by Matthew Wolf
“I will not take a whole procession unannounced to his majesty, King of the Shining City, last of the Great Kingdoms. You will stay.”
“He will not be coming,” Karil interrupted. She turned to Rydel and lowered her voice to a whisper though Gray overheard, “Pick your fights my friend. You know this is possibly more important than any of us. The king must be informed of the real threat—the Kage. I can protect myself. Please don’t worry. See to the others and secure us an inn. Keep them safe.”
Rydel never took his eyes off the captain. Finally, he gave a slight nod to Karil.
“We leave now,” the captain said. He spurred his horse, and with the guards in tow they made their way through the gates and towards the king, their hopes riding with them.
As Gray watched them leave, a small weight lifted from his shoulders. He had gotten them this far, and it had seemed impossibly hard. The next step was out of his hands. He felt suddenly exhausted. He swayed in the saddle and at the same time Fael’wyn danced to one side nearly toppling him.
“Whoa! Easy there!” Darius called. “Dice, are you all right? I don’t know about you, but I could use a cold brew and from the looks of it, you need a good night’s sleep.”
Gray laughed. “I’ll take you up on that, but if I do sleep, you think you can stay out of trouble on your own?”
Darius’ words were suddenly cut off by a long, continuous creak from the doors ushered all to silence as the city was unveiled.
Spellbound
GRAY GAWKED AT THE SCENE BEFORE him.
Houses lined a paved road of ivory brick, the smallest of which could fit ten or more of Mura’s simple cabins with room to spare. Each roof was a colorful mosaic of blue, green and yellow clay tiles with eaves elegantly curled like fingers, and tiled spines like vertebrae. Straight ahead was a channel of turquoise water that ran crossways to the street. A white bridge spanned it, leading deeper into the warrens of the Shining City. But first and foremost, Gray noticed the people.
Farm carts and wagons ran back and forth along the smooth road. A line of men came to and fro from a giant white and blue marbled building with thick columns and a series of stairs, the tallest and grandest of all the nearby structures. They jostled jute sacks over their broad shoulders, piling them onto a large boat that sat in the channel.
Darius whistled through his teeth.
The sharp ping of a blacksmith’s hammer rang in the distance, soft music filtered from the inns, and the sounds of trade flooded the air. Those closest to the gates stared fearfully or in awe at the ragged newcomers.
“Well, no use wasting time here, right?” Darius said with a breath of excitement.
Gray urged Fael’wyn forward and the others followed. Side alleys branched from the main road that led to green courtyards lined with trees bursting with pink flowers, stone benches, and viewing pools. Upon the canals, slender boats skimmed along the water, brimming with trade goods, sacks of flour, stone bricks or even squawking geese. The men or women who manned the boats carried slender wood poles to urge the vessels along. Here and there, the canals fed to quiet pools where other boats sat moored. The water reflected the white city around them.
“Light, this place is beautiful,” Darius said. “I wonder what the inn is going to be like. I’m so used to the hovels of Lakewood.” The rogue’s eyes were wide, as if he were already picturing the pints of frothing beer and smiling waitresses.
“Lakewood’s inns weren’t hovels,” Ayva replied.
“Have you seen where we are?” Darius scoffed. “This is what a city is supposed to look like!”
Ayva’s brows furrowed. “You’re a fool,” she said. “The Golden Horn had twice the heart and warmth of any place here I’d bet.”
“Sure, sure,” he replied.
“Take it back, Darius,” she said.
Gray kicked the rogue’s calf, hoping the fool would realize that he was touching a sore subject, and at last he threw up his hands, “All right fine! Sheesh, the Golden Horn was a step above the others, but they all were …” Darius saw Gray’s look and he coughed into a hand. He spoke again, softer, “Look, the Golden Horn was great, but all I’m saying, is by comparison, I’m pretty sure—the Golden Horn excluded—the rest of them will look more like Mistress Sophi’s outhouses than inns. Speaking of which, I think I’m ready to take you up on that drink you promised me, Gray.”
“Interesting, I don’t seem to remember a promise like that,” he replied.
Darius slapped his back, “You’ve had a lot on your mind. I forgive you.”
Gray laughed when an image flashed in a nearby alley. Twin swords. He pulled Fael’wyn short, gazing down a dark alley mashed between two marbles walls, but he saw only shadows.
A hand clasped Gray’s shoulder and he startled.
“Gray?” A soft voice asked. Ayva’s light blue eyes met his, creased with concern.
“I thought I saw something, but I guess I was wrong.”
Darius shrugged. “Well, that’s good enough for me.”
“Are you sure you’re all right?” Ayva asked.
“I suppose I’m just tired. My eyes were simply playing tricks on me.”
“All the more reason to get to the inn and get some rest.”
“And don’t forget that drink!” Darius said.
Gray hesitated. “You two go on ahead, I’ll be there soon.”
“Come on, Ayva, I’ve had enough cursed fresh air for the rest of my life.” Darius turned his horse towards the stone gates ahead, following the tail end of the villagers.
Ayva paused a moment longer, until Gray thought she wouldn’t go. At last, she turned, “Join us soon,” she insisted as she guided her mare after Darius.
Gray dismounted and ducked into the shadowed lane. No harm in being cautious. The alley was quiet after the bustle of the streets. He searched but saw nothing, when he suddenly saw a scrap of light blue cloth pinned to the wall. Ayva’s cloak, he knew, heart pounding, feeling it between his fingers.
“A symbol that you trust too easily,” a voice echoed in his head.
Gray knew that voice. “Where are you?” he called. Dark maniacal laughter replied, echoing off the walls. “Show yourself, Kail,” he shouted as the laughter grew.
Again the voice sounded inside his skull, “You endanger their lives. Why?”
“They stay of their own free will!”
“Free will or not, can you live with their blood upon your hands?”
“You’re wrong,” he said, shaking his head. “I can protect them!”
“But can you protect them from yourself?”
“I would never! I would die before I caused them harm!”
“A fitting answer,” Kail laughed. “For only when you are gone will they be safe.”
“Enough!” he bellowed and unsheathed his blade with a sharp ring. A sudden pain lanced through his arm. He fell to his knees, holding his trembling hand. Gray watched in horror as dark tremors writhed beneath his flesh, crawling like black snakes.
“You see? It’s too late… The darkness has found you. Now it will not let you go.”
Gray threw the blade and it clattered against the wall. Still the dark tremors swelled, and his arm bulged as the black veins grew. Mad laughter filled the alley, ringing in his ears. Desperately, he pulled for the nexus, praying it would dull the pain. The nexus appeared, shrouded in black as if dipped in a pool of ink. He plowed through the darkness as if trudging through a mire of sludge. The black tremors wormed their way into his chest, but he pressed onward. Suddenly, he lost sight of the nexus altogether. Still he dug, searching amid the darkness. At last, he touched a tendril of light. He gripped it tightly, and his power filled him. In a burst of light, the nexus shattered the black mantle. He opened his eyes. The tendrils in his arm retreated, moving back into his skin and then disappeared altogether.
Cradling his limp arm, Gray caught his breath. Slowly, he unfurled his clenched fist. Gouges marred his flesh. Marks where his nails had b
it deep into his skin. There, resting in his open palm, was the blue scrap of Ayva’s cloak, stained in blood…
Kail’s voice echoed off the marble walls. “You are alone.”
The Stonemason
THE DIPPING TSUGI, GRAY READ THE swinging sign above his head.
His grip tightened on Morrowil’s hilt. The blue cloth was now tied to his sword’s handle, reminding him of the legend’s words, and of what he had to lose. Gray sheathed the blade with a shiver, taking his mind off thoughts of Kail as he took in his surroundings.
The Noble’s District, he recalled, remembering the street sign he had read as he passed through a large entryway. As he had climbed, rising through the tiered city, the roads had grown steadily less crowded. Now only a thin stream of people strolled along the pristine white roads. Most were robed in flowing gowns of layered silk with bright and jarring colors, others in oiled-leathers, while thick pelts draped their shoulders—wealthy merchants and rich traders, he assumed. There were no more hawkers or peddlers. Moreover, he studied the buildings. There were few shops here. Most appeared to be sprawling villas with verdant trees, arched terraces, and carved statutes. Inns dappled the wide street as well, their roofs reaching several stories high and gilded in silver or gold. They bore fanciful names like The Siren’s Song, and The Silver Harp. Gray couldn’t remember seeing anything this extravagant in all his life.
He turned back just as a lanky, blond haired stable hand came running from around the corner of the inn. The boy looked exhausted. He handed Fael’wyn’s reins over. “Take good care of him and see he’s well-fed,” he said, flipping the boy a coin he had won in a game of cyn with Darius. Best use of the rogue’s coin I can think of, he thought.
The boy looked at the silver coin as if it were dark magic. “I’ve never see coin quite like this before,” he said, his voice the reedy whine of adolescence.
“It’s real, I assure you,” Gray said.
“Where are you from?” the boy asked.
Gray debated lying, but at last he saw no harm in it—the King would find out soon enough. “Far away. A place called the Lost Woods. It’s a long ways south from here,” he answered.
“So it’s true,” the boy whispered, “The others said it was so, but I didn’t believe it.”
“Others?” he asked.
“Ah, just the other stable hands and some of the waitresses. And I thought they were teasing me again, but they looked mighty shocked themselves. Then you’re with that scary lookin’ crowd that just came in? How in the light’s realm did you get pass the great gap?”
“It’s a long story, perhaps another time.” Gray moved towards the inn’s door.
“Wait, hold on,” the boy said.
“Yes?”
“Then you’re here to see the King?”
Gray nodded. “What of it?”
The boy bit his lip nervously as he eyed the nearest people, waiting for them to pass. “A word of warning then,” he said, lowering his voice, “be wary of the king’s advisor— Tervasian. It’s well known that he has the ear of the king. Both of them. If you plan to get anywhere with Katsu, you will have to convince Tervasian first.”
Gray remembered that name—it was the same one the guard had uttered. Councilor Tervasian… “Thanks for the advice.”
“Sure thing, and thank you,” said the boy with a wink, pocketing the coin, and with that he took Fael’wyn away.
As Gray turned toward the inn’s door, he heard a sudden commotion and the door slammed open. A body came barreling out and crashed into him. The two fell, toppling head over heels into a pile. Gray hit his head and something sparked—a vision flooded him.
Baked sand filled his nostrils, his lips parched. Before him was a dark castle, rising from the tan desert. The vision shifted and he was in a vaulted room of black stone. He was not alone. A slender woman stood confidently before a mirror, dressed in scarlet red robes. Her hands glided over her form. Gray looked down and saw his own coarse brown robes. He looked back up. The woman eyed her reflection with pride. She had just done something… something noteworthy. She turned to look at him and called his name. But it was not his name. Her delicate wrist stretched towards him, but there was something else in her grip. As he reached out to touch her, smooth fingertips brushing his, she screamed. Suddenly she was on her knees and blood was everywhere. There was a scream and he gasped and the room plunged into darkness—thick feelers crawling up the walls and consuming everything they touched. The bloodcurdling cry continued. Gray wanted to tear his ears from his skull if it would stop the sound.
As quickly as it came, the vision vanished. Gray took a sharp breath. It couldn’t have lasted more than a few seconds. His head throbbed as he regained his senses, and the white paved street of the Shining City settled familiarly around him. Nightmares from my past…
An angry voice shouted, “And stay out you lout! For the last time, keep yourself to the Commoner’s District!” The door slammed shut.
Gray sized up the man before him. Lines creased the corner of his eyes and deeper lines ran from his nose past his mouth. His drab clothes identified him as a laborer like the ones Gray had seen at the docks, but his clothes had a touch of finery. He spotted flared cuffs with a bit of dark embroidery. Gray guessed the man was perhaps Mura’s age, but he wore his years with less grace than the hermit, like an ill fitted coat.
The man turned towards him, a woozy smile through his scruffy beard. “Yes? What do you want?” he grumbled. “I am not for sale, you know.”
“What? You ran into me…”
The man belched, raising a fist to his lips. His words came out heavily slurred, “You find me handshome. Why else would ya’ be giving me that come hither look, lass?”
Looking around, Gray saw there were other people on the street, but they were all too far to hear.
“Shhh, no no,” the man said, overriding him. “There’s no need to be coy!”
“Uh…”
The man raised his fist to the sky, “But alas, it cannot be. I am woefully sorry, you have to understand, my dearest madam. I am betrothed only to my work!”
Gray put his hand in his hair and shook his head, this time with a laugh. He bent down and grabbed the man by his clothes, pulling him up. All the while the man complained. “I’ve never seen anyone as drunk as you,” Gray laughed. “First off, I’m not a woman. And second, what has got you in such a state that you’re this drunk by midday?”
The man rubbed his eyes, peering through his heavy lids and then rose to his wobbly feet. “First!” he said, raising a finger and then paused to belch. “My apologies. You are definitely a man…”
“I’m glad we got that settled.”
“…But you are a very pretty man, so you are to blame as well. Second!” He raised his third finger, interrupting Gray. His expression became deathly serious. “I am no ordinary drunk. Though I am very drunk, right now. I am Balder, chief of the Stonemason’s Guild.”
“Stonemason’s Guild?” Gray asked.
“You do not know of it?” Balder said in shock, “Everyone knows us! Where have you been? You do have an odd accent.” He dismissed it with a gesture. “No matter, I will inform you then. The Stonemason’s Guild is the most powerful of all the guilds in the Shining City, and I was its chief!”
Gray narrowed his eyes, “You said you are its chief before.”
“What? Oh that’s right! Am, its chief, am. What did I say? Never mind that! I have an idea, what say you and I go for a drink. So you know, my apprentices always pay for the first round. It’s custom, but I’ll get the next one, of course.”
Gray tried to interrupt, but there was no opening in the man’s ranting.
“—You know, it used to be free for me. All the innkeepers clambered to give me a drink. Sometimes I’d repay them with a bit of the finest touchups on their establishment. Of course, only after racking up a wee little tab,” he nudged him confidentially. Balder’s eyes flickered to his wrapped sword. “Say, what’
s in the wrapped bundle on your back? Mind if have a look?”
Gray ignored the comment. “Why did you get kicked out?” he asked, looking to the inn before them.
“I just made a remark, nothing big, just a simple observation about the innkeeper, Hitomi, and her own guild The Tavern and Inn. I’d be careful of that one if I were you,” he said and then reached for something in his jacket, extracting a flask and bringing it to his pursed lips.
He grabbed Balder’s hand, “No more.”
The stonemason’s face turned beet red. “Who are you to…” he said and paused, clasping a hand to his mouth as he twisted and threw up.
Gray groaned. “What am I to do with you? You’re much too drunk to be wandering the streets.”
“No no, I feel much better now,” Balder muttered, wiping his mouth.
Gray eyed the stonemason. If the man was truly the chief of the stonemason’s guild, he would surely know the layout of the Shining City. Perhaps even know of a way out…
Balder was now appraising the stonework of the nearby planter where he had just vomited, ranting really at the bricks. “No, this is all wrong. Not vertically staggered, and… what is this, a saerian bond? Who built this? Were they blind? Or perhaps it was done at night, with a blindfold, and a spoon instead of a chisel. This is practically rubble!”
Am I really planning on leaving? Gray wondered. When he saw Balder reach for the flask again he dragged the man to his feet. “I can’t have you wandering into some dark alley and getting robbed, or worse.”
Balder harrumphed. “I am the chief of the Stonemasons’ Guild! I built this city from the ground up! Anyone who robs me will find justice at the end of a sword. Now enough of this nonsense, let’s find another tavern. Do you know of the The Green Hoof or the Red Maid? The Red Maid is good, but the The Green Hoof is better.” Agreeing while Balder talked, Gray led him to the door of the inn. “Wait wait, not there!”
“Keep your mouth shut and stay behind me, it’ll be fine. My friends and I are under the king’s protection.”