Chapter 11

“I can guess that Kagan-cal is not concerned about marauding armies coming overland to plunder her treasuries,” Aden said, as he scanned the horizon. “This city sprawls out in all directions with little rhyme or reason.”

“Too many cows in the road,” Ezza said. “Horse apples too. If you don’t watch your step, you either got brown squitch up the length of your boots or some old bat banging your back with a dustpan telling you to get out of the way because she got a pail of crap to sell to the fertilizer man. Don’t give me that look, a few chits keep the streets clean.”

“Horseshit,” Aden said. “The threat to this great city is an overabundance of cow patties and horse apples. Unbelievable.”

“It is really poor manners to refer to our nobles and royalty in such terms,” Ezza said. “However, if you are excited by big demonstrations of fire power, you can visit the bluffs overlooking the ocean side of harbor and appreciate the big cannons. Keep in mind, we’ve done a fairly good job of exiling the wizards over the years; puts to rest a lot of usual threats to the peace of the kingdom if you ask me.”

“Duly noted,” Aden said. “We are entering a cesspool of political intrigue and internecine conflict fueled by lusts for power and absolute rule, if not shiny baubles and lusty, bust-defying women of dubious repute who seek them out.”

“Yes, something close to your description, absolutely,” Ezza said with a straight face. “Their evil imaginations run amuck, and the city is only a step from the abyss.”

“Horseshit,” Aden repeated. The smell of the local garbage dump was wafting through.

“Yes and yes. I can shovel it just as well as you can, wizard. True though, you won’t find a lot of innocents down there, but the greatest evils are only found in the legends of the past. We have only ordinary corruption today. The good news is that we still have buxom women with wanton tastes who will cater to your needs for the right price.”

“Brothels?”

“No, marriage contracts. Much more dangerous if you ask me,” Ezza said. His smirk was more of a dare than point of victory.

“Is this a personal reflection or should I leave your observations at face value?” Aden asked. “On second thought, you have a right to decline self-incrimination. I think a man still going to the brothel at my age is not bravado but some sort of failure.”

“Feh, you’re new in town,” Ezza said. “I’ve learned more in the drawing room at the brothels than the newssheets pinned to the government posts. You want to know who’s who, go sit with the ladies and share a bit of drink.

“Look down there, do you see that shack next to those two trees and the hedge of fellum bushes? City guards are waiting there for us, wanting to know our business. What do you want to tell them?”

“Crazed wizard with magic sword has come to sweep the city into a frenzy of brazen bacchanal,” Aden said. “Or you can just temper my tale to whatever you are reporting to your governor. I see the virtue in withholding certain facts. On the other hand, I also see no need to lie.”

“Yeah, that frenzy stuff happens every time a new ship docks. Experience tells me one morose wizard does not measure up to a full crew of drunken sailors on shore leave if you’re thinking of tavern crawling. May I suggest that a depressed wizard has come to visit the great city of Kagan-cal and requests access the royal libraries and repository.”

“Leave the depression out and I’m good with the fact that I don’t measure up to a shipload of drunken sailors. I can live with that small truth,” Aden said. “Horse apples. One must remember to use ‘horse apples’ before one’s betters.”

“Definitely the phrase used by men of good breeding,” Ezza said, nodding his head. “I think you are rubbing off on me in strange and terrible ways. I wonder if my wife is going to recognize me or think that I’ve gone off my rocker.”

“Wizards are good for building character and libido,” Aden said, staring straight ahead, not daring to glance at his partner. “Your wife shall sing my praises.”

“With a bit of discretion on your part, she won’t sing a damn thing.”

Aden shook his head and climbed back into the wagon. “She’s not stupid, you know. I’ve never met the woman and I would never break a confidence, but she knows. If she takes you back without grief, then you understand that she really loves you and the gods are blind.”

Ezza grunted. He spoke with the city guards for only a moment. With a limp wave of a bored soldier, the wagon trundled onward into the hardpacked streets of the city. Small shacks and huts lined both sides and behind all of them were small fields or orchards. Only when they passed deeper into the swelling crowds did the fields become vegetable patches. The buildings became substantial and all the open space disappeared.

“Where are we going?” Aden asked.

“Provincial offices of the governor,” Ezza called out from over his shoulder. “I report that I’ve returned. When the governor is interested, I’m summoned to his offices overlooking the courtyard. Don’t stare in the carriages parked there, it’s considered poor manners.”

“I can turn their carriages into pumpkins,” Aden offered.

“No, you can’t and no, you won’t even if you can,” Ezza said. “There is a library calling out your name and you will never get there if you make a big stink. Think calm and professional, act studied and educated, even concerned for the welfare of your fellows.”

“Horse apples.”

“Moody little shit,” Ezza announced. “Just hold it together for the governor, please. Or if you prefer, keep your damn mouth shut and give the man his due. He’s big horse apples and you’re dog piss.”

Aden turned his attention back to the passing scenes without saying another word. The buildings were several stories and plastered in this part of the city. The local shrines were built as open-air wood structures with a stone or a statue in the middle peppered in flowers, gifts, and prayer cords ringing the base. The bigger shrines had a priest naked from the waist up accepting the gifts and touching the supplicants on the forehead with the tip of his inky index finger. Many of the stalls offered grains or fruits or vegetables. Running off the main avenue was a street of shoemakers. Another side street had pots and pans running the length as far as the eye could see. A man was making tea behind a stove and mixing it in long poured streams of milk, filling a tray of glasses one after the other with practiced ease.

Block after block the wagon continued past vendors and throngs of shoppers. A construction worker, perched on a rickety wooden scaffold, stopped his plastering to look down at them. He waved, and Aden waved back. The gesture was automatic, like saying “thank you” after paying in the market. Whatever the reason, Aden was taken aback by the simple humanity of his flapping hand, so easily communicating across a busy street. A simple wave felt good.

Aden settled back against the sacks, allowing the city to pass by on either side of the wagon. The noise of people going about their business made a comforting blanket of normalcy, as people called out or workers shouted, and animals brayed and snorted. A tension that he did not realize had gripped him released its hold on his shoulders. Allowing a small smile to creep onto his face, Aden wondered if all cities were the same underneath the paper-thin cultural veneer; the query pleased him, confirming that his curiosity was still intact.

Curiosity was his lifelong friend. The hunger to know had lured him out of his clan’s lands and out into the greater world. He had seen sights and stood at the foot of recognized landmarks. His memory was filled with fine singers and powerful orators. His travels had led him to meet more than one king and even once, shake the royal’s hand in greeting. During the past few years though, he had dismissed the existing wonders of the world, its mystery and its allure. He had taken solace in the quiet halls of the great temple. Even before his final battle, he must have been in retreat.

The wagon lurched to a stop. Aden rose to a crouch, looking over the front bench. The stone archway with its iron bound doors was much higher than usual, making an impression of quality and solid appearance. The gargoyles promised a swift and painful death from their perches. These armed guards took their job seriously, keeping a stern façade as they welcomed Ezza and examined the wagon. The guard gave Aden a long, searching observation before moving to the back of the wagon to look underneath. A signal was given, and the wagon passed under the arch.