Брюс Корделл - Lady of Poison

After a time, Gunggari finished. Elowen said, “You are a master musician, Gunggari. Among my people, you would be accorded much honor for that alone.”

The Oslander stowed his instrument and nodded, taking her at her word, without humility or arrogance. Gunggari was simply a man who knew his worth.

He said, “You have made my friend Marrec very happy, appearing when you did, saving the child. He has long sought that child; you have made a friend of him and me.” So saying, Gunggari clapped her on the shoulder.

Such familiarity between herself and strangers was uncommon, and normally she would resent such contact, but she was surprised to find that, coming from the strange man from the south with his strange customs, she didn’t mind.

A pony named Henri was procured for Ash in the village of Culdorn that evening. The group had covered just fifteen miles, but they did reach the great trade road, the Golden Way. They put up that night in the Culdorn Inn. Ash was completely taken with Henri; she was far more interested in the little horse than with her companions. The girl tried to sleep with the pony in the stable instead of the room they arranged for her and Elowen to share. That was, by far, the most emotion the child had yet generated for anything, and Marrec was pleased. Perhaps the mount would prove a bridge by which Ash could be reached.

The next day the four traveled swiftly down the Golden Way. Henri was amenable to the pace set. Elowen and Gunggari were used to traveling light and quickly, but Marrec, too, could move fast when necessary. Before the sun dipped down on their flank, sending their shadows ahead like dusky fingers, they covered a full thirty miles. Elowen indicated they had only a half day’s travel to look forward to the next day.

They made camp alongside the road that night. Elowen got a fire going with Gunggari’s aid in scavenging suitable brush and dead branches. Tiny sparks drifted up from the fire, blending with the stars above. Gunggari told a story drawn from the mythology of his people, as he sometimes did, but only with much cajoling from Marrec. That night, he launched into the telling on his own initiative. It was a story about rain.

Rain woke Marrec in the gray light of dawn. Clouds scrolled across the sky, brushing water in great grey arcs across the soggy landscape. He sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, the water from his hair, then stood to check on Ash. They’d rigged a simple lean-to for the girl, which had kept out most of the rain. She still slept under its protection, curled up in her blanket. Henri stood protectively nearby, his coat damp and curled. Marrec could smell the beast’s damp fur—distinctive, but not unpleasant.

Elowen and Gunggari were up, too, striking camp. Despite the gloom rain normally evoked in Marrec, he was excited to be up and on his way. Two Stars was close.

The countryside was as pleasant an example of Faerûn countryside as Marrec had ever seen. Perhaps it was the rain, but the pastures had a radiant greenness, like stained-glass windows. There were a few tall pine trees, and larger, uncut copses, that served as reminders that once a much greater forest existed thereabout. In places, cream-colored stone was visible rising out of the soil. The forest had given way to crops and pastures.

Later, the rain dried up, though the countryside remained clammy and misty. Elowen was good at her word, and before noon they spied the gates of Two Stars. The Golden Way passed into the city, then along the great curve of the city’s inner wall. It appeared as if much of the road within the city was a great trade bazaar. Within the gates he spied many buildings, some temples, and one large castle. At one point, the Golden Way appeared to veer away from the city wall and actually pass through the gates of the castle and out the other side. Within the gates of the castle, the trade route bisected another large road. Marrec thought that it might be the Cold Road, if his memory of maps he had studied was accurate.

“Who holds the castle?” asked Gunggari.

Elowen answered, “That’s Gallidy Castle. Lady Yolatir Gallidy is the latest to govern Two Stars. She’s not especially heavy handed, and lets the trade flow pretty much unhindered. As you can guess, she’s a favorite of the guilds.”

“Two Stars. That’s a nice name,” said Marrec, as they continued to move toward the city.

“I believe it is named for the stars of the east and west that ‘meet’ in the heavens overhead. A good omen for trade, they say.”

Marrec nodded, and they headed into town. The influx of those entering Two Stars was checked by toll collectors. Apparently their lack of a trade wagon made the group exempt from tax, and they were waved through.

“Let’s go see your friend straightaway,” said Marrec. “We can find an inn later.”

Elowen nodded and started down the Golden Way. It was bustling with carts, temporary and permanent storefronts, and the conversation of what seemed like thousands of people buying and selling all manner of things. The assortment of people was no less strange. Marrec guessed that he saw at least thirty different races, including a few gnolls, giants, and ores in fine cloth, which was a racial mixture he rarely if ever encountered in the west.

The amount of space given over to trade was really quite impressive. The larger side avenues were lined with tents of jugglers, puppeteers, dancing girls, hammer-throwers, fire-swallowers, and hedge wizards of every stripe. But along the main trade road was where the real merchandise could be found. There were tables, stalls, and the cleverly fashioned unfolding wagons of merchants who’d lugged their goods from all corners of Faerûn. Cattle, food, timber, iron, oysters, wool, gem-stones, parchment and inks, glass, weaponry, charms of real power, and a host of additional items too many to take note of were bought and sold. The constant scream of conversation in dozens of languages, but mostly variously accented Common, was almost oppressive.

The crowds made their walk a slow one, as they did their best to ignore the cries and promises of the merchants on either side. Finally, Elowen found a side-street that was apparently not part of the trade road, for only a few people walked along the muddy-track. The buildings on either side seemed more given to warehousing than retailing.

Gunggari breathed a slight sigh of relief. Marrec knew the Oslander hated crowds. On the other hand, Ash seemed oblivious as she happily rode on the back of her pony. Marrec had been a little apprehensive that the child would react poorly to such a press of strangers.

Before too long they reached a tenement district. Children played in the narrow streets, knocking a wooden ball back and forth with a stout club. Elowen got her bearings, then made her way down a tight alley, which opened into an unkempt grassy courtyard that hid behind the backs of four buildings.

The top of a dome-shaped structure protruded from the ground at courtyard’s center, rising no more than waist-high. Small holes pocked the surface of the dome, each punching a shaft down into darkness. Near the dome, broad stone stairs plunged down nine steep steps to a door. Marrec realized that the door probably allowed access to the interior of the buried structure. He surmised it was the home or lab of Elowen’s friend, Ususi.

Marrec lifted Ash off Henri’s back.

“Wait here, why don’t you?” he muttered to Henri as he hobbled the pony.

Elowen led the way down the steps to the door. She put her hand to the knocker, striking three times, paused, then two more, a final pause, then a single loud rap. She glanced back and said, “That’s to let Ususi know it’s me.”

“Nice,” Marrec commented with the hint of a grin.