Menagerie - Martin Day [25]
He'd sent the fruits of this most recent exploration ahead of him, to the show. Now it was just him, and that damn horse.
He could see the chimneys of the power station known as the Furnace, and the Castle of Kuabris gripping the hillside like the crystalline skeleton of a hunting beetle. A light wind was beginning to blow the clouds and fog away, leaving only the fumes from the Furnace behind. He'd never been to the city and avoided the rain before. Perhaps it was an omen.
Diseaeda reached down into one of the leather bags slung to the side of the saddle, and unfolded a wide-brimmed hat.
The sun was already making his neck itchy, although the wet noise of the horse's hooves as they sank into drenched grass reminded him that such a state of affairs was purely temporary. From the other saddle bag he produced a small bottle of ointment. He splashed a little into his weathered palm, and then slapped some on his neck. He made sure that the bottle was well concealed before the gatehouse came into view.
Avoid trouble. Travel light.
As usual it was the rather pathetic City Guard who manned the gate. There were four of them there, and the youngest, barely out of school, was booted into the sunlight to examine Diseaeda's papers. The others continued with their furtive gambling. Now Diseaeda knew a trick or two.
When he had owned nothing but his own stall and the clothes he stood in he'd relied on such conjuring. But he fancied he'd get little from the guards. Best to keep quiet.
Concentrate on the boy.
'You got papers?' asked the boy.
Diseaeda looked down from his horse. 'Of course.' He produced a sheaf of parchments from his pocket. The folds had become tears, and the boy had great difficulty extracting the required authorization. A tiny stream of sand poured on to the guard's boots as he fumbled with the papers. 'Aren't you a little young to be carrying a sword?'
asked Diseaeda without thinking.
'Still your lips,' said the boy, giving Diseaeda's letters of authorization back. 'My ma's a great lover of roast tongue, and she ain't too partial where it comes from.'
'Apologies,' said Diseaeda, cursing his joking that would one day surely be the death of him. He nudged his horse forwards as the gate squealed open, and made straight for the market.
A horse was doubtless a rare sight in the city, and Diseaeda was well aware of the looks he was receiving.
Despite his fear, it did wonders for his ego. He fanned himself regally with his papers before stuffing them away again.
A woman rushed up to him, gabbling something about her dead husband. Diseaeda smiled, but didn't stop.
He dismounted at the edge of the market, and looked around for Xaelobran. It didn't take him long to spot the man, making a show of juggling some small yellow fruit whilst bellowing that his produce was the best, the cheapest, and the most wholesome.
'Xaelobran, you old dog!' shouted Diseaeda, causing the trader to fumble.
Xaelobran turned, his feet now stained yellow, and started to laugh. 'I thought the stink in the air was a blocked chimney. I should have known better!' A woman took over Xaelobran's position at the front of the stall as the two men embraced. 'Not seen your face for a long while.'
Diseaeda nodded. 'Been busy with the show.'
'Successful?'
'There are good months and bad months. Yourself?'
'Wouldn't like to say.'
'The knights can't stop you having memories,' said Diseaeda, suddenly lowering his voice.
Xaelobran nodded, his eyes defensively examining the faces in the crowd. 'Aye,' he said. 'But they keep on trying.'
'Madness,' said Diseaeda. 'A city built on the principles of madness.'
'And the influence of the blessed knights extends day by day,' hissed Xaelobran. He turned to pat his friend's horse.
'A fine creature. I'll get my son to water her and keep her safe.'
'Thank you.'
'So, what are you looking for this time?'
'Difficult to say until I've seen it. Heard anything?'
'Two things we must do before you leave. I've just been told about something that might interest you.