Land of Dragon

9

The Welcome

 

Something about the town felt like home for Treylen. It had the

same hum of business as the city he had grown up in. At the same time, no matter where he walked in Wetherdin, he was near the cliff’s edge. In that way it was more like the Abbey, which was more his real home anyway. This, together with his grandfather’s tower, lent the distinct feeling that he fit here.

The locals might have disagreed.

More people emerged as they ascended the staircase between shacks of the scrap yard. Heads peeked out of windows; men and women in simple clothing stood in the narrow alleys between the stacked houses, staring openly.

As they ascended to the level of the clan hall the buildings were no longer crowded. Instead, the staircase cut through a wide open courtyard that resembled the training yard at Coops Abbey. The rock face had been carved away to create an alcove and give more room for the clan hall entrance whose plain façade of unblemished stonework seemed to meld into the cliff and gave nothing away as to how many rooms might lie within. The members of the clan looked just like any other grubby miner in the slums except each wore a sash, or an armband or headband of blue and white.

Treylen wondered if the clan colors had been the same in the old times or if they’d changed to appease the queen when the city fell under her rule. Some of the clan elders looked as if they might approach, but when they saw the countess’s servant hurrying up behind them, they kept their distance.

Marziel didn’t so much as glance at them, keeping his attention fixed on

the grander portions of the city still above them. The staircase ascended through a small tunnel at the back of the alcove before emerging higher on the cliff where the stairs zigzagged upward through the center of the city. Every so often the slope of the cliff decreased a bit and there was room enough for a narrow alleyway to lead off in both directions. For the most part, however, the pathways that led from one building to the next ran along the rooftops of the structures below them, with occasional bridges spanning the gaps.

Treylen saw the shingle of a barber in front of one row of buildings and a tailor at the back of another. A smithy and a bakery were cantilevered out from the rest of the buildings and spewed smoke from a communal chimney. Halfway through the city, he saw what looked like a tavern. The shingle was a tankard over an inverted lizard.

The doorway to the tavern was hidden, but an arrow on the side of the building pointed down one of the rooftop terraces.

“What’s that?” The words whistled a little, but he managed to shape them with his teeth rather than his tongue. With any luck they would assume it was a Stone Coast accent. He slowed and pointed to get the servant’s attention.

“The Drowned Dragon, they call it, My Lord,” Remin stammered as he waved dismissively. “There are better establishments above, though you won’t need them. The Countess will see you well taken care of.”

“Will we be?” Marziel dragged the back of a hand across his brow. “I had hoped that the stables were the end of the journey, not the beginning of one.”

“I apologize for the climb, My Lord. It is the price of staying in a mountain villa.”

“You know, in the Stone Kingdom we had lifts on the mountainside. One needn’t sweat a river to pay a call in the Stone Kingdom. It’s much easier on the porters as well. I might petition your countess to consider one, for your sake if not mine.”

“You are too gracious, my lord,” the aide bowed low, though the insult was clear on his face. “I can send for a litter if it pleases you.”

“A little late now, don’t you think? Come on Cren’Pin, let’s get up there and see if we can divine some sort of hospitality.”

“Yes uncle.” Treylen snickered.

Peering down, he could just barely see Aaron leading the ox into the stables. Atrop had his arm around one of the dust-caked workers, guffawing like a lunatic while another of them plucked at the strings of the bard’s lyre.

Work remained at a standstill.

No matter where they went the bard didn't bother to disguise himself. It seemed bards were welcome anywhere, and Treylen wondered whether it might serve him to take up an instrument. But bards were more than just musicians. Like the assassin’s art, it was the work of a lifetime. One could not hope to master both.

He looked back to make sure that the porter carrying his bag didn't jostle it too much.

Are you doing alright, Rime? That the dragon was slow to answer meant his patience was wearing thin.

How long until I can come out again?

Could be a while. You had your swim in the river. Now get some sleep.

Halfway through the village they were met by a woman standing at the center of the stairs. Hands clasped behind her back, she wore a large feathered hat, ruffled pantaloons in vibrant blue, and a prominent bodice in green and orange.

It was clear from her pointed ears that she was Iveran but had dressed in Stone Kingdom silks. The servant behind them scoffed, but Marziel doffed his hat and clutched it to his chest.

“Have I died and gone to Glitterhold, or is it just this interminable climb that has my heart racing?” He stretched his hand out to her as he reached the landing, but the woman backed away and dropped into a bow.

“Milord Tromweft, I am Adeline Vait, aide to Count Baer Tsoro, who bids you hail and welcome to our fair city.” She made a gesture and two servants rushed in from opposite ends of the path, one with a tray of drinks, the other leading two beasts—great ibex with sheets of silk stretched between their massive horns.

“Please, sit, refresh yourselves.”

The animals knelt and bent their heads to offer the silken sling. The male aide leaned over Marziel’s shoulder and said something about propriety, but Marziel gave him a whack and snatched up one of the glasses. His hand hovered over the animal’s horns a moment before he pulled it back.

“My well-dressed woman, won’t you show us how it’s done?” “Of course milord.”

Gripping one of the horns in each hand, she settled into the sling as if it were a chair, then raised her feet and spun around so her heels rested on the animal’s behind. The Ibex brayed and flicked its tail. She started to pull

herself out again.

“No, don’t get up,” Marziel handed a glass to her and settled onto the ibex beside her. He took a glass for himself. “Can we go up like this?”

“Of course, milord.” She snapped her fingers and the servant gave the leads a shake. The animals got to their feet and began to climb the stairs while Marziel swayed back and forth in his hammock.

Treylen watched with fascination as the two animals lumbered up the stairs, their riders lounging backwards in the hammocks of their horns. The man who’d greeted them at the bottom ran up beside the animals to interrupt again.

“Adeline, when Duremo hears of this effrontery—”

“What’s he going on about?” Marziel leaned over to the woman. She let out a musical laugh then reached out and took Marziel’s arm.

“Poor Remin here is the aide to Countess Duremo, while I serve Count Tsoro. He thinks I’m stealing his guest from him, as if having made you walk all this way somehow entitles him to your company. If he had only waited a little longer I could have saved you all the trouble. But my Count is above such pettiness, milord. You need only tell me which lodge you wish to stay in and you shall be conveyed there.”

She gestured to the top of the city, where the two lodges perched on opposite sides of the cliff.

“Oh politics…” Marziel rolled his neck and stretched in the seat. Then, crossing his arms behind his head, he leaned back and kicked his shoes off to rest his feet on the fur of the animal’s back. His sling rocked with the swaying of the ibex. One of the servants accompanying Treylen collected the shoes and carried them.

“I’m just a humble consultant, and I’m here out of gratitude for your great queen. I’ll accept hospitality wherever I am deposited.”

“Of course, my lord.” Remin bowed low again, but his expression was smoldering. Treylen felt he had to say something to salvage this. Marziel was leaning into his character a bit too much at the risk of complicating their work here. And seeing as Treylen was to be the one who stayed behind and performed said work, he would be the one to deal with the consequences.

“Is there an agenda for this evening?” he asked, stepping up alongside the sulking Remin. The man straightened himself, appraising Treylen for a second time.

“There is, my lord. A small reception on your arrival followed by a

luncheon upon the terrace and a cursory tour of the upper mines. And then, we are to adjourn to the countess’s study for a review of maps and organizational documents, per the queen’s request.”

He went on to break each event down into smaller items as they walked.

Treylen pretended to listen until the man was finished.

“If I may ask, Aide Remin, which of these events are organized in coordination with the second house?”

“I believe the terrace luncheon, My Lord…”

“I see.” Treylen rubbed his chin as if he was mulling it over. He looked to Marziel but the man was too preoccupied. “It is an ambitious schedule, but we’re in no rush so far as your queen is concerned.”

It was important he mentioned the queen as often as possible. Just to remind the man whose authority they were here on.

“My uncle and I are to be at your service and in your hospitality for as long as she sees fit. At least until we have had time to give a proper examination of the seam and the state of the mine themselves.

“Can we forego the tour and the documents until tomorrow? It seems my uncle is intent to be received wherever your counterpart will carry him. If you will make our apologies to your Countess for this evening, I’ll do my best to ensure my uncle’s reception is brief and get on to dinner. There should be enough time to refresh ourselves beforehand, don't you think?”

“Of course, my lord. I will make the arrangements.” There was still disappointment in his voice, but it was tempered with resignation and relief at having found an ally in the haughty lord’s nephew. When nobody was looking, Marziel glanced his way and gave him a wink. Was this all just a show to put him in good standing before Marziel ran off to the Abbey? Or was Marziel simply angling to induce the maximum chaos so as to hide the fact that he knew nothing about mining?

“Where are we staying?” He gestured at the porters keeping pace with the procession as they approached the top of the city.

“You will be quite comfortable in my lord’s household.”

“That’s what I thought. Is that an inn?” A tall, narrow building pressed into the side of the mountain. A silver shingle over the door depicted a foaming tankard spilling over onto a bed.

“That is the Cloud’s Pillow Inn, My Lord, but you’ll have no need…” “No,” Treylen cut him off with a raised hand, just as Marziel would have.

“I’m under his watch all day. I won’t be bound to him by night as well. You

catch my meaning?”

Remin looked long and disdainfully at Marziel, then nodded. “I understand, my lord, though my patron may not.”

“I suspect they’ll be relieved; you know we aren’t sure just how long this venture will last. We may be here for some time making our assessment. You’ll also be relieved to know that my uncle won’t be using his rooms for all of our stay. He intends to continue on to the abbey and see their operations as well, while I stay and complete the inspection of yours.”

“Hmm.” Remin wrung his hands. “It sounds like a prolonged endeavor. If I might confess in confidence, my lord, we weren’t sure what to expect when our queen, in her great wisdom, bade us take in consultants.”

“I can’t say that I fully understand my uncle’s business either. But you won’t have any trouble from me. Now if you don’t mind, those two bags are mine. You can leave them off here. Don’t unpack, I’ll do that myself.”

“Very good.” Remin stopped the two porters and sent them with instructions to the inn, then he and Treylen hurried to catch up.

I’m having you dropped at the Inn. He sent the warning out to Rime. You can come out if the coast is clear. I’ll call you if I need you.

I’ll do what I want, was the only response.

Treylen breathed easier knowing that he’d secured a place of his own. Staying in the inn served two purposes. It kept the hosts out of his business in the evening. He could come and go as he pleased. And though they would be loath to admit it, this relieved some of the insult that the two families felt at being forced to accommodate a minor lord.

The last several flights of stairs ascended through a neighborhood of fine mansions that would not have looked out of place in Lakehold, except that they were made a stronger stone and better insulated against the weather.

At last, the stairs ended at a wide ledge just below the top of the cliff. A polished courtyard stretched wide and empty between the two lodges that overlooked the valley.

From above, the city was pristine as a painting. Any hint of the grime and dust of the lower portions of the village disappeared. Up here it was only the fresh, fragrant breeze and the warm sun.

By the time they reached the courtyard, Marziel and his new host were already halfway to the lodge on the left. On the right, a small delegation waited along the stairs leading to the opposite lodge. They would be waiting a while longer, he suspected.

Remin sighed and wilted a little before shuffling off behind Marziel.

Treylen pitied the man, just a little. Though he couldn't help but find it entertaining how Uncle Mauridin excelled at being an inconvenient braggart everywhere he went. He just had to trust that it was all a part of Marziel's plan and that whatever insults he inflicted would shake out to Treylen’s benefit in the long run.