The small group crossed the wide-open fields between the last of the foothills and the city walls, making their way toward the nearest gate. Unlike Lantonne’s massive iron portcullises, Pholithia’s gates were all wooden and heavily reinforced with metal. They showed no sign of damage, making him wonder if the war had passed the region by. Estin had a feeling he knew better and let his vision shift again, immediately seeing the faint glow of magic on the gates.
Blinking his sight back to normal, Estin noticed Raeln eyeing the gates in much the same way he probably had.
“Magic,” said Estin, making Raeln jump. “You were staring at the gates. They’re magical. The doors could be as thin as parchment and hold back an army with the right spells. Lantonne was built the same way, but this city kept the magic fresher.”
Raeln nodded, though Estin could see he really did not understand. He seemed to have only the vaguest understanding of magic and what it was capable of. One day, Estin thought, he would have to sit the man down and teach him so he was a little less ignorant. He might live longer that way, especially as they continued northward.
“What is he?” Raeln asked quietly, nodding toward On’esquin. “I know it’s magic, but he won’t explain to me.”
“He never told me, either,” Estin admitted. “My son threw enough fire at him to burn down a city this size, but he never even flinched. Even the Turessians I’ve fought were easier to hurt, though they didn’t stay down. I think we can trust him, but if he betrays us…”
Raeln nodded grimly as On’esquin glanced back. Estin was fairly sure he had not heard the brief conversation. Yet another reason Estin was glad to be exactly what he was and not a human or an orc. They had awful hearing and senses of smell. Hiding things from them was simple.
“Can we trust the other?” Raeln asked a minute later, once Yoska and On’esquin had begun talking quietly among themselves.
“I would trust Yoska with my life,” replied Estin, knowing it was the truth. In truth he had more than once. “Him and I have an understanding and have saved each other more times than I care to admit. He might stab me in the back, but if he does, there’s a good reason. He does everything with good intentions. He was one of those that got me out of Lantonne’s slave camp.”
A tug at Estin’s neck reminded him sharply that he was a leashed beast here. Yoska was not intentionally pulling on the two long ropes, but as always, he had a habit of gesturing grandly with both hands as he talked. That simple habit occasionally snapped the leashes taught. Each time it happened, Estin wanted to yank the leash away and hit him with it. Instead, he settled for growling, but Yoska seemed oblivious.
They soon reached the large gates, which remained closed. Estin looked up at the wall and saw archers atop it, numbering nearly a hundred. There was no sign of undead, which he took as a good sign, even if the men up there appeared more than ready to rain death down on them. If he had to be killed, it was somehow better if another living being did it.
As they came up on the wooden double doors, one slowly drifted open far enough for a human man to come out. Swarthy and dressed in heavy cottons despite the warm day, the middle-aged man walked out to meet them, holding a piece of parchment attached to a small wooden board. He carried no weapons, but held a piece of charcoal over the parchment like most would hold a sword.
“Name and business,” the man said loudly, giving Raeln and Estin dark glances. He appeared truly uncomfortable, even twenty feet from them. A look like that made Estin want to tear the man’s face off, to show him he had reason to be afraid. In his place Feanne probably already would have.
“Is same reason and name as last time, old friend!” Yoska exclaimed, but the man cocked an eyebrow at him, stifling his mood. “Fine, we play along. I am Bandoleer Yoska and I have come to trade on behalf of my family. Pholithia is still open to us, yes? No silly law against the gypsy people, no?”
“After your last visit, there were discussions of such a law.”
On’esquin’s head turned very slowly to give Yoska an accusatory stare. There would be uncomfortable discussions once they were safely away from the city, and Estin wanted to be sure he was close enough to hear it.
“That…small thing? No, no, no, was taken care of, I am sure of it,” answered Yoska quickly, offering his best grin. “He is still mad about little card game?”
“The prince wanted to gut you and put you on display for about a week,” the man warned. “He has since forgotten, but if he sees you here, I believe he will remember the loss of his daughter’s dowry in that ‘little card game.’ I doubt even you can find somewhere to hide from him if he decides to go after you again.”
“Perhaps prince should not gamble what he is not willing to lose?”
“You cheated.”
Having played games of chance with him back at their old camp, Estin had to lower his head to hide his stifled laughs. The man prided himself on being good enough at cheating that it had become part of the game for him. Nearly every wildling in the camp had owed Yoska a favor by the time Feanne had banned games of chance.
Yoska put a hand to his chest, as though offended. “You accuse one of the family of cheating?” gasped Yoska. “You have proof, yes?”
The man glared a little longer and then began writing on the parchment. “One indigent bringing foreign goods. You do remember you can’t sell those two here, right?”
“Of course,” the gypsy replied, giving the leash a little tug. “I take them elsewhere to sell. The big green one is hired hand. He makes sure others do not get themselves lost.”
The man eyed On’esquin nervously and then made a few more marks on his parchment. Once he had finished that, he looked over Raeln and Estin, both of whom lowered their eyes, trying to play their parts, though Estin wondered if he was still fast enough to kill the man before the archers could fire down on them. He was willing to bet he could tear the man’s throat out and be halfway through the gates before a single arrow reached the ground.
“I’ve documented your property,” the man told Yoska, tapping the parchment with a finger. “If they cause trouble or run free, they will be killed and you will be held responsible. That applies to all three, not only the animals. They hurt anyone, steal anything, or—gods forbid—kill someone, and you are to be treated as though you did it yourself. There will be no negotiation or argument or whining about ancestors. Are we clear on this?”
“As it has been every time I have come,” offered Yoska, bowing deeply. “I will watch my slaves as I would a gold coin.”
The man at the gate looked over Raeln and Estin again. “More like a copper coin, but the sentiment is accepted. Welcome to Pholithia. Get out as soon as your business is done.” With that, the man turned and walked back through the gate, leaving the way open for them to pass. High overhead, the archers remained watchful but made no move to attack, giving Estin a bit of relief. A glance over his shoulder at Raeln revealed much the same visible relief as he, too, watched the archers.
“See?” said Yoska, keeping his voice low as he led the way to the partially open gates. “Is not so bad, yes? City has been one of my favorites for a long time. I tell you it would be perfectly…”
They passed through the door single-file as Yoska was talking. Estin could not help but gawk at the enormous hinges the wooden doors swung on, seemingly weightless. Simply knowing magic was in use was not the same as seeing the results first-hand.
Then he noticed the first of the citizens of the city and the reason Yoska’s words trailed off.
Near the gates, soldiers waited at the ready, likely summoned at the first sign of strangers approaching from the mountains, rather than one of the roads from the west or east. The men were heavily armored, with pikes held vertically, their eyes fixed on the gates in a show of indifference to anything that came or went. There were two such groups, one on either side of the road in, though Estin could not see the faces of many. He could smell them easily.
At the rear of each group of soldiers, badly decayed armored corpses turned to watch On’esquin with cloudy eyes. The undead wore finer armor than the living, marking them as officers or similar in Estin’s mind. The more he looked around, the more undead he saw among the soldiers. For every living man or woman, there were two more who had been dead a while. Up on the wall, several archers still had arrows or weapons sticking out of their bodies.
“…safe,” Yoska finished, swallowing hard. “Please tell me to speak after looking next time, no? Speaking too soon makes me look like north side of south-facing horse.”
With a low rumble, the doors shut behind them and a massive iron bar was slid across, locking the gate once again with a sense of finality that made Estin’s stomach feel as if it was rising into his throat. Still, the soldiers made no hostile movement toward the group as a whole, though their eyes never left On’esquin. Estin had fought his way out of worse with fewer allies, but he had no desire to do so again. Deep down, he knew he was too old to keep doing this.
“Has this city always allowed necromancy?” asked On’esquin, keeping his head down as Yoska led them past the soldiers in a hurry. “They were absolute prudes about it when I last visited, but you keep telling me that things change.”
“Never,” Yoska replied sharply, giving Raeln and Estin a tug to hurry them along. “Pholithia has many things wrong with it, but they never allow the dead to walk. Last time I was here, one of my brothers was accused of raising the dead and nearly hung. Took days to explain that he merely used cold water on a cousin that looked dead for how much he had drank the night before. Very uptight people, but not ones I have ever feared.”
Their group came around the first turn in the road and Yoska slid to a stop and backpedalled, nearly crashing into Estin. Raeln was quicker at stopping than the others and avoided hitting anyone as he slipped past Yoska to peek around the corner of the building they were nearest.
Following Raeln, Estin glanced around the corner, trying to see what the issue was.
In the street beyond, undead manned many of the roadside carts and could be seen through the open doors of some of the larger shops. The living did not seem to directly avoid them, but Estin could see that given the chance, most of the living people simply chose to be farther away from the undead than from each other.
“How did we not smell this before we came in?” asked Yoska, slapping Raeln’s arm. He made as though to do the same to Estin, but Estin glared at him and he let his hand drop. “Two good noses and no warnings?”
Estin spoke first. “These people are heavily perfumed. I can barely smell the decay now and we’re almost on top of them. Cities stink anyway. It’s easy to hide the smell of corpses from far off. You put these corpses out in the woods and I’ll warn you early.”
“I’ve been told that I can’t sniff my way out of a burlap sack,” Raeln added, not taking his eyes off the nearest corpses, which seemed to be trying to sell their wares to a group of living human women who avoided them. “I smell the perfume and not much else.”
Yoska seemed beside himself as he looked from one street to another, apparently unsure where to go. He finally picked a narrow side street where there were no undead and few living. “We get supplies and we go,” he said once they were farther from other ears. “I had hoped to sleep in city bed for few days, but the hard ground sounds better than ever, yes?”
“Yes, indeed,” agreed On’esquin, putting a hand to the hilt of his sword. “The way they’re watching me…they knew I was coming. Their masters are watching for an orc, and my markings cannot be helping. We could be reported at any time. If there are Turessians in the region, they will investigate.”
“Always with the good news, this one,” muttered Yoska, turning them up another street and keeping close to the building walls, where there were fewer people. He continued up that street, stopping twice to check for undead before continuing on toward a smaller street that appeared somewhat abandoned. One particular group passed very close to them, and Yoska offered an overplayed bow to them before practically running once their backs were turned.
“This part of city is where best shopping can be had,” Yoska explained once they had gone far enough up an alley that the hum of the city faded away behind them. “Can buy almost anything in cities when you know best place to go and who does not concern themselves with silly rules.”