Chapter 25 - Hollowdown

Even getting close to the fel deck of Margot Bethane’s right hand made my head hurt. I was more attuned to the deck than I ever had been before, and I wasn’t sure if that made me more or less vulnerable to its influence. Mastering that particular pack of cards would be a significant challenge in and of itself—one I certainly didn't plan to mix with a crisis. So, even without a full set of Wills in hand, we left for Hollowdown.

While Kridick had a stranglehold on the unsanctioned betting and fight pits in Barrowdown, it was only one of several slums spread across the lower city of Dragonmaw, called the Downs. The closer you got to the water, the worse things got. People got packed in as bad as fish from the canneries and the more people you have, the more friction. Things heat up. Hollowdown was the furthest one east and south, across the third unsheathing and down close to the bay. It was called such because you could hear your own footsteps echoing in the undercity on the streets. Everyone who walked those cobbles knew it was only a matter of time before it folded into the newest addition to the undercity beneath Dragonmaw. Nights were more dangerous in the hollow, as well. Monsters tended to find their way up to the surface there more often than in other districts. They prowled the streets, avoiding the patrols of adventurers hired to secure the lower city.

I’d traditionally avoided Hollowdown because it was much more dangerous for seekers than the rest of the middle and lower city. While we had been barred from visiting Barrowdown to watch fights in the pits, the Hollow had actively banned Seekers. Wagers here leaned toward games of skill and chance, while narcotic dens offered exotic delights delivered through the docks from every corner of the Bastard’s pock-marked skin and beyond. Even taking into account how unwelcome we are at card tables, Seekers taking such illicit and addictive substances often found themselves victim to fanciful visions and convinced themselves they had become prophets. Falling afoul of tantalizing lies undermines the pillar of what Seekers actually seek, which is hidden truths about ourselves and others. Either way, I’d left my robe at the room in favor of a nondescript cloak with a deep hood.

I didn’t know the Mayazians well, but Hollowdown’s reputation for extracting silver from gamblers and even more silver from debtors was legendary—as was the district’s disdain for my kind. Mother Mayaz kept the streets in line with a silken fist clutched around the beating hearts of the loyal lieutenants under her. I don’t mean that metaphorically. The woman was a witch of dark arts. I didn’t want to run afoul of her magic, day or night.

Annalisa and I skirted the outside of the unsheathing as we made our way east. The sun was low over the bay by the time we actually reached Hollowdown, and I could already smell the bitter sting of hallucinogenic smoke on the air. We were getting closer to the five of knaves. I felt it, east and just a bit north of us.

Annalisa wore her customary vest over her blouse and trousers. She’d added a kerchief around her neck to hide the bruises from her last fight, as well as a low hat and spectacles with the crystal lenses pulled out. None of which hid her devilborn skin or unique horns. I might have enjoyed anonymity, but after back-to-back wins in the unsanctioned fights, Annalisa could easily be recognized.

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While we walked deeper into the downs, I experimented with the vision buff offered by the four of dragons. Dragon eyes were said to pierce all manner of enchantment or beguilement, but the spell seemed to go further than that. It also drew my attention to the imprints of concealed weapons, to sentries posted on the roof of a shrum den and the carpenter across from it.

“It smells like cinnamon and cloves, here,” said Annalisa, nostrils twitching. “That’s too nice a smell for a place this run down.”

“They use it in the shrum pipes to hide the scent it actually makes when you burn it.”

Annalisa scowled. “My brother uses shrum.”

I looked over. “One of your brothers is an addict?”

My companion shook her head vehemently. “He’s an alchemist. He renders medicines for the Menders Guild. He uses it in his tonics. Says they can only give it to someone once, or they’ll never stop craving it.”

We passed figures strung out on the street, destitute with eyes staring a thousand yards away. “It saps life like the dragons sap magic. This city devours people.”

“Why don’t the high lords do something about it?” Annalisa demanded. She looked up at the spires of the upper city. “We can see them, they must be able to look down here and see this,” she said, spreading her hands.

“They’re too busy counting the silver the dens and the downs put in their pocket,” I said. “They profit from misery most of all. Besides, what are you going to do, sit around and make sure people don’t crush up strange leaves and smoke them? There aren’t enough adventurers in the city or under it to make something like that happen—even if half of them weren’t on some kind of drug, themselves. No one wants to forget what they’ve seen more than people who hunt monsters for a living.”

Anna harrumphed.

I turned us left as my missing card shifted more north than east. It brought us to a square with a fight pit in the center. Some of the locals wore the same sort of coat as the men who had attacked the Mop. Not definitive proof, but a sign that they had at least shopped at a tailor nearby. A lamp-lighter walked past us with an armed escort, and I took us across the street to avoid the armed duo.

I tried not to look as I pulled on the perceptive power of the four of dragons again. I spotted two sentries in the dark shadows of high windows, as well as one trying to blend in with the tiles on the roof of the building opposite. A fourth walked behind us, and I could feel his attention burning. I kept us moving, and turned us left again.

This was Mayazian territory, no doubt about it. The back of the building butted up against the aforementioned tailor, a money-changer, and a tobacco shop. The good news was that the building wasn’t nearly big enough to be the headquarters. So I doubt we’d run into Mother Mayaz down there. The bad news was I’d seen six sentries already, and there were probably twice as many inside.

I wasn’t worried about Annalisa in a close-range brawl against the Mayazian knifemen—even armed with knives, Annalisa wouldn’t hesitate. I’d watched her dismantle the elf in our first fight together. Though, to be fair, she was stabbed several times in the process. But, no. My primary concerns were the string mage, his handler from the fight the night before, and any pit fighters or adventurers that could be waiting for a response from Kridick.

“We’re walking in circles,” said Annalisa. “Are you lost?”

“We’re casing. Come on,” I said. “Let’s go find the Broken Axel.”