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Rohan hadn't slept well after the final test, but wearing the red tunic of the Teeth made him feel good. His mother might have died before she could explain what she wanted of him, but by entrusting him to Waltrand she had made it clear.
The past week hadn't been easy, but the fact that he'd been busy meant he'd had no time to mourn. He gave one last look at the statue of Dracodemkin – whom he imagined similar to his grandfather Dradorepp – and left the temple with the rest of the team.
The over-thirties headed back for their quarters, but Mael, Christelle and Beatrisia stuck to Isaut and Rohan. Mael put one arm around his shoulder and said they should celebrate in town. Christelle and Beatrisia had surrounded Isaut and led her out of the temple and into the main courtyard Rohan had seen only from Kassandra's window until now.
Mael dragged him after the girls and he found himself in the crowd of the bazaar. The priesthood in their light-blue linen robes were everywhere, directing pilgrims and advising them on what kinds of sacrifices were to be performed, often assisted by white-robed novices.
Rohan felt like he did on the rare times he had gone to Saltmire on market days. Crowds made him uneasy, so he concentrated on keeping up with Mael as voices buzzed around them and smells wafted all over.
The five of them exited from the main gate and headed downhill to the city proper, walking side by side. There was still enough room for carts, wagons and riders to pass in the other direction.
The city looked beautiful. With its ironwood rooftops, ceramic tile walls and enchanting wildlife, it had an inviting atmosphere. Rohan saw another golden dome straight ahead, but the rest looked like what he could see from his window.
"It has a developing economy, which is mainly supported by fletching, baking and cooking," Mael explained. "But their biggest strengths are complex crafting and elaborate blacksmithing. However, it lacks people skilled in trade."
"And a Fighting Nuns monastery," Beatrisia added with a wink. Isaut rolled her eyes.
"The main attraction is the town hall, which was built forty-one years ago," Mael continued. "Although many speak wonders of that obelisk down there." He pointed forward.
At the bottom of the mound, the road reached a plaza and then the city started. Built about a century earlier, an obelisk on the plaza celebrated the rich and diverse cultural history of the people who had shipwrecked on the coast five centuries previously.
The obelisk was meant to represent the flow of time and the progress the humans continued to make with the blessing of the Immortals. It had been designed by an artist who had strikingly captured the people's love of the region and used an elaborate style to convey her vision in this piece of art.
Every element was crafted and created with superior materials from local suppliers, ensuring the monument would continue to provide local jobs whenever it needed maintenance.
From the plaza, five boulevards fanned out, the central three like a trident, the other two perpendicular to the road that came from the temple. The five young people took the central one and entered the paved roads of the city, sided by wattle-and-daub houses and narrow alleys. As Rohan had seen from his window, there were quite a few parks, and some palaces had walled gardens.
The main street was a continuation of the road from the temple, but Mael explained there were other wide boulevards through the city that led all over the land. Most streets were straight, forming a grid, but the alleys tended to become labyrinthine, twisting and turning around houses and gardens.
It was very busy, and Rohan couldn't refrain from watching the people all around him. The expensively dressed, twitchy young woman who was staying to the edges of the crowd. The scrawny, haughty man who was accosting a street vendor. The muscular, laughing young woman who was moving in the opposite direction from everyone else. The freckled, serious woman who was wandering aimlessly. The overweight, melancholy old man who was riding a mule.
If he glanced into the secondary streets, he saw more people milling around. Then the street opened onto another square, with even more people bustling around. The well-dressed, cheerful old man who just ducked into an alley. The sandy-haired, arrogant man who was accompanied by several servants. The tanned, drunken woman who was accompanied by a small child. The stout, sly old man who was just propelled forcibly from a shop. The oddly dressed, obnoxious young woman who was in a big hurry.
They had reached the famous town hall, midway between the temple mound and the river, in that second square with an elaborate fountain in front of it. It faced the temple, and was built specular to the main gate of the temple that could be seen in the distance, hence the golden dome Rohan had seen from the temple mound belonged to the town hall.
Then Mael steered the others to a secondary street. He was born in Rainbow City and knew every nook and cranny.
"Where are you taking us?" Isaut asked, worried.
"We need to let the painter know he must come to the temple," Christelle answered. "You need to sit for him, so you can have your portrait done."
Rohan nodded, thoughtful.
"Is it the same one who portrayed Foulque and Jasmine?" he asked.
"I don't think so," Mael answered. "He did the three of us, though. His family has taken care of the Teeth's portraits for generations."
Rohan had noticed that all the portraits were very realistic and there was no big difference between the older ones and the newer ones. This meant either an immortal painter or a school that taught that particular technique.
Mael knocked on the door of a wattle-and-daub house at the back of the townhouse. A young servant let them in and pointed to what must be a workshop from the big windows, but there was no smell of paint.
It looked like a deposit of polished bronze, copper, silver, or other metals – a mirror-maker workshop more than a painter. Considering how realistic the portraits were, Rohan started to think they were magically generated more than painted.
Brown, frizzy hair hung over a furrowed, lively face. Shining brown eyes, set sunken within their sockets, watched them enter his small kingdom. A goatee charmingly complemented his cheekbones and he stood awkwardly, despite his lean frame.
"Greetings, Adam Gedney," Mael said. "We have come to introduce you to our newest members. When you can, please come to the temple. This is Rohan and this is Isaut, Foulque's daughter."
Rohan assumed the painter was too young to have met his mother, hence Mael hadn't mentioned her. There was something enigmatic about the painter, perhaps it was his reputation or perhaps it was simply his talent.
"I will come tomorrow," Adam answered. "I shall bring a couple of frames."
"Of course." Mael smiled. "And you can start with the lady, like you did with us."
Rohan had ascertained that Mael and Beatrisia, who were both twenty-five, had joined the Teeth at the same time.
He nodded when the painter stared questioningly at him. He didn't mind waiting. Isaut had reached the temple long before him anyway. He wondered how long it would take, but he suspected a spell would take care of the portraits in no time.
"Did you paint Foulque's portrait?" Isaut asked.
"No, it was my grandmother who painted that generation. We're passing on the spell through the family, and we've been painting the Teeth since the beginning. Ilalora herself gave us the spell to make instant portraits."
"It's a beautiful family tradition," Rohan said. "I'm the son of Jasmine, although you probably haven't met her."
"I was a child, but I met her, like I met Foulque." Adam smiled. "Beautiful woman with long raven hair?"
"Yes. She left the temple twenty years ago."
"I remember her. So you're the baby – the reason why she left?"
"Yes. And unfortunately she's no longer with us."
"So sad to hear this. Don't worry, Rohan, your portrait will look good next to hers!"
"Wait a minute! That would mean that Rohan is dead too!" Mael said. "We just found him!"
"And I'm sure he'll stay with you for as long as his mother did," Adam replied with a curt bow.
"Possibly longer, since he's a man," Beatrisia said. "Like Foulque, who stayed until he decided to retire and pass on the baton to his daughter."
Rohan frowned. Sybil was dead and he had no intention of remarrying. So he probably would spend the rest of his life with the Teeth, no matter how many years he still had in front of him.
The five left the painter's house and Mael suggested they had lunch in a city tavern for a change.
"We dragged you out of the temple and gave you no time to grab your purse, so we're paying," he added cheerfully. "You have a small stipend now, so next time, you pay, deal?"
Rohan and Isaut nodded, a little puzzled. They weren't expecting to have some money, since they had food and lodging at the temple. It was good news, though.
They watched as Mael, Beatrisia and Christelle discussed where to eat, and finally settled on The Lonely Dragon Tavern.
"It sounds perfect for dragon riders," Isaut commented.
Rohan was starting to get hungry, so he was glad they headed there immediately. He was also grateful for the guide, he would have been lost already if he'd tried to brave the city alone.
From the outside the tavern looked inviting, delightful and well maintained. Small stones and huge, stone beams made up most of the building's outer structure. It was impossible to see through the curtained windows, but the voices from within could be heard outside.
As he entered the tavern through the thick, metal door, he was welcomed by amazing, but unknown scents and clapping hands. The bartender was buried in orders, but still managed to welcome them with a short wave.
It was as enchanting inside as it was on the outside. Squared, stone beams supported the upper floor and the candles attached to them. The walls were overflowing with signatures and written messages, undoubtedly from happy customers.
The tavern itself was packed. Passing traders seemed to be the primary clientele here, which was probably the best clientele for the owner. Several long tables were occupied by several smaller groups of people. The other, smaller tables were also occupied by people who seemed to be close with the owner, though they happily welcomed others among their midst.
"I did hear rumors about this tavern, supposedly it's famous for something, but I can't remember what," Isaut whispered, leaning towards him. "Though judging by the amount of men staring at that waitress, it's probably her beauty and charm," she added, sarcastic.
Rohan smiled and shrugged. A party of six vacated a table, so they managed to find a seat and prepared for a different kind of meal. The menu was written on a blackboard in crude handwriting and listed stewed salmon and whey cheese, stewed boar and barley bread, vegetable stew or wheat bread and soft cheese. Drinks were either tankards or mugs of cider, mead or beer.
"Don't look at the price and ask for whatever you want," Mael told him, seeing him unsure. "You'll pay next time."
"I think I'll try the stewed salmon and whey cheese," he said.
"Excellent choice," Christelle said. "I'll have the same!"
"So am I the only one who wants stewed boar and barley bread?" Mael complained.
"The temple cook does an excellent stewed boar, but I haven't tasted stewed salmon yet," Rohan replied.
"I'll get the stewed boar too," Isaut decided, while Beatrisia opted for the vegetable stew.
The pretty waitress came to take their order and while they waited for the food, they listened to conversations around them – the rumors making the rounds in the city.
The chancellor of the guilds accepts bribes from adventurers for exceptions and favors. Gaenbeorht the chandler was killed by wolves in the woods outside town. Gylew Parre the sheather has been searching the area near the Cloister of Eternal Light. Strange shadows are cast in the town square at night. A star has fallen into the Hostile Lands.
The last one felt implausible to Rohan and Isaut, although they both had seen shooting stars in the sky, whenever they were outside after sunset. Mael said it was uncommon, but it did happen. Hopefully the fallen star hadn't disturbed the creatures of the Hostile Lands, or they might trespass into civilized lands, and then it would be work for the Teeth.
Isaut looked excited at the thought, but the others didn't look happy.
"Dealing with those dreadful creatures is worse than the final exam," Beatrisia said, serious. "They're neither light nor darkness, and usually are brutally violent and very, very strong. It takes at least a dragon to deal with them."
"Can we go and have a look?" Isaut asked, undeterred.
"Not without Waltrand's permission, no," Mael answered, serious. "You don't want to be kicked out of the Teeth for insubordination, do you?"
"Of course not."
Isaut was disappointed, but then the food arrived and they were too busy eating and drinking to think about the fallen star. The food was delicious and time flew in good company.
Rohan ate too much and was glad to walk back to the temple.
"Don't worry, as you've seen, we don't skip the afternoon training, it will help," Mael told him with an impish smile.
"Next time we come for dinner, so then we can go straight to bed," Rohan replied.
Mael burst out laughing. "And we go without the girls, so I can show you the red district," he said, lowering his voice.
"I thought you and Christelle..."
"It's not serious, and she won't have my children for at least ten years. Don't worry, if you feel the need to hold a woman, just ask, and I'll take you there. There are very sweet girls to spend the night with."