Mika pulled himself up to his full height as they drew near the city. He let his eyes rove over it, impressed as always by the sheer size of Eru-Tovar.
The city had been built on a tall rise, surrounded on all sides by the open plains. The entire city was walled, in most places four times the height of a man. The wall was made out of huge, polished squares of black marble, quarried from the nearby hills. Mounted atop the walls at regular intervals were realistically carved wolves' heads, mouths open and snarling. Banners flew above the guardposts, black wolves on a crimson ground, and fluttered on either side of the massive gates, the main entrance to the city.
Mika led his party through the gates, answering all queries correctly, satisfying the guards' suspicions by mention of inter-clan connections. He also added that he was seeking medical attention for his friend, who even at this moment was drooling onto the horse's neck. It was Hornsbuck who convinced the guards. Waving their lances, they passed Mika through the gates and into the city.
Eru-lovar was a marvelous place indeed. Boasting a permanent population of some five thousand inhabitants, it often swelled to three times that number on feast and festival days, during the peak moments of timber harvest and during the autumn hunt, drawing far-flung nomad clans, as well as those who sought to purchase their wares.
The city reflected a cosmopolitan air, the direct result of the many cultures who had passed through its?ates and left their mark. There was little that could not be found in Eru-Tovar.
There were streets filled with shops that sold nothing but fresh meat and others that sold only smoked and dried meats. There were streets filled with alchemists and others that boasted magic-users. Woven goods, leathers, precious metals and gems, produce, livestock, money-lenders and booksellers, each enterprise had its own section of the city.
But Eru-Tovar also gave space to a huge open-air market for vendors whose business was of a less permanent nature; and of great interest to Mika was a sprawling, active, red-light district. It was to this last that he directed his attention, for it seemed that few of his problems could not be soothed by a soothing glass of wine or two. He also felt that he had earned it.
Following a path he had taken many times before, Mika entered the huge market that fronted the red- light district, giving it an air of decency that it did its best to live down.
Mika led the roan between the rows of sturdy stone houses which were shuttered against the heat of the day. Following the babble of voices, he soon found himself in a broad thoroughfare lined with tall, multi- storied buildings constructed of cream-colored stone and accented by brightly painted windows and door frames of red, green, and blue.
Spread in front of these buildings were wagons, two-wheeled carts, semi-permanent stands, and in some instances, mere blankets spread on the ground.
Vegetables, fruits, wheels of cheeses, jewelry, weapons, clothing, skins and furs, as well as cobblers, tooth fixers, healers, and a variety of other services were offered to passersby in loud tones.
Mika's eye was caught by a shimmering bolt of cloth, blue-green with tiny flecks of silver shot through the weft. He turned aside to finger the material and held it out to admire the play of sunlight on its soft folds.
'For your lady?' the vendor asked, and with great shock Mika realized that he had not been thinking of a lady at all. That idyllic part of his life seemed remote now. He tossed the material aside in confusion and strode off down the street without looking back.
Using a pouch of coins that he had taken from Hornsbuck, Mika purchased hard twists of stringy, white cheese still wrapped in the yellow-green leaves of the galda tree that gave it its salty flavor. The seller, a large, buxom woman with a bronzed, pock-marked complexion, threw in a leather sack of nutritious galda seeds for good measure and pinched Mika on the thigh as she muttered a bawdy suggestion on garlic-scented breath.
Mika blanched beneath his turban and, kissing the woman's hand gallantly, begged forgiveness, citing time as a factor for his refusal.
Mika took his leave of the woman and forced his way through the dense crowds, most of whom gave his party curious looks. RedTail followed close on the roan's heels, stopping occasionally to visit and sniff out one of the many wolves that thronged the streets. Even the princess had stopped dragging at her leash and was looking about her with interest.
'Probably thinking up some new plot to murder me,' mumbled Mika.
Wolves were no unusual sight in Eru-Tovar as they were in other cities, for every adult male nomad was required to obtain a wolf pup shortly after its birth as part of his formal initiation into the ranks of the clan. Even those members of the clan who chose to live in the cities were required to adhere to this dogma or risk having their manhood questioned.
Obtaining a new-born pup was no easy matter, and many nomads wore their scars, as well as their honor, proudly. Recently, Mika had heard rumors that some town-born nomads, strangers to the forest and without personal knowledge of its workings, had resorted to purchasing pups from those who were willing and able to obtain them. But Mika found the tale most difficult to believe, for even he with his strong desire to protect his body from harm, found such cowardice distasteful in the extreme.
Mika glanced behind him and smothered a grin as he noticed that several male wolves were following the princess, sniffing at her tail and hindquarters with interest. Aloof and unpleasant as a human princess, she was proving far more popular as a female wolf. Mika would see to it that no real harm came to her, but in the meantime, he had to admit to a certain amount of pleasure at her discomfort.
Salt, spices, ground and roasted yarpick coffee beans, flour, a sack of kara fruit, a large pouch of dried vegetables, and leather-hard strips of smoked meat filled Mika's saddlebags to bursting.
A metal gauntlet, large enough to cover his deformed hand, was his next purchase. He smoothed it over his fingers and held it up to the sun to admire the smooth symmetry of the tiny, metal-mesh links as they shone in the sun. Strange how he had never noticed how beautiful chain mail could be. He clenched his fist and smiled.
A new tunic of soft, gray doeskin, not very practical but quite lovely, tall, knee-high boots with a border of thick fringe, and a swirling cloak of turquoise-blue silk, completed his new wardrobe.
At the last moment, unable to resist, he replaced his old, thick-leather sword belt with a new one of gray snakeskin inset with turquoise and silver. It was not like him to spend money on clothing, but somehow it seemed both appropriate and necessary.
The only false note was the pink turban which he was forced to continue wearing because the cloak's hood refused to remain on his head, the slippery silk sliding off the burned stubble.
Enjoying the feel of his new clothes, Mika walked through the busy streets, taking in the sights of the city he visited all too infrequently. Unfamiliar with the many twists and turns, he soon found himself in an unfamiliar area.
Tiers of wooden cages of all sizes lined the edges of the street and were filled with animals, some as rare and exotic as the tiny pseudodragon, less than a foot: all but able to deliver a fatal blow with its sting- '.pped tail. Other more common animals were the — : rm. and rows of catde and sheep and pigs filled the air with their barnyard stink.
Smellier creatures, rabbits, marmots, pocket weasels, and poultry comprised the length of the next section. Mika's neck began to prickle. Turning, he saw a pair of baleful, black eyes staring at him from the confines of a small cage. Curious, he walked closer and looked in. He drew back in horror and disgust as he saw an infant harpy crouching within, tiny pin- feathers barely covering its lower half, whitely naked from the waist up.
Mika hurried away, not even answering the sellers' comments, for he knew that whomever was foolish enough to purchase the harpy would eventually die, killed either by the creature itself or by its mother, who would track it relendessly.
CHAPTER 6
His purchases made, Mika led the roan through the myriad of curling streets that led from the marketplace to the street of wine merchants.
Bedlam struck as soon as they turned the final corner. The narrow street was packed with people crowding in as though hurrying toward some irresistible attraction.
