Seeing that the matter was decided, Laes cleared his throat.
“To answer your earlier question, it was because, in all honesty, I had hoped that you would stay with us, but with the issue of Catalina, that is now dust in the wind. I would have still made the offer to you, but you and Khalam are like two Hauntworms in a pen,” he stated, giving out a long sigh. It was a sigh that had become frayed and weary over the years, more becoming of a long-married and unhappy wife than a leader of a trading caravan.
“I will let you in on something. Khalam thinks he hides it well, but everyone knows the man had a thing for Kalkassin’s wife, well, widow now. It did not sit well with him. And it would not have sat well with me to leave you without a word of advice before you venture forth the city. Knowledge is both a sword and shield. Pardon me for quoting an old saying, but the old words remain with us for a reason. It would serve you to arm yourself well, and you choose wisely in Zariyah. Gelgor’s gift is a gift well given. Perhaps one day you will tell me of his reasons,”
“Indeed, perhaps I will. But, I believe now is the time for us to part, Master Laes. It has not been the smoothest of journeys, but it has been an educational one. If we should meet again under more peaceful circumstances, then we will speak again.”
“As you say Master Gilgamesh, and with that I, too, bid you farewell,” finished the Caravan master with a low bow and a thin smile, showing just the right amount of deference. Time with these people had slowly taught me of their ways.
The Beastmaster Abas lingered for a while, watching Laes’ retreating shape.
"The caravan master is a difficult man, yet honorable in his own way. It's clear what gift you must have offered Gelgor to cause him to give up one of his prized treasures. Your grace deserves blessings, and may Her name be forever praised. It's comforting to know that salvation exists in this world. Meeting Her Herald has been my greatest honor. You will always be welcomed among us, for as long as the Ravens are guided by her light," the old man spoke with reverence, placing both palms on the back of his head.
This gesture, peculiar yet meaningful, signified both gratitude and a profound apology. Such are the intricacies of these unique and backward cultures.
After bidding me farewell, the old man followed after Laes, and I realized that there was something new about him. His back was straight, his stride longer and filled with pride. Abas Yar wore his newfound vigor like a badge of honor, and I silently wished him all the best in his journey ahead. My magic had done more than just heal his body, it had restored his faith in the Goddess. A false goddess. A being of great power that, nonetheless, I refused to accept as a divine being. However, people had a right to cling to whatever gave them hope and meaning in their little lives, misguided as they might be.
The sun continued to beat down on us, relentless in its efforts. As a group, we started to make our way toward the gates, waving at the caravan behind us. Looking at my team, I could see that it was Kidu, of all people, who showed the greatest strain. Sweat stained his clothes, and the small areas where his skin was exposed to the desert light were beginning to pink and redden.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
Elwin and Larynda were behind me, the small girl leading Patches by the reins. The large donkey was smart and faithful and I doubted she needed to be led, anyway. The pair of them were talking of things of little consequence, mostly trifling conversation of their respective homes’ plants and animals.
The two ladies walked together. Though Cordelia wore her beatific smile and Zariyah her stone mask, it did little to hide the thick current of tension between them. Zariyah’s presence was as much a test of tolerance for Cordelia as Cordelia’s presence was for her. I imagined that, had my new attendant been able to speak, they would have been spitting lightning at each other.
Throughout this sweltering ordeal, Kidu remained, as ever, an immovable mountain of dour silence, a steadfast rock in a river of emotional current.
Arriving at the gates, I paused to appreciate their grandeur. Crafted from a natural rock formation, the gatehouse stood imposingly, with no visible bricks or mortar in most of its structure. Massive doors made of bronze were swung ajar, allowing the traffic in and out of the city. What was the most curious, however, was that many seabirds had made this place their home. Their nests were scattered about at the higher levels and their squawks and cries could be heard clearly, above even the noise coming from the city. Curiosity piqued, I decided to use Identify and turned to Zariyah.
“Tell me of that,” I asked, pointing at the gates of the city, before I remembered my manners and added, “Please.”
The Feathered Gate? What do you wish to know?
“Tell me of their construction, as much as you know, anyway,” I clarified.
She pursed her lips and thought before her hands delicately wove their answer. I noticed that her attitude had much improved.
They were carved out of the Guidance Rock. A symbolic gesture, as it was the birds that had guided the founders of the city here. Over the long years, as Al-Lazar’s conflict with the people of the sea continued, the Guidance Rock was then incorporated into the defenses of the city. Despite being a part of the fortifications, it is still the foremost place of welcome where new entrants are greeted into the city before they pass under the arches. The doors of the Feathered Gates are of Dwarven make, steel coated with spelled bronze. Made by the dwarf Zarhit the Dreamer, they say that it takes only the strength of a single man to open them. Not only that, it is said, but he was the first of the mountain people to have partaken of the Dust dreams.
For the first time, I saw her give a genuine smile. She looked to be happy in telling us of her home. However, the moment was soon ruined by Cordelia.
“Do not trust too easily the lies of a Hazigadami,” interrupted Cordelia softly, the trace of a rueful smile at the corner of her lips. “Yes, Hazagadami, I too know the language of the unspoken words. The gates were made by the Quassians under contract and there was no magic used in their construction. Men made those gates, or so history would tell you. I wonder at this one’s usefulness, even as a guide,” she added smoothly.
A few cracks appeared on Zariyah’s stoic mask, but for the most part, it held, and she kept her temper and offered Cordelia no rebuttal. Admirable discipline.
I simply shrugged, as it was only a minor curiosity. History, after all, had a way of changing over the long years as memories grew dim and dull. The patina of time had a habit of covering most of the salient details.