Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Another hour passed before they were within sight of Topto’s great walls. Facing backwards as they were, Roka and her master did not notice their arrival immediately. It was the Ensign driver who announced it to them, letting them know it would be a half-hour more before they reached the main gate. The moon now dominated the sky, the sun a memory of light spilling over the horizon.

Roka leaned around the side of the cart to get a better view of the approaching city. Red and yellow light bloomed over the walls, creating a second sunset. The cart drew closer, and she heard the beating of distant drums, accompanied by trills and sweeps of singing and wind instruments. A comforting shawl of celebration wrapped around the city, and Roka couldn’t wait to nestle herself into it.

The cart joined a long line of other visitors and citizens hoping to make entrance to the city, and Roka took the time to study the walls of Topto. For all their height and strength, they were broken. Twenty years ago, they had been breached in battle, never to be rebuilt. What remained standing was well cared-for, but there were large gaps in the circuit of stone. City streets snaked out of those gaps like roots seeking after water. After the battle, walls had no longer been necessary, and so Topto had grown out of them like a chick grows out of its egg. One day, the walls would likely be brought down, the stone repurposed for homes and other buildings. For now, they were a reminder of one of the empire’s darkest moments.

The guards at the gate were a token presence. Most of the mischief that might befall the city would come from within, not without, and the komhak of Topto placed their focus on the celebration itself. The guards quickly approved the entrance of the Ensign’s car, the process expedited when they discovered two Sentinels traveled with it.

Inside the walls, it was as if the sun were still up. The sky remained dark, but lamp light washed the streets from every direction. Two-thousand lights were just within the vicinity of the gate alone, all of them likely consuming a costly amount of lamp oil. The Breaking Fast festival was the one time a year such expense was permitted, if not gleefully indulged in.

Despite the lateness of the hour, the streets were crammed full with people. Save for the common slaves, everyone was in fine dress, carrying personal lamps or even small parcels of food. Mothers and fathers walked with children. Couples walked together, holding hands. Roka didn’t see any of the packs of running children she had expected. Every child she could see was accompanied by at least one adult. It was odd but made for a slightly more peaceful environment. She wouldn’t have to worry about pickpockets, though few children would be brave enough to pick the pocket of a Sentinel.

Most of those enjoying the festivities were citizens of the Ninzam Empire like Roka and her master but there were representatives from many other neighboring nations as well. They intermixed and talked without barriers as if they were all of one people, which, until the last twenty to thirty years, had been marginally the case. It would be difficult for the unaccustomed eye to tell different national origins apart. All were marked by the pox.

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Such was not the case with the handful of Ensigns sprinkled among the crowds. Despite representing a fraction of the total number of people occupying the city’s streets, they took up demonstrably more space. The average Ensign was physically larger than the average citizen of the empire or one of its neighbors, but that was not what made them stand apart. Instead, it was the bubble of empty space that followed each Ensign wherever they went. They traveled in groups of three or four and never came within a pace of anyone else. Even without the unnatural bubble, the lightness of their skin would have distinguished them as foreign.

The chatter of a thousand conversations created a din that challenged musical performances elsewhere in the city. Judging by the sounds of stamping feet and beating drums, a parade was working its way down a nearby avenue. It was a good night to be in Topto.

Roka paid the Ensign woman a single silver coin for her trouble. The woman protested receiving payment but took the coin before Roka could drop it into her hand. She bid Roka a good “fasting break celebration” and took her cart deeper into the city. Roka’s master stood far away during the transaction, staring at the Ensign woman with eyes that bespoke a drawn sword. Roka could only be grateful that he had kept any further antagonizing comments to himself.

“Are we lodging in the citadel, Master?” Roka asked.

He nodded. “But first, I want to visit the city’s Sentinel hold. We could use some formal clothing.”

Roka smiled. A change of pace in her wardrobe would be nice. After six years on the road, she had become accustomed to wearing the same garments over and over, but she still longed for diversity. Even if that diversity came in the plain, unadorned cloth of a Sentinel’s ceremonial c’tono. Even better, visiting the hold would mean more time spent in the city proper. The responsibility of a visit with the emperor excited her, along with her potential new employment, but the opportunity to soak in more of the sights and sounds of the festival drew her more strongly.

Apparently, Roka’s master was also in no hurry to fulfill their duties. The emperor would not be seeing them until the next morning, and there was no need to be prompt arriving at their rooms in the citadel.

Roka and her master stopped many times on their way to the hold, once to buy grilled goat meat skewers, another time to watch a scarlet and orange parade led by a giant paper rhinoceros, and lastly to stand at the top of a small hill in the city and gaze down at the many lights and flurries of movement. The hill did not lead to the hold, but they both independently took notice of the view it would provide and came to the same decision to make the ascent. The each claimed it was strictly to get the lay of the land from, but both knew they just wanted to see the pretty lights.

They were even treated to a brief firetech show. Ten bright stars of burning light shot up in sequence into the night sky and exploded into flowers of brilliant color. After each explosion came a heart-fluttering clap of thunder. The display stopped too soon for Roka’s liking, but there would be longer displays later in the week.

When Roka and her master finally arrived at the hold, it was just before midnight. The lone guard—a man who was not a Sentinel but who had been hired for the night to watch the hold—recognized them as newly arrived Sentinels and gave them access to the materials stored inside. Roka retrieved a c’tono in her size, along with a fresh set of robes and undergarments, and her master traded in his light leather armor for heavier ceremonial laminar. They bid the guard farewell and made for the citadel.