The City of Towers: The Dreaming Dark - Book I (7 page)

“Try to be patient. We’ll get to the bottom of this.”

The door flew open, and Jode came in from the street. He was smiling and flushed, and half-dragging Lei’s pack. “Drinks all around!” he called, tossing Dassi a gold galifar. “First round’s on me.”

“At tenth bell?” Daine remarked. But none of the other patrons were turning down a free round, and it had been some time since Daine had had anything other than water.
Unfortunately, the Manticore’s ale was of the same fine quality as its porridge.

Jode climbed up on the table and slid the pack across to Lei. She watched him with narrowed eyes. He smiled disarmingly and took a long pull of ale, followed by a terrible face.

“How is it we’re suddenly buying for the house?” Daine asked. Lei was already looking through the pack.

“Well, I thought it would be good if I got the lay of the land, got to know my way around town, and while I was at it I found a pawner who seemed like a decent woman, and I thought it would be good if we had a few coins to rub together.”

“Where’s my crossbow?” Lei said.

“Oh, come now. We’re in the greatest city in the world! Do you really think you need a
crossbow
on the streets of Sharn?”

Daine put a gentle hand on the halfling’s shoulder. “Pierce said that you took my grandfather’s sword with you when you left this morning. May I have it back now?”

“I’m sure it will be safe, Daine.” He tightened his grip. “You know I’ve got a good sense for people! Besides which, you’ve still got your dagger, right?”

“Jode …”

“I know, this may seem unwise, but I assure you, I’ve already put the coin to good use!”

“By buying watered-down ale for a group of strangers?”

“I tracked down an old friend of yours. Someone I’m sure can help us find our feet.”

“I’m listening.” He hadn’t released his grip.

“Alina Lyrris.”

Daine swore and knocked his tankard to the floor. He pulled Jode across the table. “Is this a joke?”

“No! She’s been in Sharn for over a year. I thought that with your history … you know, perhaps she could offer us work.”

Lei was lost in her thoughts again, but Pierce took an interest. “What history is this? Who is this Alina?”

Daine took a deep breath and let go of Jode. He forced a smile and sat down. “Alina Lorridan Lyrris is an old friend I … had dealings with before I joined the Queen’s Guard.”

“How might she help us?”

Jode answered. “Alina is a wealthy woman, and I’m sure she has a lot of connections in Sharn. I’m certain that she’d be happy to help an old friend like Daine. I’ve already talked to one of her associates and set up a meeting in one hour.”

Daine bit his lip, but stayed silent.

“Then let us ready ourselves,” said Lei.

Daine shook his head. “I don’t know …”

“… If we should concentrate all of our resources in one place?” said Jode. “Brilliant as always, General. Pierce, why don’t you and Lei see what you can find out about House Cannith? There must be someone in Sharn who’s willing to talk to you, Lei. Daine and I can speak with Alina.”

Pierce glanced over at Lei, and after a moment she nodded.

“Very well!” Jode say brightly. “We’ll meet back here at, shall we say, two bells?”

“I’m going to get my armor,” Daine said, scowling.

“Alina Lyrris?
What have you gotten us into?”

High Walls was just as dismal by the light of day as it was in the dark. The ghetto was an exterior district, built along the outer wall of the great tower of Tavick’s Landing. The alleys and streets were filled with refugees of all nations, but the majority of the beggars and miserable laborers were Cyrans. With the destruction of their homeland these unfortunate souls had nowhere else to go. They passed a one-armed veteran of the Queen’s Guard, who stretched out his good hand in an imploring gesture. In a nearby alley, a pair of feral children were chasing a dog, stones in their hands.

“You know she’s our best hope,” said Jode. “You know she’ll have money.”

“And what will we have to do to get it?”

“Give her a chance. We don’t have to agree to anything.”

“I’m going to see Alina Lyrris. And you know what the best part of it is? You
pawned
my thrice-forsaken sword!”

“All the more reason to see Alina, yes? The sooner we get some money, the sooner you can get it back.”

“You—”

A new voice intruded. “Pardon me … General?”

The voice belonged to an old man, who had come up behind the pair. Like all of the inhabitants of High Walls, it was clear he had seen better days. A horrible scar could be seen at the base of his neck, puckered flesh disappearing beneath his robe. But despite the dirt on his skin and his torn clothing, the stranger carried himself with a sense of dignity and pride, and his voice had an air of quiet authority. He studied Daine with an appraising eye.

“I thought I knew most of our generals, yet …”

“Ah, a simple mistake,” Jode said brightly. “I know that there have been a lot of wild stories about the region, but my companion is
Captain
Daine of the Queen’s Guard. He served with valor and distinction until the very end, and I’m sure you’ve simply heard how he saved the life of General ir’Dalas in the Battle of the Three Moons.”

The old man brought an end to the tale with a raised hand. “Captain, then. I am—”

“Teral ir’Soras,” Daine said.

The man nodded.

“I remember seeing you at court in Metrol when I was younger.”

“You have a good memory, Captain. It has been many years since I advised the queen. And now it is too late to save her. Sovereigns guard her soul and save us all.”

Daine inclined his head respectfully, then returned to his careful study of the old noble. “Lucky you were away from Metrol on the big day. How’d you end up here?”

“A long story, and not one for the street. Perhaps you’ll join me for dinner this evening? There are many of us in Sharn, and I’m trying to bring the refugees together.”

“Of course,” Daine said. “I’m sure it can’t be worse than what they’ll be serving at the Manticore.”

“Wonderful,” Teral said with a slight bow. “It’s the black tent in the central square. I’ll see you at sunset.”

Daine inclined his head respectfully, while Jode made a dramatic bow. The elderly man smiled slightly before turning away and disappearing into the crowd. Daine watched him go.

“What do you make of that?”

Jode shrugged and continued walking. “He’s a generous man trying to create a bastion of Cyran values. Or he’s an opportunist hoping to capitalize on the anger of the refugees to form a power block. I know which seems more likely to me, but does it matter?”

“I suppose not.” They walked a ways in silence, eventually passing through the gates of High Walls and into the tower of Tavick’s Landing. “So where are we meeting Alina?”

“It’s called Den’iyas. It’s in one of the other towers. It’s going to be a long walk, I’m afraid. Unless you’d like to take one of the skycoaches …”

“After that worked out so well yesterday? I don’t think so. I’m not about to let you throw away any more of the money you made from my family sword.”

“Speaking of family,” said Jode, “have you told Lei?”

“No. I’m not going to. And neither are you. Is that understood?”

“Whatever you say. But if there was ever a time—”

“No. And that’s final.” Daine stopped and knelt down, grabbing Jode and spinning him around. “Do you understand? No hints, no jokes. Leave it alone.”

“All right. But I still think—”

“Jode!”

“All right! My lips are sealed.”

“Don’t give me ideas.”

They walked on in silence for a few moments, until Jode tugged on Daine’s leg. “Over there.”

A line of people were shuffling onto a raised circular platform. It seemed to be some sort of stage—about twenty-five feet across and enclosed by a low metal rail. The wide ramp seemed to have been designed for wagons. “What about it?” said Daine.

“That’s where we’re going,” Jode said, leading Daine onto the stage.

“We’re meeting Alina
here?”

Jode rolled his eyes. “No. This is how we get up to Den’iyas, Captain Can’t-afford-a-skycoach.”

At that moment, the platform began to rise.

The district of Den’iyas was located amidst the upper spires of the Menthis Towers, high in the sky. Daine was beginning to adapt to the noise and bustle of the lower streets, but Den’iyas was something else again. The lower levels fit Daine’s vision of a large city—grime and poverty everywhere, with merchants hawking their wares and beggars assailing any who would listen. By contrast, Den’iyas was an image from a storybook tale. The streets were clean, the buildings bright and cheerful, the air filled with song and laughter. On a street corner, a troubadour was teaching a group of children to weave light from air, tracing hypnotic patterns of shimmering color with his fingers; as Daine watched, one of the onlookers produced a shaky but similar trail.

They were gnomes. Den’iyas was the heart of Sharn’s gnome population, and Daine towered over the vast majority of the people on the street. Just over three feet in height, taller and stockier than halflings, the gnomes reminded Daine less of human children and more of miniature adults. They wore fine clothes in a rainbow of colors, and everyone was impeccably groomed. Most of the men had well-trimmed beards and long mustaches, while the women wore an astonishing range of elaborate hairstyles and headdresses. While there was as much variety in skin and hair tone as in the human crowds below, most of the gnomes had fair hair and pale skin touched with a golden sheen. It seemed almost like a circus or a dream, with wind chimes drifting through the air and entertainers juggling globes of light.

“Watch your step,” Jode warned. “I know it looks pleasant enough, but trust me … watch what you say.”

The buildings were as beautiful as the tiny denizens of the district, and most had two sets of doors—one sized for halflings and gnomes, and one for larger patrons. Jode led Daine past gemcutters and candyspinners, and the smell of warm cinnamon pulled at their nostrils. Eventually they arrived at a small park, where an elderly gnome dressed in burgundy and gold was tending a bend of fireblossoms. Jode approached
the gardener. “I don’t mean to tell you your job, but you really should watch out for thorns.”

The gnome studied Jode carefully, scowling beneath an enormous blond mustache. Just as Daine was about to step between the two, the gardener grunted “She’s expecting you.” Despite his small size, his voice was a resonant baritone. The flowers shivered and dissolved, revealing a staircase dropping down into darkness.

Jode smiled. “After you,” he said to Daine.

T
he stone steps led down into a dark hall. It might have been a towering hallway for a gnome, but Daine had to duck to keep from striking his head against the ceiling. Once Jode had joined him, the illusionary garden shimmered back into place, leaving them isolated in full darkness.

“You found out about all of this in one morning?” Daine said, using one hand to feel his way along the stone wall.