Chapter 14: Far Horizons (Patreon)

The relative quiet of the leather merchant’s tent was a relief, although in truth the canvas walls only dulled the edge of the cacophony outside. 

Yehi smiled upon seeing them again. “Welcome and blessed return, Marchmen. Do you wish to sell the scales?”

“Yes,” Elliot replied, pulling out the bundle. “I would. I have fifteen, and you said you’d give me ten clips for that?”

“One silver, yes.”

“Then let’s do it,” he said, handing over the scales. Yehi took them, gave each a quick glance, then reached into the pouch hanging from her red leather belt and fished out a silver coin. Its surface was engraved with a sun on one side and a tree on the other.

“Thanks,” Elliot said smiling. “Can I ask, if you don’t mind, where your people are from?”

“Far west, then farther still south. Our land is Deshien, of the golden isles.”

Hadrian snorted. He had paused at the entrance, clearly waiting for the transaction to conclude, but when Elliot glanced over his shoulder the other man was staring at Yehi almost confrontationally.

The feather-faced merchant maintained her soft smile. “Although not everyone would name it so.”

“As you say, ma’am,” Hadrian replied stiffly.

Elliot frowned. “What’s wrong with you?”

“There is nothing wrong with me. You would simply find ‘the bloody isles’ to be a more common appellation anywhere outside of Deshien itself. The Yatiri are known to wax lovingly about their homeland, but most visitors find only sharp steel and shallow rocks.”

“I think it’s pretty rude to insult someone’s home right in front of them, especially when you weren’t even invited to be a part of this conversation.” What was wrong with the man? Being terse to the point of rudeness seemed to be his bread and butter, but this felt unusually antagonistic.

Hadrian frowned. “The truth is never an insult.”

“What a stupid thing to say,” Elliot replied, still feeling a bit heated from their previous exchange. “The truth can absolutely be an insult. For one thing, there’s a lot of ways to say something, some much nicer than others, and for another thing, you don’t actually have to say all your thoughts out loud just because you have them. Do you just walk up to the elderly and tell them they look much worse than when they were younger?”

“I reserve my courtesy for nations not primarily known for piracy, “Hadrian replied stiffly. “I will leave you to your business, and we can discuss the future later.” He turned and stalked out of the tent before Elliot could say a word in reply.

“I’m sorry about that,” he said, turning back to Yehi.

“Do not worry. It is not an uncommon thought in the north. In fact I am surprised you do not share in it yourself.”

“I’m not from around here, actually. I’m from far enough away you would probably struggle to tell me anything about the world I already know.”

“Oh?” Yehi replied, tilting her head. “South, then?”

Elliot smiled ruefully. “Something like that.” As good a story as any.

“Then we are both strangers here.” She clasped both hands in front of her heart, and bowed shallowly. “Strangers in a strange land should be friends, Elliot. Come to the Stonecrow tavern on the fourth level tomorrow night. You will meet many who are far from home.”

He hesitated. His mood was not even remotely celebratory. It had been difficult to stay distracted, though. The grief that surfaced whenever he slowed down made him want to curl up in a ball somewhere and cry, which was not great for making progress. Maybe a party would drag him out of his thoughts. But there’d be so many people…well, he could see how he felt when the time came. “That could be nice. Life has been challenging recently. A hangout would maybe be good.”

“It is a challenging world, my friend.” The red-gold feathers on her face and neck fluffed as the rest of her face remained placid—creating a disconcerting contrast. Elliot wasn’t sure how to read the expression.

“Would you tell me about Deshien?” he asked.

She smiled. “It is a land of earth and sea. The golden isles, named for the color of sun on sand, stretch for hundreds of miles into the ocean. The water is clear like glass, and every evening is a work of art.” She held up her hands, fingers outstretched, almost as if she were conducting a symphony. “Our coast is tall, with cliffs that would give pause to even the giant clans. We have many rivers that arrive at the edge full of strength, becoming cascades that need to be seen to be believed. We built our cities on those cliffs, and along the waterways as they stretch inland. It is not a place of forests, but the grasses are tall enough to swallow you whole, dancing eternally in the wind of the plains.” She lowered her hands again suddenly, smile fading. “I am sorry. Your friend was right that we Yatiri love our home. I miss it. It has been many years.”

“Don’t apologize, there’s no need. It sounds beautiful.” He felt a pang of guilt. “And I’m sorry again about my friend. He’s prickly.”

She waved a hand in gentle negation. “There is no reason for sorrow. He only said what I have heard a hundred hundred times before. And do not see your friend too harshly. His judgement was not wholly unfair. It can be a brutal place, as well as beautiful. I saw him earlier, you know.”

“Saw who, Hadrian?”

“Your friend,” she replied, nodding. “Earlier, before the market had begun, when I was just beginning to raise the tent. He had a spear, and looked to be setting off on a hunt. A group of the local children ran to him, yelling and pulling, asking him to show them the weapon. I thought he would give them a beating, from the thunder on his face.”

Elliot winced. He would have worried for the children’s safety as well.

“But instead, he stopped and he spoke with them. He showed them how to plant their feet, and how to hold their sticks as if they were weapons of their own. The children loved him.” Her smile returned. “So do not worry. He is a good man.”

“That’s kind of you to say,” Elliot replied, keeping his tone neutral. Maybe Hadrian had just been in a particularly good mood that morning.

As they spoke, Elliot had been casually using [Detailed Appraisal] on the items around him, as was his new habit. Most were standard, some—like the leather cloak that had some kind of protective enchantment—were interesting, but his eye had caught on a shallow wooden box with no lid. Inside, on top of a sheet of gray cloth, sat three small knives forged from a swirled mixture of black and silver metals. His skill told him they held some kind of magic, but nothing else.

Risking an awkward lull in the conversation, he brought his focus more fully to bear, pulling at the knives. After a few seconds, he received only one new piece of information: they were forged from the same material as the stones in the cart pushed by the man he’d almost run into earlier.

“Do you like the blades?” Yehi asked, tracking his gaze.

“Sorry, they just caught my attention. What are they made from?”

“An alloy called falurium. The reason we are all here. Except, it seems, for you.”

Elliot’s eyebrows raised. “They make it from the black and silver stone that gets mined here, don’t they? It’s the product that justified the creation of the freeholt?”

“Yes. It is quite valuable. Merchants come from all over to trade for it, despite the dangers. Now, while the freeholt is young and still disconnected from the world, is the only time that most of us can afford it. Markets like this where many other goods are traded rise up like spring grass all through the selling season, since we are all here anyway.”

“What makes it so valuable?” he asked, trying and failing to pull more information from the knives.

Yehi walked over to the display and picked up one of the three. Its surface had the slight sheen of recent polish, and the blade had a single edge. She grasped it firmly by the handle and knelt, stabbing it into the earth. In a single smooth motion, she pulled it straight back toward her body, and it sliced through the packed earth as if it were air. “It has powerful earth and metal aspects. If I cut a knight in full plate with this knife, it would pass through the armor like a cormorant through waves. It makes for a very dangerous weapon.” She laughed suddenly, pulling the knife out and standing back up. “Unless, of course, you have purchased a boiled leather piece from me! Or wooden armor would serve as well, I suppose. But there’s none in the north save the Greenguard who you’d find so adorned. For most, meeting someone with such a weapon would mean a blade in the chest.” She placed the knife back down on the cloth, not a speck of dirt on it.

What a scary idea. Elliot imagined someone equipped with a full sword of the stuff, or a battle axe. It also clearly defied low level inspection abilities, so unless you knew what to look for it would probably be a nasty surprise. “Is that its only use?”

“An enchanter would no doubt make a nightmare of it,” she replied, shrugging. “I do not know much of its uses for deeper magics, but I know it commands a high price among mages as well as warriors.”

As she finished speaking, two men clad in furs and leather walked under the open flap at the entrance. Elliot noted their arrival, and flashed a smile at Yehi. “Thank you for showing me, and for telling me about your home. I’ll let you get back to work.”

“I will see you tomorrow,” she replied, her soft smile widening into a grin. “Stonecrow tavern, fourth level, early evening. You will be among friends.”

“Sure,” he said, smiling awkwardly. Now I have to go.

His business concluded, Elliot hastened back up the tiers to the house. Reaching the door, he hesitated only briefly before grasping the handle and pulling it open without knocking. 

Breka had somehow found an over-stuffed armchair large enough for her small frame to practically vanish into as she reclined and read a book. She could have been someone’s grandmother, glasses on and a cup of tea sitting on a nightstand nearby, but he would never forget the sheer physicality she’d displayed when punching the wall. His eyes darted to the spot in question, but the cracks were gone.                     

Hadrian was sitting on the floor with his glowing wrought-iron cube, eyes closed. He didn’t budge as the door creaked open.

“Welcome back, boy. Did you get a good price?”

“Not really. But I learned about somewhere very far away, and I got invited to drinks with some merchants tomorrow evening. You really don’t have a spatial skill or item? That chair is half the size of the bed, and neither of them could possibly fit through the door.”

Breka smiled. “No spatial skill, no spatial item. My word on it. Maybe if you work that ability of yours a bit more you’ll be able to figure it out. Have some food.” She waved at a thickly crusted loaf of bread that sat on a cutting board next to a block of bright orange cheese. A bowl of grapes and a plate of some kind of vegetable [Detailed Appraisal] identified as hornroot were nearby.

Elliot accepted the distraction, sitting in one of the open chairs and beginning to eat. The hornroot had the shape and texture of asparagus, but it tasted more like a roasted leek. He ripped off a piece of bread, stuffed it with a chunk of cheese and several slices of hornroot, and ate it like a sandwich. 

It was late afternoon, too early for the walls to start their blue glow, and without any windows the only illumination was from the small glowstone shard jutting from the ceiling. It was like an old halogen-bulb lantern, enough to get by, but harsh.

Sitting in silence as Hadrian trained and Breka read, Elliot ruminated. It had been over twenty four hours since he’d arrived here. Rowan would have hopefully started adjusting. Had she found shelter? Had someone identified her as an anomaly as well?

He thought of Deshien, with its massive cliffs, its golden sand, and its pirates. Yehi had said she’d been travelling for years, and his journey would be far longer. Far more dangerous as well, if what Breka said was true.

But it will get done. It didn’t matter what Breka needed from him; if she could push his limits and make him powerful enough to find his sister, he would do anything.

That’s just all there was to it.

“One thing,” Breka said from her chair, laying her book down on the table in front of her. “While I’m thinking of it. Don’t do anything stupid, but if you hear anything out in the market—or at your tavern—that might relate to our work, try to remember. Even the most incidental things might be useful.”

“You mean about the Sleepy Titan? Or the Talessi?”

“The Titan That Sleeps. And yes, certainly, but I doubt you’ll hear anything like that. Think…things that are out of place, or don’t make sense. But remember, you’re not trained. No risk taking.”

“Gotcha.”

No risks. Simple enough.