Weekly Drabble # 213: City of Dreams (Patreon)

This week's drabble prompts are 'payment in flesh' from Xpholia and 'keeping watch' from Sam C. This was originally a more generic setting, about a guard getting bribed with coin (and other things) to allow a suspicious convoy through a city's gates, but it didn't quite click for me. It wasn't until that I switched the setting to Scars that it came together a bit more, allowing me to build up a couple things I wanted to touch on: 1) what was happening to the rest of the continent while Talloic and its neighbours were being butchered? 2) what exactly was Melody talking about when she referred to Khy-kala hunting down everyone who 'd heard the demon's calls?

This hints at answers to both of those questions.

Anyways, hope you enjoy!

~

City of Dreams:

G’halai was known across the world, spoken of in tones of awe, envy and disbelief. It was the grandest of cities, older than entire nations, its opal spires and gold-coated towers making it a literal shining beacon to travellers. “G’halai,” it was said, “is where dreams come true.” It was the city where anything was possible – at least, for a price.

Thousands of visitors came to the City of Dreams every day; scholars, sight-seers, sellswords, mages, traders, explorers and more. They were all drawn by the possibilities that the city offered, whether it was for work, for experiences or for the knowledge accumulated in its towering keeps and archives. G’halai was a place where any desire, no matter how provincial or esoteric could be satisfied, from matters of academia to far more earthly delights.

And because G’halai could give you anything, it was a city that needed everything.Or, as some whispered in shadowed rooms and smoke-filled dream-dens: “G’halai hungers.”

To feed its ravenous appetites as well as the more mundane needs of its million citizens, dozens of caravans arrived at each of the city’s gates every day, some from G’halai’s own nation of Sartuuma, from the peasantry and serfs that laboured to raise the produce and meat to keep their capital fed. Some of these convoys came from Sartumma’s neighbours, bringing goods from these lands, as well as knowledge; wagons arrived piled high not just with food and luxury goods, but with entire libraries’ worth of scrolls and book, or sometimes just a single one so rare that its sale alone was worth the trip. From the nearby port of The Sultan’s Hand, ships from across the ocean came to call, offloading their wares to be carried to the city and then taking on cargo to trade elsewhere. Spices, artworks, slaves, exotic animals and more all passed through G’halai’s gates daily as fortunes were made and lost and desires of all sorts were fulfilled with every tick of the clock.

G’halai hungered, and it was never satisfied.

Eeral of the Tieal line, one of the G’halai’s guard, the Silver Hounds, stood in stern watch over one of the smaller city gates along the north-western wall. G’halai had four great gates, each one on a cardinal point of the city’s walls, but several smaller entrances. The postings to these places were less prestigious but those of the Hounds in the know – and there were more of them than one might think – sought these duties. Even in a city as permissive as G’halai, there were still things that were illegal – few enough as they were – and most importantly, taxes, fees and tariffs to be paid and inspections of goods to be carried out. Fees and inspections that could be very profitable for the Hounds who attended to them.

At the Great Gates, the soldiery there took their jobs most seriously, but there was less attention paid to the Lesser Gates. Those wishing to slip something by unnoticed, or avoid expensive inspections, often tried their luck in these places, for it was cheaper and far easier to offer a few gratuities than digging smuggling tunnels under the city’s deep walls. Even with the expected sharing amongst his shift-mates, Eeral always ended each shift with a coinpurse heavier than when he’d started as traders and visitors offered him incentives to ensure a quick inspection, provided ‘proof’ of their trustworthiness when they signed their cargo manifests, or to look the other way on items that required high tariffs.

His partner today was Talza. He didn’t care for her. Women didn’t belong in uniform, even if they were spellcasters like her. That was the only way for a woman to be granted entry into the Silver Hounds, or any of Sartuuma’s military forces. But mages were rare, and it was royal edict that every guard-station here in G’halai was to have at least one spellcaster on-duty at all times, specifically to sniff out witches, spells and wards. That directive was new, less than ten years old and it was the result of the Scarring.

G’halai had heard of the troubles far to the east, of course. It had been a thing of some concern, but a distant matter. The City of Dreams had been far removed from whatever was going on; many hadn’t even believed the tales of demons crossing the veil. That was, until the Night of the Red Moon.

Now, mages and witches were everywhere, as ordered by the throne. Even female ones, as Eeral’s partner attested. Talza was too full of herself, though. Too young for this posting, too upright and conscientious. She didn’t fit in, even less than the other mages did and she certainly didn’t belong in the ranks of the Silver Hounds, but Eeral knew his complaints would fall on deaf ears.

At least the little whiner had stopped complaining about the gratuities the traders that passed through this gate offered the men here. They’d convinced her to take the money, but she whined that she’d never spent any of it. Eeral didn’t care if she had. She took the money, that made her one of them now. At least partially. She never would be a true Silver Hound, but at least she was coming to understand how things worked. No, she wasn’t a Hound, but she was a dog – that was her role. Sniff out spells, other mages and traces of the Kindred’s corruption. That was her job, not to put on moral airs about bribery or smuggling.

As if no other guards or no other caravans partook in this practice. Graft was as much as part of G’halai as anything else. Everything you wanted, everything you needed – for a price. Talza hadn’t learned that yet. She still had starry-eyed idealism about how everything worked. Eeral just shrugged his shoulders at that nonsense. She shouldn’t even be in the guard, but since she was, she needed to learn how things worked. She’d either do so, or become a troublemaker. You didn’t cause trouble for your fellow Hounds. Witch or not, woman or not, there were consequences for that kind of thing.

For today at least though, Eeral was spared having to deal with his partner. The last few shifts she’d lapsed into a sullen, unhappy silence, only talking as much as needs be, which suited the guardsman just fine. He smiled as he saw the colours on the next caravan winding its way up from The Sultan’s Hand. Kasir of the Yonal owned those wagons. He was what they called a ‘damp trader’, never actually involved with the overseas part of shipping, but facilitating the movement of cargo and people from the Hand to G’Halai. His wagons and horses travelled between the city and the port every day and he knew the ins and outs of both intimately. He normally passed through one of the Great Gates, but whenever he had something to hide, he came to one of the Lesser Gates.

The head wagon rolled to a stop as Eeral stepped in front of it, Talza walking up to join him. The other guards remained in the gatehouse. They’d come if they were called, but Eeral didn’t need their help. They’d get their cut regardless. Besides, he could pocket a little more of Kasir’s bribe if none of them were out here watching. The head trader stepped down from his wagon, smiling and taking Eeral’s hand, passing a small bag of coins to him as he did so. “Seventh Spear,” he said. “Good to see you again.”

Eeral tucked the money into his belt. “Headman Kasir,” he replied in greeting. “What do you bring from the waters today?”

“Oh, many fine things. Many fine things. Spices from Etterima, mostly. Travellers from Azinea, looking to explore the wonders of the civilized world as well.”

“What else?” Eeral asked, gesturing for Talza to inspect the rest of the caravan as he spoke with the headman. Let the dog sniff around. “I heard some Wa Lai Guild ships had put into port.”

“Had you now?”

“Indeed. And I see several of your wagons are all covered up.” He said as he wandered slowly up the line. “You wouldn’t be trying to slip some slaves through the gates would you? You know the crown has increased duties on foreign slaves.” He flipped one bit of canvas up, looking into the wagon. Several wide-eyed women stared back at him. He recognized their olive skin and strangely bright off-green eyes; cannibals from the Rainbow Groves. The savages commanded a high price in the markets and brothels. They were renowned for their viciousness; the men made excellent pit fighters and the women were highly-sought exotic experiences. Still, you had to be careful. Unless they were properly broken in, they were as likely to rip your pecker off in their teeth as anything else – and that wasn’t just a metaphor. The whores, pimps and madams of G’halai didn’t use the term ‘he got a Rainbow kiss’ for nothing. Eeral had seem some lovely Grove women, but he’d rather stick it in Talza than one of the savages. You never could trust them.

Kasir quickly pushed the flap back down. “No slaves, my good Spear. Just some animals. Exotic animals, which I’m given to understand, carry lower taxes.”

“That they do, but...” Eeral paused. “How exotic are we talking, Headman?”

The trader chuckled, taking several coins out of his personal money bag. He tapped three into his palm, caught note of the expression on the guardman’s face and added a fourth. “Well, maybe not that exotic,” he said.

“No,” Eeral assured him. “Just some livestock from down the coast.”

Kasir smiled amiably. “I appreciate your service, Spear.” He took out a notepad with paper.

“You’re welcome,” Eeral replied. He pulled a stamp from a pouch on his belt and pressed it to the notice, marking this convoy as fully inspected and free of dangerous goods or requiring additional examination. “If there’s nothing else, as soon as my partner finishes the inspection, we can move you along. The invigilator will accept payment for all fees and taxes owed on your cargo and your livestock.”

“I appreciate it. There was one more thing, though. Along with the livestock, the guild ships picked up a passenger in the Rainbow Groves. She wanted to see the City of Dreams, but she disdains... commotion. I was commissioned to get her into G’halai without trouble and I knew you’d be the man to do so. She also has many questions and the city, and I know you keep well-informed about events here.”

Eeral nodded. “I do indeed.” He might only be a Spear, but did have his ear to the ground. He couldn’t do his job – any part of it – if he wasn’t aware of what was going on in the city or outside it. “I’d be happy to help her.”

“Good, good. A word of warning, though. She is a bit... odd. But she pays very well.”

“This is the City of Dreams, Kasir. Who here isn’t a little odd?”

“Not like this, but-” Before the head trader could see anything further, there was a squawk of surprise from several wagons away and Talza came running up, her cheeks flushed.

“There...” she started. “There’s a....”

“Ah, I see your partner has already met my guest,” Kasir said with a nod. “Yes, my dear. There is. Please be discreet, will you?”

A figure in a long, hooded cloak approached. A woman, but a very tall one. The hood hung low over her face, obscuring most of her features. Talza grabbed the short dagger she used as a Focus, holding it up as if she were about to attack the new arrival.

“Please,” Kasir said, stepping in front of the mage. “There’s no call for that. This is my honoured guest, and a simple pilgrim to G’halai.”

“Yes,” the robed woman said as she stopped a few paces in front of the guards and headman. “I’m just here for the same reasons as anyone else who comes to the City of Dreams.” There was something off about her voice. Eeral couldn’t have said what, though. Her accent was... he didn’t know what it was. There was a melody to it, a strangeness he hadn’t heard from any foreigner before and it unsettled him.

“And what reasons are those?” Talza snapped. She didn’t lower her dagger.

“To satiate my curiousity,” the woman said, reaching up and pulling her hood back, just enough that Eeral could see the marble white of her skin, the inhuman delicacy of her features and the wine-dark hue of her eyes. Though he could not see them, he knew that in the shadows of the woman’s hood would be long, pointed ears and horns. “And my desires.”

The guardsman swallowed. An elf. He looked at Kasir. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am, my friend. My guest has paid for safe travel to enter G’halai, and I am a man of my word.”

Eeral took a long breath. Kasir, damn him, was indeed that. He ran through every possible response he could make, but eventually sighed. He put his hand on Talza’s arm, pushing the dagger down. There was no law against elves in G’halai. “All right,” he said through gritted teeth. “All right.” He looked at the she-elf. “Without commotion was it?”

“Yes,” she told him. She held out a pair of coins, offering one each to Eeral and Talza. It took the mage several long seconds and a sharp, deeply unhappy glance at Eeral before she took hers. “Without commotion.”

“Well then,” Eeral said as he he turned, waving Kasir and his convoy through. “Right this way... my lady.”