The room was larger than the one I’d been given at the guild house. The walls were white with bright bands of red and yellow at the top and bottom. Flames in the fireplace crackled and dried my soaked clothes on a wooden rack beside it.
I peeled off my wet clothes and sat cross-legged beside the fireplace to work on the pathways for the Crashing Wave technique. I allowed the flicker of flames to flood my mind as I inhaled and exhaled slowly. The hours passed as I formed and reformed the channels, using the blueprint the tidal wyrm’s core had given me. It was the most complex technique I’d tried to learn so far. It circled around itself like some kind of internal whirlpool, and I was often lost in its winding motions.
Success came after what felt like hours of meditation. But sleep overtook me before I got the chance to try the technique. As soon as the pathway had completed to my satisfaction, I collapsed into bed.
I woke, opened my eyes, and my pool of Vigor stirred as I found it replenished.
The double bed had been my best friend in the night’s recovery. The soft mattress was scented with a fragrant herb that refreshed the air each time I rolled over. Sheets of soft silk laid beneath a warm woollen blanket.
I stretched my stiff muscles and yawned loudly. This was the sort of life I could get used to. Not that I didn’t enjoy the thrill of adventure or the satisfaction of saving people from monsters, but this was a damn sight more comfortable than camping out in the forest or sheltering in a cave on a snowy mountainside. For now, I’d have to take what was offered. And Qihin Palace did not disappoint.
I swung my legs around and tentatively pressed a foot to comfortable furs that sprawled out over the tiled floor. The Sundered Heart lay in its sheath beside the bed. I tapped the hilt, but Nydarth didn’t reply. Perhaps even dragon spirits needed a while to rest.
I walked over to the floor-length window at the side of the room. A thin, clear membrane kept in the heat of the hearth and held the ocean wind at bay.
The home of the Qihin people bustled with life even as night drew on. People went on to cook their meals and tell stories to their children as if their homes hadn’t almost been trampled by monsters twice in as many days. I wondered whether the city would have been even busier without these troubles. There had been talk about trade routes along the coast, and a conflict between guild and clan couldn’t be great for trade. Yet, large boats drifted in and out of the delta, clearly loaded down with goods.
My stomach rumbled. I’d been asleep for almost 20 hours, and I hadn’t eaten for a good while before that. The promise of Beqai’s feast last night struck me, and I moved over to the fire. It took me a minute to dress, tie my hair back, and pull my sandals tight around my feet. I left the room and headed down toward the swell of conversation and music below the palace.
I walked down the stairs of the main palace building and out into the courtyard. It had been transformed since I was there last. Tables stood tall around the pools and groaned under the weight of the food and drink. Whole roasted boars, steamed fish six feet long, cakes built in elaborate tiers and decorated with sculpted sugar stood beside heaps of exotic fruit, bottles of wine, and enough barrels of beer to intoxicate an entire army.
Glowing stones in every color of the rainbow had been raised up on wooden poles between the tables to provide light as the evening settled in. Hundreds of guests milled about as the light cast them in a dozen different hues as they stepped from one pool of light to another. Some of Beqai’s guests had clearly seen this sort of lighting before and came in outfits that made the most of it. Silver scales shimmered on their clothes and reflected whatever color they strolled under. Others wore finely tailored and magnificently embroidered clan robes.
I stepped out into the throng. A servant handed me a wooden cup, and I took a sip. It was a sweet and heady wine with a slight hint of salt. A bolt of warmth crept into my muscles, and I relaxed a little.
Kegohr towered over the other guests at a table to my right. He swung a roasted leg of some giant game bird and quaffed a jug full of something as he laughed with Vesma and a knot of fish people. Many of them had the burly, muscular frames of seasoned warriors.
“You think you need to trip the leg before you throw someone?” the half-ogre exclaimed. “Why not lift them under the arms and put your hips into it?”
“Not all of us are your size,” retorted a warrior, and the knot of soldiers laughed.
“Maybe not, but it’s still better than risking your feet,” the half-ogre insisted.
Vesma quietly sipped at a cup of wine and rolled her eyes as Kegohr offered his loud opinions on technique. She smiled at me as I approached, and I winked back. She turned to refill her cup and left me to wander.
King Beqai stood nearby with his tentacles sunk deep into one of the pools. The liveliness he’d shown from his meditative state was an enormous contrast to the zen exterior I’d first seen in him. The king drank heartily from a goblet as he recounted stories about his days as a commander fighting campaigns for the Emperor.
Faryn sat on the edge of a pool among the group of the listeners. She dipped her bare feet in the water and laughed along with a group of well-dressed fishfolk who wore badges of office.
It was good to see my old friends enjoying themselves.
