by Anne Logston
“That northern part, nearest the keep, houses four temples already,” Rivkah said. “We’ve brought in people from so many different lands that I’m afraid we have quite a mixture of beliefs. Sometimes I think everyone who steps into the city brings a new set of gods with them. Sharl thinks that one day we’ll have twenty temples here.”
“Temples?” Valann asked curiously, mouthing the unfamiliar word. “Oh, sacred places, such as the altars.”
“Something of that kind.” Rivkah indicated another turning in the muddy road. “One day this road will all be stone, too. Over there, just south of the keep, we’ve already begun to build houses for the minor nobles, who want to live nearest the keep. In case of danger, of course, and for convenience in visiting.
“Merchants are building shops on the east side of the city, and in the center is the market,” Rivkah continued. “It’s only a small market now, but Sharl has left plenty of room. I don’t know how we’ll ever fill it. From the market south on both sides are only a few homes now—-a good many of the common folk live on farms outside the city proper—but a tavern or two are moving in, and there are barracks for our soldiers and boardinghouses, too, for the mercenaries and labor that Sharl’s brought in. And south of all of that are the guildhalls, where the craftsmen are.”
They had come to a group of several large, rectangular pits in the ground. Men were working at the bottom of the pits, cutting out large blocks of stone. Walking between the pits was a man dressed in ordinary rough clothes, but holding a short rod of what appeared to be bone. As soon as a block was completed, the man would hold the rod between his palms, chant a short incantation, and the block would rise steadily through the air to a waiting wagon.
“We have six mages who do nothing but work on the wall and the buildings,” Rivkah said, “and another three who work at the keep itself. Each set of three is a team, two lifters and a bonder. Sharl paid a good sum to bring in stoneworking mages from as far west as Bridingham. Come, I’ll show you the wall being built.”
Rivkah guided them to a place on the east wall where several crews were working. Whenever a wagon would arrive, another plainly dressed mage floated each block into place on the wall, and human crews would make small adjustments to place each block exactly, chiseling away any rough edges. When a large enough section was so fitted, a second mage would step forward and chant another spell, to no visible effect.
“That other mage bonds the blocks into place,” Rivkah explained. “Each block melts a tiny bit into the blocks around it. It protects the blocks from weathering, and it’s incredibly hard to break. Besides that, the wall’s smoother—harder to climb, that is.”
“It seems as if the mages do most of the work,” Val commented.
“Not really,” Rivkah told them. “The mages can do their work much faster than the masons can cut the stone, so most of the time the mages are just waiting for blocks to work with. Sharl’s ordered every available man into the rock pits to cut block, with only a few masons to each pit to supervise. That way they can cut more stone at a time, and the mages move between the pits. Come, I’ll show you the wall and the gate towers.”
Valann and Chyrie followed Rivkah, scrambling over piles of loose rock and dug out dirt, to the structure of the wall itself. The humans stopped work, glaring at the elves and murmuring angrily to each other.
The wall was solidly built, tapering from almost six human heights wide at the base to a little over two at the top. The walk at the top of the wall faced against the stone battlements, with wood-shuttered breaks and narrow slits through which arrows could be shot. At intervals this pattern was broken by stone hoardings jutting out past the wall, but these were too incomplete for Val and Chyrie to examine.
Two cylindrical towers, also set somewhat out from the wall, flanked the gate, and the wall walk penetrated the towers to pass straight through. Each tower contained a few guards’ quarters and stairwells leading up to high watch platforms at the top. Valann and Chyrie were fascinated with the gigantic wheel and chain that raised and lowered the heavy iron portcullis that could close off the gate if the heavy wooden doors were breached.
In addition to these precautions and the arrow slits, the walkway floor over the wooden gate and the portcullis was slightly recessed and covered with a hinged wood slab. Under the slab, the stone had been replaced by a wide-meshed metal grid. Rivkah explained that this grid would let the guards pour down boiling water or heated stones on anyone trying to breach the gate, and that the hoardings would have similar grids.
Chyrie pulled herself up to peer out through one of the arrow slits, grimacing at the feeling of confinement that gazing through the narrow opening gave her. This was her first chance to have a good look at the water-filled moat outside the wall, and she could see that that, too, was being worked on by human crews, apparently widening the waterway. The forest seemed terribly distant, and she hurriedly brushed away tears before Valann could see them.
“With such defenses, how can you fear any army?” she asked.
“This wall isn’t so impressive as all that,” Rivkah told her. “If the elves were going to attack us—if all the elves in the Heartwood would attack us together—how would you go about it?”
“We would not.” Chyrie shrugged. “You have nothing we would want.”
“Well, assume you did want to,” Rivkah said patiently. “How would you do it?”
Val sat down on a block of stone to consider.
“Attacking the wall would be foolish,” he said. “I would send archers in boats across the river to the west side, to shoot anyone who tried to come through that opening for fish. Other groups would similarly watch the south and east gates. That way no one could leave the city, either to flee or to seek food. Our Gifted Ones would attempt to use magic against the city, but there would be no necessity for a determined attack, as long as we could keep your people confined in the city.”
“A siege.” Rivkah nodded. “But these barbarians won’t be able to do that. Unlike the elves, they don’t have boats and they don’t have a forest to feed them—I doubt the elves will be any more willing to let them hunt or forage in the woods than they let us. They can cut us off, though, even without boats. It may come down to a question of who has more food, them or us. They do have magic, according to rumor, primitive but powerful. Our own mages may be kept busy just countering that. Sharl hopes we can outwait them, that they’ll become so low on supplies that they’ll retreat, believing the city not worth the trouble of waiting.”
Valann and Chyrie exchanged glances.
(They will not retreat,) Val thought grimly. (Instead they will attack the forest in force, for we have no stone walls, and there is more food to be had in the forest than in this city as well. The city will tempt them like a tasty nut, but if its shell proves too tough, they will turn to the forest to feed their hunger. First Blue-eyes will fall, then the frightened Longears—this is Sharl’s way to press us for aid, even under the geas, for he can sit secure, taking no action himself, while this army descends upon the forest.)
(This is news for Rowan’s ears,) Chyrie thought. (Under the geas, if we call to him for assistance, he must order his people to render it.)
(And we are here to ask,) Valann thought. (Another example of Rowan’s forethought. We must keep alert to these plans.)
“I would be interested in seeing your weapons,” Valann said aloud to Rivkah. “Some clans in the Heartwood are tall enough to use human-sized swords, but some, like Wilding, are not.”
“Here in the city we have only human-sized swords,” Rivkah said. “But the weapons coming from Cielman were made smaller, and they should arrive in a few days. I’ll show you one of the guard armories, if you like.”
The guard barracks were south, and Valann and Chyrie were able to view Allanmere’s market. There were a few stalls, farmers and craftsmen selling their goods to the nobles and to each other, but Rivkah said that Sharl someday expected a huge market, when Allanmere became a more p
rominent stop for merchant trains and when river trade became more feasible.
There were only a few guards at the barracks when they arrived.
“Most of the guards are doubling as stone cutters or other laborers,” Rivkah explained. “Others are training the farmers in weaponry and helping them bring their goods into the city for storage.”
One of the guards had to be persuaded to open the armory, and did so reluctantly, watching Chyrie and Valann intently as he did so. The small room held numerous weapons on racks and suits of armor of various kinds on stands.
Valann and Chyrie poked at the armor curiously, chuckled over the bows, and openly admired the swords and daggers. Some of the largest swords were almost as long as Chyrie was tall, but she found a long dagger that served her as well as a sword, while Valann experimented with a heavier short sword.
“These are of excellent make,” Chyrie said ruefully, drawing her own age-thinned blade for comparison. “The metal is stronger, and doubtless it holds a better edge. It is a fine blade.”
“Take those if they suit you,” Rivkah suggested. “Most of our guards use the crossbows and longer swords, and it’s best if you have time to practice with an unfamiliar weapon.”
“Here, lady, you don’t mean to be giving them our weapons?” the guard protested. “Those puny imps would be no good in a fight, and like as not run us through as soon as an enemy.”
“I think I’d disagree with you on both points,” Rivkah said ruefully.
Valann touched one of the crossbows. “This is an unusual design,” he said.
“Show him how it works,” Rivkah told the guard. He gave her a rather surly look, but picked up the crossbow and a couple of bolts and took them to the door of the barracks. He gestured wordlessly to a post across the road, loaded the crossbow, and just as casually sent both bolts thunking solidly into the indicated post, much to the dismay of a passerby. The burly soldier retrieved the bolts—he had to wrench them mightily out of the post—and returned them and the crossbow to the armory, still without a word.
“A marvelous weapon.” Val nodded. “It almost compensates for the pitiful bows your people use. If there is indeed a trade between our two peoples, you must have the elves make new bows for your people. Yours would snap like dry twigs at a good draw, for all your warriors are stout with muscle.”
“Valann made my bow with his own hands,” Chyrie said proudly. “I have seen few better, even made by those who live by such trade.”
Chapter Eleven
Ah, but my mate can fletch an arrow so skillfully that it flies straight as a sunbeam and swift as a hawk’s dive,” Val returned.
“I used to be a fair shot with a bow,” Rivkah said shyly. “But I know I could be better.”
“Then in exchange for these weapons, and perhaps others, and partners to try them against,” Chyrie said, “Valann shall make you a bow and I your arrows, and we shall instruct you with them.” She elbowed Valann, who looked inclined to protest. “Shall we not, my mate, so that she may defend her own unborn?”
Val sighed, but nodded.
“I cannot argue with the defense of a mother and her unborn,” he told Chyrie. “But you are a sly she-fox, there is no doubt.”
(I will provide more persuasion when we can be alone,) Chyrie thought coaxingly, taking Valann’s hand.
Valann chuckled and squeezed her fingers.
(I will be most difficult to persuade,) he thought. (It will take some effort on your part.)
(I would have it no other way,) Chyrie returned.
“Can we not return to the keep now?” Chyrie asked aloud. “Two small wolves live in my womb, and if I do not feed them, I vow they will kick their way free.”
Rivkah looked up at the sun, surprised.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “The midday meal is long past. We’ll stop at an inn and pick up something to keep you until supper. I’m hungry myself.”
The concept of an inn mystified Valann and Chyrie, but the hearty bowls of stew and dumplings, crusty loaves, and meat and vegetable pies set before them suited them well, and Chyrie professed a fondness for the cellar-cold beer with which they were served.
“That’s one advantage of cities.” Rivkah laughed, accepting her second meat pie. “Here, you don’t have to catch it first.”
“But in the forest I would choose a younger stag for its tenderness,” Valann returned, chewing with some vigor at a lump of meat in the stew. “But I am wrong. This is not venison.”
“That’s beef,” Rivkah said, gesturing at the stew. “The pies are pork.”
“If you will insist on so much conversation,” Chyrie said, snatching the last pork pie, “there will be all the more food for me.”
Rivkah laughed and indulged Chyrie by buying sweet seed cakes for each of them, and they returned the more merrily to the keep. There they found Sharl in a less pleasant mood, stalking the long great hall angrily.
“There you are!” he shouted, apparently at Rivkah, when they entered. “Six new mages arrived today, including your own teacher, and you’re the one who knows where they should be and what they should be doing! I’ve had guards looking for you for hours, and I’m late to meet with my advisers already!”
Rivkah’s jaw trembled and her cheeks flushed red, and she started to speak, but Chyrie touched her arm.
“Do not let him speak to you so,” she murmured to the mage, and Rivkah took a deep breath and squared her shoulders.
“I’ll attend to the mages,” she said quietly. “And I’ll help you in any way I can—when you can speak to me as a friend, not a slave.” She turned back to Valann and Chyrie. “Come, you can try the bathing pool, and you can dine with me and with my mentor in his quarters tonight.” She glanced briefly at Sharl. “There you can expect polite conversation.”
Valann chuckled, carefully under his breath.
(So the rabbit can bite,) he thought to Chyrie. (Why you choose to befriend this human woman I do not understand, but we will yet have much amusement of it at Sharl’s expense, or I am much mistaken.)
(Sharl is no different from the leader of a pack of wolves,) Chyrie thought, (playing games of dominance and intimidating everyone he can. A leader must find a better way of dealing with those who do not enjoy such games.)
“Wait.” Visibly calming himself, Sharl walked over and took Rivkah’s hand. “I’m sorry. I’ve let my worries make me harsh these days.” He smiled for what seemed the first time since Valann and Chyrie had seen him, an engaging, crooked grin that made him suddenly handsome. “I was angry when you told me—”
He glanced at the elves. “They already know,” Rivkah said gently. “Chyrie knew before I was even sure myself.”
Sharl nodded.
“They are a perceptive folk,” he said wryly. “Rivkah, in another time, at another place, I might not have been angry at all. I might have been glad. At the time when you told me, it was just another worry. Can you understand?”
“Of course.” Rivkah smiled. “Now, go meet with your advisers. I’ll take Valann and Chyrie back to their rooms, get the mages settled, and then I’ll join you.”
Rivkah showed them back to their quarters and reminded them how to reach the closest bathing pool, and then left them to their own devices. This suited Valann and Chyrie perfectly, and they took two skins of wine from their packs and retraced their steps to the bathing room.
“There are some advantages to this human city,” Val admitted, tossing his clothes in a corner and testing the water with a toe. “At least they do not have to melt snow in the winter for water.”
“And in the heat of summer they have no cool lake or stream to swim in and to chill their wine,” Chyrie reminded him. She, too, dipped a foot in the bubbling liquid. “Bathing in hot water. I would never have thought of such a thing.”
Valann grinned mockingly at her.
“I see you still sit outside the water,” he teased.
“As do you.” Chyrie laughed, then shrugged and slid into
the water, yelping at the unfamiliar feeling of hot water closing around her and the tickling of the bubbles. Val quickly followed.
(Chyrie.)
Surprised, Chyrie lost her footing briefly and slipped under the water; Val hauled her back up, and she let him hold her while she answered Dusk’s call.
(I am here.) Dusk was not as strong a beast-speaker as she was, but he had worked with the brighthawk longer, and his call was strong and clear.
(There is news,) he told her. (You should tell the humans that a small party of human raiders, clothed and armed as the ones at the altars, attacked the Dawn’s Edge clan only hours ago. Word has only just reached us.)
(What of the Dawn’s Edges?) Chyrie asked, alarmed. Dawn’s Edge was not far north of Wilding. (How did they fare?)
(Two were slain,) Dusk thought. (Most of the humans were killed, but some fled back out of the forest. The incident has much frightened many clans, and several who refused to join their force to ours have now reconsidered. Many wish to send some of their folk immediately to the city to be sheltered. Blue-eyes will not join us, nor agree to give us passage, and Western Heart, to the north of Blue-eyes, say the same, but the Brightwaters to the south have now promised both. The first elves from the Brightwater clan should reach Allanmere in two days, with others following soon after.)
(I will alert the humans and tell them of the raid,) Chyrie promised. (If you could send a map such as Rowan made, showing the locations of the clans and those who have allied with Inner Heart, it might be of assistance.)
(I will send an owl with the map tonight,) he promised.
(Each elf who comes to the city should bring his or her bow, if they use them,) Chyrie told him. (There are bows here, but a child could make better. Wine would be welcome, and it would be wise for the elves to also bring as much food as they can carry. There are few stores in the city, and should the food run low, well that our people have their own.)
“Chyrie,” Val murmured, drawing her attention back from the forest. “Tell Dusk to send pots of poisons for arrows and blades.”