for
breakfast.
They came to Anistigh late on a warm sunny
day. It was not at all what Morgin had expected. What few memories
he could still recall were of muddy streets, cold, stone walls,
gray alleys, and dark hovels. But his first sight of the city was a
stretch of outlying farms, with Anistigh itself a jagged edge on
the horizon. The farms were neat and well kept, and the people that
greeted them as they passed were strong and healthy.
The city grew slowly out of the landscape, a
maze of buildings without a clear-cut boundary. Morgin had expected
something more sharply defined; a line perhaps, with city on one
side and country on the other, and he chided himself for being so
naive.
The heart of the city was formed of a
grouping of large estates where the rich and powerful lived. Many
were not clan, for just as a clansman could be poor, so too could a
commoner be rich. It was just easier for clansmen to acquire
wealth.
At the center of everything lay the Elhiyne
compound. It was not the largest of the estates, but it was walled,
and the most heavily fortified and guarded, for the clan was
Elhiyne, and Elhiyne was the clan.
They arrived in a flurry of servants and
retainers, and spent some time moving in. Once settled Morgin was
anxious to do a little sightseeing. There were a few hours left
before dinner so he hunted down JohnEngine and the two prepared to
leave, but Olivia refused to allow them to go without supervision.
“Two teenage boys,” she said, “alone, in the city? Never. You’d
find trouble where none existed.”
The logical choice for a chaperone was
MichaelOff, who was at first reluctant but allowed himself to be
persuaded. Accompanied by an adult ten years their senior, Olivia
had no choice but to give them leave. So the two boys set off with
their older cousin in tow, talking incessantly of the discoveries
they would make.
They headed straight for the market square,
for with the clan in town there would be jugglers and acrobats,
mimes, puppet shows, acting companies, and all forms of diversion.
There were vendors with sweets and delicious foods, wine and ale.
But as JohnEngine put it, the most important treats were the girls.
Girls, girls, and more girls.
All of this had been described by
JohnEngine, who had been to the city before. But as they approached
the sector of the city from which Morgin’s memories had sprung,
JohnEngine’s excitement grew while Morgin felt subdued, suppressed.
It had been ten years since he’d seen these streets, and much had
changed, yet he recognized them easily. And while his memories were
not clear, they were sufficiently distinct to rekindle long
forgotten emotions. They were memories best left unrecalled.
The market square itself remained almost
totally unchanged. Ramshackle stalls filled it completely, each
separated by narrow dirt pathways and operated by vendors loudly
crying their wares. Those with the greatest seniority were near the
outskirts where they could accost potential customers as soon as
they arrived and still had money in their purses. And of course,
the most valuable properties were the permanent shops that formed
the outer perimeter of the square. The noise and excitement were
overwhelming.
MichaelOff decided they should first tour
the perimeter, strolling down the aisle between the permanent shops
and the outermost stalls. And as they walked Morgin became
progressively uncomfortable, for everyone bowed deeply to the three
of them. The stall owners held samples high for easy viewing, but
they were uncharacteristically passive, never shouting prices at
the three young men as they passed. And by that Morgin slowly came
to realize that it was he and his kinsmen who were the center of
attention here. With that, and the familiarity of the market
square, he found himself looking for a convenient shadow.
A hand touched his shoulder. He jumped with
a start. It was MichaelOff.
“Morgin. Why so jumpy? What’s wrong?”
Morgin tried to look in all
breakfast.
They came to Anistigh late on a warm sunny
day. It was not at all what Morgin had expected. What few memories
he could still recall were of muddy streets, cold, stone walls,
gray alleys, and dark hovels. But his first sight of the city was a
stretch of outlying farms, with Anistigh itself a jagged edge on
the horizon. The farms were neat and well kept, and the people that
greeted them as they passed were strong and healthy.
The city grew slowly out of the landscape, a
maze of buildings without a clear-cut boundary. Morgin had expected
something more sharply defined; a line perhaps, with city on one
side and country on the other, and he chided himself for being so
naive.
The heart of the city was formed of a
grouping of large estates where the rich and powerful lived. Many
were not clan, for just as a clansman could be poor, so too could a
commoner be rich. It was just easier for clansmen to acquire
wealth.
At the center of everything lay the Elhiyne
compound. It was not the largest of the estates, but it was walled,
and the most heavily fortified and guarded, for the clan was
Elhiyne, and Elhiyne was the clan.
They arrived in a flurry of servants and
retainers, and spent some time moving in. Once settled Morgin was
anxious to do a little sightseeing. There were a few hours left
before dinner so he hunted down JohnEngine and the two prepared to
leave, but Olivia refused to allow them to go without supervision.
“Two teenage boys,” she said, “alone, in the city? Never. You’d
find trouble where none existed.”
The logical choice for a chaperone was
MichaelOff, who was at first reluctant but allowed himself to be
persuaded. Accompanied by an adult ten years their senior, Olivia
had no choice but to give them leave. So the two boys set off with
their older cousin in tow, talking incessantly of the discoveries
they would make.
They headed straight for the market square,
for with the clan in town there would be jugglers and acrobats,
mimes, puppet shows, acting companies, and all forms of diversion.
There were vendors with sweets and delicious foods, wine and ale.
But as JohnEngine put it, the most important treats were the girls.
Girls, girls, and more girls.
All of this had been described by
JohnEngine, who had been to the city before. But as they approached
the sector of the city from which Morgin’s memories had sprung,
JohnEngine’s excitement grew while Morgin felt subdued, suppressed.
It had been ten years since he’d seen these streets, and much had
changed, yet he recognized them easily. And while his memories were
not clear, they were sufficiently distinct to rekindle long
forgotten emotions. They were memories best left unrecalled.
The market square itself remained almost
totally unchanged. Ramshackle stalls filled it completely, each
separated by narrow dirt pathways and operated by vendors loudly
crying their wares. Those with the greatest seniority were near the
outskirts where they could accost potential customers as soon as
they arrived and still had money in their purses. And of course,
the most valuable properties were the permanent shops that formed
the outer perimeter of the square. The noise and excitement were
overwhelming.
MichaelOff decided they should first tour
the perimeter, strolling down the aisle between the permanent shops
and the outermost stalls. And as they walked Morgin became
progressively uncomfortable, for everyone bowed deeply to the three
of them. The stall owners held samples high for easy viewing, but
they were uncharacteristically passive, never shouting prices at
the three young men as they passed. And by that Morgin slowly came
to realize that it was he and his kinsmen who were the center of
attention here. With that, and the familiarity of the market
square, he found himself looking for a convenient shadow.
A hand touched his shoulder. He jumped with
a start. It was MichaelOff.
“Morgin. Why so jumpy? What’s wrong?”
Morgin tried to look in all
Similar Books
