by J H G Foss
Roztov and Ghene mulled this information over, then Roztov returned to something the young man had said at the beginning.
‘And so the Beri clan are the dark skinned, shorter ethnic group?’
‘You misunderstand, oh mighty wizard. The Beri clan, we are one of the clans of the Sunda. We are called the people of the Golden Kingdom. We are the aboriginals of Tanud. After us came the Jetta, then the Yat, and then the Bullays. Only the Bullays are fair of skin.’
Honni looked around the mine tunnel at the flickering shadows. He was wide-eyed and dazed, like someone in a dream. He was used to talking lizards, but shape-shifting was something virtually unknown to the people of Tanud.
‘Oh mighty wizards, are you men that can turn into lizards or lizards that can turn into men?’
‘Men,’ answered Roztov.
Honni did not seem entirely convinced.
‘We are not Spire dragons if that’s what you’re thinking,’ said Ghene trying to be helpful.
‘Outlanders?’
‘That’s right, from the east. We want to get off this island. Does Stovologard have docks? Ocean going ships?’ continued the pale blue lizard.
‘There are docks. There are ships. Where in the east?’
‘Very far away. Where there are kingdoms of men. Where the dragons do not rule.’
‘Truly?’ Honni was agape.
‘I’d leave that sort of stuff for now, Ghene,’ said Roztov. ‘You’ll confuse the poor fellow.’
‘Right,’ conceded Ghene. ‘You are free to do as you please now, friend Honni, but perhaps you can help us?’
Honni bowed.
Roztov and Ghene then turned into their own forms and conversed in Enttish.
‘Interesting that he is annoyed at the guards, but not at the dragons,’ observed Roztov.
‘Possibly he considers taking them on an impossible task.’
‘Or maybe they are all happy enough being lorded over by dragons. Particularly if the dragons are using other humans to do all their dirty work.’
‘It’s possible. Or perhaps he thinks we are shape-shifting dragons and does not wish to offend us,’ replied Ghene as he took a small wicker basket of food out of a bag and passed it round, leftovers from the Happy Vegetain. ‘The Golden Kingdom. I wonder what that was.’
‘I can only think of the ruins in the Chasm. Perhaps men were here before the dragons. The frescos that I saw depicted a large civilisation. The Sunda could be descended from them.’
They talked for several more hours, comparing notes, changing back to lizards to converse further with Honni.
Eventually a goshawk flew into the cave and turned into Meggelaine.
‘Are you two ever coming back to the inn?’ she asked tersely.
Roztov stood up and stretched his legs. ‘I think Honni here can help us get to the harbour and maybe even help buy a ship. It would be better than stealing one.’
‘We can buy a ship?’
‘I’m not sure,’ he mused. ‘The more I think about it, the more the idea of this closed off island having ocean going vessels seems unlikely to me. What would they use them for? Any fishing boats they have would be small. Either Honni is just over promising to try and be helpful or he has no idea what size ships are.’
‘So that’s all sorted then?’ asked Meggelaine impatiently. ‘What are we all waiting for? Floran has wondered off with Tankle and Arrin has gone to bed. Broddor is flat out on the floor, dead drunk. I need help moving him. If he spends the night like that he’ll be as stiff as a board in the morning the daft old bugger.’
The next day Honni lead them to another small town that was only a couple of miles away from the city of Stovologard. The central tower loomed above them, casting a smoky pall over the landscape. With a few gold coins he was able to allay any suspicions that the gendarmes may have had about such an odd group of travellers. Growing in confidence he then led them to an inn, of which he knew the proprietor, and installed them all in a tall wooden house at the back of the compound. He then went to arrange passage to the docks.
‘Can we trust this man?’ asked Broddor when they were alone.
‘He seems nice,’ said Meggelaine.
‘I don’t know,’ admitted Roztov. ‘I’m not sure of any other way to go about this. We’ll need to go to the docks anyway, to see what floats down there.’
‘Want me to fly over there?’ asked Ghene.
‘I’m not sure,’ replied Roztov, riddled with indecision. ‘There is smoke everywhere. I’ve not seen a single bird since we left the last town. Nothing flies around here except dragons. Scouting would be done better on foot, maybe as a lizard.’
‘Yes, you seem to make a better lizard than me…’
‘In the name of Aerekrig,’ cursed Broddor as he interrupted them. ‘I like this place, the dragons are impressive, the food is good and the wine is passable, but stop pussy-footing around. If we are going, then let’s go! The city is two miles away, the docks can only be another mile beyond that at the most. We fly down there, hippogriffs and bees, steal a boat and sail off into the sunset. Job done!’
Roztov gave his friend a long look then spoke. ‘And then what? We would have literally a hundred dragons breathing down our neck. Breathing fire down our neck. We need to steal or buy a boat and then get away without the dragons noticing.’
‘Och,’ grunted Broddor with a dismissive gesture.
‘We need to see what comes in and out of the port. We need to see what the mist barrier is like here. We need our friends Arrin and Tankle to give their expert opinions on the situation as the only two sailors in our group. There are a lot of things to consider.’
‘You always over-complicate things.’
‘We are really close,’ put in Meggelaine. ‘Roztov is right. Now that we are so close, let’s not act in haste.’
Broddor folded his arms, sighed, shrugged, then lifted up a jug of wine and poured himself a cup.
The others settled in to wait as well, still happy to rest. Any day when they were not being chased by dragons or battling trolls felt like a good day.
From the south facing top window of the hut they were in they could see the jagged tops of the mountains in the distance to the south. The window was reached by a ladder and had a balcony that wrapped all the way around the inner eves of the roof.
‘So now that we have seen them all, what do you make of those mountains?’ asked Roztov of Ghene, turning to one of their favourite topics.
‘They are interesting. I have observed their unusualness. They are a strange mixture of young and old peaks. The Chasm is the result of some ancient upheaval. A massive earthquake that must have struck the island in two, thousands of years ago. Before then though, these mountains we have just left would have formed, but they are an interesting jumble of the young and the ancient.’
‘Yes, yes,’ agreed Roztov, sharing his friend’s love of geography. ‘The rounded ones were first obviously. They are similar to the mountains of Borland, ancient things,’ he raised a finger, ‘but then something happened that pushed the whole north of the island upwards. You have all these jagged peaks and hanging valleys.’
‘A landscape hard to navigate,’ agreed Ghene.
‘Reminiscent of the Moon Marshes in some ways. Elevated lands. I would dearly love to survey the whole island,’ sighed Roztov.
They walked around the balcony to the north facing window of the building.
‘Content yourself with what you have already learned,’ said Ghene as they walked. ‘You’ll give your society a whole new branch of research when you return.’
‘If I return.’
‘And what do you make of that?’ asked Ghene with a wry smile, gesturing at the tower of Stovologard.
‘It’s a nightmare,’ replied Roztov, looking up at it from the window. ‘Must be half a mile high. It wouldn’t surprise me if its origins were magical.’
‘See how it drips ash? See how black it is? There, and there, flashes of flame throug
h the smoke. What goes on in there?’
‘Dragon business, I suppose.’
Ghene shuddered and stepped back. ‘To live your life in the shadow of such a hellish edifice. No elven word does it justice. Is there a word in any human tongue?’
‘The sailors called the topmost sails of ships skyscrapers. That’s what that is. A skyscraper.’
‘Right, and how many dragons are in there?’
They watched for a while, as black shapes flew into and out of the smoke, constantly wheeling around, like a giant rookery.
‘Hundreds? Thousands?’
‘Think of it Roz, and all of the humanity that live in this land exist to serve them. Initially I thought that it maybe wasn’t such a bad deal for the people here. They are well fed, they are protected. But look yonder, at the houses of men that are of the city proper.’
‘Aye, slums, worse than anything I’ve ever seen in Styke, worse than Millwood. Buildings eight or more stories high, probably with hundreds of people in them. Living in that constant fug of smoke.’
‘And kept in line by their own kind,’ mused Ghene.
‘By my estimation there are more people in the city than inhabit the rest of the island,’ said Roztov as he counted the buildings. ‘A million maybe? Etruna save us, a million people living like that? It defies reason.’
Ghene turned and leaned over the bannister, looking down at the others as they sat and talked at the table. ‘I suppose we’ll have to go through it to get to the coast.’
‘I think so,’ replied Roztov as he too turned away. ‘It will be best to get lost in the crowd, the fog, the smoke. I look forward to it no more than you do.’
In the afternoon Honni arrived back at the inn, entering their rented house with a bow. He told them that it would be best for them to wait at the inn until tomorrow and he could make more arrangements.
Roztov, as a rock lizard said, ‘I’m going to take a look around.’
‘That would be very unwise, oh great and powerful wizard,’ cautioned Honni. ‘It is safest here.’
Roztov ignored the warning and scampered up the nearest tree then out over the compound wall.
‘Never mind,’ said Ghene. ‘I’m sure he’ll be fine. I have been thinking about what you said about your people once being part of a “Golden Kingdom”. Tell me, what do you know of the Chasm?’
‘Very little, most honoured lord. Only that they are enemies and evil in every way.’
‘Do you know anything at all about it being where the Golden Kingdom was?’
‘I have never heard that, but I am no scholar. I was a poor student when I was young.’
A look came over Honni’s face that Roztov would have recognised as guile. Ghene was not as good at reading people as his friend though.
‘You are not from here,’ said the young man. ‘At first I thought you were all Bullays, but you are not. Meggelaine is not a child, even a magical one. Broddor is not even a man, neither are you.’
‘What of it?’
‘Nothing my lord,’ said Honni. ‘You should take care though. The people here are most superstitious. They will think you are devils. If they find you they will take you to the gendarmes, who will take you to the dragons. Then who knows what happens?’
‘All we want to do is leave.’
‘Until I met you all I never realised there was anywhere else to go. It is most confusing.’
Meanwhile, Roztov was having a fine time, scampering around the streets and markets of the town. It was not a big place, but it was crowded, being a suburb of the main city. The inn where they were staying was on the southern edge of the town and sheltered from the smoke, but in the town’s centre there was a distinct fug in the air and when the currents were wrong, a downdraught would blow a big cloud of the stuff down into the streets and alleys. The people coughed covered their faces with handkerchiefs and got on with their lives. The exterior walls of the buildings were dirty with soot. Any building that was more than a year old, whether it was made from stone or wood was as black as coal. The thatched roofs of the stone buildings were like a chimney-sweep’s brush.
Lizards would usually be kicked out of a house if they were not known, as Roztov discovered when a charwoman hit him in the backside with a broom.
‘Get out of here you!’
‘Watch it, lady!’ hissed Roztov as he shot out the door and into the garden.
He learned though that the children liked to play with or torment the lizards depending on their temperament and he could gain access to their dwellings that way. By this method he explored the tall wooden houses of the dark skinned people, built in the same fashion as the ones back in Tunde, and the low stone buildings that the Bullays built.
The wooden buildings in the centre of this town were built three or four stories high, so from their roofs he could get a better view of the city and the tower of Stovologard. Through the swirling smoke he watched again the dragons wheeling around the top of the skyscraper and wondering at how the humans in the city could live beneath it. Layer after layer of sooty clouds descended on the tenements below, a poisonous fog the he thought must surely be killing the people beneath. Out here in the suburbs, it was bad enough, what must it be like directly under the tower he wondered. Worse than the iron works in Millwood, or the foundries of a dwarven fortress.
As the evening wore on he climbed a tree on a busy intersection and watched the people go by. They were mix of the finely dressed all the way down to people dressed in rags. There were miners, their skin and clothes red from the soil they worked with, there were men pushing hand carts and driving goats, there were clerks, scribes and messengers, all going about their daily business. Richly dressed women, escorted by guards who wore red feathers or other tokens in their helmets, bought treats and sweetmeats for their children from other women who sold foodstuffs from trays for a few leaves of script. Children, rich and poor, ran about, playing with the lizards or throwing stones at them or playing their own games, games that Roztov imagined were much the same as those played in the streets of Timu. Another thing that he recognised was how the guards behaved towards the commoners. They were rough, insulting and answerable to no one. They stole from the vendors and if anyone spoke up they were pushed to the ground and kicked. Wherever he travelled, Roztov always saw the strong bullying the weak. On the streets of Timu the town guard were reasonable fellows on the whole, but since the assent of King Woad to the throne, his palace guards had become as big a pack of vicious bastards as you could ever hope to meet. Roztov watched as three gendarmes push over a street vendors cart and the food scattered everywhere. As the poor man bent to pick everything up one of the gendarmes kicked him in the backside and sent him sprawling into the black mud of the street. They three guards then walked away laughing. As he watched the vendor pick up his cart and try to salvage his livelihood Roztov reflected that the vendor should count himself lucky. The Timu palace guards would have stuck a knife in him, then stolen the cart and sold it.
The three gendarmes had been Bullays, dressed in black armour and animal headed helmets, but there were other Bullays around too, attired the same way as everyone else. The place was a real mix of cultures, the Bullays wore the traditional looking local dress as often as not, but with patterns and designs on the fabric that were vaguely reminiscent of those found in the streets and squares of Ixnay and the other towns of Vegas back on Nillamandor.
Roztov arrived back at the inn after midnight. Only Ghene and Meggelaine were awake, keeping watch while the others slept. He took a glass of wine with them before going to bed.
‘So what did you learn, lizard Roztov?’ asked Ghene with a smile.
‘It’s an interesting place. The dragons seem to stay out of human affairs. They rely on the gendarmes to keep order.’
‘It’s most strange, I admit,’ said Ghene. ‘The humans are not put upon slaves, at least not in this town, or the others we have seen. They seem to accept the dragons as we back on Nillamandor accept the gods.’
‘There is mining here,’ said Roztov as he continued to relay his findings. ‘They mine precious metals and stones that are fashioned into treasures for the dragons. I’ve seen hematite being carried towards the tower by hand cart, there must be iron and steel works in the city.’
‘Interesting as new cultures and their economies are, I admit I can’t wait to leave,’ said Ghene. ‘This place has little use for nature, little use for druids.’
Meggelaine went inside to get a blanket.
Roztov checked over his shoulder to see that she wasn’t listening. ‘One or both of us is going to have to get inside that skyscraper.’
Ghene shuddered. ‘I know. If nothing else to see what is going on with Dreggen and old You-know-who.’
Meggelaine returned and Ghene changed the subject. ‘I can’t make out the difference between the Sunda, the Jetta, and the Yat.’
‘Really?’ replied Roztov raising an eyebrow.
‘Me either,’ admitted Meggelaine.
‘Honesty, we all look the same to you?’ he said with an amused sigh. ‘Well, the Sunda are the lightest of skin. They are like the people we met in Tunde. The Jetta are the shortest and the Yat are the darkest. It seems clear to me.’
‘Listen to him,’ said Meggelaine. ‘Like you are not just as bad. What’s the difference between a fraskan and a fressle then?’
‘There is none,’ replied Roztov without hesitation.
‘We dress differently. Fraskan ladies wear those weird tasselled skirts.’
Roztov laughed then rubbed his eyes. ‘You torms, fraskans and fressles. You are the same or different depending on what side of the argument you are on.’
Meggelaine snuggled up to him in her blanket. ‘Yes, yes. Just stay where you are. I’m going to rest my eyes for a moment.’
She was soon asleep, leaving the other two druids to talk and make their plans.
Chapter 16
Stovologard
They spent the morning of the next day in their tall house in the rear compound of the inn Honni had selected for them. The food here was not as good as the previous inn and the staff were not quite as friendly, but the top floor of the house offered excellent views of the town and its surroundings.