at a reasonable price in men and gold.
Nicolas heard a crunching noise behind him and turned to see that his guide had rolled up the canvas under which they’d slept the night before and strapped it to his back. Suppressing the urge to sigh, Nicolas reached out and took his own pack from the man and slipped it on his shoulders. It was lighter than it had been six days ago, but not by much. With a grunt and a nod, the guide began to stride down the slope, but Nicolas stopped him.
“Will we be there before night falls?”
The guide nodded, pointing at the peak due south of them. “Two more ridges. The walls’ll be in sight afern we cross the next one. Be there an hour afore sundown if’n the weather hold.” The doubtful manner in which he glared at Nicolas seemed to suggest that if it didn’t, he would regard Nicolas as being personally responsible.
“Very good. I’m sure we shall both be relieved when this journey is finally at an end.”
His guide did not bother to reply, but Nicolas was left with the impression that the Tessino agreed. Ah, well, he couldn’t find it in his heart to blame the man. It would have been much easier if he had taken the main pass through the mountains, but despite being little more than a dangerous path barely wide enough for a horse-drawn cart, occasionally punctuated with too-frail bridges spanning yawning ravines, that was the more-travelled way, and Nicolas wished to avoid any unexpected encounters with too-familiar faces.
He’d found it hard to imagine the alternate route could possibly be as inhospitable as it was reputed to be. And yet, he’d learned to his dismay that it truly was to anyone who wasn’t a troll big enough to smash through the thick mass of trees that somehow covered the stony slopes, or a bird able to fly over them.
As his guide preceded him on the day’s long and tedious trudge toward first of the final two ridges in their path, Nicolas considered his destination. There were no mines inside the high walls of Malkan, but it produced an astonishing amount of gold all the same.
In the heart of these inhospitable lands, the powerful merchant-bankers of the Golden Circle kept their treasure houses—seven of the twelve Savondese Great Guilds had their roots and their headquarters here. All overland trade between the north and the south of the continent passed through the city of Malkan, and although the price for travelling the Bardinus Pass unmolested was not overly burdensome, the sheer volume of goods being traded between the kingdom and the empire made Malkan one of the wealthiest cities in the world.
And like most wealthy cities, Malkan attracted predators of every shape and size.
The bankers and the guilds comprised the elite that truly ruled the city. They raised up petty nobles when it served their collective interest and tore them down again when it did not. Perhaps only the orc tribes of the east knew such vicious and violent politics. A man who nominally ruled the city on Starsday might easily be assassinated, eulogized, interned, and all but forgotten by the following Moonday.
They trudged on. Finally, they crested the first ridge.
The city’s walls were impressively high, Nicolas mused as he followed the Tessino across a stream running downhill early in the afternoon and laid his eyes upon them for the first time. Malkan’s walls were much higher than those of Montrove, whose rebel earl had not survived the ill-fated rebellion against the King of Savondir that culminated in the storming of his citadel by the royal army.
Nicolas had been there when the mines underneath the east wall were sparked by the royal battlemages, collapsing it and giving the Red Prince the entrance into the city he’d been seeking. That sort of siegecraft wouldn’t be possible here, he realized, not without first digging through the mountain rock upon which Malkan’s walls had been constructed.
It was possible, of course. Given enough time, resources, and a
Nicolas heard a crunching noise behind him and turned to see that his guide had rolled up the canvas under which they’d slept the night before and strapped it to his back. Suppressing the urge to sigh, Nicolas reached out and took his own pack from the man and slipped it on his shoulders. It was lighter than it had been six days ago, but not by much. With a grunt and a nod, the guide began to stride down the slope, but Nicolas stopped him.
“Will we be there before night falls?”
The guide nodded, pointing at the peak due south of them. “Two more ridges. The walls’ll be in sight afern we cross the next one. Be there an hour afore sundown if’n the weather hold.” The doubtful manner in which he glared at Nicolas seemed to suggest that if it didn’t, he would regard Nicolas as being personally responsible.
“Very good. I’m sure we shall both be relieved when this journey is finally at an end.”
His guide did not bother to reply, but Nicolas was left with the impression that the Tessino agreed. Ah, well, he couldn’t find it in his heart to blame the man. It would have been much easier if he had taken the main pass through the mountains, but despite being little more than a dangerous path barely wide enough for a horse-drawn cart, occasionally punctuated with too-frail bridges spanning yawning ravines, that was the more-travelled way, and Nicolas wished to avoid any unexpected encounters with too-familiar faces.
He’d found it hard to imagine the alternate route could possibly be as inhospitable as it was reputed to be. And yet, he’d learned to his dismay that it truly was to anyone who wasn’t a troll big enough to smash through the thick mass of trees that somehow covered the stony slopes, or a bird able to fly over them.
As his guide preceded him on the day’s long and tedious trudge toward first of the final two ridges in their path, Nicolas considered his destination. There were no mines inside the high walls of Malkan, but it produced an astonishing amount of gold all the same.
In the heart of these inhospitable lands, the powerful merchant-bankers of the Golden Circle kept their treasure houses—seven of the twelve Savondese Great Guilds had their roots and their headquarters here. All overland trade between the north and the south of the continent passed through the city of Malkan, and although the price for travelling the Bardinus Pass unmolested was not overly burdensome, the sheer volume of goods being traded between the kingdom and the empire made Malkan one of the wealthiest cities in the world.
And like most wealthy cities, Malkan attracted predators of every shape and size.
The bankers and the guilds comprised the elite that truly ruled the city. They raised up petty nobles when it served their collective interest and tore them down again when it did not. Perhaps only the orc tribes of the east knew such vicious and violent politics. A man who nominally ruled the city on Starsday might easily be assassinated, eulogized, interned, and all but forgotten by the following Moonday.
They trudged on. Finally, they crested the first ridge.
The city’s walls were impressively high, Nicolas mused as he followed the Tessino across a stream running downhill early in the afternoon and laid his eyes upon them for the first time. Malkan’s walls were much higher than those of Montrove, whose rebel earl had not survived the ill-fated rebellion against the King of Savondir that culminated in the storming of his citadel by the royal army.
Nicolas had been there when the mines underneath the east wall were sparked by the royal battlemages, collapsing it and giving the Red Prince the entrance into the city he’d been seeking. That sort of siegecraft wouldn’t be possible here, he realized, not without first digging through the mountain rock upon which Malkan’s walls had been constructed.
It was possible, of course. Given enough time, resources, and a