CHAPTER 17
Noon sunlight glittered on the domes and spires of Korranberg, the oldest and one of the most important cities in the gnome nation of Zilargo, nestled among the foot-hills of the Seawall Mountains. From his perch at the edge of a cliff, Gaven could see the whole city spread out before him, and miles of fields stretching out to the sea. The city was a fascinating mix of old and new; the ancient buildings of the city’s great library pressed between the more recent construction of shops and markets. He was struck by how green the city looked from his vantage point-ivy clung to gracefully arched walls, gardens sprawled over spacious courtyards, and flowers burst in a rainbow of colors to celebrate spring’s height.
Behind him, Senya snorted. “Gnomes,” she said. “How do they defend this place? It’s right next to Darguun, and these mountains are full of kobolds.”
“I suspect the city isn’t as defenseless as it looks,” Gaven answered. He pointed at the city wall nearest their position. “Look at the holes along the top edge of the wall. I’d be willing to bet there’s some kind of mechanism that will pump boiling oil or acidic fire out of those holes in case of an attack. In fact, I’ll bet the jets shoot out far enough that the ivy is unharmed.”
Senya snorted again, adjusted her pack on her shoulders, and started along the winding path that would take them down the cliff and into the city. Gaven took a last look at the city and the sea then followed her down.
Gaven was glad he had taken the time to admire the city from a distance. From inside, the elegant spires and sprawling gardens were lost in the bustle-much of which occurred at waist level. He was not the tallest of men, but in Korranberg, making his way along streets crowded with gnomes, he felt like a giant-and he attracted about as much attention as a real giant would have. Senya only reached Gaven’s breastbone, but the majority of the people on the streets only reached her chest. Gaven noticed that she kept her arms in front of her chest as they moved through the city, and he couldn’t blame her. He kept his hands at waist level, making sure to maintain a space between himself and any nearby gnomes.
They were not the only “tallfolk,” as the gnomes referred to them, walking the streets of the city, but there were few enough that Gaven felt acutely self-conscious. As he had in Whitecliff, he found himself constantly wondering who might be watching him, ready to turn him in. Considering the Zil reputation for trafficking in secrets, he felt sure that word of his escape had reached even distant Korranberg. It was probably just a matter of time until someone identified him and summoned the authorities, so he decided to give them as little time as possible.
Trying not to attract any more attention than absolutely necessary, he seized Senya’s hand and pulled her through the streets toward the lightning rail station he’d spotted from his vantage point above the city. He would get them on a carriage and out of Korranberg before any wheels could be put in motion to stop him.
Unfortunately, their great height relative to the natives didn’t help them part the crowds on the streets. It was midday, and many people seemed to be taking a respite from the day’s work to eat, socialize, and shop. Gaven and Senya’s progress was painfully slow, but no one tried to arrest them or actively hinder their progress. The lightning rail station came into view as they rounded a corner, and Gaven let out a long sigh.
The sight of armored guards at the station sent a jolt of panic through him. He pulled Senya to a sheltered spot on the side of the street and stopped his headlong rush.
Senya fell into a ready stance, dropped a hand to her sword hilt, and stared around looking for enemies. “What is it?” she whispered.
“Relax. You’re drawing stares.”
She straightened and leaned close to him, transforming their appearance from nervous fugitives to amorous lovers. She brought her lips close and murmured, “What’s going on?”
Gaven felt his face flush, but passersby were averting their gaze, so he went along. He lowered his head to speak right in her ear. “It just occurred to me-what if Haldren gave up on finding us in Paluur Draal and came here instead? What if he had Cart or Darraun alert the authorities here? There could be Sentinel Marshals waiting for us in there. I don’t want to just stroll in.”
Senya reached behind his neck and started twirling her fingers in his hair, which seemed to him to be taking the ruse too far. “It’s not Haldren’s style,” she whispered. Her lips touched his ear, and her warm breath sent a tingle down his neck. “He’ll want to find us himself. I can’t see him relying on the Marshals or anyone else to do it for him. Besides, we know too much. If we’re captured, we could tell them about his plans and make his life very difficult. He doesn’t want us caught.”
“That makes sense. Let’s go, then.” He started to pull away.
She held him, keeping him close. “Not before you kiss me.”
“Senya.” He put his hands on her waist and pushed her back, a little less gently than before.
Her mouth was half pout, half smile as she followed him into the station.
“I’m sorry, master, but I can’t sell you a ticket without seeing your papers. If you’ve lost your papers, House Sivis has an outpost in the upper story where they will gladly help you replace them.”
The agent at the ticket counter was a human woman attached to the Transportation Guild, a branch of House Orien. The scions of House Orien carried the Mark of Passage, which enabled some to transport themselves instantaneously across great distances, making them ideally suited for courier work. The Transportation Guild operated caravan lines as well as the lightning rail, competing fiercely with House Lyrandar’s overseas shipping lines.
The woman was cheerful enough, but Gaven could tell that she was already calculating how to deal with him if the situation got ugly. It wasn’t until Senya produced her papers to buy her passage that Gaven had even considered this possibility, which irked him most of all. Securing new papers would be impossible. The gnomes of House Sivis, whose Notaries’ Guild issued important documents like identification papers, would send him back to Dreadhold in a heartbeat.
“Look,” Senya said beside him, tugging the neck of his shirt open, “he’s a dragonmarked member of House Lyrandar. Don’t you think you could make an exception?”
The Orien agent stared at Gaven’s huge, elaborate mark. “An heir of Siberys,” she breathed, not really speaking to them.
“Yes, I’m an heir of Siberys. I’m just trying to get to Vathirond to see my family. Can’t you help me?”
Her eyes narrowed. “House Lyrandar has an outpost here. Why not appeal to them?”
Gaven sighed, leaned on the low counter, and spoke in a low voice. “I came here to work for my cousin in the Lyrandar outpost,” he said. “But… well, it didn’t work out.” He looked meaningfully at Senya, hoping to convey some sense of scandalous behavior. “So now I’m not in any position to ask a favor from my house here-so I’ve come to House Orien.” He could see the young woman starting to soften. “And it’s not any great favor I’m asking. I’m paying for passage, after all.”
The agent’s eyes shifted between Senya and Gaven, then she gave a resolute nod. “Very well.”
Gaven smiled warmly. “Thank you so much. I’ll remember your kindness.”
Senya put down the money, and they walked toward the lightning rail. A row of decorated wooden carriages, strung together like pearls on a string, hung suspended in the air above a line of glowing blue stones set in the ground. Lightning danced between the stones and similar stones embedded in the bottoms of the carriages, giving the lightning rail its name. Even the empty air shimmered with magic.
The carriages in the rear were meant for passengers-passengers of means, who would ride in luxurious comfort. At the front of the long line, the crew cart held the bound elemental that would propel the coach in the same manner as bound elementals propelled the galleons of House Lyrandar. The conductor stones kept the carriages suspended in the air, but the elemental moved it forward, unhindered by wheels grinding against the earth.
Senya clung to his arm as they walked, evidently enjoying the ruse they had adopted, but Gaven noticed that she kept glancing behind them. After a moment, she stretched up and planted a kiss on his cheek, then whispered in his ear, “There might be a problem.”
Gaven kept walking without looking back. “What is it?”
