with a wig of golden curls as he walked further into the room, his young companion on his heels, “new stock I see? Never keep them long, do you?”
“Rogen, my dear stunted, bearded friend, you know they find other places to go after a while. Have you come to partake of the finer things then?” Curls asked, running one hand along the neatly trimmed gray sideburns that distinguished him even when dressed. He wore a bright red military coat with gold button and epaulets, and short silk trousers.
“No, perhaps later. My friend here requires a room, a private room. I will also, but first I must to take care of a few matters. I may need to call in some favors also, can you help me?”
“Of course, Master, you know my house is always your house. Do you have time to sit and talk for a bit?” Curls pushed the naked dark skinned woman away from him and gently and patted the now empty spot on the couch next to him.
Rogen shook his head and gestured to Cite. “Please find him a room, prepare my private room, and then find me three runners. I will need a meeting called for tomorrow at noon. I think fewer eyes will be out in the middle of the day. Have it set up for the Merchant’s Guild Hall.” Rogen ran his hand through his beard and Curls watched with dismay as sand tumbled to the plush carpet. “I think a bath would be in order first. Which room is available for my young friend?”
The girl who had been displaced from the couch moved to take Cite’s arm when Curls gestured. “Take him to the Sky Room, darling,” he said, and looked over his shoulder to the woman next to the bar. “Sugar plum, tend to my Master’s bath. See he gets all the trimmings. He prefers the smell of the sandstone incense and the taste of fine brandies. I think we may have some of the Velentian in the cellar, perhaps a fifty year? Bring food for both also,” Curls told the shorter honey haired woman as the raven-haired girl led Cite down the hall to the right.
Cite watched a man. No features were visible under his hooded cloak except for glowing eyes that seemed to smile. The man stood on a barrel in the middle of a crowd. People milled aimlessly about and paid no attention to him. He pointed over their heads. Cite looked where he pointed and saw a river that was the color of blood. It flowed in midair across the sea and waved like a banner the brisk wind. Slowly he focused on it and saw the individual lines of the current had become flowing hair. A woman swayed her hips as she stood still; rocking with a mesmerizing rhythm and the hair flowed down her back.
A snake-like head rose from the water and towered above her and she disappeared. The monster rose higher. Its body was bulbous and as large as an island. The sea serpent turned and fled from Cite and went west. The setting sun blinded him and the black of night swallowed the monster. Cite realized it was not night; rather it was a coming storm. He stepped into a stone hut to help weather the storm. The stone hut rose up and flew across the ocean towards the storm and neared the land. He saw it was covered with yew and ash trees. The yew trees became weapons and the ash trees became gravestones as he watched.
Three towers rose up in front of him, surrounded by the trees. One was black with a grimacing face upside down on it. Another was far in the distance and glimmered a silver color that was almost gone due to the tarnish creeping up from its base. A single beam of light shone from the trees and struck the silver tower, driving the tarnish back wherever it touched the tower. The last tower crumbled as Cite looked upon it but a single small figure dove from the top of it, and was trying to swim through the air for the beam of light. The black tower leaned towards the plummeting figure. The mouth of the upside down face on the tower opened and diamond droplets of drool fell to the ground around it, making the figure look towards it. Then the storm overtook
“Rogen, my dear stunted, bearded friend, you know they find other places to go after a while. Have you come to partake of the finer things then?” Curls asked, running one hand along the neatly trimmed gray sideburns that distinguished him even when dressed. He wore a bright red military coat with gold button and epaulets, and short silk trousers.
“No, perhaps later. My friend here requires a room, a private room. I will also, but first I must to take care of a few matters. I may need to call in some favors also, can you help me?”
“Of course, Master, you know my house is always your house. Do you have time to sit and talk for a bit?” Curls pushed the naked dark skinned woman away from him and gently and patted the now empty spot on the couch next to him.
Rogen shook his head and gestured to Cite. “Please find him a room, prepare my private room, and then find me three runners. I will need a meeting called for tomorrow at noon. I think fewer eyes will be out in the middle of the day. Have it set up for the Merchant’s Guild Hall.” Rogen ran his hand through his beard and Curls watched with dismay as sand tumbled to the plush carpet. “I think a bath would be in order first. Which room is available for my young friend?”
The girl who had been displaced from the couch moved to take Cite’s arm when Curls gestured. “Take him to the Sky Room, darling,” he said, and looked over his shoulder to the woman next to the bar. “Sugar plum, tend to my Master’s bath. See he gets all the trimmings. He prefers the smell of the sandstone incense and the taste of fine brandies. I think we may have some of the Velentian in the cellar, perhaps a fifty year? Bring food for both also,” Curls told the shorter honey haired woman as the raven-haired girl led Cite down the hall to the right.
Cite watched a man. No features were visible under his hooded cloak except for glowing eyes that seemed to smile. The man stood on a barrel in the middle of a crowd. People milled aimlessly about and paid no attention to him. He pointed over their heads. Cite looked where he pointed and saw a river that was the color of blood. It flowed in midair across the sea and waved like a banner the brisk wind. Slowly he focused on it and saw the individual lines of the current had become flowing hair. A woman swayed her hips as she stood still; rocking with a mesmerizing rhythm and the hair flowed down her back.
A snake-like head rose from the water and towered above her and she disappeared. The monster rose higher. Its body was bulbous and as large as an island. The sea serpent turned and fled from Cite and went west. The setting sun blinded him and the black of night swallowed the monster. Cite realized it was not night; rather it was a coming storm. He stepped into a stone hut to help weather the storm. The stone hut rose up and flew across the ocean towards the storm and neared the land. He saw it was covered with yew and ash trees. The yew trees became weapons and the ash trees became gravestones as he watched.
Three towers rose up in front of him, surrounded by the trees. One was black with a grimacing face upside down on it. Another was far in the distance and glimmered a silver color that was almost gone due to the tarnish creeping up from its base. A single beam of light shone from the trees and struck the silver tower, driving the tarnish back wherever it touched the tower. The last tower crumbled as Cite looked upon it but a single small figure dove from the top of it, and was trying to swim through the air for the beam of light. The black tower leaned towards the plummeting figure. The mouth of the upside down face on the tower opened and diamond droplets of drool fell to the ground around it, making the figure look towards it. Then the storm overtook
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