by Hooke, Isaac
Gwen pressed her lips together thoughtfully, and then looked away. “Brave man,” she commented.
The view from the apex allowed him to see the island that sprawled within the river below, set directly amid the flowing waters. The island was covered in expensive-looking buildings faced in white travertine, and they crowded out all of the available space. There wasn’t any real estate left anywhere down there as far as Malem could tell.
Beyond the island, two more arching red bridges led to the far shore, toward Northern Redbridge, where more buildings were carved out of the jungle. The structures lining the riverfront were relatively extravagant, but beyond them the quality quickly deteriorated. Marble gave way to alabaster, which in turn ceded to wood. The houses also became smaller and more crowded the further north his eye went, until finally, beyond the city limits, the ramshackle huts of the slums could be seen, clinging to the perimeter wall and fending off the forest beyond.
“Redbridge,” Abigail said. “A city torn between two worlds. It could never decide whether it was a city of the river or a city of the forest, and so it became both.”
“Yup,” Malem said. “But the question is are we staying here for the night, or passing through?”
Abigail hesitated. “I told you before that I was of a mind to continue straight through, but I’ve since changed my thinking on that.”
“Seeing those dire wolves would change anyone’s mind,” he commented, glancing over his shoulders once more.
“Yes. I’d rather rest here in the city than in the woods,” Abigail said. “We can rise early and press on, and hopefully make Fallow Gate before nightfall tomorrow.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Malem said.
The party proceeded down the bridge and he quickly lost the view of the city the apex granted. He kept glancing over his shoulder, watching for the wolves, until he reached the bottom, where another gatehouse blocked access to Redbridge Island.
The guards here let them pass without a word. The two men seemed mildly piqued by Malem’s mount, but otherwise their attention was mostly on the women who accompanied him.
Gwen took Neeme through first, and the armored men stared at her as she went by, giving her lascivious looks. One of them even licked his lips. When they noticed Malem’s scowl, the guards quickly pretended to be interested in their plate-covered navels.
As Malem passed, Abigail muttered, loud enough for the guards to hear: “At least the pigs didn’t try to extract a fee this time.”
Malem cringed, and expected the two men to flag them down, but they didn’t. When he looked back, it was his turn to receive scowls.
“You’re just jealous they weren’t eying you the same way they were me,” Gwen told her.
“Hmph!” Abigail said. “Maybe if I dressed like a whore as well, they would!”
Gwen gave her a cross look. “I’m not dressed like a whore. I’m dressed like an orak hunter.”
He heard Abigail’s soft snickering behind him. “If you say so.”
“When you’re splattered in the blood of the oraks I slay, you’ll understand why I don’t want clothes,” Gwen said.
“Oh, really?” Abigail said, all too sweetly. “I love the confidence. But you already admitted you’ve never faced oraks before.”
“Yes,” Gwen said. “But I also told you I hunted often with the village trappers. We didn’t always pursue animals...”
And she left it at that.
9
Malem led Bounder into the wide avenue beyond. Tall stone walls dominated either side. The entrances were protected by gates of iron bars, which allowed him to see into the private estates beyond, where mansions sat in the middle of supporting outbuildings. Malem thought the big estates next to the shoreline must have been fisheries and trade ports at one point—sometimes he could see the docks and warehouses behind some of the mansions, looking a little out of place, but still maintained, perhaps for entertainment purposes. He suspected most of the original businesses had moved to the northern shore, choosing to sell their existing plots of land to the rich to cash in on what must have been lucrative prices. Eventually some enterprising individual would figure out that there were vast, untapped plots of land available on the river’s southern shore just waiting to be harvested, and they’d market them to the noble elite of Redbridge and make a fortune.
Malem smiled. Maybe that individual would be me.
Too bad he’d need a fortune to purchase the riverside plots in the first place.
Occasionally thrusting up from beyond the stone fences were defense towers placed at strategic spots among the riverside estates. He could see soldiers clad in burnished plate with white-plumed helmets, ready to defend against attack by river. They stood next to trebuchets, and carried crossbows instead of swords.
As he moved away from the shore, two-story, travertine-faced houses replaced the fenced off estates to border the cobblestone road on either side; most of the homes had columned porticos, grand facades that Malem would have normally associated with government buildings. They were placed side by side, literally abutting one another, so that any backyards and private courtyards beyond were hidden from the road. That was one of the benefits of wealth: privacy.
On the streets, horse-drawn carriages intermingled with citizens who traveled on foot. The latter were dressed in simple tunics and breeches, as it was in fashion among men and women alike to pretend they weren’t rich. They browsed among the kiosks of various hawkers who had paid a license to set up shop on the island streets.
A few of the more beautiful women, walking with servants, went against the current fashion grain and dressed in rather extravagant gowns with expensive jewelry bedecking necks, wrists and fingers. These latter women, well aware of the power over the opposite sex they wielded, gave Malem interested looks when he passed, only proving Abigail right about the party standing out, unfortunately.
No one seemed afraid of his mount, he noted. Though why would they be? Because of the city’s status as a central trade port, Tempest merchants visited at least a few times a year, maybe even bringing iguanids with them to sell. So, the average citizen of this place would have seen an iguanid at least a few times in his or her life. Besides, it wasn’t fashionable among this lot to show fear toward something as simple as a mount, not in front of the watchful, gossip-prone eyes of their peers. Still, he was careful to keep his distance from any horses he spotted. It wouldn’t do to be sued by a rich noble for causing his mount to rear and upend him.
Near the center of the island, land had been set aside for the cultural artifacts of the city: the gladiatorial arena, the chariot circuit, the political forum and other government buildings, the illustrious temples. There were also travertine palaces where the wealthy members of the senate lived with their wives and concubines. Malem often wondered if it would be worth it to strive for such a position of power, if only for the women. It was too bad that politics bored the life out of him.
“Here’s an inn,” Malem said, nodding at a broad structure that looked little different from the other porticoed homes, except for the sign in front, which read: The Stately Queen Inn.
“Ha,” Abigail said. “Are you kidding me? The cost to room there for a single night is more than I’m paying you for the journey. All the inns are like that. No, we board in Northern Redbridge.”
“We could stop by a bank...” Malem said. “Borrow some money from your patron.” He didn’t want to mention King Goldenthall by name in front of Gwen, because he figured Abigail should be the one to reveal that: it wasn’t his place to discuss the mission, especially considering Gwen had essentially invited herself along.
“My patron wouldn’t approve,” Abigail said.
“And here I thought I’d be living in the lap of luxury when I took up with you,” Malem bemoaned sarcastically.
The tightly packed houses soon gave way to the stone fences of riverside estates once more as the party neared the north side of the island. They followed the signs until
they reached one of the two crossings to Northern Redbridge.
They passed two guards, and once more found themselves on a wide, arcing bridge, though this one had less of a slope than the previous. There was actual traffic on the bridge, too, mostly men and women from Northern Redbridge, judging from the brightly colored garments that were so at odds to most of the clothing he had seen on the island. The majority of the passersby traveled alone, he noted, without servants of any kind, and were on foot.
Hawkers had set up shop along the inner edges of the bridge, next to the rails. They usually focused on one particular retail item, such as shoes, purses or baubles, which were laid out on carpets they’d stretched over the cobblestone. Some of the hawkers sold more touristy items and services, such as small statues of the island’s government buildings, or offering to carve one’s name on a grain of rice. There were also food items for sale, like coconut halves doused in water, and burned corn cooked in a steel tin underneath the sun.
There wasn’t room among the bridge traffic to travel in anything other than single file, so Malem let Gwen take the lead. Neeme acted as a shield of sorts for Bounder so that most people didn’t see the iguanid until Malem was passing by; he noted that the majority still seemed merely curious about the animal, rather than afraid, which was good.
Neeme had to travel at the pace of the person on foot in front of her, until said person moved to the side to let her pass or to browse a vendor’s wares. Neeme would then advance quickly for a few paces, until becoming stuck behind the next unmounted person.
It was while crossing that rather crowded bridge that Malem began to notice the smell. A mixture of sweat and feces. The smell only got worse as they stepped off the bridge and into the milling mass of people that awaited in the first square of Northern Redbridge just beyond.
There was enough room for Malem to pull alongside her.
Gwen wrinkled her nose. “You’d think, given the fact their city is located on a river, that they’d have enough water to take a bath at least once in a while.”
“Welcome to the unwashed masses who live in most cities,” Abigail said. “Oh and, those baths you’re talking about? The upriver water is strictly off limits for bathing, as it’s used for the city’s main supply. And downstream, well, you wouldn’t want to bathe there, unless you’re particularly fond of sewage.”
“Uh, no thanks,” Gwen said. She paused as if considering something. “I’ve stayed at a few inns in Northern Redbridge before. They have bathwater.”
“Yes,” Abigail said. “But you’re paying for that water. It’s included in the price of your room.”
Gwen shook her head. “Water should be free.”
“The only thing free in this world is my smile,” Abigail said. “But even I sometimes charge for that.”
That first square was a hubbub of activity. It was essentially a mirror image of the traffic and commerce taking place on the bridge, though magnified tenfold. Jugglers, musicians, fire eaters and sword swallowers competed with hawkers for the attention of the passersby. The latter had actual carts to showcase their specialty wares, rather than carpets, and there was such a diversity of merchandise available that Malem knew if he was looking for something in particular, he could find it here, or in a shop nearby.
In fact, there was an item, or rather items, he was seeking at the moment. Though he planned to buy them in the next square, assuming the shop was still around. The store was far enough removed from the river to have a better chance at longevity than those in this area: because of the lofty rents charged for riverside storefronts, shopkeepers here had a harder time making a profit, and their stores had a higher turnover rate. They also charged more to make up for those costs, so it was cheaper to shop elsewhere in the city.
Because of the competition, many of the hawkers at their cart kiosks dressed in strange outfits, and some even painted their faces to exaggerate their features in an attempt to attract as much attention as possible.
“You’re wrong, we still stand out,” Abigail muttered. “Though I admit it’s better here, given the crowds.”
“I’ll remedy that in the next square,” he told her.
Malem continued to give a wide berth to any animals he spotted, which his mount spooked all too easily. While humans might not show fear, the different steeds and pack mules that traveled the square, or the animals up for sale in cages were a different matter.
Speaking of the latter… he often released Felipe as he passed so that the monkey could move surreptitiously among the cages and secretly open the locking latches; by the time Felipe returned to his shoulder, animals usually roamed the streets behind Malem, causing a chaotic ruckus.
“Do you always let him do that?” Abigail asked.
“I don’t let him,” Malem answered. “I command him to.”
Gwen giggled, and shouted behind her. “Be free my animal friends!” She glanced at him and gave him a sheepish look. “Sorry, couldn’t help it.”
“No, that was cute,” Malem said.
Her cheeks became a darker shade of green as she blushed.
Malem reached the far side of the plaza and rather than taking the main road to the next square, he took a detour down a side alley, just in case somebody was following them from the island.
Constantly glancing over his shoulder, he raced to its far end. He didn’t spot anyone, and was confident they hadn’t been followed as they emerged into the crowded square beyond.
“Dismount,” he told Gwen.
He commanded Bounder to kneel, and then dismounted with Abigail. Gwen did the same. She gave him a questioning look.
“So that we don’t poke out above the crowd,” Malem explained.
He found the shop he was looking for, and sent Abigail inside to purchase robes for all three of them. They moved into a small alcove next to the shop, away from the prying eyes of the street, and then slid the garments over their bodies and lowered the hoods. Gwen’s hood was particularly expansive, and she wore it low, completely hiding her green face. She donned a pair of spare riding gloves Malem had to hide her hands.
Abigail also bought two large blankets, which Malem carefully laid over Bounder, slipping them underneath the saddle to hold them in place, and together the blankets covered the iguanid completely. With his dagger, he trimmed the edges so that the blankets hovered above the ground, and then cut out holes for the eyes, so that it looked like Malem was potentially riding some malformed horse covered in sheets rather than any sort of lizard. He even had the iguanid tuck in its tail, sliding it along the length of its underbelly, to complete the illusion. He put another blanket over Neeme, for the sake of completeness, but left the horse’s head entirely exposed.
“There,” Malem said. “Now we look like a band of traveling monks.”
“I’m not sure if that’s an improvement...” Abigail said.
“It’s better than our original identities,” Malem said.
“Unless the spies of the Black Sword watched us change,” Abigail told him, peering into the street beyond.
“I don’t think so,” Malem said. “But if anyone saw us, I’ll have my animals keep watch at our destination.”
“I’m sure you will,” Abigail commented. “But if I see that monkey of yours peering into my window, I’m going to fry it.” She glanced at Gwen. “Ever tried fried monkey? It’s delicious.”
Gwen wrinkled her nose in disgust.
Felipe had been sitting on Bounder’s saddle, but at Abigail’s words the monkey promptly leaped onto her arm and scrambled to her shoulder, where he began screeching into her ear.
“Damn it,” Abigail said. “Get this monkey off me!” She raised a flat palm threateningly toward the monkey.
Malem quickly snatched the shrieking animal off her shoulder and issued a calming mental command. The animal leaped back onto Bounder and crouched low in the seat, blending in with the saddlebags. Felipe gave Abigail one last glower before looking away.
“You made him jump
on me,” Abigail said. “There’s no way that thing understood my words.”
“Actually, I didn’t,” Malem said with a smile. He placed a hand on Bounder’s flank, above the blanket, and gave the mental command for the animal to begin walking.
Gwen meanwhile led Neeme beside Malem, guiding the horse by grabbing a handful of its mane just above the withers. Malem knew how sensitive the mane area could be, but she was gentle.
Thus they left the alcove, remaining on foot so as to be less conspicuous, and continued into the street. In a short time, they left behind the second square and entered a new part of town.
The houses in this neighborhood were coated in gypsum, and lacked the elaborate porticos of the island homes. Most were rather squat affairs, though like on the island, they abutted against one another, mostly hiding the backyards. There were larger, apartment-style buildings that obviously housed multiple tenants, but those were few and far between. Some of the bigger structures were inns.
“Do you have a place in mind?” Malem asked.
“Actually I do,” Abigail replied, taking the lead.
As the party moved further north, the gypsum buildings gave way to those made of wood hewn from the surrounding Midweald. These ones had actual yards, though fences prevented Malem from seeing inside most of them.
He also noticed a slight change in the clothing people wore. Sandals seemed more worn in general, and the bright fabrics usually had multiple sections that were faded, and close to threadbare. There were also more than a few beggars in these parts, easily recognizable by the tin cans they held in their arms. Some of them lay passed out next to the road, smelling of liquor, their locks and beards disheveled.
“Nice neighborhood,” Gwen said. “And you say her patron is wealthy?”
Malem shrugged.
Abigail led them onto a seedier street, and Malem had to suddenly contend with scantily clad harlots shouting at him every several steps.
“Hey young man, let me help you reverse your vow of celibacy!”