Nodding and shrugging, the dwarf closed his mouth and rode along in silence-though not for long. His face brightened in inspiration.
“We don’t both have to go into Caergoth after all-I can enter the city, and find the gnome, and bring him out to you. We can meet you in one of these little plains villages along here where no one is likely to recognize you.”
“I’m going into the city, I said. Are you going to talk about it all day, or are you coming with me?”
The high wall, with its fortified gate-closed, and guarded by a full dozen Knights of Solamnia, all wearing the emblem of the Rose-stood less than half a mile away. The dwarf scowled and glowered, finally grunting his reply. “I go where you go.”
They allowed their horses to amble up to the gate. The two riders tried to look inconspicuous. Though each wore a knife at his belt, their other weapons were wrapped tightly among the bundles of gear strapped behind the saddles of each of their horses.
The dwarf’s eyes nervously flicked over to his companion-then adopted an air of nonchalance as they reined in before the two armored guards, who raised their halberds to block the roadway.
“State your names and your business in Caergoth,” declared one of the guards. The rest of the company watched idly from the shade against the base of the lofty wall, though several men had their crossbows cocked, the deadly weapons resting casually across their knees.
“My name’s Jahn Brackett,” said Dram, with an easy grin. “This here’s my old pal, Waler Sanction-son.”
The knight scrutinized the dwarf, after a quick glance at the warrior who slouched silently in his saddle. “You’re Kaolyn, aren’t you?”
The dwarf nodded with a pleased smile. “Right from the heart of the Garnet Range. Always have been, always will be.”
“And a Sanction-son, eh?” Coming around the head of Dram’s horse, the knight looked up at Waler. “You, you’re a long way from home. How’re things in Sanction these days?”
The warrior shrugged. “I haven’t been there for years. Still burning, last I heard.”
The knight laughed at that. “Still burning! I like that-hey, fellows. This guy says that Sanction is still burning!”
Several of the other knights chuckled. “Good thing them volcanoes haven’t gone out-what would they do for heat?” offered one.
“So, you two make an odd couple, to say the least,” said the sentry. “Dwarves keep to dwarves and men keep to men is what I usually see. State your business in Caergoth.”
“Looking for work,” Dram said. “The city under the mountains is nice, but I’ve taken a liking to sunshine and good, steel coin. We hear the city docks are busy, figure someone can use two more strong backs for loading and unloading all these ships people are talking about.”
The knight nodded approvingly. “You heard right, but you need to know about the duke’s edict: There is no carrying of long blades or throwing weapons on the city streets. Violation will cost you the weapon and might mean a turn in the city dungeon.”
“These little pig-stickers are all right, aren’t they?” asked the dwarf innocently, gesturing to the knives he and Waler wore at their belts, the warrior pulling his cape to the side so that the guard could inspect the weapon.
“No problem with those,” the sentry acknowledged. He turned and waved to someone up on the wall. A few seconds later the massive gate started to swing outward. “Good luck to you both, then-you’ll find plenty of work on the docks. Just follow this main road right through town. It will take you down the bluff and right to the waterfront.”
“Thank you kindly, Sir Knight!” Dram said with a bow and a flourish. His companion merely nodded and, with the gate partially open, the two riders led their horses into Caergoth.
The street was bustling with foot traffic-mostly human, though a few dwarves were swaggering about, and a whole gaggle of kender were playing some kind of game in an empty lot between two storefronts. There were only a few riders, all of them knights, visible above the heads of the pedestrians. Here and there a freight wagon or oxcart nudged through the crowd.
A hundred paces from the gate the two riders came to a large livery stable, and here they turned into the yard. They arranged to have their horses fed and tended-a steel piece for each animal insured care for the next seven days. They rummaged through their saddlebags to remove a few items. They left bedrolls, cooking gear, and heavy clothing behind, but took their coinpurses, a spare cloak for each, and a selection of weapons.
The long-bladed knives they wore at their belts. Reluctantly Dram wrapped his battle-axe in a bedroll and left it with his saddlebag. The warrior took his long sword and wrapped the whole thing, scabbard to hilt, in a blanket. He lashed the bundle to his back as inconspicuously as possible. He wouldn’t be able to sit down without unstrapping the sword, but it would serve. His twin crossbows he fastened again to his belt, relying on the long drape of his cape to conceal the contraband weapons.
“We’d better not run into any knights,” said Dram, as they emerged onto the sunny street again.
“Won’t encounter too many of ’em in the gnome ghetto. Here, this way.”
The swordsman led his dwarven companion along a winding series of side streets, avoiding the main avenues and, surprisingly enough, making better time than they would have on the more crowded main streets. The gnome ghetto was located in the lower quarter of Caergoth, where the ancient city clung to the banks of the Garnet River. The streets were unpaved there, and recent rains had turned them into a morass of slick mud, deep ruts, and overflowing gutters. The human warrior said they should seek lodging near the squalid gnome neighborhood but not within, and Dram was more than content to go along with this plan.
“The places around the square or below the fortress will be all packed to the rafters with knights,” the man explained.
“We won’t be here very long, will we?” Dram asked hopefully.
The warrior smiled sardonically. “Are we ever any place for very long? C’mon, let’s go find this Brillissander Firesplasher.”
“What if Cornellus was telling the truth, and Firesplasher is dead?”
“Fine by me, but then I’d like to find out exactly how he died.”
An ashen haze blanketed the horizon as the sun dropped behind the city wall, casting not so much distinct shadows as a spreading murk that seemed to darken under the eaves of the great buildings, and to shroud the narrow alleys and walkways between the wooden buildings that made up the greater part of the city.
Even along the main avenue there remained evidence of war. The Dark Knights had taken the city during the War of Souls, and the Solamnics had recaptured it several months later. The edifice of a great marble building, which the man knew had been the meeting hall of the city’s neophyte parliament in decades past, was gashed and cracked by dragon breath. Several huge columns lay where they had toppled, and weeds sprouted through cracks in the wide steps.
In the lower part of town, they passed a whole block that had burned to ashes during the battle. The blackened shells of several large inns and houses remained like gravestones, jutting from a dark expanse of crumbled stone, charred timber, and debris.
But most of the city was thriving.
They finally secured rooms at a bustling travelers’ inn close to the waterfront. The landlord charged exorbitant prices but pledged easy access to the duke’s palace, the great marketplace, the silver and stoneworkers’ districts, even the riverside stockyards that-the proprietor was quick to point out-were generally downwind of the inn, and may all the gods curse the unseasonal breeze that was currently filling the city air with the odiferous perfume of those vast, muddy corrals!
“Keep in mind, Honored Travelers,” finished the fellow, a rat-faced little man who leaned uncomfortably close to them and spewed bad breath as he talked. “If there be anything else ye be wishing for, such as entertainment of the female persuasion, ye just be letting me know.” He winked at Dram. “We can even fix ye up with a little dwarf-maid, if that be yer natural preference.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Dram allowed, turning and hastening after the warrior, who was already crossing the crowded common room. They took the stairs to their rented room and found it to be reasonably private, with a shutter over the single window in a small parlor, which adjoined two windowless bedrooms.
After taking turns in a hot bath, the travelers shared a meal of beef stew and crusty bread. The human washed his down with a bottle of vinegar-tinged wine, while Dram drank three large bottles of ale. Finally, the pair
