Finishing their drinks, the three spent an hour packing their gear by hand before Grettune casually waved new clothing over them based on what she had seen on the trail from Swinton. Hiding their collars was not difficult, as many men and women in the area wore gowns and headscarves that covered everything but their faces and could be pulled up further leaving only the eyes open to the harsh and dusty heat. So attired, they plunged down the dune they had sat atop early that morning and made their way to the great gate of Dar’Ahlmon.
Despite the seemingly short distance to the city from where they camped, the three were still able to stop for lunch and walk into the afternoon before reaching the hard-packed road leading to the gates. The city was massive up close, the walls easily topping the thirty feet Krieger had estimated from the dune. Even Burvig, Grettune guessed, would look something less than enormous outside the gates of Dar’Ahlmon.
The line of travelers making their way into the city was at a low point as the sun burned down in the early afternoon. Few were walking around at this time, and the guard seemed annoyed at having to leave his shade and shelter to come into the sun to deal with visitors.
As Krieger stepped forward to make his claim as a representative of King Edgar of Wesolk, Grettune studied the weapons and armor of the guards who wore little in the way of protection as soldiers in Wesolk would count it. A diagonal band of hardened leather that wrapped from the left shoulder across the chest and around the back was the only armor-like equipment evident from the several guards near the gate. Long swords with deep curves hung at their sides, with another small piece of leather attached to the leg where the sword might hit the cloth-covered skin. Light linen tunics and billowy breeches covered all the soldiers’ skin from neck to ankles and hard sandals were laced with leather supports over the ankle and back of the leg to mid-calf.
Nearby, leaning against the city walls, several shields were within easy reach of the guards. The shields were fully as wide as a man and nearly as tall, and the metal was covered with a colorful fabric that Grettune believed must indicate the unit or lord the soldier served.
Turning her attention back to Krieger, Grettune saw him hand a small piece of parchment to the soldier who read it and snapped to attention before handing the scrap back and quickly returning to the gate where she spoke with another solider who sprinted off through the city wall.
“It looks like they won’t let us enter quietly,” Krieger explained as he made his way back to his friends. “Dignitaries from foreign lands get a special escort through the city to the diplomatic district. There we will be received by a member of the Dynast’s staff. I am told, however, that we are free to move about the city as we please.
Moments later, a guard with deep purple breeches marched briskly to greet Krieger and led them inside the walls where they boarded a bright yellow and gilt palanquin held aloft by eight men. Taking a seat next to Krieger and across from the others, the guard reached out the window with a crop and slapped the man nearest him and the vehicle began moving. The palanquin was large and could have held two more people with ease. Lush, deep cushions covered the floor and walls and opaque fabrics made seeing the world outside impossible.
The guard did not speak, and when Krieger asked him a question about the city he replied in a formal and clipped tone that made it clear he was not meant to provide them any information. Understanding the man’s mission, Krieger began speaking to Grettune and Perryn in glowing terms about the loveliness of the city and the graciousness of its most excellent ruler. The guard didn’t so much as smile, but Grettune congratulated Krieger silently on his first piece of diplomacy within Dar’Ahlmon.
When the palanquin stopped, the guard stayed in the vehicle and opened the door opposite him, so his guests would all leave from a single direction. Descending a step placed by the door, Krieger was met by an older man wearing a straight white gown decorated with a pattern of vines picked out in green thread down the side. He was slightly overweight but not fat, although much of his excess weighed heavily on his chin and neck and was made more pronounced by his bald head, which was beaded with sweat. Nearly all his fingers were adorned by rings with enormous gems, finely cut from various colored stones, to include his ears where a curved bar of emerald hugged the inside top curve of his lobe.
Krieger reached out two hands, palms up in greeting, and when the man placed his own chubby fingers on the tips of Krieger’s the two men bowed slightly at the neck toward each other.
“Welcome, Minister Krieger of Wesolk,” the man said with a thick accent that accentuated his name while dismissing the ‘w’s as if they didn’t exist. As Grettune and Perryn stood by, the man welcomed them in the same fashion and then proceeded to treat them in the same way he treated the ‘w’s.
“My name is Absuwan and I will be your guide and translator as needed while you are in Dar’Ahlmon as the guest of His Eminence, the Dynast. It is my duty to be by your side and so you will never get lost within the streets of our most resplendent city.”
Krieger thanked him several times and assured the man that his help would not be required for more than a day or so until they found their way around. “After we meet His Eminence and deliver our message, I’m sure we will be heading north toward our homes once again,” Krieger added so that it was understood he expected to not be kept waiting long. The politics of Dar’Ahlmon needed to be tread carefully, so carefully in fact, that King Edgar was the first sovereign of Wesolk to even send an official envoy to the desert kingdom.
Absuwan smiled widely if not warmly at Krieger’s comment and bowed slightly again from the neck, indicating the three of them should move inside the building near where the palanquin had dropped them. The structure was three stories tall and took a large portion of the street. There were no windows on the ground level, but several narrow slits on the second and a large balcony with wide windows on the third.
“There is a sub-level as well that is much cooler during the heat of the day,” Absuwan said, indicating a small circular staircase at the back of the room they entered. “Many of our visitors prefer the sub-level, but of course, you are free to move as you wish.” The man clapped once and from a doorway at the back of the building, a woman and two small boys appeared. They were dressed in unadorned white skirts, the boys shirtless, and the woman with a modest piece of fabric across her chest and over one shoulder. She nodded once to Krieger and lowered her eyes saying nothing. The two boys didn’t look up at all. “These are your servants while you are here. She cooks, and they fetch and carry, wash and attend to anything else that needs attending.” Absuwan looked at Krieger appraisingly and started to mention something about attending all his needs again, before noticing the taller man’s eyes burning into his own and quickly leaving the rest of his sentence unsaid.
The tour went much more quickly afterwards, and they were shown to their rooms on the third floor, indoor privies, and baths.
“When do you think we will be able to meet with His Eminence?” Krieger asked the question as Absuwan prepared to take his leave so the travelers could refresh themselves and rest.
“The Dynast does not tell me these things, Minister. When His Eminence is ready, he will send an envoy to bring you to the Golden Palace. Until then, you are required to wait; but you are welcome to enjoy the hospitality of the Dynast and the beauty of Dar’Ahlmon.”
Krieger blanched at ‘required’ and pressed his case. “How long does His Eminence normally make people wait? My message from my king is of importance, and it would be unseemly for him to be kept waiting for an inordinate amount of time.” Krieger used his height and size advantage to tower over Absuwan, but it did not have the desired effect.
“I understand, Minister, and I will tell my superiors, however, the Dynast answers to his own counsel alone and will not be bullied by foreign powers, no matter how many collars they have in their charge.” Grettune thought that the man may have looked at her and Perryn as he said this but changed her mind as he bobbed his h
ead slightly and made his way out the door.
“He’s a pleasant fellow,” Perryn said, eliciting a small smile from Krieger.
“He is a low-level runner of errands and nothing more,” Krieger said, still smiling. “My guess is they threw him at us to see how we would react. I feel that in this place, the appearance of status may be more important than actual status.” Grettune found Krieger staring at her as he said this and after a moment, she realized what he was asking. Nodding to her husband she reached up and took off the cloth covering her neck, exposing her collar for all to see.
“Well, if that’s the case then, Krieger, let’s up your status in Dar’Ahlmon shall we?”
Perryn couldn’t contain his grin. “This might be more fun than I thought.”
20 - Visitors
The city of Dar’Ahlmon was nearly abandoned during the day. When the sun went down, however, shops and stalls opened, people came outside and ate their meals on blankets spread on the ground and gave brisk custom to taverns and wine houses.
The cook that had been assigned them was attentive to their needs beyond cooking, showing them wardrobes full of clothes in the local style and through use of the boys, giving them pointers on some of the finer customs of the city. Through all she showed them, however, she said not a word.
Slipping out of the house soon after dark, Krieger’s head was never still. “What do you search for Krieger,” Perryn asked as he munched happily on a stick of lamb a merchant had pushed into the hands of all three of them – nodding happily at their collars the entire time. He would not accept a single coin in return. As lamps were lit among the streets in the shopping district, they were given a wide berth when the people realized they wore the blue collars. Grettune and her husband made a point of always walking a half step behind Krieger and flanking him, to show off his importance. Perryn’s magic allowed the three of them to speak with each other silently.
“I am searching for agents of the Dynast,” Krieger replied after a moment. “There must be people following us. I would think less of this kingdom if there were not.”
“Does the king of Wesolk often have people followed in his city then,” Grettune’s voice gave away what she thought of the practice and reminded Krieger how naïve she was in some respects.
“Not everyone. But if someone from another kingdom is in Bayside, and we’ve never met that person before, then yes, that person is being watched. Always.”
If someone were watching, the three of them would be the easiest people to find. Because Perryn was using low-level magic almost constantly to let them speak unheard, his collar was radiating very dimly. If there were any sun at all it wouldn’t be noticeable, but in the near darkness between the streetlamps it gave off a lovely shade of blue that lit his face from underneath and reflected it to Grettune’s smooth, pale skin, so they were always bathed in a modestly colored aura. Grettune looked at her husband and smiled. He was enjoying himself and he looked fitter than he had ever looked. His sunken chest was fuller, and he walked tall down the street. Tending a bar didn’t suit him, she thought, but this type of work did.
They continued a circuit around the market and Krieger ducked into a small covered labyrinth of stalls that sold spices and food. The spices were displayed in barrels, small scoops full of powders of brick red, brown, orange, and tan all fought for space in his nostrils and their intensity cleared his sinuses. After the spice sellers came the sweets vendors, with silver platters lined with delicate sweet mouthfuls. One stall’s owner, an older man with a floured apron and thin, strong hands, held a pastry to Grettune who accepted it eagerly, her mouth watering from the variety of delicious sights and smells. Popping it into her mouth she closed her eyes and rolled her head backward as sweet date and sugar melted into her mouth.
The man smiled at Grettune’s reaction and when she looked at him again, he laughed and offered a similar treat to Krieger and Perryn who accepted and whose reactions were equally pleasing to the man. “You must let us pay you for these,” Krieger said, handing him several coins that he knew were worth far more than what they had eaten. He wanted to be seen as generous and knew of no better way to gain that reputation than by giving away money like he had an endless supply.
The stall owner waved away the money. “I am Yubi, and you need not pay. You tell others to find Yubi when they come to Dar’Ahlmon, no?” The man was a clever salesman and Krieger smiled holding out his hands to the man as he had to Absuwan in greeting and thanks. The man quickly turned red and looked like he was going to run, but he straightened himself up and returned the greeting, an enormous smile creeping up his face as he recognized business at other stalls nearby had stopped to watch what was taking place.
As they were ready to leave, Grettune looked at the man’s stall and noticed the wood was once painted in vibrant blues and yellows. The sun had faded everything, and only a few stall owners seemed to have taken the pains to reapply fresh paint that would last perhaps a season or two. “Thank you for your gift Yubi, I would like to return your generosity.” Grettune waved a hand in front of her and Yubi’s stall stood out like a beacon in the firelight – blues and yellows restored to their brightest shine. Yubi stood in awe and bowed again and quickly filled a box with sweets and handed them to Grettune.
“Wait until a year or two goes by and it still looks that good,” Grettune said to her husband. “He will be the talk of this market for years.”
On the move again, Krieger couldn’t help but laugh, knowing his status among the people would rise and that word of his market trip would reach the Golden Palace before they returned to their apartment.
They arrived back at their lodging early in the morning, before the sun rose and didn’t get up until the afternoon. Grettune got out of bed and left Perryn to sleep. Wandering down to the kitchen, she half expected to be greeted by Absuwan but there was no one there. The cook and her two young helpers peeked around the door from the kitchen when they heard her come down the stairs.
“Will you have your breakfast now or will you wait for the others?” The woman didn’t look up as she spoke and held her hands clasped in front of her. Grettune knew the look of subjugation when she saw it and invited the woman to sit with her. She said nothing.
“My name is Grettune, and you are…”
“My name is not important, but you may call me what you will. I serve the Dynast here.”
“I would like to know your actual name. Where I come from it is insulting to not share your name, so please, tell me who you are and sit with me.”
Seeing no way out of her situation and not wanting to offend her guest, the woman sat, and motioned to one of the boys who had poked his head around the corner. Immediately they could hear things being knocked together in the kitchen and in moments one of the boys appeared with a silver tray with two steaming mugs and a small plate of sweets.
Grettune thanked the boy and looked at the sweets. “These look remarkably like the ones from Yubi’s. She sighed as she bit into one, “and they taste like them too. So, what’s your name?” The boy looked at Grettune and then the other woman and sped away back through the door.
“My name, wielder, is Ishka. The sweets were a gift from Yubi.” She said nothing more but took a sip of the spiced tea the boy had set before them. “My role here is simple, serve until I am no longer useful.” Ishka leaned forward then, whispering and holding Grettune with her pale brown eyes. “When foreigners come and try to treat me as an equal, that can only end poorly for me. If Absuwan were to walk in, I might lose my position here, or worse.”
Ishka didn’t define what worse might entail, but Grettune was astute enough to figure it out on her own, and grasped the woman’s hands and said, “the doors to this place are sealed and you can speak as loudly as you like and no one other than myself will hear you.” Ishka’s eyes immediately went to Grettune’s throat where her collar quickly pulsed with a very faint dim light.
“It is true then.” Ishka whispered still, and looked
around the room, standing quickly and moving to the back door where she gave the boys instructions before coming back to the small table. “Your husband, he is the savior of the Dar’Duz?”
The question caught Grettune off guard and she stared at the woman again, wondering if she should say anything. Before she could, Ishka spoke again, “I take a risk in speaking so openly, but we are approaching a place where time is short, and chances need to be taken.” Ishka reached out and gripped Grettune’s hands and eyes with her own.
“My husband is the savior of the Dar’Duz, yes. Tell me the name of the leader of your people so that I may know who you are.”
Ishka smiled and let go of the wielder’s hand, leaned back and took another sip of her tea. “Ilyadra has spoken true. Wielder, I beg you, leave this town. Return north and tell your king to have nothing to do with Dar’Ahlmon. For the last year or more one of the Dynast’s advisors, and we cannot be sure of which, has been trying to convince the young ruler that war against the north is inevitable. The rising power of your land, with the collars and the enormous flying creatures all have the advisor convinced that war is upon us. If you stay here, prepare yourselves to stay for a long time – the Dynast will not receive you quickly.”
Ishka drained her tea, stood and bowed politely, murmuring to Grettune as her head was bowed, “please do not attempt to speak with me again, my mission is too important,” and she picked up the used dishes and returned to the back.
Magic's Genesis- Sword of Wilmamen Page 15