Come morning, when Keolah woke, she saw that the dragon’s aura had left the cavern again. She nudged Hawthorne awake, and the two of them scrambled out of the caves before it could return.
“There you are!” Kithere said upon seeing them again. “I was getting worried about you, especially after I saw that dragon. I was starting to get afraid we were going to have to send out a search party for you if you didn’t show up again soon. Where did you two wander off to?”
Hawthorne looked around shiftily. “Nowhere.”
“Nowhere,” Kithere repeated dubiously.
“Ah, lay off them, Kit,” Delven said. “I’m sure they just wanted to have some alone time.” He grinned.
“Ugh.” Kithere made a face. “Let’s just get moving.”
The road wound down out of the pass and into the forest. From the descriptions Keolah had heard of the original homeland of the song elves of Rascalanse, she had always imagined Kedresida as this incredible sprawling forest, filled with cities upon cities where countless people lived, much like the elven villages she was used to, but on a larger scale. What she saw, on the other hand, confused her. While the place did seem to be home to a great many people, the growth of the living wood buildings was far from what she would have considered traditional. Rather than being carefully shaped into organic forms mimicking natural growth, the buildings of Kedresida grew in strange, symmetrical patterns, at bizarre angles and in unnatural colors. Straight lines and flat surfaces were the order of the day.
“You know, seeing this might just be odder than seeing human towns,” Hawthorne commented.
In between the villages grew rows upon rows of grapevines and fruit trees, although in some areas, vegetable gardens actually grew on top of some of the buildings. Automatic sprinklers dampened the edges of the smooth stone road. Small bull-shaped idols of Hinzapha, god of farming, dotted the fields. At least, she assumed it was Hinzapha. In Rascalanse, he was depicted as a goat.
Brightly colored flowers completely covered the walls of some buildings, and made up signs outside the shops and inns. They must be using stasis fields to keep the flowers fresh, judging by the faint bluish enchantments interlacing them. When the sun went down, mage lights flared into existence outside every building and evenly spaced along the streets. They lit up the night so brightly it was hard to make out the stars.
“So, are you satisfied with your view of our long-lost homeland?” Keolah asked wryly. “Does it meet up to your expectations?”
Hawthorne grunted. “Magic everywhere. Magic for everything. All the things the humans have done with machines, they elves have done with magic. Where did they even get the mana to maintain all of this? You’d think one strong enough dispel and all their mage lights would wink out and all their helper golems would crumble.”
“I’d imagine they’ve probably got it pretty tightly enchanted,” Keolah said. “Most of the mana is static. But you’re right about the golems. The mana around those is active. Someone must be maintaining and directing those.”
Delven chuckled and gently ribbed Hawthorne. “And you were the one complaining about how humans did everything with machines?”
“I was totally not,” Hawthorne said. “I just thought it was weird because I’d never seen them before.”
The further south they went, the more densely populated the realm was, and the more prevalent the elves’ magical technology. By the time they reached the outskirts of Dorgada, towering trees could be seen looming across the skyline, like tall wooden boxes lined with smooth clear crystal windows and limbs forming bridges between them. There had been nowhere else for them to spread with a growing population, so they’d built up. Here and there, older buildings dotted the streets, smaller and more natural. They passed at least one of those that was in the process of being reshaped into more modern architecture by a trio of Earth Mages.
“I can’t even see the ocean yet, with all these buildings,” Hawthorne said. “Isn’t Dorgada supposed to be a seaport?”
“Yeah,” Keolah said. “Maybe we can get a good view from the top of one of them.” She pointed to one with a number of signs on various floors advertising wares. “That looks like a public building. Whatever a ‘mall’ is.”
“You ladies have fun,” Delven said. “We’ll go find us an inn, in the meantime.”
“How will we find one another again in this crowd?” Hawthorne wondered.
Delven pointed to Keolah. “She seems to be good at finding people.”
Keolah snickered. “True. I shouldn’t have any trouble pinpointing your magical signatures, even with this many people and enchanted objects around.”
Her eyes met Sedder’s for a moment. Unspoken was the comment that his was the most distinctive of their auras. No one she’d seen since arriving in Kedresida had a black aura. It raised the question of what happened to children born with dark auras like his. She hoped there wasn’t another Seeker around who might notice and cause trouble for him.
“You’re drinking again,” Sedder observed, sitting down across from Silver in the Vivid Rose Inn.
Silver had located another source of gnomish ale, and seemed intent upon drinking himself to oblivion on the vile pink substance. Again. He didn’t respond to Sedder’s comment, simply taking another gulp from his mug.
Sedder sighed. “I can see why Sardill was always so concerned about you.”
“Don’t say that name in front of me,” Silver muttered.
“Sorry,” Sedder grumbled unapologetically. “I have no idea what really went on between the two of you.”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Silver said.
“I don’t know that it’s really healthy to let it hang over your head forever,” Sedder said. “But far be it from me to push you. I’ll just keep watching you drink yourself into a stupor at every inn we visit. A good thing gnomish ale is cheap, I suppose.”
“It’s you,” Silver said, glaring at him. “Every time I see you, it reminds me of him.”
“I’m not Sardill,” Sedder said.
“Don’t say that name,” Silver hissed.
Sedder held up his hands in surrender. “Do you even know why I was working for him? It wasn’t like I had much choice in the matter.”
“No, but I suppose you’re going to tell me,” Silver said.
“He saved my life,” Sedder said. “I was playing with my little brother in a gully near our home when I slipped and fell into the river. The current swept me away and I almost drowned. But S— uh, he fished me out of the river with a net of air and dragged me to shore.”
“And that made you feel grateful to him?” Silver asked.
Sedder made a face. “Not in and of itself. But he hung a debt over my head that could not be repaid and forced me to swear an oath of loyalty to him.”
“I see,” Silver said. “That sounds like something he would do.”
Sedder still had to wonder how the two of them had ever gotten together, or even remotely gotten along, in the first place, but he didn’t want to push it right now. At least he was getting Silver to listen to him, for once. They had barely even spoken since the incident on the ship.
“I can imagine that will prove inconvenient, given the one Hawthorne forced out of you,” Silver observed.
“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Sedder muttered. “I can understand why she did it, given the nature of her sword, but I’m afraid it’s going to kill me if those two come into conflict.”
“Then explain it to him,” Silver said. “You’re no use as a pawn if you’re dead.” He snorted softly. “He can probably just remove the damned thing himself, but don’t tell Hawthorne that.”
“I didn’t think oaths like that could be readily dispelled,” Sedder said. “I mean, they’d be pretty useless if they could.”
“He’s a Catalyst,” Silver said. “So he calls himself, at any rate.”
“A… Catalyst?” Sedder repeated. “I’m not familiar with that sort of magic.”
“As well you shouldn’t,” Silver said. “It’s pretty unique. He’s inborn, and hasn’t taught anyone else how to do what he does. I’ve never seen another person inborn to that particular sort of magic.”
“But what does he do?” Sedder asked.
“He can manipulate magic itself,” Silver said. “Take apart enchantments without actually dispelling them. Even modify them. Set up enchantments himself, on objects, even on people. Even grant people abilities that they didn’t have before.”
“Holy Zaravin,” Sedder breathed.
“Exactly,” Silver said.
“I knew he was powerful, but that’s unprecedented,” Sedder said.
“Even I don’t know what his limits are, or even half the extent of what he can do. Or has done throughout his long lifespan.”
“Long to you?” Sedder asked.
“He’s older than me,” Silver said. “He’s older than the Windriders, very likely older than the League of Wizards. He may well have actually founded the League of Wizards. He never talked about that, though, but he did imply that he was deeply involved in its early years. I don’t even know how old he is.”
“I don’t even know how old you are,” Sedder said.
Silver chuckled. “Would that be awkward?”
Sedder shrugged. “Like it isn’t already?”
“True enough,” Silver said.
“You don’t need to drink so much, though,” Sedder said.
“Perhaps,” Silver said, setting aside his now-empty mug.
Although the mall building obligatorily contained ordinary stairs, most people ascended and descended its height via levitating platforms in a shaft in the center of the tower. Hawthorne examined the lifts warily at first, as people stepped on and off. Railings around them enclosed them, and they spoke a name or number and the platform zipped off up or down.
“Let’s try it,” Hawthorne said, pulling Keolah onto a lift that had just arrived on the ground floor. “Um… Let’s see… Shoes!”
Floors streaked by as the lift ascended, but no movement could be felt. They came to an abrupt stop at a floor dedicated to footwear of various sorts, and Hawthorne dragged Keolah off to go browse.
Keolah chuckled in amusement. “Shoes, Hawthorne? Really?”
“It was the first thing I could think of,” Hawthorne said, then paused. “I don’t actually want to look at shoes. Let’s go explore.”
They headed back to the lift and went to see what was in the rest of the mall. Floor after floor of shops offered a dazzling array of merchandise, much of it enchanted, from clothing and jewelry, to tools and kitchen utensils, to furniture and home decorations. And apparently, Dorgada had a large enough troll population to warrant having an entire clothing store dedicated to their fashion.
“I always hoped I’d one day eventually get to see Kedresida,” Hawthorne said. “Our ancestors once ruled this place, you know.”
“I know,” Keolah groaned. “And if you start reciting your family tree—”
“—our family tree—”
“Hawthorne, we’re dating,” Keolah pointed out. “Do you really want to keep reminding me that we’re fourth cousins? Your protests at your mother wanting you to marry your cousin start sounding a bit hollow.”
“Well, he was a jerk,” Hawthorne said with a snort. “As I was saying, we’re descended from the kings and queens of Kedresida. Let me tell you all about Khasadala Seer, the half-dragon princess…”
Keolah tuned her out, not really caring to think too closely on just how someone could be half dragon. She noticed that the people in the mall corridors were giving them odd looks. Not just odd, but almost even outright hostile.
“Shh,” Keolah said, nudging Hawthorne.
“What?” Hawthorne said. “I thought you liked hearing old stories.”
“People are staring,” Keolah whispered.
“Bah, since when do you care?” Hawthorne said.
A woman with a yellow-green aura stepped up behind them. “Hey. You there. You two. Nob brats.”
“Excuse me?” Keolah said, turning around to look at her.
The woman had fiery red-orange hair and a pierced lower lip that Keolah could not stop staring at. “Did I hear you right? You’re the old nobles we kicked out of this place before?”
“Um…” Keolah said. “Not us, personally…”
“Well, nobles ain’t welcome here anymore,” the red-haired woman said. “So you two better get lost if you know what’s good for you. So says Zarine!”
“Who?” Hawthorne asked.
The red-haired woman looked indignant. “Me! I’m Zarine!”
“Oh,” Hawthorne said. “Nice to meet you.”
Zarine rolled her eyes. “No, it’s not! You’re old nobles!”
“We’re not especially ‘old’,” Keolah said.
“You’re not even supposed to be here!” Zarine said.
A tall, green-haired man came over to them and groaned, “Oh, who cares, Zarine. It was, like, two hundred years ago. What difference does it make anymore?”
“You’re not helping, Pelan,” Zarine grumbled.
“Let’s just ignore them and keep shopping,” Hawthorne told Keolah. “We have as much right to be here as they do.”
“Not sure how true that is, but okay,” Keolah said.
Zarine left them alone, for the moment, but she tracked them down again somehow when they were on the twelfth floor looking at cookwares. Ugh, the damned woman was a Seeker. It had taken Keolah a moment to recognize that her aura was the traditional color associated with Seeking, given that her own aura was much darker and less yellowish. Maybe she wasn’t inborn like Keolah was, but either way, Zarine had no trouble finding them no matter where they went.
Eventually, Keolah grew frustrated and went out to locate the others, following the black blob that marked Sedder’s position toward an inn called the Vivid Rose. At least she’d lost Zarine by the time she got there. She and Hawthorne grabbed some dinner and sat down at the table with Sedder and Silver. Delven had found a lute somewhere that was a fair bit better than Keolah’s unmelodic attempt, and was sharing songs she didn’t recognize with the inn patrons.
“You seem frazzled,” Sedder said quietly in the common human tongue. “Did you run into trouble?”
Keolah grunted. “Apparently people around here don’t take kindly to descendents of the old noble class, and Hawthorne would not shut up about her family tree.”
Come morning, however, Keolah came out of her room to find Zarine loitering in the inn. Ignoring her, Keolah went to get breakfast and sat down next to Hawthorne, who was already awake. Zarine made no comment beyond watching them creepily, at least until Sedder came out and sat down with them.
Zarine sauntered over to him. “Well, fancy this. The nob brats hang out with necromancers?”
Sedder glared at her. “I’m not a necromancer.”
Zarine jabbed a finger at him. “Don’t think I can’t see just what you are, necromancer. You can’t hide from me.”
Sedder exchanged a helpless look with Keolah. This was what she’d been dreading. Maybe it had been a bad idea to come to a big city like this. It was almost inevitable that out of however many people lived in Dorgada, one of them could read auras. There’d certainly been enough of them even in Rascalanse that every child knew what color their aura was and so what magic they’d learn growing up. She hadn’t considered how negatively people might react to seeing a black aura here, though.
“Zarine,” Keolah said in a strained voice. “Please leave us be. We’re not hurting anyone.”
Zarine scowled. “Not right now, you might not be, but who’s to say what you might do? I’m going now, but believe me, I’ve got my eye on you.”
Zarine stormed out of the inn.
“This is just a great start to the day,” Sedder grumbled. “And here I can’t even get a good cup of coffee on this side of the pond.”
When they headed outside, it soon became clear that Zarine had told literally everyone she knew, and they’d begun to spread rumors like wildfire. The situation never escalated into outright violence, but people continued to stalk, mock, and harass the group. Some had overly glamorized notions of the old elven noble class, while others just wanted to take an opportunity to throw vegetables at them. Some reacted to Sedder with anger and hatred, while others cowered in fear and hurried to cross the street when they saw him coming. Keolah baffled at how quickly word of them had spread and how complete strangers recognized them on sight. Was it the way they dressed, the way they spoke? They were clearly from somewhere far away, after all. But it couldn’t just be that. Keolah had just started getting used to the idea that not everyone could see auras. Now she had to deal with the fact that more people than her could do so.
“Oy!” a guardswoman called toward the latest mob. “You lot, break up now. There’ll be no fighting in my streets.”
“But he’s a necromancer,” said one boy.
“And those two girls are nobles,” added another.
“I don’t care if they’re demons in tutus,” the guard said. “You will not fight in my streets. If they start causing trouble, report them and leave enforcing the law to the guards.”
The mob grumbled and slowly dispersed.
“Thanks for that,” Keolah said. “Is it really against the law for us to be here?”
The guardswoman sighed. “When the old noble families were allowed to leave, they agreed never to come back or stake a claim on this realm again. In all fairness, that agreement of never returning should only apply to them and not their descendents in perpetuity, of course, and you aren’t trying to take over the country. You girls were just shopping. At any rate, it’s not really for me to decide, beyond that I see no reason to arrest you. I can’t always protect you, though, and for the sake of keeping the peace and your own safety, you may wish to cut your little tourist trip short.”
“I don’t see how any of us should be held liable just for being born,” Sedder grumbled.
“They called you a necromancer,” the guard said. “You raised any dead bodies lately? Summoned any ghosts?”
“I don’t even know how to do those,” Sedder said. “But that Zarine thought my aura was too dark for comfort. Like I can help that? I was born with this aura. It’s not like I can just change what color it is.”
The guard rubbed her forehead. “Raising the dead is against the law. Having an aura of a particular color isn’t. But people are superstitious. I’m not, but there’s enough people that are that they’ll give you no peace till you’re gone. To them, you’re cursed, and you’re a curse upon the realm just for existing. Every year, the guards have to investigate the deaths and disappearances of children with black auras, but nothing is ever done about it. You were fortunate to have grown up someplace less superstitious.”
Sedder winced. “Yeah… that. I can assure you that I’m not going to perform any necromancy within the bounds of the country. Or, most likely, anywhere else, for that matter.”
“I think being on our way soon would probably be a good idea, though,” Keolah said. “I believe we’ve already seen what we came here to see.”
Hawthorne grumbled something unintelligible as the guard walked away.
“What’s that, Hawthorne?” Keolah asked.
“I said, copulate this place,” Hawthorne interjected a word of common. “Let’s get out of here. Let’s find a ship! I’m tired of walking.”
“But we just bought that cart,” Keolah said.
“Then let’s just sell it again,” Hawthorne said.
“Okay, I guess I can probably even get more out of it now, too, seeing as it’s no longer broken.”
“I’ll go with you to the docks,” Sedder said. “If we can book passage on a ship, I’d like to hide aboard it as soon as possible.”
“Probably a good idea,” Keolah said.
Hawthorne skipped ahead and Keolah lost sight of her with her physical eyes in the crowd. Sighing and rolling her eyes, Keolah calmly remained at walking pace and just followed the wild cyan aura. Now that the guard was gone, even though she’d broken up the crowd momentarily, another one was already gathering around them again. Some people stepped aside to give them a wide berth, while others tried to block their path, butting in to shove Sedder around.
“Sedder,” Keolah said quietly, then continued in common, “How about a little illusion? It won’t trick the Seekers, but we might be able to get past some of them without being recognized, at least.”
Sedder nodded, and cloaked them in shadows to shift their appearance. “That should do. I didn’t make us invisible — that would be pointless, in a crowd. People would keep bumping into us anyway. But I made us look like different people and changed our clothes.”
“Hope that’ll at least get us around town for as much longer as we’ll be here,” Keolah said. “Hawthorne doesn’t seem to care who she bowls over and nobody seems too inclined to try to stop her. Her wards will keep her safe, anyway.”
“I just hope we get a better choice of ship this time,” Sedder said. “I don’t care for another visit to Garateck.”
“Agreed,” Keolah said.
The tang of salty air wafted past Keolah’s nostrils as they approached the docks, smelling it long before actually seeing it. Dorgada was deceptively large, and they’d spent the better part of the morning making their way across town, pushing through crowds, and getting lost in side streets. Through it all, Keolah never lost sight of Hawthorne’s aura, and figured that even if the stubborn girl never actually found the docks, at least they could locate her and drag her back on course.
A vast array of seafaring vessels floated at the edge of the water, small and large, old and new, from light elven leaf-sail living wood boats, to gnomish steamships that looked like they should be sinking. Keolah gestured to Sedder to dispel the illusion as they came up to Hawthorne.
“Hey, guys!” Hawthorne exclaimed when she saw them. “I found us a boat!”
Keolah’s heart sank a little when she recognized the ship Hawthorne was standing in front of. A gnomish steamship painted with the name Carefulwiththesteamoritwillburnyou.
A teal-haired gnome waved over to them. “Fancy seeing you again,” Calto said. “Keolah, was it?”
“Yeah,” Keolah said. “Guess I’ll be getting the chance to ride on your ship after all?”
Never had Keolah imagined that she would be grateful to see those gnomes again. At least they weren’t likely to sell her into slavery. And if their ship had made it across the ocean, twice now, it must be safer than it looked. She only hoped that they would not wind up regretting this.
Calto nodded. “Hawthorne tells me that you’re heading to the Valley of Gal? We’re on our way back to Mithim, ourselves. Ah, there’s my captain coming now.”
A gnome with cherry red hair disembarked from the steamship and approached the group. “I heard something about passengers?”
“Yes, Captain Zenk,” Calto said. “These elves, and some others?”
“How many?”
Keolah counted in her head. “Eight, I think. Uh, plus one very large bird.”
The captain nodded. “We have room.”
“Ah, but we haven’t been properly introduced,” Calto said. “My friends, this is Captain Sarom Zenk.”
“Zenk?” Keolah repeated. “Seems a short name for a gnome.”
“Yes, I prefer to use a shortened version of my traditional gnomish surname. I deal with dwarves, elves, and humans a good deal, and you tend to have difficulty with them. And so, Zenk it is.”
“Fair enough,” Keolah said. “Out of curiosity, though, what is your traditional gnomish surname?”
“Notachanceintheabyssthatyouregoingtobeabletosailacrosstheoceanwithoutyourshipexploding,” Sarom replied. Zenk would be a shortened form of the first couple syllables, then. Zen meant not in elvish. She assumed it was the same in gnomish. Or that he was simply using the elvish version of his name.
“Right, I can see why you’d rather not use that one,” Keolah said uneasily.
“So, let’s discuss payment, then,” Sarom said smoothly. “What sort of currency do you have?”
“Erm, well,” Keolah groused. “We’re getting low on hard currency—”
“—due to someone drinking too much,” Sedder interjected quietly.
“—but we’ve got artifacts and trade goods we can offer,” Keolah finished.
Sarom raised an eyebrow. “What sort of artifacts?”
“Ancient crystal tools and weapons,” Keolah said.
Sarom nodded tersely. “That will do. One of those would be more sufficient. We can work out fair compensation when I see them for myself.”
“Great,” Keolah said. “Can we bring our stuff here to put on board? When are you planning on leaving?”
Sarom shrugged. “Go ahead. We’ll leave whenever you’re ready. We’re not on any particular schedule at the moment.” He chuckled. “This is my ship, and I can do what I like with it. And I’d very much like to see these artifacts you mentioned. Where did you obtain them?”
“Kadabi-Gharatik,” Keolah replied.
“I assume by the name that this is somewhere in Garateck?” Sarom asked.
Keolah nodded. “An old ruined tower. We recovered a number of books there that we’ve been trying to study, although we’re lacking a frame of reference on ancient Astanic magical terminology.”
“That’s fascinating!” Calto said. “That would be the find of a lifetime.”
Sarom nodded. “It’s not my particular area of interest, but I would imagine that you will find resources to assist with that at Gal. It’s the foremost center of magical research in Zarhanna.”
“Really,” Keolah said. “Do you think anyone there knows ancient Astanic?”
“It’s possible,” Calto said. “Worth a shot, at any rate.”
Clearly, the Windriders’ thoughts that the Valley of Gal had been ruined and abandoned were not exactly accurate. Apparently it had survived whatever happened to the League of Wizards, or had been rebuilt in the years following it. Hopefully she’d find out more once she got there. Regardless, it was very much sounding like the place to visit.