That seemed odd; was it not permitted to look upon strangers here?
If strangers were allowed into the city, it hardly seemed reasonable to expect the natives to ignore them.
He directed the gelding toward the river, thinking that would give him the best view.
"Remember, the water steps are forbidden!" the voice he thought belonged to the yellow creature called from behind.
"I remember," Arlian called back. He was not sure just what these
"water steps" were, but he assumed he would recognize them when he saw them. The name and the timing of the guardian's shout implied that there was a connection with the river. He peered ahead, looking for some indication.
Soon enough the gelding's steady walk brought him around the
corner, where he could see down the street and down the river, and the name was suddenly clear.
The Darambar cut straight through the center of the city, paved streets along either bank; Arlian counted four arched stone bridges crossing it, all of them in the upper half, where the river was perhaps thirty or forty feet across.
Beyond the fourth bridge, however, the river widened—and dropped down over a low fall, perhaps three or four feet. Below that, although it was hard to make out the details at such a distance even from horseback, he could see that it widened more, and more, and more, descending more sudden drops, all of them even shallower than the first...
Steps. The river, Arlian realized, flowed down an immense staircase, spreading out as it went, until at the very bottom, where it vanished through several hundred pipes through the city wall and flowed out into the marsh, it was half a mile wide and no more than a few inches deep.
And people were wading on these water steps, walking about, or
crossing the river with no need of bridges, or going about other business, or simply standing in the cool water. Arlian could see men talking, gesticulating as they spoke, ignoring the greenish water eddying around their ankles; he could see women rinsing clothes in the steady flow, and children splashing each other as they ran shrieking through the water.
Here was the life of the city that the plaza at the gate had lacked.
And he was forbidden to set foot in the water, by command of the Blue Mage. He frowned.
Well, perhaps if he disarmed himself, and left his steel and silver somewhere safe, he could join the natives—or perhaps he could accomplish his purposes on dry land.
That reminded him that he needed to find somewhere to stay, an inn or guesthouse; he had rented floor space from farmers on the ride from Orange River, but wanted something a little more formal inside the city. He had intended to ask at the gate, but had been so distracted by the guardian's discussion of cold iron and silver, water steps and palaces, that he had forgotten.
That was easily remedied, though. He called to a nearby woman as she passed, "Your pardon, my lady—is there an inn nearby?"
She looked up at him, then pointedly looked away and walked faster.
Puzzled and annoyed, Arlian let her go, then chose another pedestrian and repeated his question, with similar results.
It wasn't until his fifth attempt that he got an answer.
"You're human, then?" the man asked.
Arlian considered this question for a moment before replying, "I believe so, yes." He doffed his broad-brimmed hat, thinking that sunlight illuminating his features might be helpful.
"And that's just a horse?"
"To the best of my knowledge, yes," Arlian said mildly. "It was certainly sold to me as such back in Stonebreak, and I'm not aware of any change in species it might have undergone since then."
The Pon Ashtian looked quickly to either side, then stepped closer and asked in a loud whisper, "How did you get m?"
"I rode in, not half an hour ago," Arlian said. "The gate opened, and a voice challenged me, and was satisfied with my answers. I'm not to enter the palace, the fisheries, or the granaries, nor set foot on the water steps, but otherwise I am unfettered."
"But you wear a sword."
"Indeed I do, and as a gentleman in the service of the Duke of Manfort I am entitled to do so."
"Not here" the man said. "She doesn't like steel."
There was no need to ask who "she" was. "I presume that is why the palace is forbidden me."
"Yes." The man looked Arlian over, from his black-haired bare head to his black leather boots. "You're a northerner," he said.
"That fact had not escaped my attention," Arlian said dryly.
"I don't understand why the demon let you in."
"Demon?" Arlian glanced back toward the gate. "That yellow creature?"
"Yes. It's a demon. She summoned it to serve as her gatekeeper."
Arlian shrugged. "It admitted me."
"Then she's changed the rules again." Arlian was startled by the depth of despair plain in the man's voice as he spoke that single sentence.
"I wouldn't know," Arlian said. "Has she?"
"She must have. Swords, horses, northerners—those were all forbidden a few week ago. Anyone found carrying a sword was destroyed, and she sometimes included others in the vicinity, as if they shared the guilt by their mere presence."
That accounted for the hostile reception Arlian had received from the city's human population, and spoke well for this man's courage.
"Nonetheless, I told the creature I carried a sword and other blades, and it allowed me to enter the city, with some restrictions made."
"She's changed it"
"In any case, my good man, could you direct me to someplace I might find lodging during my stay in Pon Ashti?"
"The inns are closed," the man replied. "Centers of unrest luring foreign troublemakers, she called them. I saw what she did to Hulimir—
he was the innkeeper at the Broken Wheel." He shuddered.
Arlian was curious. "What did she do to him?"
"He was strangled by his own gut," the man said. "Like a snake choking him. His belly just opened up, and it crawled out and climbed up to his throat."
The mental image left Arlian wishing he had not asked. He sighed.
"Then I suppose I'll have to make do with a patch of ground, or a quiet street. A pity; I had hoped for a good bed."
"Or you might find someone willing to share his roof—she has voiced no objection to that."
"Do you know of anyone who would be willing?"
The man looked up at Arlian, considering. "Can you pay?"
The man to whom Arlian spoke in the street turned out to be known as Broom; the widow who rented him a room called herself Twilight.
"I hadn't known that the custom of nicknames was common this far south," Arlian remarked, as he brushed down his horse tor the night.
Twilight had no proper stable, but there was sufficient space in her garden shed to provide the gelding with shelter.
"It wasn't," Twilight said from the garden bench. "It is now, though."
Arlian threw her a glance, then finished currying the horse in silence.
The Servants of the Blue Mage
19
The Servants of the Blue Mage
Arlian had been in Pon Ashti for four days when the Mage's creatures came for him.
He had been half expecting something of the sort. While he had obeyed the injunction not to enter the palace or cross the water steps, nor bring iron or silver into the fisheries and storehouses he had explored much of the rest of the city, and spoken freely with several of its citizens.
Far more dared not speak with him. and fled it he persisted in addressing them, but some answered his questions and discussed the situation with him. Twilight had been reasonably forthcoming so long as he did not specifically mention wizards in general, or the Blue Mage in specific; he learned that she had been widowed when the city's new overlord first arrived. Her husband had been a junior member of the old city council, and the Mage had seen no reason to leave alive any partic-ipants in the government she was deposing.
Broom apparently felt he had worn out his luck in talking to Arlian that first time and leading him to Twilight; he refused all further attempts at conversation, and actively avoided Arlian.
Others in the city, however, were eager to tell the northerner all about the Blue Mage's atrocities, often regardless of whether they had witnessed these acts themselves or merely heard vague rumors. Arlian spoke with people on the streets and in the squares—though he perforce avoided the city's preferred social venue and stayed off the water steps, as he did not intend to violate the restrictions the gate guard had placed upon him. However vile the Blue Mage might be, he had come here to learn from her, not to antagonize her.
He discovered, though, that if he regularly sat on a bench by the street overlooking the steps, people going about their business would notice him and grow accustomed to him, and he could then address them as they left the water and receive polite responses.
He also spoke to merchants and to other customers in the shops he patronized, sometimes continuing the conversations out into the streets.
Many of the inhabitants of Pon Ashti were happy to chat at length with the exotic stranger as they walked, or even to invite him into their homes to talk
Thus Arlian heard several descriptions of how the Blue Mage had captured the city by first subverting several of Pon Ashti's own guardsmen, placing spells upon them so that upon command they removed much of the city's magical protection—not just some of the iron bands upon the walls, but other, more hidden devices, the exact nature of which had never been made public. Then she and her creatures, her demons and apes and shadows, had swept in, overwhelming all resistance.
"But surely, some of your people fought back!" Arlian said, sitting at a small table in a sunlit yard. "And did they not have good steel blades?"
"Iron is proof against the creatures of the air, but it cannot harm the wizard herself," his interlocutor—who would not give any name at all—
told him. "Her magic cannot move or break iron, but neither does it repel her, nor can steel blades cut her. She had chosen her servants with the iron wards and the guards' steel in mind, and brought only those that steel could not stymie."
Further details and other conversations made it plain to Arlian that the Blue Mage had planned her assault carefully, and had known what to expect. Despite her reputation for whimsicality, she was clearly not stupid or overconfident; she had thought through her actions, rather than relying on surprise and sheer power.
It also became clear, from any number of sources, that the Blue Mage had effective methods of acquiring information, as well as incredible magical resources. That was why the arrival of her servants did not surprise him, and why he did not bother to resist them.
Alone at the time, he had been walking down a momentarily
deserted street with a sausage roll in one hand, planning to once again sit by the river and enjoy the view of the water steps while he ate, when the shadows around him began to move unnaturally, sliding away from the alleys and doorways and following him across the pavement. He slowed his pace, but did not stop immediately.
But then the gray ape-things appeared around the corner ahead, four of them, each the size of a man, and spaced themselves across the width of the street.
They were not true apes, but he could think of no better description for them; they stood crookedly on massive gray-furred legs, their long bony arms dangling clawed fingers a few inches from the street, their flat black eyes staring at him from flat gray faces.
He transferred the sausage roll to his left hand, in case he needed to draw his sword, and stopped walking. He waited. From the corner of his eye he could see the shadows gathering at either side; a glance at a nearby glass window showed him that more ape-things were blocking the street behind him. No other humans were in the hundred yards between the two lines enclosing him, so there was no question as to whether he was actually their intended target.
Dragon Venom (Obsidian Chronicles Book 3) Page 17