Page 25 of Shifter King
As Naatos pulled her back into the forest, the tension eased but not the burden. These poor people. It was too much already. And they hadn't even entered the city.
Several minutes more though and the makeshift town had vanished from sight. It was not visible from any angle once they reached the gates. Most likely by intent. People probably didn't want to be reminded of the less-fortunate just beyond their doorstep.
The great doors of the city were easily over a hundred feet in height. Massive steel bars ran the length of them, and the dark wood appeared to have been treated. Signs had been both painted and carved, great sigils that glistened in the light and changed colors as they drew closer or the sunlight moved.
The hissing buzz in her ears had become more of an annoyance. But remaining too long in this place would certainly hurt after awhile. They halted within thirty feet of the gates, still hidden by the bushes and shrubs as well as the trailing vines. Naatos indicated lights along the metal walls. "If you are out of your state of rest, it sets off an alarm. Even the deeper forms didn't fool it."
AaQar raised an eyebrow. "It recognized you?"
He gave a slight nod of assent. "Whatever changes you make to your clothing, keep it detached and complete. It didn't recognize that. Everything should stay simple."
Amelia glanced between them and then back up at the sleek walls. It shouldn't have been a surprise that on a world with shifters and technology, they would have reached a point where this sort of thing could be detected. But that definitely set them at a disadvantage.
People milled near the entrance itself, never crossing the metal threshold but going on about their business, whatever that was. Many had geometric facial tattoos, often a combination of lines, rectangles, and diamonds on the cheekbones or along the temples. Elegant whether simple or complicated. Some had great wings of smoke and air. Others wings of light. Auras radiated around many of them. They wore sleek-lined robes with material that seemed to shimmer on its own, mostly shades of deep turquoise or heavy violet. Some were striped with black or white. A few wore dark red.
She chewed on her lower lip. It felt as if they would stand out as soon as they stepped out of the safety of the trees and tried to pass beyond those gates. Except that everyone she saw appeared focused on their own tasks. So maybe they could make it through. There were neither guards nor sentries readily apparent.
QueQoa stepped to the side and tipped his head back. "The city is smaller than before. That's Hel's Peak."
"It's almost a quarter of the size," Naatos responded. He placed his hand along Amelia's elbow. "This wall encompasses what used to be the Inner Quadrant of East Darmoste. The Temple would not have been far, and if they have kept it as it was, then it is not difficult to reach. But if we are separated, keep heading to the west. Do not let them know you are a Neyeb. If you must be anything, you are an Awdawm. If you must run away, get out of the city. So long as you stay within areas where you feel and hear the hissing or buzzing, the predators should mostly leave you alone. Hide somewhere away from the other people. We'll find you."
"Other solution, don't get separated," WroOth muttered.
"We move to the wall, then along the door and go to the west." Naatos slid his hand along the sash of her dress. Energy pulsed out, and the stains and tears from brambles and walking vanished. The fabric tightened and developed a sheen similar to that of the men and women beyond the city gates, though if she looked close enough it was distinct and some of the coloration was uneven. He wasn't joking when he said that softer fabrics gave him challenges, but this would work and it did help her to blend a little easier. Naatos gave her arm a slight tug. "Laachtue said that though the Tue-Rah was removed, it is now a major monument. Do not stop to talk to people or offer to help anyone. If someone forces you to stop, be authoritative. Arrogant if you can. Our business is our own."
She nodded, the muscles in her neck and shoulders tightening. It was hard not to be afraid now. Feeling Naatos so disconcerted set her particularly on edge. But they had to get in there. Maybe it wouldn't be as simple as finding the Tue-Rah and restoring the timeline. But she desperately wanted to see it again. To know that this place wasn't the reality in which they were trapped and things could get better. Would get better. Elonumato would see to that.
Naatos and his brothers adapted their clothing, not choosing the showier colors of some of the residents but keeping them simple. Far easier to blend in greys and blacks and browns than reds and turquoises and purples. They slipped along the wall and to the doors, taking smooth strides and acting as if they belonged. No searching and scanning. No halting and stammering. Just walking. As if they had every right to be there.
And into the city they moved.
WroOth had said that Ecekom was angry. That might have been true, but if it was angry, Darmoste was deathly depressed. The air carried a great weight that crushed in on her with every step they took even through the bindings over her elmis. Hopelessness. Despair. Sorrow. Mourning.
She glanced down at her clothing. The yellow had dulled as well as if filtered through grey water. Even her skin had taken on an unnatural tinge, somewhere between grey and green. Naatos and his brothers as well. Complete loss of smell and—and what?
The prickling along the back of her neck suggested it was something stronger and more sinister. Everything was suppressed here. Everyone had something they were intensely focused on.
It was hard not to stare. There was something off with so many of them. The wings flared in and out of existence as if glitching in a program. The auras too. The tattoos on many of the people's faces likewise shifted and changed ever so slightly. Not just because of the light or the change in direction but because the tattoos actually moved and changed colors.
These Tiablos, or perhaps they were all Abliatos, weren't what she expected. Masters of illusion and telekinesis. Was she seeing through the illusion or just what they presented? Already her head throbbed harder.
They moved farther along the inside of the outer wall. Her heart raced faster.
"You, woman." A man in striped turquoise robes crossed in front of them, his expression pinched with surprise but his focus clearly on her. Smoky wings bristled from his back, appearing and reappearing at irregular intervals, his aura dark gold. The color in the indigo tattoos along his temples flushed darker as if to add to the accusation. "Did you bring your Vawtrians for the levy?"
Her Vawtrians? She lifted her chin, glaring at him. Those fragments of thought that blistered through her coverings stung. Already she despised this man. "I am here for my own business. Why should I answer to you?"
"If you have paid it already, you could do your potentate a great service by paying again to staunch the coming of the Grey Season," he said. "Your skinchangers are unusually hale."
"I require them to be so. What concern is it of yours?"
"The matter of the levy is of concern to all of us, lady." One name kept rising from his thoughts to hers, piercing into her mind. Tilfan. He was someone of power and influence, and this speaker feared him.
"Yes. Yet you accost me." She shook her head dismissively. "I should not have come here. I should have known better than to listen to Tilfan. I do him this favor, and this is what happens."
"Potentate Tilfan?" The man's dark eyes widened as he took a step back.
"Yes." No sense backing down. She raised her eyebrow dramatically. "Do you have further business with me?"
