Page 76 of Silverbow
“Cyclos was Solignis’s favorite dragon, the first to spark and the first to fly. All nine clans go back to Cyclos’s line. When the dragon grew old, Solignis found him a place amongst the heavens rather than send him beyond the curtain. See the crest, there?”
Enya squinted at the little dots of light. She shook her head. “I don’t put much stock in the gods.”
“You should,” Oryn growled.
He offered no explanation so she ignored that like she tried to ignore most things thestony man said.
The land finally dried out as they crept nearer to summer, and as her hatred for the rain faded to memory, she learned to hate the dust. It rose up from the Queen’s Road in little clouds beneath their horses’ hooves, and each time they passed a wagon train, it filled her nose and mouth and dug at her eyes. Wagon trains only seemed to grow more common as they moved toward the city and faint dust trails rose out on the horizon, hanging in the air over the roads that radiated out of Windcross Wells like a sunburst.
Enya craned her neck at the guards atop the high stone walls. She and Liam had once dreamed about the city, wondered at what treasures they might find behind those walls, but some part of her never thought she would actually see it.
Oryn rode close to her as they drew near, muttering his list of rules. Enya only half listened, staring up at the black clad wielder who stood on the battlements. Despite having spent the last weeks in the company of wielders, she shivered when she felt his eyes rake over her, but they did not linger.
Men in green coats with the sunburst of Windcross Wells emblazoned on the breast stood watch on the ground before a dark tunnel that burrowed through the thick stone wall. She held her breath, turning the horse head carving over in her pocket as they passed through the iron gate, but with her brown hair in full view, the guards didn’t look at her twice.
Enya shaded her eyes as they emerged through the inner gate. The Queen’s Road ran straight on, the flatness of the city allowing her to see what seemed like miles, the entire length packed with ox carts and wagons. Matched teams pulling gilded carriages mingled with shaggy ponies drawing shabbier carts. People wove between them, not seeming to heed the shouts of the drivers. A few steps inside the wall and they were suddenly thrust into the churning mass.
Ahead, in the city center, loomed a series of stone archways, twisting and interlocking where the roads met. Tall stone buildings stood sentry to either side, most constructed from the same pale stone as the wall, their windows gazing down upon them. Eight high, she counted some of the windows in awe, but they gave her the uneasy feeling she was being watched.
Beads of sweat suddenly broke out on her brow. She told herself it was just the sun, but she couldn’t ignore the press of the walls after so much time spent in the open. Their slow pace, inching forward, suddenly became intolerable. Her hand fumbled in her pocket for Liam’s carving. Someone brushed too close, jostling her boot, and she clamped down on a squeak that bubbled from her lips.
Oryn inched even closer then, his knee brushing against hers, but he watched the street intently. The way the demi-elves always seemed to know things about her, what she was thinking or feeling, especially when she didn’t want them to, made her grind her teeth.
A wide pocket opened up ahead, clear of people, and for a moment, relief seeped through her as she thought they might be able to move within it. Then she saw what it was that parted the crowd. People were darting back, shoving others out of the way, not wanting to be within three paces of the man who wore black from neck to boot. She couldn’t make out the white badge on his chest, but his haughty sneer was clear enough.
Colm steered them onto a side street so they would not cross the wielder’s path. Some of the noise died away, she could hear the clop of Arawlo’s hooves over cobblestones once more, but the market stalls that spilled out from shop fronts choked traffic to a trickle. Enya steered around sprawling displays of pots and pans, knives and swords, and even a mountain of books. She might have marveled at so many books if she wasn’t so busy peering up at the sliver of sky between buildings, trying to hold the pressing walls at bay.
Cattle lowing, sheep bleating, and pigs snorting suddenly joined the cacophony and claustrophobia and the sharp smell of a poorly looked after farmyard suddenly stuffed itself up her nose. They inched by sprawling stockyards where men haggled over coin. Oryn suddenly reached down and snatched Arawelo’s reins, pulling the mare up hard.
Enya started, ready to berate the man until she spotted the barefoot little girl who had darted between Arawelo’s legs after a loose chicken. Lost in herself as she was, and Arawelo trying to take in everything at once, they would have trampled right over top of her. Arawelo threw her head and pawed nervously. Enya gave herself a shake and fumbled again for the carving, clinging to it like her life depended on it. At her side, Oryn stoically remained at her knee and Kiawa bared his teeth at passersby who came too close.
The press finally loosened as they wove away from the Queen’s Road, but as the sound lessened, the stench rose. Mangy dogs darted through narrow alleys here, and grubby looking men peered out at them from stoops. More than once, Oryn pushed her out of the path of a chamber pot being emptied from an upper window and Enya gagged when she heard it splash in the street.
“Are they all like this?” She asked breathlessly.
The demi-elves moved through seemingly unfazed, though they rode with hands on hilts, scanning the street as if trouble might come from anywhere and everywhere all at once.
“Stuffed to bursting and stinking?” Oryn asked coolly. “Yes, I’d say this is what has become of Estryia’s great cities.”
The smell only improved a little as they cut back toward the Queen’s Road. They squeezed down a narrow alley, the brick rough on both sides, and emerged in a tiny yard behind a drab inn. The creaking sign with a painted wagon wheel named it the Broken Spoke. Enya eyed it, wondering why they couldn’t stay at one of the better, but she didn’t ask. She took in the hollow cheeks of the stable boy, spied a toe poking through his worn boots, and tossed him a second copper. He gave her a bow that made Bade snort.
Prodded out of the stable by Oryn, Enya was first to climb the back stairs and paused. Sun faded ink ran on the bounties for Ryerson House and Innesh’s Arrow. He reached around her and pushed the door in, tearing the parchment from her view.
“Just keep your mouth shut, and you’ll be fine,” he growled.
Keeping her mouth shut seemed to be his favorite rule.
The common room was exactly what Enya expected from the exterior - dimly lit, none too clean, and packed full of the sort of men who pinched serving maids as they passed. It smelled of sweat and stale ale and from the way her boots resisted lifting from the floor planks, she doubted the Broken Spoke had a mop, at least not one that saw much use. Dice cups rattled at a handful of tables, and cards with faces of knights and queens were laid out at others. The sun still stood high overhead, but the Spoke’s patrons were already drunk and gambling.
A man at the nearest table spat on the floor and accused another of cheating. The accused angrily pushed his chair back and shook his fist. Enya thought it might come to blows, but Oryn gave her a nudge to follow the innkeeper up the narrow staircase.
She was deposited in a little room near the end of the hall on the fourth floor. It was sparse, with only a lumpy mattress on a rickety bed frame and a small side table that held a candle melted down to a nub. There was a second door that opened a moment later and Oryn popped his head in from his adjoining room.
“You do not leave this room without me,” he ordered. “And remember, we are Andril, Pedron, Linus, and Adar here.”
“I know,Adar,“ she hissed, riffling through her saddlebags to find her soap and comb. “What I don’t know is why you couldn’t have chosen a better inn.”
“Is the Spoke not up to your standards,my lady?”
