The great city of Tajar was a lodestone for humanity and all those who wandered inevitably found themselves wandering in and wondering why they never managed to wander out again. Some called it the melting pot of Parthanea, but in reality it was more like a witches cauldron; the bits at the bottom were burnt, no-one knew exactly what was in it, and the result of tasting it would likely lead you straight to the nearest toilet.
“That’s your first look at Tajar I’ll bet Konrad, what’d you think?”
“It’s bigger than I thought,” Konrad replied, thinking the huge city looked like a great belligerent bullfrog squatting astride the river Fallow.
They were still a good distance from the city and the road that they took down from the valleys gradually became more crowded as the day wore on. Wagons, bumpy stage coaches and fine carriages jostled for space and hundreds of figures walked in a great shambling procession.
“Is there some kind of pilgrimage on?”
“Nope, it’s always like this, it’ll get worse when we get to the gates. Just have to know which one to pick.”
“How many gates are there?”
“Weell you got the big three,” said Gerrard, adopting a scholarly tone and gesturing to the city. “Arcanists gate, Wind ward gate and Dukes gate. Expensive to get in those but generally faster. Then you got your East and West ward gates, but it’s best to avoid them as you never know who’s going to be manning them, might be guards, might just be some local gangs.”
“What gate do you use?”
“Rimmer Gate, special for anyone bringing stuff in you can eat. You won’t believe how much food goes in to that city everyday. I don’t know where they put it all.”
Konrad looked at the brown waters of the river as it flowed out of the city and thought he had a pretty good idea.
The sun was a deep orange glow to the south when they finally reached the city walls and traffic slowed to a halt. The reason for the blockage soon became clear, two wagon drivers had pulled off to the side of the road and were having a tense exchange.
“Look what you’ve done to my wagon wheel, it’s clear snapped off!”
“You crashed into me you old fluffer.”
“I’ve been driving this road for thirty summers, never had a problem. You were going too fast.”
The argument continued back and forth and Konrad spotted three figures darting to the back of one of the wagons and rummaging through sacks and boxes.
“They’re robbing him,” Konrad said, standing up on the wagon.
“Just calm yourself down Kon,” Gerrard said in a low voice, grabbing his arm and pulling him back down.
“But we should do something, can’t we tell the guards?”
“You mean those guards?” Gerrard replied with a surreptitious nod.
Two members of the city watch were lounging by the tumbled down wall. They had a clear view of the three thieves who by now had managed to liberate several sacks and were slipping back through the piled up traffic behind them.
“But that’s stealing.”
“Listen lad, this city ain’t like home. Folk here will steal anything, and if it’s nailed down they’ll take the nails and all.”
Konrad felt instinctively for the few coins that his father had pushed into his hand as he had left. It was only a handful of copper and silver, but it held the weight of the debt he owed to the whole village. He was determined to pay it back as soon as he could.
The line of wagons began to move forward again and Gerrard flicked the reins lightly so that Bess trudged forwards.
“What’s that?” Konrad said pointing to a great blackened and blasted circle outside the city. It looked like a dragon had landed there, its claws rutting and tearing the ground in its fury.
“That’s where the arcanists put down that flying city of theirs,” Gerrard said with a dark look.
Konrad had only seen the floating city of the arcanists once in his life. The whole village had run up to the Long Hill to watch it and he had struggled up just in time to see it soar over the far mountains.
“I’d love to see that,” he breathed.
“Not likely now summers over, they already took what they wanted and buggered off, and good riddance to them.” Gerrard spat over the edge of the wagon and pulled the reins to slow them to a halt.
Two bored looking guards made a show of inspecting the goods in the wagon before waving them on into the city.
“Reckon you’ll be getting off here Kon,” Gerrard said, pulling the wagon to a halt just inside the city walls. “I’m headed to the docks with this lot. Where is it you’re heading again?”
“The temple of Lyran,” Konrad replied, seizing his bundle and hopping off the cart. Spirit slipped off after him and started sniffing the air.
“Temple of Lyran.” Gerrard blew out his cheeks. “Ain’t never heard of it, but all the temples are in the Wind Ward, perhaps you can try there?”
“Thanks Ger, and thanks for the ride. You’ll be sure to tell my ma and da that I got here okay?”
“Certainly will Kon, you look after yourself now.”
Konrad hovered near the wagon. “Will you tell Alice I said.. just tell her I said hello.”
“I would, but it’s not likely that I’ll be seeing the Reed girl anytime soon.”
“Why’s that?”
“You didn’t know? She went over to Talen Vale this morning. She’s going to wed that Franklin Tate. Can’t figure it myself, she’s sharper’n a new set of shears and he’d be out of his depth in a mud puddle.”
Gerrard slapped the reins and the wagon rumbled along leaving Konrad staring blankly ahead. He’d wondered why Daniel Reed had dropped the land price and now he knew. Alice must have agreed to marry Franklin Tate in exchange. He had to go back.
Konrad looked around desperately for Gerrard’s wagon but it was already lost in the hustle and bustle around the gate.
“Spirit, help me find Ger.”
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But Spirit just sat down and gave him a level stare.
“Come on, we can’t let Alice marry Franklin Tate.”
Despite his pleading Spirit didn’t move a muscle.
“So you think it’s okay for her to do that just so I can go off and have adventures do you?”
Spirit's silence continued and Konrad huffed and started off in the direction that he thought Gerrard had gone.
“Hey, watch where you’re going mister!”
A scrawny boy with red hair, several years younger than Konrad bounced off of him and gave him an indignant look. Then walked off shaking his head. Spirit growled loudly and barked causing several passers by to jump in fright.
“What is it?” Konrad asked.
Spirit jumped up at him and started to paw at his pocket and Konrad immediately felt to his horror found it was empty. The precious coins his father had given him were gone.
“We got robbed,” he said in a hollow voice.
Spirit bounded off into the crowd barking loudly and Konrad gave chase.
The city flashed past him as he ducked and weaved, ignoring the angry shouts that followed behind him.
An old man pulled a small cart of cabbages across the road and Konrad saw a flash red hair as the thief hopped over the top. Spirit glided underneath, but Konrad slipped on the damp cobbles at the last moment and crashed straight into it.
“My cabbages,” cried the old man as his produce tumbled onto the dirty street.
“Sorry,” Konrad shouted backwards as he scrambled up and continued the chase.
Spirit was a grey blur ahead of him jumping onto crates and sending people flying and all Konrad could do was follow the line of devastation. One vendor shouted angrily as he stared down at a huge cooking pot that had been knocked over and was now leaking thick yellow sauce onto the road. Several neighbourhood dogs were already on the scene greedily lapping up the spillage.
Konrad pressed on, bursting out onto an enormous market square where hundreds of stalls were packed tightly together, merchants and vendors cried out their wares as customers jostled between them. There was no sign of Spirit or the red haired thief but just as Konrad felt the first pang of despair, a great shout rose up in the market and several of the stalls in the distance gently collapsed.
“It’s going to eat him,” a voice from the crowd shrieked.
“Not much of a meal, look how scrawny he is,” called another.
The crowd had pushed back leaving a wide open space and Spirit stood in the centre, a deep growl emanating from her throat. The skinny red haired pickpocket stood in front of her, and holding him by the scruff of his neck was a huge young man, several years older than Konrad wearing heavy furs. He was clearly a northman, with a strong face and a scraggly black beard.
Spirit was down low and growled again, her tone more dangerous.
The northman looked unfazed. “Dharva,”
His voice was clear and loud and Spirit immediately whined and lay down on the ground.
The stranger called another command word and to Konrad’s astonishment Spirit trotted over to him and sat by his side.
“Hey that’s my dog! Spirit come here,” Konrad shouted when he had found his tongue.
Spirit looked over to Konrad and then up at the figure next to her with some confusion, then she shook her head and bounded over to Konrad, taking her place next to him and licking his hand apologetically.
The northman let go of the struggling thief and the skinny boy darted into the crowd.
“Don’t let him go,” Konrad shouted.
He went after the boy but he found his way blocked by two men wearing leather aprons. They were identical, both had large bellies and the remaining strands of hair on their heads were gently teased over their bald domes. Their moustaches bristled indignantly as they surveyed the carnage around them.
“That’s your dog is it? Look what it did to my stall,” cried one of the men.
A dozen smushed packages lay on the ground, gooey cheese leaking out of several of them onto the warm cobblestones.
“My cheeses are ruined. They just came in from the Lost Coast,” the other wailed, dragging his hand through what remained of his hair.
The first man rounded on the second, prodding him in the chest with his finger. “No-one gives a rats fart about your mouldy cheese Poulter, will you just look at my fish?”
“Don’t you talk to me like that Horace, I told you no-one wants none of that stinking fish, who ever wants to eat a fish from the Fallow?” Poulter replied, wagging his finger in Horaces face. “Our ma was on her death bed and she told me it should have been cheese from day one, but you wouldn’t listen and now look where we are.”
“Don’t you bring our ma into this!”
The brothers argument was interrupted by the arrival of three dogs who burst through the crowd barking madly. Each of their muzzles was covered in a thick yellow sauce and they dove at the fish on the floor, snapping and fighting over them.
“I think this belongs to you,” mumbled the young northman, handing Konrad his small coin purse.
Konrad took the purse wordlessly, unable to take his eyes off of the scene before him. Horace was struggling to wrestle one of the dogs away from the fish and he slipped on a cheese and was sent flying into his brother.
“This would be a good time to leave no?” the young man suggested.
Konrad nodded and the two of them slowly backed into the crowd and walked away, carefully checking behind to make sure that no one had followed them out of the chaos of the market place.
“That’s a fine animal you have there,” the northman said and flashed a broad smile revealing wide white teeth, two of which were made of a silvery-blue material.
Konrad glanced at him warily. The Northman was caught somewhere in between a boy and a man, a whole head taller and much stronger than Konrad. When he walked his fur coat flicked open to reveal a wicked looking axe in a leather holder on his belt.
“You people from the valleys are a cautious bunch aren’t you?” he continued when Konrad didn’t reply. “It’s a good trait I suppose. It’s just as well I like to talk, which I think is also a good trait. My name is Rolo, Rolo Dauska.”
“How did you make my dog stop like that back in the market?”
“Your dog is from the deep valleys, so she is not so different from our own animals. The fur is not so thick perhaps,” Rolo said with a shrug.
They entered a quiet square with a fountain bubbling in the centre. Men and women were gathered around busy with their own small tasks, filling vessels with water or washing clothes.
Rolo squatted down and peered into Spirits dark eyes. “There’s something unusual about this animal. Will you tell me what it is?”
“Her name’s Spirit, and there’s nothing strange about her.”
“You don’t think that’s strange that she doesn’t have a shadow?”
Konrad was stunned to see that Rolo was right. The last of the suns rays created long afternoon shadows all around them, but Spirit didn’t have one.
Rolo said a word of command and Spirit tensed, cocking her head to one side and staring at the northman. But whatever he wanted her to do she somehow resisted and instead barked at him and moved closer to Konrad.
“Clever girl,” Rolo muttered.
Konrad remembered Gerrard’s warning not to trust anyone in the city and took a step backwards. “We have to go, thanks for your help back there.”
“Very well,” Rolo said, holding out his hand.
Konrad stared at the hand like it was a poisonous snake but to his surprise he felt Spirit nudge him forwards.
“She seems to trust me, perhaps you should too.”
Konrad tentatively extended his hand and Rolo gripped it in his own.
“I’m Konrad.”
“Konrad means Bold in the old tongue,” Rolo said approvingly. “Konrad what?”
“Konrad Cloda,” he replied. Clod’s didn’t really have family names, but after his talk with Erwan this one seemed fitting.
“Konrad Cloda, what brings you to Tajan?”
Konrad hesitated, despite Spirits instincts he was reluctant to overshare. Telling the first person he spoke to that he was a champion of the gods and on a quest didn’t seem particularly subtle, besides, who would believe him?
“I’m looking for someone. Her name is Athir, she’s a ch… adventurer.”
“A ch’adventurer? I do not know this word,” Rolos said, his eyebrows creased in confusion.
“I mean an adventurer, she goes adventuring. Clearing dungeons, fighting monsters, rescuing princesses?” Konrad finished lamely.
“I’ve never heard of her, but if you’re simply looking for someone who can swing a sword you can try The Cloven Shield.”
“Whats that?”
“It’s a tavern outside the city walls. Near the West ward gate. You’ll find many adventurers there. Perhaps even ch’adventurers eh?” Rolo said waggling his eyebrows and smiling.
Despite his reservations, Konrad found himself liking the confident northman.
“What about yourself, what do you do in the city?”
“I only come here to sell furs from the North. I try not to stay for long, this city smells terrible.”
“Well thanks again for your help. Good luck with your fur selling.”
Rolo gave Konrad a thoughtful look. “This city can be a strange place if you are not used to its ways. If you need me, she’ll be able to find me,” he said gesturing to Spirit. “Watch your back in The Cloven Shield as well. Adventurers are not what they seem, and Champions even less so.”
Rolo headed back in the direction of the main market square and Konrad watched him leave open mouthed.
“He said champions, do you think he knew?”
Spirit gave him a look which he had learned to interpret as a shrug and went to gently lap some water from the fountain.
The sun had almost set and Konrad felt a slight panic setting in. Thanks to Rolo he still had a meagre amount of money, but he couldn’t hope to find Gerrard now. He felt a pang of regret about Alice, but if he could complete the quest for Lyran he could be back in Fallow Vale in a few days. What he needed was help, and now he knew where to get it.
“Let’s go and find this champion.”