The Magic of Recluce - L. E. Modesitt [25]
The staff stayed in the wardrobe along with the cloak.
With a last look at the small room, I closed the door. Outside, the central hallway was empty, although I could hear voices in the neighboring room—Wrynn and Krystal. Their words were low.
The pathway toward the harbor was easy enough to find, since there were stone pedestals every hundred rods or so along each of the paths, with names and arrows pointing out the way.
Harbor—3 kays
Northway Depot—2 kays
Administration—1 kay
I kept following the arrows until I reached a black stone wall that ran north and south from one side of the peninsula to the other. It was low, a little over two cubits. Nor was it really a barrier, since there were no gates at the openings where the paths went through it. On one side were the almost park-like grounds that had stretched for more than a kay, with scattered low buildings.
From where I stood at the top of a long set of wide steps, I could look over the central part of Nylan—or the commercial district, whatever it was called. Behind and over the building tops, I could see the blue of the harbor and the tops of several masts.
Right beyond the wall, the ground fell away, in a grassy slope that dropped a good fifteen cubits in less than a hundred. On the other side of the downslope, the buildings began—all black stone, roofed in black slate. Each stood separately, set back from the black stone-paved streets and the shinier black curbs. Unlike Enstronn or Mattra or even Wandernaught, there were no hitching posts. Despite the width of the streets, they did not seem to be designed for horses or wagons.
People walked the streets, some carrying packages, some carrying nothing, some in black, some in all colors of the rainbow.
No one even looked up the hill. So I headed down.
Halfway down, I looked back up. The wall that had looked so low from the uphill side appeared at least fifteen cubits high from the base of the hill. Even accounting for more stone exposed on the downhill side, I didn’t think the wall was nearly that high. But speculating on optical illusions wouldn’t tell me any more about Nylan.
Once on the streets of the harbor area, everything felt more normal. People talked, and I could hear the babble of the market square ahead. With all the black stone, the city should have felt warmer, especially on a summer afternoon, but the breeze from the west was cool enough, apparently, to keep the temperature comfortable.
A sailor, red-haired and red-bearded, gave me a long glance as I entered the square. Half the booths, those on the north side, seemed permanent, workmanlike and well-crafted. Those on the south side, some of which were no more than half-tents or canvas-covered tables, seemed shoddy by comparison. Several seemed untended.
I nodded. The outland traders and ships had their wares on the south side.
“Young fellow—come see the amber from Brysta!”
“…fire-diamonds from Afrit! Here alone!…”
Still, the calls from the hucksters were muted. Perhaps thirty shoppers filled the entire square, split among nearly as many vendors. Most of the shoppers were young, not much older than me. Dangergelders, those doing duty with the Brotherhood, I guessed as I looked first at the booths on the north side of the square.
The first displayed some ceramics. Good work, but nothing to compare to my mother’s. The colors were too vivid. A man sat behind them, perched on a stool, who gave me a passing grin as if to acknowledge I would buy nothing.
In quick order, I passed some carved and gilded mirrors; a goldsmith’s display of rings, necklaces, and pendants; a smith’s array of assorted steel tools, which seemed of high quality; leather goods, including purses, belts, packs, and sheaths for various sizes of knives; a bootmaker’s display with several gaudy, if well-tooled, sets of boots.
At the woodworking stall, I stopped, surveying the items on display. All were small—breadboards, book holders, and mostly carved boxes. No furniture, except a tiny pedestal table and a two-shelf