Keith Baker - The City of Towers

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.

The 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.

“I’ve dealt with gnomes before,” Jode said. “Once I heard Alina was in Sharn, it was just a matter of dropping the right names, passing a few coins to the right people. Spend a few months in Zilargo, you’ll learn how it works. If you survive.”

“I didn’t know you’d been to Zilargo.” Daine had never seen the homeland of the gnomes.

“Scary place, my friend. Like a poisonous flower.”

The hallway was quite short, and within a few moments Daine came up against a stone wall. There was a loud click and the stone shifted forward, revealing the well lit chamber that lay beyond. Daine stepped through the doorway and stood up. The ceilings were just high enough for him to stand without crouching.

The room was an unusual sight. It was a square chamber, and each wall was about twenty feet long. A large, circular firepit dominated the center of the room, but instead of coals it was filled with amethyst crystals. Violet flames danced above the pit, and a pleasant, flowery smell filled the air. An assortment of chairs and couches ringed the pit, and while most were sized for gnomes there were a few built to human scale. One divan seemed to have been designed for an ogre, though Daine couldn’t see how an ogre would fit through the entry hall. But the most disorienting aspect of the room was the mirrors. Three of the walls were entirely covered with mirrors, creating a dizzying sense of space. The fourth wall was a single window looking out off of the edge of the tower-a bird’s eye view of the Dagger River and the land surrounding Sharn, with only a window and a few wisps of cloud between them and the cliffs thousands of feet below.

There were no obvious doors, no shelves or chests. Aside from the chairs spread around the firepit, the only objects in the room were a set of intricate birdcages set against the wall across from the window. There were six cages, each made from half a dozen different precious metals woven together and studded with gems. As beautiful as the cages were, they were overshadowed by the exotic birds contained within. Daine had never seen their like. He was no druid, but he guessed that they were from lands beyond Khorvaire-the jungles of Aerenal, perhaps, or the distant plains of Sarlona. Curiously, the birds were completely silent; they watched the intruders carefully but didn’t make a sound or rustle a feather.