Chapter 11: New Friend, New Setting, New Problems?

Cecilia thought they were making excellent time when what she took for a city skyline appeared. For two days they had traveled with Mynet, with Cantor’s spell supporting the back end of the wagon. And, to Cecilia's eternal gratitude, she no longer had to wear the giant backpack, as Cantor swore that a little more weight wouldn't make the wagon any harder to bear. They had even seen a couple of wagons passing the other way, but they had been too small to have replacement parts. Besides, to what appeared to be mutual surprise, the four found that they made decent traveling companions. Mynet was a quiet, thoughtful man when he wasn’t looking at the ruination of an entire trade wagon full of goods. His bandaged hands pained him enough that Shin had taken over driving the lizards, and he spent his time walking next to Cantor, asking the occasional question about magic (Cantor only needed an occasional question to launch into long explanations), or - to Cecilia’s surprise - walking along next to her. The first day, she’d said hardly nothing, afraid to give away her origins through word choice or expression.

The silence was companionable, and she relaxed. They all did, and she could hear Shin’s merry whistle at the front of the wagon as the horizon resolved itself to the blocky squares Cecilia associated with a city. “Wow, I thought it’d be a couple more days to Can Gallos.”

Beside her, Mynet looked up from his own thoughts. “It is.”

“Then what are those?” Cecilia pointed, trying not to look at her own unfamiliar, masculine hand. Just hearing the voice was bad enough, for all that it was pleasantly resonant. She’d based it on Geoff, who ran a street food stall just a couple blocks down from her office. At the time, she’d thought it was a good idea. Now, she feared that she’d flinch every time he opened his mouth. If she saw him again.

When she saw him again.

Mynet’s green eyes scanned the horizon. He brightened into a smile. “Those are the Wardstones. You’ve never been to an Imperial city before?” Cecilia froze at the question, almost tripping over herself.

“Freehold,” Cantor called out, with a little shrug.

The ease with which Mynet accepted the answer reassured her. He smiled up at her; actually, a little over her head, but she’d almost gotten used to everyone addressing her as if she were half a foot taller than she actually was. He said, “You’re in for a treat. There’s a ring of Wardstones around every Imperial city that earns a certain rank. They’re one of the cornerstones of Imperial defense, and keep out most raiders and monsters.”

Cecilia squinted. As they got closer, the blocks were resolving themselves not into skyscrapers, but tall, stone columns, reminiscent of the Washington Monument in her eyes. Although these were darker stone, with a reddish cast. “How do they do that?” She held up a hand. “Magic, obviously. But what kind of magic?”

“Guild secret,” Cantor put in, wistfully. “Like the Imperial roads, the actual spells are closely guarded. I have heard that the Lawmakers have a magical mark that they place on convicts whose crimes warrant outcasting from a city. I would theorize that the Wardstones resonate with such marks, and that would repel most of the civilized raiders. Monsters are trickier - I’ve never quite figured out how it distinguishes beasts of labor from those of destruction.”

“Have you ever seen a Wardstone activated?” Mynet asked Cantor.

“Once,” the mage replied, his voice going hollow. “An entire unmarked warren of fungal shamblers budded and grew until they erupted onto the surface. Two hundred of the things, surrounded by a cloud of spores. They walked right into the Wardstones. They were even more flammable than they looked. Dreadful smell.”

Cecilia tried not to stop walking. “These Wardstones set things on fire?”

Mynet smiled. “Sometimes. If the target is vulnerable to fire. Otherwise it might be ice, or lightning, or spikes of wood or metal. The Wardstones have been enchanted with a variety of retaliation methods; they assess what a target is most vulnerable to and apply it.”

“Wow.” Cecilia thought of the wooden walls of Ikshan, and how easy they’d been to tunnel under. “What about enemies that can burrow? Or fly?”

“A certain degree of territory is covered above and below the Wardstones. They’re not impenetrable, though. Some of the greater Wyrms can fly over them, and there are high rank monsters who can tunnel beneath. But that’s what the Guild is for; somehow, there’s an adventurer for just about every possible contingency.” Mynet grinned.

“It makes the city sound very safe,” Cecilia mused.

The other three laughed. Shin, from her seat at the wagon, tossed her hair and said, “It means you need not worry about monsters from without the city. There are more than enough monsters already within.”

This observation silenced the group for a time. The Wardstones grew larger and more detailed. Cecilia estimated that they stood forty or fifty feet tall, which was not as towering as she’d originally thought, but was still larger than any man made structure she’d seen since arriving in this world. They were etched from top to bottom in intricate runes. A very few of the runes she recognized from Cantor’s rooms and the basic magical manual he’d lent her, but most were densely detailed and far beyond anything she’d seen before. She couldn’t help but try Analyze.

[Legendary Artifact: Imperial Wardstone. Level: ???]

The skill tried to list the enchantments involved, as well, but the words stuttered before her eyes to be replaced with [Data Warded] . She wondered, idly, if that was what people saw when they tried to analyze a class after someone took the class-blocker potion. She’d ask Cantor once they were somewhere the question didn’t risk giving away more ignorance than it should. Instead, she tried not to worry that she, as an otherworldly soul and an ensouled golem, might count as a monster to the Wardstones. Weren’t golems of any sort illegal?

Cantor didn’t seem worried. Neither did Shin, but if Cecilia was honest, she got the distinct impression that Cantor spent more time worried about illegal activities and how to get away with them than Shin did. He was awfully quick to turn fugitive, and although he’d been open about not being very good at alchemy, he seemed to know a lot about using it to evade detection.

It wasn’t her business. And whatever his background, the mage had been nothing but kind and supportive of her. Possibly the most of anyone in this world, so far. Even knowing who and what she was. Still, she couldn’t help but tuck the suspicion away in the back of her mind. In this particular case, it was reassuring.

A little.

The lizards set a slow and steady pace. Cecilia didn’t know enough about horses, mules, or other beasts of burden to really have an idea of whether the lizards were better or worse than her world’s alternatives, but their stamina was impressive. And they didn’t need to eat, apparently. At least, not often. No feed had been carried within the wagon and it didn’t seem to bother anyone. The lizards themselves would make idle grabs of particularly juicy vegetation - and the occasional bird that dared to swoop before their noses - but nothing about their demeanor suggested that they were starving.

They reached the Wardstones a little before dark. Cecilia found herself drawing close to the wagon, as if it might hide her from the blind regard of those towering stone sentinels. It may have just been her imagination, fueled by the earlier discussion, but there was a presence to them, heavy and watchful. The runes rippled with power. It wasn’t something that was seen with the eyes so much as felt with some sense she couldn’t put a name to it. She wished she’d taken Azoth Mapping.

Instead, she’d taken Awakened Eye at Level 4, and then both Mental Grimoire and Mind Shield while on the road - the latter was the most important. She never wanted to again experience the helpless violation the golem-maker had forced on her. With any luck, this would allow her to repel any more such attempts to overwhelm her will or her skills. Mental Grimoire was useful enough; with its help, she’d finally cast the Light spell successfully. It was almost as if the skill created a frame in her mind that she could take and fill with azoth from the environment.

One of the things she’d learned was that the land around her teemed with the stuff. Without Azoth Mapping, she couldn’t see it, but Cantor had explained that if you knew it was there, you could tap into it with just will and focus. Wood and Earth were easy in this province; you could gather it from almost any tree or stone. But both forms were also sluggish and difficult to rouse, which meant that it took a while. Cantor demonstrated pulling azoth from the environment for her as he tried to refill some small portion of his reserves during the nightly camp. It clearly wasn’t enough. With every day that passed, the mage looked more ragged.

Even their new companion was concerned. As they began to lumber through the shadow of the Wardstones and everyone else’s attention turned to watch them, Mynet spoke quietly, leaning so close to her assumed form that Cecilia had to bite back a yelp. “Sorry,” he murmured, bright green eyes apologetic. “I just thought now might be a good time to talk?”

“About what?” She didn’t mean for it to sound as wary as it did.

He gestured towards the front of the wagon, where Cantor was riding with Shin. “Your friend. Is he going to be okay? He’s looking–drawn.”

“I think so,” Cecilia replied. It wasn’t as confident as she would have liked, and she couldn’t help the worried glance in that direction. “He’d tell us if he wasn’t able to do it.”

Mynet’s mmm was politely skeptical. “Just keep an eye on him. Where are you going when we reach the city? The Exalted Circle? The Guild?”

Cecilia tried not to panic at the mention of the Guild. She wiped one of her palms on her trousers; a perfectly useless gesture considering that she wasn’t able to sweat in the first place. “You’d have to ask Dai or Ohta. I’ve never been to the city. I’m mostly just the muscle.” Her deeper, more masculine voice at least didn’t crack or break with nervousness. One of the few blessings of being in the alien form. Another was that Mynet didn’t look her in the eye as he considered her response, but rather somewhere a couple of inches above her eyebrows. It looked like he was being judgmental about her hair, but at least that was better than having to win a stare-off with him.

“I’ll have to do that,” he said, at last. “I want to reward you all for helping me out when you didn’t need to. I’m not exactly carrying a big purse around at the moment, so I’ll need to know where you’re staying to send it to you.”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“Listen, we were just doing what any decent people would do. You don’t have to–”

He cut her off with a shake of his head. “Untrue. Decency should be rewarded. You have no idea how rare it can be.” There was a bleak sharpness to his smile. And his gaze, for that matter. He stared at what he thought was her face in silence, then sighed. “I’ll talk with the other two about it. Just remember–wherever you end up, he’s going to need rest, some azoth replenishment potions, and a lot of food. Ideally, spicy fowl if you can get it.”

Cecilia blinked. “Really?”

Mynet nodded. “He’s mentioned that he mostly casts with the celestial azoths, particularly fire and light. Having him convert and drain so much of his with the wagon spell will leave him out of balance. He’ll need food that contains as much of those types as possible. If you can afford charging stones, that’d be best. But if you can’t, pigeon or chicken in spicy sauce will help restore his internal balance.”

She made a low, thoughtful sound. “Thanks. We’ll try. How do you know so much about it? I thought you were a scribe.”

“A court scribe,” Mynet agreed with a smile. “Courts are always hiring mages, and I often had to take down or carry letters speaking of the needs of those mages. Azoth replenishment is a matter of life and death for a mage.”

“I had no idea. Thanks, Mynet.”

“It’s not a problem. Just let me know where you guys end up so that I can contact you? Not just for the reward. If we’re all going to be new in the city, it wouldn’t hurt to have some friends.”

Here, Cecilia couldn’t help her hesitation. Mynet seemed like a nice enough guy, and he was certainly not affiliated with the Guild. But maintaining contact with him meant being Jon. And she hated Jon. She couldn’t wait to shed this particular disguise and crawl into at least the illusion of a skin that was her own. “We’ll see,” she said, and tried not to wince as his friendly expression fell into disappointment.

At the head of the wagon, Cantor and Shin let out a whoop. Cecilia, startled, realized that the Wardstones were falling behind them. Mynet laughed, and gestured at what lay beyond. “Behold: Can Gallos.” Cecilia turned to look past his hand. She couldn’t help but gasp.

From the Wardstones, the ground that was not the road fell steeply down, into farmlands as far as the eye could see. The orderly and abundant fields would have been remarkable enough, but what they were growing reminded Cecilia, once again, that she was not on Earth anymore. To her left, rows upon rows of wooden trellises reached at least six feet high. Each trellis supported thick vines, and every vine was heavy with fruit that looked almost like blackberries. If blackberries typically grew to the size of cantaloupes. On her right, some sort of grain was the crop of choice, but the swelling heads at the tip of the long, crimson stalks were smoking. The breeze shifted, carrying a whiff of something to her nose. Burnt cinnamon was the closest she could come to identifying the scent, with perhaps undertones of soap. Small dirt roads broke off from the Imperial road, leading to small cottages and buildings in the distance on both sides of the road, and here and there, Cecilia saw men and women working the fields. None of them looked up as the wagon glided past; they clearly had more than enough work on their hands to get done before the sun set, and no time for curiosity.

It was also the end of any pretense of solitude. Heavy wagons drawn by more lizards trundled their way up from the fields to join them on the road. The stolid men and women who drove those wagons eyed their own magicked disaster with a touch of amusement. They, like the other travelers, offered no helpful exchange of parts; they were smaller than Mynet’s wagon, for all that they were heaped with sacks, baskets, and casks of various products. They relaxed, fractionally, when he mentioned that the wagon’s goods were all meant for the materials and artisans’ markets, not the farmers’.

What the farmers did have - in abundance - was gossip. Mynet was particularly interested in hearing every story, and his pleasant, open demeanor drew out tales that had the hours on the road passing swiftly. Most were small stories about neighbors and rumors about what was happening the next farmhold over, often regarding marriages, affairs, and whose child ran off to become an adventurer rather than pull one more aquataro out of the ground. But a few had stories of the gossip of Can Gallos proper and Mynet listened with interest.

The farmers agreed in every story that the Viscount was in trouble. They didn’t necessarily agree what form that trouble took. Theories ranged from the treasury running dry as she tried to pay the ruinous taxes the Empire imposed to being afflicted with a deadly illness that she didn’t dare reveal before she’d appointed an heir - one that would survive the honor. Apparently, that was the part of the Viscount’s trouble that everyone knew about: her last two appointed heirs had died in tragic accidents, and even after a year, she had not appointed a third.

The only other thing people agreed on was that the Viscount had withdrawn from public sight, leaving most of the running of the city to her courtiers. It gave everyone an uneasy feeling, but the farmers seemed resigned to it. “As long as the city needs to eat, we’ll be fine,” one woman said, with a shrug of shoulders that were nearly as wide as Cecilia’s illusionary ones. “Lords come and lords go. But you can always trust the soil.”

When they had some space, Cecilia said to Mynet, “No wonder there was a position open. You sure you want to walk into whatever’s going on there?”

He had been studying the road ahead with a thoughtful expression. He didn’t flinch or jump, but she still had the sensation that she’d startled him out of some deep considerations. His smile was immediate and warm, despite that. “At least it means I’ll have something useful to do. There’s nothing quite as unpleasant as being bored in a new job, don’t you think?”

“No, I can think of a couple of less pleasant things right off the top of my head.” Like being thrown off the roof of your job, she thought. Out loud, she said, “If the Viscount really is going broke and can’t pay your salary, for example.”

“One of the benefits of it being an Imperial position, appointed to me through my Guild, is that my salary is guaranteed. If the Viscount cannot cover it, the Guild will.” Mynet sighed. “Although, that would be granted to me once I returned to the nearest Guildhouse, which does mean some lean times in between. But,” here he turned and gave her a sly and playful smile, “for some reason, scribes always seem to be top of the payroll when the lists get sent to the treasury.”

“Because the scribe wrote the list?”

He grinned. “You catch on quick.”

Cecilia waved the compliment away. “Just be careful. It sounds like trouble to me.”

“You may be correct,” Mynet admitted, with a quick, searching look at where he thought her eyes were. “And thank you. For caring.”

Something about the intensity of his voice, as if the concern was entirely out of the ordinary, brought up a deep awkwardness in Cecilia. Had she said something wrong? Given the game away? She didn’t think so. Shin, Cantor, and all the people of Ikshan had been every bit as friendly to her, with less motivation. Surely she hadn’t stumbled on some esoteric cultural barrier. She responded lamely, “No problem. You, uh, cared about Ohta. Same thing, right?”

Mynet hesitated, then smiled. “Of course. Speaking of, he looks like he’s about to fall off the wagon. I’ll go and check on him.” He widened his strides.

Cecilia made no effort to follow him even though Cantor was looking a bit wobbly. One more day. He just had to get through one more day.

*

The next day, Cecilia saw Can Gallos properly. It wasn’t the scale of the city nor the size of the buildings that fascinated her; she’d seen taller buildings and larger cityscapes than this. She’d never seen a walled city, and despite the Wardstones, Can Gallos did have walls. They were unimpressive in height, no more than four or five feet high. But they were stone, fitted together so tightly that she didn’t see room for mortar between each cut block. More, they were painted.

They’ve got graffiti in fantasy land? was her first thought, but as they came closer, what she’d first taken for individual splashes of color and form resolved into a more chaotic but cohesive whole. Stylized figures of humanoids and monsters battled eternally. The paintings didn’t shy away from blood or death, with soldiers in white-painted armor walking through bright red rivers created by the bodies of fallen monsters and people. A female warrior with long, flowing hair stabbed an insectile beast right between its gaping mandibles and black ichor spurted forth, frozen in the moment before it would bathe her in darkness.

She must have been staring openly, because Shin’s chuckle at her elbow caught her off-guard. “Impressive, yes?”

“I–yes. Who painted that?”

“The Exalted Circle and the temples of the gods oversee the work, and the artists of the city contribute. The Circle and temples choose Wallwarders on the winter solstice and they serve for a year. I hear the stipend is generous.” She gave a little, wistful sigh. “Should maybe have taken up art rather than the bow.”

“Do you like to draw?” It didn’t seem to fit with what Cecilia knew of the other woman.

“I like money,” Shin replied, which did.

“Wallwarders–is that an enchantment?” She activated Analyze even before the words were properly out of her mouth. “It is. Level 20? That’s impressive.” Her voice dropped to something she hoped Mynet, taking a turn to drive the wagon, wouldn’t hear. “It is, right?”

“It is. The Wallward is a final level of protection, should the Wardstones fall, or the danger come from inside the city. Civil war, rebellion, or an outbreak of the dead.”

Cecilia examined the wall and its bloody beauty once more. “What does it do?”

“I’ve never seen it activate, but what it’s meant to do is manifest the city’s defenders throughout the ages. You see the faces? Each one was a great warrior in life. In death, they agreed to allow a conjuration wrought of azoth to be painted into the wall, held there for eternity against the city’s need. Not a ghost. Not undead. Just a magical impression of their skill and strength.” She made an exasperated sound. “I cannot explain it. You must ask C–Ohta these things if you want them to make sense.”

“Right now, Ohta doesn’t look like he can string two words together. I’m surprised he hasn’t dropped the spell.”

“He won’t,” she said, grimly. “Mages have their pride. We are nearly there. See?” She waved to the place where the road met the wall. Cecilia had barely paid any attention to it in light of the Wallward, but now she saw a broad break in the wall, a gate with no doors, just a few bored men and women in armor, and each wagon slowing down long enough to speak briefly before being waved in.

It seemed a very casual process, but a chill ran down Cecilia’s back, nonetheless. The three had talked about getting into the city, and she’d been assured that Can Gallos was not one of the restrictive cities of the Empire and being a freeholder, Cecilia (or Jon) wouldn’t be expected to have much in the way of paperwork. Still, she said, “Are you sure–”

Shin stopped her with a touch to her elbow. “It will be fine so long as you do not look like you are carrying an entire drawer of stolen silver in your pack.” She smiled. “So stop looking like that, yes?”

Cecilia tried. She rubbed at her face until the stone squeaked. “Right, right. Nothing to be worried about.”

“Mm.” Shin looked her up and down. “Just look silent and intimidating, and if you are asked for anything, try to look too stupid to understand it. We’ll come to your rescue.”

In the end, Cecilia did not have to look too stupid. The guards did stop Mynet’s wagon - she couldn’t blame them, seeing as Cantor was sitting next to the merchant looking like grim death, and half the wagon was floating off the ground with no visible support. But the novelty of this - and a touch of worry for Cantor’s exhaustion - was enough to dominate the interaction.

It helped that Mynet, oblivious of any reason to be concerned, pulled out a thick stack of papers and handed them over without hesitation. He identified the three as his companions, and whatever was in the papers seemed to change the guards’ demeanors sufficiently that they were all waved through with nothing more than some volunteered directions to the White Wings Guildhouse for the wagon–and the Exalted Circle’s building for Cantor.

“This is where we part ways,” Mynet said as the wagon came to a halt before a blockish stone building that wouldn’t have been very impressive at all, if it wasn’t for the flawless white paint and the statue of the equine-like creature out front, its hooves and wings gilded with what looked like real gold. Mynet continued, gently, “Ohta? You can put the wagon down, now.”

Cantor startled. He licked his lips, which Cecilia winced to see were starting to crack, despite the moisture in the air. “I can get it to the berth.”

“I’m sure you could,” Mynet was quick to say, “but there are spellwards. It’d be too much trouble to seek an exemption for them. Look, Wings are coming to take the wagon. You’re done, with my eternal thanks.”

Cantor let out a breath that sounded like the sort of thing that might be the last sound a man made before dying. He gestured with his hands, which had been clenched in his robes, and the back half of the wagon descended with a deliberate grace and gentleness until it touched the ground with scarcely even a rattle of shifting goods. Cantor climbed out of the wagon and offered a courtly bow to Mynet. “You’re quite welcome. It was my pleasure, of course.”

Then his knees collapsed, and he tumbled towards the ground like a puppet with all its strings cut. Cecilia was there to catch him before he could hit the dirty cobbles, but as she lifted him, she could see that his eyes were already rolled back in his head.