City of Towers_ The Dreaming Dark - Keith Baker [87]
“I didn’t say citizens of Breland. I said people of Sharn. I’m not asking you to forget Cyre, Daine. I just want you to put the welfare of your neighbors ahead of a nation you’ll never see again.”
Daine frowned. There was some sense to what she said, but he’d spent the last ten years fighting Brelanders and Karrns, and it was hard to let that anger go in a day. And despite the months he spent in the Mournlands, it was hard to accept that Cyre truly was gone forever.
“And what does Councilor Teral think about this?” he asked.
“Teral and I don’t always see eye to eye, but he’s done a great deal to hold the community together. He brought a large number of survivors out of the Mournland, and it was his gold that paid for many of the tents in the square. If you ask me, it doesn’t do us any good to pretend that Cyre will return. But Ambassador Jairen agrees with Teral.” She shrugged.
“Jairen? You mean we still have an ambassador?”
Greykell nodded. “With so many Cyran refugees in the city, the mayor decided to allow the embassy to remain open. It doesn’t have any real power, but they’ve been helping people find work, track down family members … that sort of thing. More or less what I do every day. They’re just dealing with Karrnath itself instead of the families of Karrn veterans.”
“Hmm.”
Greykell stopped walking for a moment. “All right, this is our final stop. Watch your step.”
They were standing outside an old tenement building. The door had been torn from its hinges and was nowhere to be seen, and most of the windows were covered with boards.
“You think this is where we’ll find Hugal?” Daine said, reaching for his sword.
Greykell caught his hand and pushed the blade back into its sheath. “Maybe. But what I meant was ‘watch your step.’ The floors on some of the upper levels have been known to give way. How are you with structural engineering, Lei?”
Lei shrugged.
“They call this place Dolurrh’s Doorstep,” Greykell said, leading them through the shattered doorframe. “It’s one of the oldest Cyran enclaves in the district. A tent in the square would be safer, but the people here have their own sense of community. You’ll see.”
The hallway reeked of sweat and urine. There was an emaciated old woman dressed in a rotting robe stretched out on the floor of the atrium, and for a moment Daine thought she was dead. When she turned to look at them, her eyes were glazed and staring.
“Dreamlily,” Greykell whispered. “Aureon only knows how the people here afford it.” She walked over to the old woman and pulled her to her feet. “Syllia,” Greykell said. “Why don’t I take you back to your family?”
The old woman gazed at Greykell without recognition. “I’m comfortable,” she said in a cracked, reedy voice. “Nothing touches me here.”
Daine glanced at Lei, who shrugged. He wondered if Jode could do anything for the woman. He doubted it. The power of Jode’s dragonmark had little effect on mental afflictions.
“Come along, Syllia,” Greykell said, taking her arm. “Let’s get you home.”
“You’re always willing to lend a hand, aren’t you?”
Daine turned to face the new voice. Three people had just come in from the street. The speaker was a massive man, almost as large as Pierce. Daine guessed he had some orc blood in his veins, though it didn’t show on his features. All three were dressed in stained and ragged clothing, and the leader was carrying a club of polished wood.
“We take care of our own,” he said, and his deep voice was a live with anger.
He gestured and one of his companions came forward—a shifter, her fur filthy and matted, her fangs showing signs of rot and decay. She pulled Syllia away from Greykell and dragged her down the hall.
“Doras!” Greykell said cheerfully. “Just the person I wanted to see.” She walked to the angry man as if to give him a hug, but Doras moved his cudgel between them.
“I’ve told you before,” he said. “I don’t want you here.” He glared at Daine and spat at his feet. “Or your pathetic lapdogs.”
Daine moved forward, but Greykell stopped him.
“Is there a problem?” Daine snapped.