Part 11 The City
1.Eagle would never speak Carys’ name to anyone. He stored it in a hidden corner of his mind, with names such as Lusa and Rhea and Run – and Kassir. But there was a difference this time. The others he was not allowed to say. There was no taboo on Carys’ name. But Eagle preferred to keep it only for himself – his treasure, just like the winter afternoons spent with her. The memories of a time when he could have chosen a different path.
He did not want other people to know how significant those days had been for him. So, if he ever mentioned Carys, he did so in passing, and never by name. He thought he was protecting her memory somehow, by keeping her only to himself. He was keeping fresh in his mind her proud stance, her determination, the way her dark eyes would smoulder whenever she did not want to be contradicted.
She had strong convictions and, even though they differed from Eagle’s, the two of them had been alike in many ways. He might have been a spirit of the empty road, always moving, and she a child of the Gloom-hills, forever staying still, but there had been a kind of kinship between them. He hoped she managed to find a purpose in the end, hopefully one that would not involve looking after whimsical strangers or taking revenge on cursed creatures. Carys deserved her happiness.
The road was the same as he remembered it. He was rather unused to it now, but, like the last time, when he had left Apple Orchard Village, he was relieved to be on his own again. Even though Carys’ people would never have held his abilities against him, Eagle had still been uncomfortable at the thought of them finding out too much. Even the idea of Carys knowing had not sat well with him.
The land was once again changing. The Gloom-hills were retreating behind him. In front of him were mountains, but for once the road was easy to follow, paved and well-tended. Beyond those mountains, so close that it was beginning to feel real, was the City of White Marble.
Eagle now walked with a new spring in his step. He was strong again. The wounds no longer bothered him. His shoulder had long healed. As the healer had predicted, the scar on his face was still there and would always remain. But he did not mind it. He could scarcely feel it.
There were plenty of settlements again. Most were large villages. They were not part of the Gloom-hills, and the inhabitants behaved more like those of the Bountiful Gardens than like the others in Carys’ village. They did not mistrust strangers but welcomed them with open arms. As many traders passed on their way to the City of White Marble, it was in the villagers’ best interest to be civil to them. They could get many goods, usually at a fair price.
During that part of his journey, Eagle did plenty of business with the villagers. He would need gold to spend some days in the City of White Marble. Staying at inns did not come cheap. Eagle was a hard worker, though, and people were glad to pay him. He still wondered if it would be enough. The crimson stones he had taken from the desert were all sold, except for two he had left for Carys to find.
One day, luck decided to favour him again. There was a bear terrorizing a small farming community. It was a fierce animal, and Eagle regretted having to kill it. But the hunt was successful, and, in gratitude, the farmers gave him the bear skin. After he sold it, he had enough money for several nights at a decent inn.
His feet carried him on the broad road that wound through the mountains to the valley below. It was the only road now, and Eagle was not alone. He had joined the many hopefuls heading for the City of White Marble.
2.The dawn was bright and clear. The air smelled of cool dew and fresh flowers. The sounds of the waking world were making themselves known – birds and insects chattering in the wilderness. And, if Eagle listened carefully, he could hear something else – the voices of many people, excited and grave, a rumour of life up ahead. For the first time in many years, it did not overwhelm him. It made him feel thrilled. It was the dawn of the third month of spring. He knew it was a date he would remember for the rest of his life. It was the day he reached the City of White Marble.
He had joined a trading convoy. No one asked him what he was doing there or called him to task. Lonely travellers usually preferred to enter the city with a group. No one mistrusted them. Or, rather, they trusted the city to look after itself. If someone came with evil intentions, those in the city would spot them and prevent them from harming anyone.
Now he was walking next to a tall, middle-aged woman. She reminded him of Tak. She wore the same lavish clothes and had the same confident air, without being overbearing. He was sure she was from the Merchants’ Citadel, a fact proven by the heavy chests she was carrying on a donkey. She caught Eagle’s eye and grinned.
“Is it your first time in the city?” she asked.
Eagle nodded.
“It is. Though I have heard many talk about it.”
The merchant chuckled knowingly.
“I know what you mean. You hear plenty of things about this and that far-off place. And at the end of the day, you wonder how much of it you should believe and how much is just a traveller’s overactive imagination. Still, you need not wonder about the City of White Marble. All the stories about it are real – and then some. It is my sixth time in the city. And I can tell you that you are in for quite a treat.”
Eagle eyed his companion with growing interest.
“You seem to visit it quite often, then,” he remarked.
The woman nodded.
“I could go to plenty of other places, you know,” she confided. “To the Bountiful Gardens – or to the trading posts near the desert. There, people might be unused to my goods and would pay more. There are plenty of merchants in the City of White Marble, so, at one point they might lose interest in what I have to bring. But this is not about business. Once you look on the city, it remains etched in your mind forever. If you’ve admired it once, you feel the need to do so again and again. No other place will really do.”
She fell silent then. Eagle noticed that all those around them had also stopped talking. It was as if they were approaching something that could not be greeted properly without the fitting solemnity. He felt his heart beating wildly with anticipation. They rounded a corner, and suddenly, there it was – the place where all legends came from, the fortress that kept the world together. The miracle of the civilized world.
He stopped short, gaping, his mouth wide open, his breath stolen from his body. The only coherent thought was that this could not be true. What he was seeing could not really be there. It belonged more to a dream or a vision of paradise. It had no place in the real world. And surely it was not fit for mortal eyes to look upon.
The City of White Marble stood there, grand and lonely. But the loneliness was not sad, nor was the grandeur off-putting. Indeed, despite the awe, there was also friendliness coming from it. It welcomed the weary traveller like a mother would, with a warmth that pierced Eagle’s heart. It rose to incredible heights – higher than the Border Fortress, higher even than the Temple of the Sun Gods. But the Temple of the Sun Gods was only a mockery built by mean-spirited folk who had only a crude idea of what greatness should look like. As for the city rising now before his stunned eyes – this was the true place of the gods. It was hard to accept that ordinary people lived within the silver walls.
At that moment, when the wondrous city revealed itself to him, Eagle truly felt fulfilled. There were no worries about the future – no more wondering where he should go next. He had reached a destination of sorts, even though it had not really been his intention to get there. Still, he should have realised that all paths met with the road that led to the City of White Marble. He had been walking on it all along. And now he was exactly where he should be.
The dream dissolved abruptly. Someone nudged him none too gently from behind. He realised with a jolt he was in the way. He resumed walking. Every step brought him closer to the gate. His heart was hammering loudly, and his hands were trembling in anticipation. He kept looking up. Long ago, when he had first beheld the grey walls of the Temple of the Sun Gods, he had felt the need to look away. He felt no such need now. The City of White Marble held one in awe, but you did not look away from it. You admired it unconditionally. You committed every detail of its beauty to memory.
They were now at the gates. Eagle faltered. He glanced at the guards nervously, half-expecting them to stop him. But they barely acknowledged him before they waved him in. So many people passed the gates in a single day, it was hard for them to keep track of all. Eagle entered the city. On a whim, he looked up. The sun was shining, and the sky was clear. But there was something there, a flying creature with wings and bright scales – like the shadow of some fevered dream.
3. It took a long time for him to finally find an inn. There were so many amazing things to see in the city – buildings and gardens and people. Eagle did not want to be anywhere inside. He had to explore the beauty before him. He had never felt happier. It was as if he had never truly been alive until he had looked on the City of White Marble. Being there, walking its streets and looking at the bright faces of its people, made him feel complete. It was like all the missing pieces of himself were finally coming together. He grinned broadly. He would have sung and jumped and clapped, had he not been reserved by nature.
Only one thing clouded his mind, bringing a pang of sorrow amid his overwhelming joy. It was Run. Eagle remembered him more clearly than ever, now that he was inside the City of White Marble. Run had never seen the city, and that was not fair. He was the one who really deserved to be there. He had been an innocent, living his life as best he could, not allowing the decrees of the Priests get in the way of his decent nature. Unlike Eagle, who had been a tool of death in the hands of the priests, however ignorant of his true purpose.
It was noon when Eagle finally decided to find himself some lodgings. He chose a place on a side-street, away from the hustle and bustle of the main road. It would be quiet there, he thought. With no fear, he walked into the common room and asked for a place to sleep and a drink. Then, he retreated to a table. His gloom was gone. Run would have wanted him to enjoy the City of White Marble for both of them, and he had every intention of doing so.
Yet there was something that bothered him a little. Some of the people at the other tables kept glancing at him. They were not saying anything – he was sure he would have heard them if they were talking about him, but they were careful not to. Their looks were not exactly hostile – more anxious, and they made him ill at ease. He firmly told himself it was his imagination. These people had no quarrel with him. If they glanced at him more often than at others, it had to be only because he looked ragged and weather-beaten, with none of the elegance of the usual merchants. That had to be all.
A young girl with long golden hair, probably the innkeeper’s daughter, brought him a tankard of ale. She too glanced sideways at him but said nothing. Eagle thanked her with a smile, trying to appear as friendly as possible. He told himself that if he acted calm and unruffled, they would soon leave him alone. He took a sip of his ale. He closed his eyes in pleasure. It tasted good, with a hint of something that reminded him of the Bountiful Gardens. He fully intended to enjoy his drink, no matter who was watching and why. He took his time, almost challenging those around him to say something.
It was about half an hour later that Eagle finished the drink and set down the tankard with a satisfied sigh. During that time there had been plenty of comings and goings. Travellers and inhabitants alike seemed to enjoy that place. He could make out snatches of conversation on various topics, from the quality of silk in the Merchants’ Citadel, to the deeds of this or that person, or to much deeper discussions about knowledge and magic, things he could hardly understand.
He was debating if he should not go to his room and rest for a while. There would be plenty of time to resume his explorations later on. His decision was taken from him, though, when another mug of ale was placed in front of him. Puzzled, he looked up to find himself face to face with a man around his own age. He was tall, with raven dark hair and hard eyes. His stance was confident. Here was someone who knew exactly where his place in life ought to be and he was obviously proud of it. The man was standing in front of him, a tankard of ale in his own hands. His face was harsh, but not unfriendly.
“I wish to speak with you,” he announced briskly. “And I thought it was only courteous to offer you a drink as well. May I join you?”
It was phrased like a request, but Eagle had the feeling it was more of an order. He did not know who the man was, but he seemed to be on some kind of official business. Eagle did not have a choice in the matter, then. He nodded cautiously.
The man smiled and sat down. He beckoned to Eagle to drink. Eagle took a cautious sip, half afraid it might somehow be tainted. The ale tasted the same. He took another sip and looked up. The man was watching him thoughtfully.
“I am Andrag,” he said. “And you are the one who calls himself Eagle. I believe we need to talk.”
4. At first, Eagle was too stunned to answer. He could not believe the man had recognised him – or that he had heard of him in the first place. While he knew that most of his deeds cast an impression on the people he encountered, he had not been aware that news of him was spreading far and wide or had even reached the City of White Marble. When he met Andrag’s gaze, the man had an amused glint in his eyes.
“You must know how tidings travel on wings of their own. They spread from here to there until they reach even the farthest corner of the world. We’ve heard about you a long while back. We wondered if you might not arrive here. And besides, you are a Path-finder. We always know when Path-finders enter the city.”
Eagle frowned. He liked the name, but he had never heard it before.
“I am a what? Why do you call me that?”
Andrag eyed Eagle somewhat contrite.
“My apologies,” he said quickly. “I forgot you might not be familiar with the word. In the desert, you have a different name. You are called Tenders of Light, if I am not mistaken.”
“Light-tenders,” Eagle corrected distractedly. His face paled when he realised what he had said. “Wait… I do not understand. What makes you think I am one?”
There was no compromise on Andrag’s hard face.
“Of course you are one. You know it and I know it. So, why hide? But, most importantly, the White Order knows. They always know whenever one of your kind is around.”
Eagle froze at the mention of the White Order. In the World Without, he had heard of them many times. People mentioned them with reverence. But he was afraid – he was not of the World Without. He had been a servant of the Desert Gods. What was he then to the White Order? Was he friend or foe?
He cursed himself. He had been careless, and he had let his guard down. The people of the World Without had shown themselves friendly and welcoming, paying him for his services, offering him food and lodgings when he requested them, asking no questions about who he was or what he could do. He had hoped to be able to go undetected for the rest of his life. He had certainly never imagined he would be discovered in the City of White Marble of all places. It was so large, one easily believed they could pass by unnoticed here. And yet, not a day had passed since his arrival and the city already knew who he was. More than that, they had always known. He could hardly fathom his ill fortune.
He glanced at Andrag. The man kept silent, allowing Eagle to let the news sink in.
“And you,” he began uncertainly, “Are you from the White Order?”
Andrag gave a short bark of laughter.
“I? Most certainly not! That is all too high and mighty for the likes of me. But I do work for the Master of the City – and that means I must answer to the White Order as well. They are the ones who sent me to find you.”
Eagle’s eyes darted from Andrag to the door. He wondered if he could escape. He did not think so. He might make it out of the inn unstopped, but he would never make it out of the city. Not if the White Order wanted him to remain there. He swallowed harshly against his fear.
“And…,” he began, ridiculously proud to notice his voice was shaking only slightly. “What are you going to do to me?”
Andrag raised his eyebrows, mildly offended.
“Do to you?” he repeated. “We don’t intend to do anything to you. We do not torture or imprison or kill – or whatever else you might have heard. We are not barbarians, no matter what the people of the desert might say about us. We hurt no one – least of all Path-finders. How could we? They are useful to us.”
Eagle stiffened. Now that he thought better of it, being tortured, imprisoned, or killed sounded much more welcoming than the alternative Andrag hinted at.
“Useful,” he repeated coolly.
Andrag nodded, unaware of Eagle’s growing displeasure.
“We need Path-finders,” he said. “Most agree quite readily to work for us. They are a great help.”
Eagle frowned.
“I used to work for priests at home. They made me a pawn in their own agenda. They used me in the worst possible way to keep the people of the desert in line. I left vowing to myself that I would never allow myself to be used in such a manner – by anyone.”
Andrag raised his tankard, toasting the words.
“Good for you. It always pleases me to see a little morality in someone. And no, you need not fear. We would not want to use you in such a manner. We would only need your help – that is all.”
Eagle examined him carefully. His face was devoid of any deception. He suspected that dishonesty was not something Andrag practised. Perhaps that was why the White Order had sent him. Eagle found himself willing to believe his words.
“So,” he began, uncertainly. “What kind of help do you need from me? What does the White Order want me to do?”
“If what we heard about you is true, you are already doing it. We need you to move from place to place, helping people with their troubles.”
Eagle gaped at Andrag, half-fearing a trap. Hadn't Adar lured him in with something similar all those years back? Andrag, meanwhile, was staring into his tankard, deep in thought.
“There are many dark places and many dangers lurking outside this city. Man is surrounded by threats – frost, floods, wild beasts; sometimes the odd skirmish. We try to help, we of the City of White Marble. But we cannot be everywhere at once. We need help. We need the Path-finders. What you must do will be quite straight-forward – more or less. You will have a land in your care – it will be your choice how big and where exactly. You must listen carefully to any news in that land – what is happening in settlements and so on. Whenever people need your help, you must offer it to them.”
“Is that all?”
Andrag shook his head.
“There are two other things, actually. You must guide people to the City of White Marble. Some of the roads are dangerous. We want people to not be afraid of coming here. We want people to be safe on the road to our city. It will be your job to make sure of that.”
Eagle nodded quickly. He did not mind that much. It would give him plenty of opportunities to return to the City of White Marble. He was about to say that he was ready to help as best he could, when he noticed a small frown on Andrag’s features.
“There is something else, though,” he announced heavily. “Another request. And this you might not find too pleasant.”
Eagle waited patiently, not feeling too disappointed. He had expected conditions. Adar had taught him that much.
“What is it?”
“There is a rule that we – the authorities of the City of White Marble, that is – ask the Path-finders to obey. I do not know who made the rule. But no one has abolished it yet. I suppose they must have their reasons. It is not my place to agree or disagree with them. The law states that Path-finders should live outside settlements. They must not enter towns or villages, not even to get supplies for themselves. If they want to talk to someone from a settlement, they must send word and wait for someone to come to them. Only in dire circumstances, only when there is need of them, can a Path-finder enter a settlement. Otherwise, they are never to do so if they are not called.”
Eagle said nothing for a while. Andrag claimed not to judge the rule, but he clearly did not enjoy asking the Path-finder to obey it, especially after his request for help.
The news left him with mixed feelings. It appeared that even in the World Without Light-tenders – or Path-finders, as they were known there – lived on the fringes of society. They did not mingle with the world. They did not settle down – not with other people around, at any rate. They lived isolated, showing themselves when needed, but otherwise staying hidden. They were guardians on an important mission, but they could also be seen as harbingers. Spotting one could mean danger was close by.
But, if he thought better of it, he was already living in isolation. Had he not already decided to travel from one place to another, helping people who needed him? Now he could do it with the blessing of the White Order. It was ironic – working for the very enemies of his former gods. But, at the same time, it was fitting. If he wanted to wash away the sins he had unknowingly committed in the service of the Sun Priests, perhaps this was the answer.
He noticed the uncertainty on Andrag’s face. Was he afraid Eagle might refuse? But he did not think he could. Where was he supposed to go afterwards? He smiled slightly.
“The truth is, I have long become a creature of the wild myself,” he confessed. “I might have had a chance of settling down once, but that time is long gone. I do not find your proposal as outrageous as you fear I would. In fact, I am quite willing to accept both the job and its terms.”
Copyright Simina Lungu 2022
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