likely the next.
Zuu lay in a valley that was vaguely bowl-shaped. Around it were miles and miles of grassland. The nomadic founders of the city had chosen this location for the latter feature. Horses had been and still were the most valuable possession of any citizen of Zuu. Merchants from all over the continent came to this region to purchase the best animals.
Because of their obsession with their horses, it was not so surprising to Cabe that even in the dark Zuu resembled one endless array of stables. With few exceptions, no building generally topped more than two floors. Most of the structures had a boxy appearance that was evident even from where the warlock was. Adding to the effect was the one drawback to having business in the city: Zuu also
Cabe had wanted to avoid spells, for they had a way of drawing the attention of other mages, but he could already see that the odor was going to become more pungent with each successive step nearer. With a single thought, he adjusted his sense of smell. He did not go so far as to make the odor pleasant, but he made it less noticeable. That required less manipulation. Cabe disliked using sorcery to alter his form. It was there that a mage could cause himself irreparable harm; his concentration might waver just enough that his spell would go awry. There were legends of spellcasters who had died like that. Too often, the ease with which some learned magic made them too careless.
It was not long before they approached the city gates. Up close, Zuu was a well-lit city, a sign of its prosperity in the horse trade. Behind the walls, Cabe could make out some of the nearer structures. Zuu did not have high walls to protect it; the people relied on their own skills. There were few forces, either drake or human, who willingly went against the horsemen of Zuu. Not only were they expert riders, but they could fire arrows or throw spears with amazing accuracy even when their horses were at full gallop. More important, it was not just the men an enemy had to be wary of. Under Zuu law, every adult, male or female, was a fighter. There were many women in this city who could have stood among the finest warriors in the land. Even the children could be dangerous should a battle somehow reach behind the walls. The citizens of Zuu were of the opinion that it was never too early to teach a child how to defend his own.
It was something to consider, especially since six of those horsemen were now waiting for him at the gate.
They were typical of what Cabe had known. Tall, blond, and looking as if they had been riding since birth. Most of them were wearing leather pants and jerkins, the latter not entirely succeeding in covering their bronzed chests. They wore short helms with nose protectors, but otherwise no armor. Not all the inhabitants of Zuu resembled the nomadic image, but the city guards most certainly did. Many of them were likely the latest in a long family line of city guards. People here tended to follow in their parents’ footsteps . . . or maybe horsetracks.
The evident leader, a somewhat heavier man with a blond and gray beard, urged his horse toward Cabe. He was followed a few steps behind by another rider who carried a torch. The other guards had their bows ready. The warlock wondered if he could teleport away fast enough if he somehow offended them. The archers of Zuu were not only accurate; they were swift.
“Welcome, stranger! What do you have to declare, eh?”
There had been the temptation to simply materialize in the midst of the city and forgo meeting the city guards, but despite its reputation for respecting the privacy of its visitors, Zuu paradoxically also liked to keep track of everyone. Had he given in to the temptation, Cabe soon might have found himself the object of several curious and suspicious soldiers. No, passing through the front gates like a normal traveler would much better aid him in the long run.
“Only myself and my steed. A few supplies for travel, but nothing else.”
The guard leader was eyeing him up and down. “You’ve never been to Zuu, have you, man?”
Had he done something wrong? “No.”
“Hilfa.” At the summons, a sentry from the back of the group rode forward. A woman. She was perhaps a year or two younger than the warlock looked, tall, and just as capable-looking if not more so than some of her companions. Modesty, Cabe saw, was not a strong point of the folk here. Hilfa wore the same outfit as her companions, which made for some distraction above the waist. She seemed unconcerned about his slight embarrassment. How foreigners acted was only a concern if they broke the law.
When she was even with the guard captain, Hilfa waggled the bow in her hand, a salute of sorts to her superior.
“Give him a marker.”
Reaching into a saddlebag, the woman quickly produced a small, U-shaped talisman on a chain. This she tossed to the waiting spellcaster without preamble. Cabe had to move with swiftness to catch the marker before it fell past him.
The leader pointed at the talisman. “That’s your marker. Carry it with you at all times, either around your neck or in your pocket, but carry it, man. When you buy somethin’ or talk to anyone from our city, produce it.”
Cabe inspected it. There was a touch of magic to it, but so little it could not be meant to harm him. Unwilling to remove his hood, he thrust the marker into a belt pouch. Zuu evidently had one or more mages who worked for them. An interesting aspect he would remember for the future. How many more were there and what were
“Let him pass.”
Hilfa backed her horse up, allowing the sorcerer access. As Cabe rode by, however, she reached out and put a hand on his. He looked at her. Up close, she had strong features, but not unattractive ones. Like many of the inhabitants, Hilfa looked like she was related to her companions. “That’s a remarkable animal you have there. I’ve not seen one like that anywhere. What breed is it?”
“It’s unique. A mix.” Cabe had considered this problem. Folk as interested in horse breeding as these would not let a steed like Darkhorse pass through their city without some questions. Mixes were not considered as valuable as purebreds, however, so he had hoped that by calling the eternal a mix, he would be able to dampen some of that interest.
That was not the case. In the end, a good horse was a good horse to some. “Would you consider selling it?”
“I don’t think he’d let me. Sorry.”
She removed her hand, somewhat puzzled by his response. The gates had opened while the two of them had talked, so Cabe quickly took advantage of her silence and urged Darkhorse forward.
This was the entrance through which most of the foreign visitors first passed and so Cabe found himself entering a bustling market still filled despite the night. Merchants from both Zuu and beyond had set up their tents along his path. Travelers from all the continent over, even far Irillian, wandered about admiring and often buying things they did not necessarily need. The two men from the seaport of Irillian, recognizable in their sailor-style shirts and wide, blue pants, were discussing the need for a pair of small daggers with silver handles. A merchant family wearing the bulky, elaborate garments of Gordag-Ai was sitting at a row of benches eating freshly purchased meat pies. Cabe wondered what sort of meat might be in it. He was discovering that he was now hungry enough to eat almost anything, even horse.
Soon he would eat. He had forced himself not to so that he might be able to order meals at more than one inn. From his early days, when he had been but a simple steward at the Wyvern’s Head Tavern, the warlock knew that one of the best places to overhear the local rumors was a tavern or inn. Good company, food, and plenty of drink could loosen a man’s tongue just as quickly as a mage’s spell.
There were sure to be many such places and Cabe was prepared to visit most of them, but he wanted to find one frequented just as much by the citizenry as it was by strangers. It was more likely he would hear news from a home source than from a stranger, but he did not want to rule out the latter hope.
Finding a stable would be easier, he soon discovered. They were everywhere. Compared to even the royal stables of Penacles or Talak, these were also the cleanest. The dark-haired spellcaster finally chose one near an inn entitled Belfour’s Champion. From the image painted on the sign, he gathered that the name had something to do with an actual horse once prominent with this quarter of the city.
At the stable he showed the marker to a groom, who led them to a private stall after an exchange of money. On the pretext that he desired to personally take care of his own mount, Cabe succeeded in being alone with Darkhorse.
