Chapter 15

  Dalex listened as Hitasa talked and they navigated the maze of walkways, stairs, and ramps that led down to the city at the bottom of the canyon.

  “Humans and their dragon overlords heavily control what is said and published on Gaia Eta,” she explained. “It’s the same on all the worlds, but they are most strict here. Everyone learns to read and write, but very few have access to the tools that allow them to spread the written word. From your jabbering in the forest, I think you mostly understand the publication of weapons and spells. If you convince enough people that a weapon can perform a magical feat, it will do so. Likewise, if you convince people that your word of power can evoke a particular spell, it comes true, though only for you. Others cannot use your words unless they publicize themselves to be able to do so.”

  They reached the bottom of the canyon and found themselves hemmed in by tall brick buildings at a three-way crossroads. Seventh, watching the city from above with {far sight}, gestured for them to take the right-hand path and then head north along a wider street. They shared the street with dozens of elves and beastkin. For now, Dalex and Seventh, sort of, were the only humans in sight. Whenever a local noticed Dalex’s ears, they bowed; the elves continued until he couldn’t see them anymore.

  Hitasa continued, “The safest and easiest way to create a word of power is to write about it and get people to read what you write. You can try and spread a word of power by mouth, but many are conditioned not to listen to strangers speaking of spells, and others will report the attempt. Dragons and humans want to hoard all of the words of power for themselves. They crack down on unauthorized publications quickly and brutally. That is what you saw happen to me and my brother.”

  The street came to a circular junction with a large stone statue at its center. Dalex found himself face to face with the carved head of a dragon. The figure stood on four legs about twice his height, but its spread wings made it feel even bigger. A long tail curled around its body, ending in a razor-sharp point like a dagger. Its reptilian eyes stared right at Dalex, mouth open wide and full of teeth perfect for munching on knights. It looked far more threatening than the chameleon Dalex had killed.

  “I’m guessing they’re bigger than this,” Dalex said.

  “The smallest are four times this size. Drakko, the subject of this sculpture, could easily touch the south canyon wall with the tip of his snout and the north wall with his tail. He does not block out the sun like some of the draconic gods, but his shadow would cool this city on a hot day.”

  Dalex rotated around the statue once to get a solid impression of what the real creature might look like. This one was big and beefy like the dragons of Earth’s western lore that might burn down a king’s castle. It didn’t match the thinner and more worm-like dragons of the eastern lore.

  “Do all of them look like this, or is there variation?”

  “No dragon is the same as another, but they do fall into a few groups.”

  They left the dragon behind, continuing north toward the river while Hitasa went on. “I want solace for my people. I want elves to live without fear, and to walk in the great forests again without collars or masters. The dragons and their human servants control everything about our lives. We live where they choose, read what they demand of us, and speak only the words they teach us. They force us to serve them, waiting on their beck and call. They send us into the hot and dark depths of Gaia Eta to mine for their glittering stones. They force us to hew down our forests so they can have lumber to build their cities. And they decide when we die. No elf may live beyond the age of seventy-five years. If any elf attempts to circumvent this rule, two members of their family are killed for every extra year they cling to life. It has been this way for almost a thousand years.”

  The street became a bridge that spanned the river. It supported itself with a series of arches. A network of cables ran high over the bridge but did not seem to be part of the bridge’s structure. Dalex, Hitasa, and Seventh strolled almost to its middle before a thin gate came down across the walkway. A crowd built up along the gate as the cables above began to move. A section of the closed off area of the bridge slowly rose, creating a ramp into thin air.

  Dalex looked left along the river to see a wooden tall ship bearing down on the bridge. Its sails were furled. Three dozen rows of oars propelled the ship forward, and it passed through the temporary opening in the bridge without scraping the sides. Dalex guessed the canyon created conditions where the sails wouldn’t be effective. He also surmised that Batulan-bar must be somewhat close to an ocean or inland sea. This ship didn’t look like it was suited to travel along a narrow river.

  “Who do you think rows in the depths of that ship?” Hitasa asked, pointing at the oars diving in and out of the water.

  “I think I can guess,” Dalex said.

  “Elves,” Seventh said, not content to let the text be subtext.

  After the drawbridge extended again to close the gap and they reached the other side of the river, Hitasa said, “My brother wanted to give our people hope. He wanted to plant in their minds the idea that they could recapture their pride and maybe even steal their freedom back from the dragons one day. I wanted to help him. And Petaa wanted to help me.”

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  “Petaa?” Dalex asked as they began the ascent to the mutt hunter’s lodge. A thousand steps and a meandering mile of carved ramps clogged the path.

  “A teacher—one of the few elves given the privilege to nurture young elven minds. That role is usually reserved for beastkin of stature, and for humans, though they made an exception for the pliant and obedient Petaa. Sitoa and I knew him from childhood. We thought we could trust him. Despite his obedience, he was frustrated by what the humans forced him to teach. When we found no other alternative, we went to him for paper and ink.”

  They paused halfway up the canyon wall to catch their breath and looked at the southern bank of the river. The sun washed most of the bottom of the canyon in its light, painting the city gold. Dalex decided he wanted to live here.

  Before they continued up the south wall, Hitasa said, “Petaa was also my lover.”

  Dalex looked at her, dreading the continuation of her story.

  “It was relatively easy to convince him to help us,” she went on. “I placed the idea early on in his head and hinted at it over the course of a year. When we went to him with the idea directly, he was enthusiastic. I didn’t tell him that I also wanted to publicize a word of power. He smuggled a few pieces of paper to us and a mostly empty vial of ink. It wasn’t much. We couldn’t distribute anywhere, but we could take our ideas from the imaginary and make them physical on a page. We quickly knew exactly what we wanted to say—what we wanted our people to read—and so we pressured Petaa for more, and he brought it to us.”

  They reached the Mutt Hunters’ Lodge. A wide stone staircase ran parallel to the canyon wall, leading up to a large rectangular colonnade open to the elements. Torches burned between each column. Dalex waited to climb the stairs until Hitasa finished her story.

  “The more we asked from Petaa, the more fearful he became. Every day, he told me he expected the Wolf Brigade to come for him. Soon, he refused to help us any further. At that point, we had found another supplier and were ready to move on. I told him he no longer needed to help us. He could forget the matter entirely and live his life as normal.”

  She took a deep breath. “But his fear persisted. My brother wanted to publish soon. We made a thousand pamphlets by hand, and I made five-hundred more describing the spell I wanted to create. If five-hundred people read my spell, that would go a long way to making it a reality. We were careful, doing all of our writing and copying in a workshop deep in the forest. Neither of us took our work home.

  “But Petaa knew where our workshop was. He came to visit us one day. I asked if he wanted to read what we had prepared. He did. The day after that, he led the Wolf Brigade right to us. For his own freedom, he turned us in, and the wolves took my brother and I straight to Castreier.”

  A shudder went through her body, and she rubbed her right shoulder. “Turns out Castreier had been hunting us since we first came to Batulan-bar to find my uncle. He heard a rumor that two elves wanted to write, and he followed that rumor for years.” She closed her eyes, squeezing the lids tight. “I never imagined the first person I would give my writing to would be a human. Castreier… persuaded us to tell him everything, burned every last copy of our manuscript, and then arranged for our execution.”

  Dalex, Hitasa, and Seventh stood quietly at the bottom of the steps to the lodge for a long minute. Hitasa looked out at the city again. Dalex pondered her tale. Seventh studied the columns of the lodge.

  A beastkin man with cat ears wearing the uniform of a mutt hunter came out from the colonnade and walked down the steps. He gave the two humans and their elf companion a quizzical look which became a nod of respect when he realized they had noticed him.

  After he was gone, Dalex asked, “What was the spell you wanted to publicize?”

  “Astregn,” she whispered. “Astregn means the crushing star.”

  “{Starfall},” Dalex mused. “That’s a good one. You know, I can get you paper. I can probably get you more paper than you know what to do with.”

  If the {voidstalker} could make food and clothes and weapons, it could certainly make a few thousands sheets of paper.

  Dalex expected Hitasa to disbelieve him. He anticipated one of her judgmental looks, the kind that meant she thought he was a child. She would ask him where he thought he could find such a valuable commodity, and he would explain his own magic.

  Instead, her eyes glassed over. Dalex froze. Had her catatonia manifested again?

  He quickly said, “But we can worry about that later. Are you ready to go inside?”

  Her eyes slowly brightened. After a few seconds, she looked at him. “Yes, I think I am ready.”

  Dalex did his best not to breathe a sigh of relief at how quickly she snapped out of it. Why had explaining the grim plight of her people and recounting the traumatic story of her lover’s betrayal not triggered a withdrawal earlier? It seemed his single revelation about having access to paper was the catalyzing element.

  He mulled over what that might mean as they ascended to the colonnade. When they reached the top of the steps and passed through the columns, they entered a wide-open chamber floored with mostly flat, smooth stone. The north side of the canyon made up the wall to Dalex’s left. At the center of the chamber burned a blue bonfire. It was encircled by a double spiral staircase in a helical pattern that led to the closed off upper stories.

  The room was sparsely populated. Each of the four corners of the colonnade contained a large pit lined with couches and tables. Only one of the pits was occupied with a mixed group of beastkin and elves. Just in front of the roaring blue fire was a long limestone bar around which more hunters congregated.

  The beastkin hunters looked up at the new arrivals briefly and then went back to whatever they were doing. The elves watched Dalex and his companions more closely. If Dalex understood the power dynamics of this world at all now, they were waiting to see if they needed to prostrate themselves before the humans.

  Dalex straightened out his shirt and strode across the chamber until he stood in front of the bar. Hitasa and Seventh followed behind him, the elf mostly looking down at the floor. One of the beastkin at the bar, a fox-eared woman with a scar across her left eye, noticed Dalex’s approach and straightened to face him.

  “Welcome to the Mutt Hunter’s Lodge of Batulan-bar, Lord Human.” She gave Dalex and Seventh each a slight bow of her head and said, “What service can the lodge offer you today?”

  Dalex playfully slapped the counter of the bar with his palm and said, “I’d like to become a hunter, please.”

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