Chapter 5

I had to admit, the streets on the upper Alora were like none I had seen throughout the south side of the city. The marble buildings shimmered white in the midday sun, and they stood at least two or three stories higher than those found south of the Ghid. Complete with tiled roofs of many colours and cylinder chimneys, this place was everything Ottom had said it was. The home of the wealthy. “Out!” said one of the twins as the carriage came to an abrupt stop.

The driver hitched the horses to a post. Caine and I hopped out the back. We were on a long, straight road with a clear view from one end of the street to the other. The type of place we’d normally avoid for fear of the guards. Especially during the day.

I hadn’t been so out in the open like this for a while. It made me feel exposed, as if I was naked and an arrow might pierce through my back at any moment. What made it worse were the natives. The locals here wore rich furs, embroidered tunics, and tight corsets. Their fingers were full of shiny rings of coloured stones, and their necks bared bright gold and silver chains.

Most of them had a glint in their eye when they saw us. The look of fear, peppered with curiosity, and disgust. The glares were subtle, but plenty.

It seemed to me as if the deer mark on Caine’s face was even more defined in this place. As if Henarlta himself wanted him to stand out among the crowd, but perhaps this was in my mind.

“This way,” said the twin. He signalled to an alley between two buildings. His Naminian was rigid and overpronounced, and I knew from just two words that understanding one another was going to be difficult. He turned and headed down the alley, nearly knocking an elderly passerby off his feet as he walked. The other twin stood behind us and pushed me by the shoulder, prompting us to follow.

Out of the other end, was a riverbank. Chest-height railings stood just before the water and cast off in both directions moving adjacent to the river.

I winced as I took in the smell. A putrid stench wafted through me that would have made a weaker man gag. The Alora River was fouler in smell than its southern brother. I couldn’t say for why, but I took a strange comfort in knowing that they didn’t have everything in the richer parts of the city. They did, however, have the best view of the keep.

Across the river, on its own island, stood the Doge’s keep. A massive feat of brick and mortar that loomed over the rest of the city like a mountain over a hill. Huge white stone blocks, as thick as some oxen, formed a perfect windowless square with four spires coming out of each corner to a pointed tip. Surrounding it, was a large grey stone wall of misshapen blocks that looked much older than the keep itself.

I had seen this grand building before, you can catch glimpses of it throughout the city, but this was the closest I’d been to it. I gazed upon it with disbelief. Before leaving the Bervian Hills, I had never seen a stone building. We Bervs made our homes from the skins of Animals. Our tallest structures were our totems which pale in comparison to the likes of this city.

We had heard of such buildings, of course. Travellers from the north and east would come and tell us about the wonders of the world. They would give us gifts from distant lands. Even teach some of us how to read their language. It's how my brother and I learned Naminian. But to see these sky-piercing monuments in person was something I found fascinating.

There was a strong tug on my arm “This way!” said a twin harshly.

We walked along the riverbank and passed several Inns and taverns. Each one had its own set of benches outside, overlooking the river. The patrons, whilst deep in their cups, conversed loudly and cheerily. When their eyes met mine. I could see the light fade from some of their smiling faces, and although I found it annoying, it wasn’t the same as south as the river. I couldn’t say whether it was the dust gin that was still in me or something else entirely, but I didn’t feel threatened by them. I felt no fear at all. The rich folk had contempt for us, that was plain, but there wasn’t any sense of aggression. There was no name-calling, no spitting, no sword grabbing or fist Clenching in our direction that the folk in the south liked to do. It was refreshing in a strange way.

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The Mule and Mare stood out from the rest of the Taverns along the riverbank. It was the only one that wasn’t dressed in white marble and instead went with grey, uneven stonework, similar to the stones on the wall around the Doge’s keep. Its sign was made of old cracked wood and was hanging on by rusted hinges that whistled in the wind. It had no benches stationed outside like the others, and its front grass was long and overgrown. If it wasn’t where we were going, I would have said the inn had been abandoned long ago.

The twin in front sauntered up the stony path and opened the old Inn door. The one behind prompted us inside. It took a few moments for the eyes to adjust to the dimness. Only a single crack of light gleamed through the inn’s shutters, and I could have sworn it was empty until I noted the almost motionless patrons in their collective seats. The smell of stale ale was in the air which masked an underlying stench of vomit.

Through the dimness, a serving boy approached. He rubbed his hands with his washcloth and spoke to one of the twins in the local tongue. After they finished talking, he gave me and Caine a brief look, nodded, and then motioned us to a table towards the back of the room. The patrons didn’t glare at us as we passed them like the ones on the benches did. In fact, they didn’t look at us at all. They all seemed too fixated on their own conversations which gave the room a low murmuring sound much like the one a bacran wolf makes when she’s defending her cubs. The serving boy ushered us to our seats and one of the twins tossed him a coin. He bowed and headed off out of the back.

We sat in silence for a moment. One twin leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. The other had his elbows on the table and rested his chin on his knuckles. They stared at us, unblinking, a bored look on both their faces. Eventually, the one that was leaning straightened his back and beat his chest, “Me Hjorn. This Burd. You?”

“Caine,” Caine said.

“Jeb,” I replied.

He nodded “You drink?”

I shook my head “Not until this morning.''

Hjorn chuckled, “Today you drink.”

As if by magic, four large metal tankards slammed themselves on the table. The serving boy slid one to each of us. He then bowed, said something in the local tongue, and left us to tend to another customer.

Each tankard was filled with a brownish-golden liquid that frothed and foamed around its edges. The twins wasted no time in putting the drink to their lips. They drained the tankards with a series of large gulps. Caine and I sat still, mouths agape, in awe as streams trickled down the twin’s cheeks. Burd slammed his tankard onto the table first and let out a large belch. He looked at Caine and grinned, “I won.”

Hjorn pointed at me, “You drink!”

I stared at him blankly for a moment.

“Me?”

“Yes, you. You drink! You both drink!”

I shrugged, pulled the tankard to my lips, and began to gulp vigorously. The drink tasted differently from the gin. It was thicker with more bubbles and lacked the burning sensation in the throat. Hjorn nudged his twin brother and laughed.

I slammed my tankard onto the table and let out a belch of my own, almost mimicking the one that Hjorn made. I was quicker than Caine, who slammed his tankard just after me, but snail-like in comparison to the twins. The scene was to their enjoyment, and they snickered at one another with delight. I looked at Caine and he was smiling for the second time today. It made me smile. Before I knew it, we were all laughing. It was a genuine one. I hadn’t snorted like that since I came to this city. Perhaps my brother and I were losing our minds. I hate to admit it, but it felt good. For the first time in as long as I could remember. I wasn’t worried about anything.

The sensation was brief.

It was interrupted by the Inn doors swinging open.

“Good day all!” a man shouted, crashing the door shut behind him. His hair and goatee were a matted black with flecks of grey. His clothing was stained with grime and holy to the point of asking why he was wearing it in the first place. I realised in an instant that he was drunk. He swayed and stumbled towards the nearest free table he could find and plumped himself onto a chair.

He yelled for the serving boy, and the boy approached. The man put a coin in the boy’s hand, closed it into his fist, and gave the boy’s arm a hefty shake. He then, rather rudely from what I could see, shooed the boy off.

“Him,” Said Hjorn. “That is Gerert.”

I stared on; he was struggling to keep upright. He held onto his table tightly, as if the ground were about to fall from beneath his feet. What could he have done to warrant death?

Burd leaned in close, “He will be here till the afternoon,” he whispered. “Then he will walk along the riverbank. This is routine for him.”

I glanced at Caine. His face was unreadable.

“And how do we do it?” I asked.

The two of them shrugged, almost in sync with one another, “We don’t care.”

Burd did a stabbing motion with his hands, whilst Hjorn mimicked strangling himself.

“This is up to you. Either way, job must be done,” said Burd.

“And in two weeks,” Added Hojrn

The laughter and cheer of the two men had disappeared. They leaned in. Their eyes narrowed at the two of us.

“You understand?” asked Burd.

“Yes,” I said.

“Good.” The twins rose from their seats and looked down at us.

Hjorn let out a sigh, “Look, I like you, so have advice from brothers to brothers. You have a drunkard next to a river. All you do is stab once and push him. The water will do rest.”

Burd tossed a coin on the table. “Have one, on us.”

“You’re leaving?” asked Caine.

They nodded.

“And how are we to get back?”

They didn’t bother to reply as they walked out of the inn.