We finished our meal and somehow I finished my plate, and was almost finished off by the plate. I leaned back and groaned as I rubbed my stomach. “Wow. Just. . .wow. I can’t remember the last time I ate that much.”
Tegan smiled at me. “The day is best faced by a full stomach.” He stood and held out his hand. “Are you ready to go?”
My stomach did a little bit of a flipflop but I took his hand and he helped me to my feet. “No, but we should go anyway.”
We slipped out of the dining hall and were soon out on the street. The day was well on its way and the streets were crowded with pedestrians and wagons as people made their deliveries to the restaurants or traveled to their place of work. I gawked at all the different people in their different clothing. Some were in the style of medieval peasants and others were closer to the Renaissance such as simple homespun shirts versus elegant vests over waistcoats. Others had a seventeenth-century fashion going on with buckle shoes and fancy hats with feathers.
I couldn’t tell a human from a werewolf, nor did I see anyone resembling a vampire. The problem with that may have been the bright sun that shone down on us as Tegan led me down the street. We stayed close to the buildings as the wagons rolled down the cobblestone roads, their wheels and the hooves of their hoses echoing noisily around us.
I sidled close to Tegan and lowered my voice. “So is there a way to tell a werewolf from a human?”
He shook his head. “Generally, no easier than my form. The only way to tell is by having them hold or wear howlite.”
“And vampires?” I wondered as I scanned the area for the pale bloodsuckers.
“The sun harms them, so you won’t often find them on the streets unless they’re under some kind of cover.”
“Can they turn into bats and wolves?” I asked him.
He smiled. “They can transform into bats, but wolves are the sole territory of werewolves.”
I grinned. “So no turning into dragons, either?”
“Not that I’m aware of.”
We passed by a stone building with a tall steeple. A crescent moon-shaped symbol hung over the open door, and inside I could see a long row of pews situated in front of an altar. “I’m guessing there’s some kind of religion in there.”
“The werewolves worship the moon,” he revealed as he, too, glanced into the church. “Understandable considering the night sun does grant them the ability to transform.”
“What about howlite?” I pointed out.
“A gift from the moon so they might protect themselves during the day,” Tegan explained.
I cocked my head to one side and grinned at him. “They wouldn’t happen to be protecting themselves from creatures with wings, would they?”
He smiled. “Some of my kind have been known to favor the flesh of beasts other than what MacAlastair serves up.”
My face drooped as a horrible thought struck me. “I don’t look tasty to you, do I?”
“If you did, I would have eaten you long ago,” he assured me.
I wasn’t exactly assured but I let the matter drop as we headed into the bowels of the metropolis. The streets serpentined their way around the buildings and guided us to the western part of the city. We had gone about a mile from the inn when we came across a walking bridge over a narrow but deep river. I paused near the middle and looked up the waters to glimpse a wider bridge cluttered with wagon traffic.
“What’s this river called?” I asked my guide as he joined me at the stone railing.
“The Cumann River,” he told me as he watched leaves float past us. “It means ‘union’ in the local tongue because two other rivers join to the north to create it.”
I leaned over the railing to try to get a look at the bottom, but all I glimpsed was darkness. A loose stone sat at my feet and I kicked the rock into the waters. The stone kerplunked into the drink and quickly vanished.
“How deep is it?” I wondered.
He shook his head. “Nobody’s quite sure. I once watched someone attempt to dive to the bottom but they came up after a minute and reported that they hadn’t found it.”
I winced. “That sounds really deep.”
“It comes from years of being stuck between these two flood walls,” Tegan explained as he nodded at the far side of the river. Both banks were lined with high stone walls made from huge boulders. “The werewolves built them centuries ago to contain the river, so the waters have dug downward rather than expand outward.”
“Wow,” I breathed as I stepped away from the edge.
Tegan smiled as he gestured across the bridge. “There’s more to see.”
We continued on our way and moved northward after crossing the bridge. The street meandered in that direction until we reached a street that ran at odds. The wide road actually ran straight for a whole mile. It was along this mile that we found two rows of elegant marble-carved buildings that towered high above our heads. They didn’t have the columns of the Greek and Roman style, as their flat entrances were more focused on ‘billboards’ on either side of the doors that advertised their wares.
The ‘boards’ were actually rectangular recesses in the walls like windows but with a smooth glossy surface instead of glass. Lists and pictures had been written on the boards, and many had names across the top that were their shop monikers.
I read aloud a few of the names. “Foley Treasures. Lynch Sea Gifts. Teahan Travel Agency.”
Tegan nodded at one marbled edifice on our right. “This is the one we want.”
The sign above one of the boards read ‘Brogan’s Brogues.’ I lifted an eyebrow at Tegan. “So you guys have those shoes here, too?”
Tegan blinked at me. “Shoes?”
I nodded at the sign. “It says right there. Brogues.”
A smile curled onto the lips of my local companion. “Are they shoes in your world? They’re very much different here. Let me show you.”
He took my hand and pulled me into the store. The marble floor was just a simple step up from the cobblestones, but it was like stepping into a different world. Somehow the noise from the street was silenced by the mere act of entering. We found ourselves standing in a large room filled with low, thick tables with tiers stacked one atop the other until they reached well above my head. A half a dozen ladders were situated against the walls.
The tables were covered in fabrics of all kinds, or finished works such as pants and shirts. No style was the same, nor even the colors. Each stitch and sleeve was a one-of-a-kind, and that kind was weird. Ruffles flowed down the sleeve without reaching the cuffs. Some sleeves even had garters decorating their surface. A few shirts had a neckline so low it nearly rent the garment in two. Some shirts appeared to be worn backward.
I looked up at Tegan with a perplexed and worried expression. “Where in the world have you taken me?”
“To Brogan’s Brogues,” a small voice spoke up.
I jumped a foot in the air when a short wizened old woman popped out from behind a table just beside me. She was below five feet in height with a face like a raisin. The woman sported a frazzled bunch of shocking white hair which matched her pale face. She held her hands with one atop the other and the dominant digits rubbed the lower hand in a smooth circular motion. It was almost mesmerizing.
Tegan bowed his head to her. “Good morning, Mrs. Brogan.”
She narrowed her eyes at Tegan’s coat which I had returned to him. “You better not be coming here for a fix on that coat.”
He laughed and brushed some dirt off the sleeve. “No, I expect these threads to last my lifetime. Speaking of threads, how is business lately?”
She wrinkled her nose. “Not as good as I would like. Some sneak decided to copy a few of my styles and offer them as their own.”
Tegan lifted an eyebrow. “I’m surprised you’re tolerating that.”
Mrs. Brogan hunched a little more and cackled. “I don’t expect that to last long. I’ve called up a Key to help me, you see, and they’ll get the job done.”
Her words piqued my interest. “What kind of job?”
Her sharp dark eyes fell on me. “To curse him with hairballs every time he sells one of my designs!”
Tegan chuckled. “You haven’t changed, dear Mrs. Brogan. Speaking of the Keys, however, I know you’ve had a great many dealings with them over the years.”
She snorted and swept a wizened old hand over her products. “You can see for yourself. Every one of these is gifted by magic, and some came at a pretty price, I’ll tell you.”
I lifted an eyebrow as I studied some of the strange shirts. “These have magic in them?”
Mrs. Brogan gave me a curious look. “Of the finest kind, but don’t you know what a brogue is?”
“She’s from a rather isolated area,” Tegan spoke up as he nodded at the clothes. “But what can you tell me about the Keys that come here?”
Mrs. Brogan shrugged. “I don’t ask questions about them. They do their job and leave.”
A sly smile curled onto Tegan’s lips. “Are you telling me that you don’t have any interest in the private lives of such mysterious individuals, Mrs. Brogan?”
She lifted her chin and twitched her nose. “Well, I might have spoken to them a time or two. Just about minor things, mind you.”
“Such as?”
“Well, about their schedules, since I rarely saw the same one twice. Apparently, they’re apt to be tossed to the four winds when there’s a job to be had.”
“Anything about their hierarchy?” Tegan wondered.
The old woman rubbed her hands together even faster. “They were rather tight-lipped about that. Said something about the Senate not wanting them to open their mouths, but I did hear them mention how some Keys had more leeway than others based on seniority and magical strength. Oh, and there was some mention of an elite group, but they shut up very quickly when I asked about them.”
Tegan smiled and bowed his head to her. “You are a wealth of information, Mrs. Brogan.”
She wrinkled her nose at him. “I would rather be wealthy, Mr. Arsa, and that means I need to sell some of these very nice pieces of clothing.”
He grinned as he gestured to me. “And I have just the customer for you. This young woman is in desperate need of some new attire.”
“So I surmised,” Mrs. Brogan used as she looked me up and down. “Now then, what were you looking for? A revealing outfit with all the trimmings?”
“Something more practical, at least for the timing being,” he replied.
Mrs. Brogan examined him with a sharp look. “Do you have the coin?”
He smiled and bowed his head. “As much as you like.”
Mrs. Brogan turned and shuffled into the wilderness of products. “Then follow me.”