The Veiled City

  Of course, none of these things addressed the problem. In fact, throughout history it is as though people forgot increasingly about the disparate proportions, despite those proportions creeping slowly farther and farther apart. One-to-two has long been the estimated ratio, and yet today medics and midwives say that it is barely one in four—though the imperial census tends to be silent on the matter.

  — From Secrets of Mani, by Sor the Lark

  (Norvaen 12, 997—Waning Day)

  Silver-armored mage soldiers stopped us at the gate to the bridge. A few words from Rhidea got us through with little issue, though. The bridge spanned nearly a mile across the water, and the beauty of the lake and the city before us awed me the whole way as we rode across.

  At last, we reached the city gates on the far side. More guard check-ins here, and then we were in. Inside, Ti’Vaeth was just as beautiful as outside. The roads were paved in the same faintly-blue stones, while rooftops made of copper plates glinted in the sunlight. Most houses and buildings had tall, arched windows and prominent overhanging roofs. Nytaea was an impressive city, to be certain, but I begrudgingly had to admit that Ti’Vaeth was far more striking. Even without the breathtaking setting surrounding it, Ti’Vaeth’s display of architectural design and elegance was second to none.

  The city bustled with life, carts and pedestrians and mounted nobles swarming around here and there. For all its liveliness, however, there was a . . . tension . . . in the air. It was faint; was it the uncertainty about the Wellspring? People in these parts surely knew more about it than in the outer reaches like Nytaea. Glancing upward, I saw the Sky funnel looming and swirling above the citadel, a bit too close for comfort. It droned steadily in the background. What was it like before this “dwindling?” The lake, was it usually higher?

  Soldiers passed us by on either side of the street, along with magi and mage soldiers. As we approached the inner city, ascending a low grade towards the citadel on the central hill, the buildings became taller and more ornate while more and more guardsmen were stationed outside larger keeps and mansions.

  Finally, we arrived at the wall of the citadel of the Archlord. Its crenelated top was easily a dozen paces up. Rhidea hailed one of the mage soldiers who guarded the gate and asked about an audience with the Archlord. She was rewarded by a dry, well-practiced response to the effect of having to wait a few days for the request to be processed, bla bla bla. . . . After a bit of convincing, Rhidea persuaded them that she was the Wandering Mage, at which point one of the guards bowed, mumbled an apology, and ran to report that the Wandering Mage was here.

  Soon, a high-ranking mage soldier came out to the gate and greeted Rhidea with a gracious bow. “Lady Cae Rhidea,” he murmured. “It is an honor that you have graced us with your presence once more. Archlord Domon is busy. I am afraid he will be unable to meet with you this evening.”

  She huffed. “Well, if that’s all the better he can do, then I’ll leave him to his business for now.”

  Turning her mount, she started back in the opposite direction, and the rest of us followed closely. She took us back toward the lower levels of town, a much less opulent sector. Here, we eventually came to a small inn called the Sleepy Dragon. I wasn’t exactly sure what a dragon was, aside from the heraldic symbol used by the Kalceron family, but hey, it was a place to stay, and it was a bit nicer than the few inns we’d stayed at on the way here. The food was very good, featuring lots of fruits and vegetables in both sweet and savory dishes. Dinner included a large salad, something I was not too accustomed to but enjoyed nonetheless. Apparently, meat was not a big part of the cuisine here.

  At the seventh hour, Rhidea went back to the Palace alone. No one went with her, for she said it was best that only she go. I didn’t question her, even though Mydia and I ordinarily got to accompany her wherever she went. The main reason, however, was that we had all come from Nytaea, and we did not yet know how the Archlord would receive such guests. . . .

  She came back two hours later with an expression clouded by annoyance and anger. “That selfish pig!” she cried. “He is so unreasonable, miserable and . . . rrrgh! Sorry, sorry. I’m not upset. I’m not upset. . . .”

  I had never seen the mage so stirred up. She looked like she wanted to kick something.

  Mydia ran up and hugged her. “Lady Rhidea, it will be all right.” It was just the way Mandrie would comfort someone.

  Rhidea sighed. Then, smiling, she patted Mydia’s hair and said, “Yes it will, dear.” She proceeded to back up and recount what had happened. She relaxed a bit as she went. At the last, she summarized: “So, he plans to take back Nytaea from the new government struggling to run it, and he will not show us the Wellspring. He has forbidden access to either one.”

  “Then we’ll just have to break through and get there anyway,” Kaen said resolutely.

  “Or learn what we can here in the city, then make our move,” I suggested.

  Rhidea nodded. “Yes, probably the best course of action. He may change his mind. Or we may discover all we need to know. We can find a way into the Imperial Archives.”

  The irritation, despite her words, had not diminished from her face.

  (Norvaen 13, 997—Waning Day)

  The next morning, after a restful sleep at the Sleepy Dragon, we set about our new goal. We split up into two groups, with Kaen and the soldiers going out into the streets to talk with the locals, while the women—Mydia, Rhidea and I—spoke with officials of the Citadel about getting inside the Archives. Within a short while, we had convinced the keepers of the Archives to allow us access.

  The Imperial Archives was an impressive structure, though one would not know it from the outside, tucked away as it was in the midst of the Citadel. Inside, it was a massive three-room complex featuring a domed ceiling six spans high painted with murals. Multiple levels of walkways spiraled around floor-to-ceiling shelves of scrolls and books. The other two rooms branched off, with more regular shapes and ceilings rising to a lower level, one wing on the left and one on the right. Still not as scholastically rich as Nytaea’s library, according to Rhidea, but larger and much more visually impressive.

  We were let in through an exterior door by a scholarly contact of Rhidea’s named Rodessa—a nervous young woman not much older than myself. Apparently, she indirectly owed Rhidea a favor. I spent a minute just staring in awe at the beautiful design of the Archives—Mydia and I both—until Rhidea gave us a pointed look and cleared her throat, reminding us of our purpose.

  “This way, my good scholars,” said the library attendant. “I can show you to the historical sections.”

  “Perfect!” Mydia said brightly, and then gave a bashful look to Rhidea and a shrug to me.

  I wondered why we wanted to look through old, dusty histories in the first place; I would’ve thought that we’d just go straight for anything on the Wellspring of Magic here in Ti’Vaeth. But Rhidea must know what she was doing, right?

  “Specifically, histories of magic, Rodessa,” Rhidea said as we passed into the historical archives.

  The attendant paused for a brief moment. “Histories of magic, got it.” I could tell that she wanted to question the mage further, but of course this was the Wandering Mage, Rhidea of Randhorn. . . .

  We ended up with a few ancient scrolls, poring through them for hours. Rhidea had already been through much of this library, she said, but this time we were researching specifically how to get into the Well without the Archlord’s attention. Of course, that wasn’t explicitly mentioned anywhere, so it took some digging.

  From here, we worked our way over to documents on the Archlord’s palace, the Hall of Eternity, and how it was built. This would be helpful for once we got inside it. The Hall of Eternity, which housed the Sky Funnel, would not be an easy egg to crack, as it was nestled in the very center of the citadel.

  Two hours later, my brain felt like a plow horse after a long day of work. Mydia was complaining about much the same thing, and Rhidea looked up, sighing. “All right, all right, you may go now. Good work, students.”

  “Yay!” Mydia stood up from her chair, immediately putting a hand over her mouth as she realized how loud her voice was. She whispered an apology, and then proceeded to stretch.

  “Rhidea, you’re staying here longer?” I asked as I rose.

  She half glanced up, eyes still on her roll of text. “Yes. I’m sure you girls can stay out of trouble for a little while until I’m done?”

  “Yes, Lady Rhidea!” Mydia whispered, dropping a curtsy.

  With a murmur of assent, I followed Mydia out. Rodessa politely led us out of the Archives, and then we exited the whole fortified Citadel, and soon we were out on the city streets, overlooking the lower sectors of Ti’Vaeth. Such a sprawling city. . . . The bronze of the rooftops gleamed and glittered in the sunlight, which had been progressing toward the western horizon for a few days now. “So, we’re staying out of trouble . . . right, Mydia?” I grinned mischievously at her.

  She grinned back. “Of course! Why do you ask?”

  “The others probably aren’t back yet, either. Want to explore the city?”

  “You bet I do!” she replied. She checked her pocket watch, noting the time.

  We set off aimlessly down the next main street on the left (no back streets, thank you), heading northward and slightly downhill. The streets of Ti’Vaeth and their intersections were not perpendicular, despite most of the uphill–downhill streets going straight up to the center of the city. Some wound their way up, and the side streets crisscrossed at all angles. Mydia skipped gaily, and I followed a bit more warily.

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  She stopped skipping, jumping back with a yelp, as a squad of mage soldiers passed in front of us at an intersection. “M-mage soldiers!” she hissed.

  I grabbed hold of the back of her dress. “Mydia!” I whispered. “Calm down, it’s fine.”

  We stood and watched as they crossed, and then continued on our way. They didn’t even glance our way. I took the lead this time. “Do you know much about the city?” I asked the queen, turning to her.

  She shook her head, obsidian hair glittering in the evening light as it waved. “No, not a thing. Why do you think I wanted to explore?” Then she pointed toward a tall statue one block down from us. “Ooh! Let’s go see that!”

  I nodded, and we hurried downhill to the square where the statue stood presiding over the middle. It was about four paces tall, and stood on a knee-high pedestal atop a shallow fountain pool. It looked to be crafted of solid copper, its form that of an important-looking soldier from a past era, uniform and armor forming both a sturdy and stately look.

  “Hmm, he seems familiar,” Mydia murmured. Stepping forward, she peered at the plaque on the pedestal. “Trevias Lhordes . . . oh, I know him! I learned about this man in my history classes—the general who brought an end to the Styrite wars two centuries past. Feared and respected for his great tactical prowess.”

  “He looks . . . very angry,” I observed, peering at the statue’s face. I soon went back to scanning the square, eyeing the dozen or so people gathered around and the passersby bustling to and fro.

  I don’t like this place. I couldn’t quite place why I felt that way, but . . .

  “Mydia, let’s be on our way,” I murmured, starting toward the opposite side of the square.

  She turned and followed after me, close on my heels. I was glad that she did, because the last thing I wanted was to have to track down a lost queen in a city this big. What had begun as a fun jaunt would quickly become a stressful endeavor for me.

  We came across a few more mage soldiers, some rough-looking characters and giant carriages, but no one accosted us or tried to kidnap my friend, thank my lucky stars. (I’ve long suspected I don’t have any lucky stars, but that’s beside the point.) We stopped to grab a snack at a booth. The woman there was selling imported southern fruit bowls—foreign fruits like bananas and pineapples, chopped and sliced with coconut shavings on top. It was delicious.

  Presently, Mydia checked her pocket watch again and found the time to be 6:30. We scurried back to the inn, where we found with some relief that Rhidea was not back yet. She would have tanned our hides for staying out so long. (Although we did at least manage to stay out of trouble, eh?) Kaen and the others were already back, with nothing new to report from their end. Except that Kaen said they encountered one of the elite assassins of the Archlord, known as the Dalim. They sounded frightening from his description: shadowy figures who wore many layers of clothing and seemed to radiate danger.

  Tomorrow would likely be a similarly dull day of research, reconnaissance and desperately banging our heads together for a way to get into the Well. It would be Night in only two more days . . . perhaps that could actually work to our benefit, giving us more cover to try to sneak into the Well.

  Rhidea came back after another hour, looking mentally drained. She shook her head before we could ask about her findings, slumping down into a chair. After a moment, she resumed her regular, proper posture and smoothed back her fiery red hair. “Nothing, children. I’m afraid we’re getting nowhere so far. But all we can do is keep trying.”

  We ate a filling dinner of Ti’Vaeth cuisine and then hit the hay for the night. Before bed, however, I pulled Rhidea aside. “Could I go with Kaen and the others tomorrow?” I asked.

  “Oh,” she said with a frown. “Why do you ask?”

  “Well, I just thought I may be of more use in other areas. I just—I’m not cut out for all this scholar stuff.”

  “Yet.”

  I tilted my head from side to side, trying to come up with a response. Then I paused and sighed. “Actually, I had some . . . crazy ideas.” In a low voice, I outlined a plan I’d been tossing around, and she cocked an eyebrow in response.

  “Well, well . . . that again. Sounds dangerous, child. Be careful.”

  “So you’ll let me go?” I asked.

  “Yes. As for how you will get in . . .”

  “Well, see, that’s the thing—” I began, but she cut me off.

  “Let me guess: you’re wanting to borrow this?” Rhidea produced her white teleportation artifact, the one that allowed a person to access Reality Authority in a limited sense.

  I hesitated, eyeing the artifact. “Yes. That’s my plan.”

  Rhidea sighed and reached out her left hand, which held the device. “I really have to train you in the arts of Reality. If only I had thirty years on my hands. . . .”

  I reached for the Reality Stone, but she drew it back. “You promise you will be careful?”

  I nodded innocently.

  “Very well.” She handed it over.

  The next morning, after the clouds had cleared, I found Kaen and pulled him aside to explain my plan. “Are you game?”

  He shook his head. “You’re crazy, Lyn, but that’s what I like about you. I’m in.”

  (Norvaen 14, 997—Waning Day)

  An hour later, we crouched atop a copper rooftop, underneath one of six bell towers in the city. The wind ruffled my false-brown hair and blew in moist, tangy lake air from the west. From under the long shadow of the bell tower, we surveyed the Citadel, whose wall lay just in front of us.

  “So what’s our plan now?” Kaen asked, fingering his sword scabbard. “Nytaea all over again?”

  “Hopefully not that whole fiasco,” I muttered. “But Rhidea’s taught me a few things . . . and we have this.” I held up the white jewel in my hand. Then, taking hold of his hands, I closed my eyes and concentrated. A ripple passed through the gemstone in my hands, through my body and his, and the air around us. Another ripple, and another, and then we stood on the wall of the Citadel. A whoosh! accompanied our landing, along with a surprising but brief disoriented feeling.

  Kaen caught his balance clumsily, and I steadied him with a hand.

  “Oh, that was . . .” He held a hand to his head. “Very strange. One way to solve a problem, but . . . please don’t do that again.”

  “You’ll be all right, Kaen.”

  “Yes, well.” He adjusted his sword belt and looked left and right, watching the guards’ torches pass by in crossing patterns along the walls. “Let’s be going.”

  The walls of the Citadel had bridges and arches which spanned the gap between the outer and inner walls. We had to get from here to there without the guards seeing us. So we began to stealthily make our way down the walkway toward the next guard station turret. There, we hid behind a wall as the nearest guard came out our way, ducking in after he was gone. We turned to the right and headed out onto the arch. I made the mistake of looking down and saw the courtyard sixty feet below. Shaking my head with a gulp, I kept going.

  We crept along like this, avoiding the guardsmen and staying out of the torchlight. At least at this time of the Sunlit Cycle, nearing sunset, we had a bit of extra cover. Our goal was to get as far as we could into the Citadel without having to take out any guardsmen. And I really, really didn’t want to have to kill any of them.

  At the inner wall, we paused once more, surveying the premises. “Can you teleport us in any closer now?” Kaen asked me in a hushed whisper.

  I shook my head. “I think I only have the power for one more . . . and I want to save that for a sticky situation.”

  “You’re expecting one?”

  I gave him a look.

  He grinned. “I’m kidding. I always expect trouble when you’re involved.”

  Climbing down and to our left led us out to a catwalk that could normally only be accessed via a staircase inside the nearest spire. Fortunately, Kaen was a daredevil and I had my mysterious strength to boost my confidence. We dashed in a low crouch across the catwalk to the first of the great towers of the Inner Citadel. The library we had visited before was in the Outer Citadel. The Inner Citadel was gargantuan, far bigger than the Nytaean Palace. Inside this second wall, however, stood six towers with archways stretching between them and many important buildings beneath. And in the center of the city, rising far above all, surrounding the gushing geyser. . . .

  “There it is,” I murmured as we crouched near the tower.

  “The Hall of Eternity,” Kaen finished. “It’s a long way off, though.”

  “Then let’s get a move on.” I led the way, leaping off the catwalk and landing on a building ten feet below and fifteen feet out. It was quite a jump, but I managed it with ease. “Can you make it, Kaen?” I asked.

  He nodded, making a “back up” gesture, and took a running leap, rolling as he hit the roof tiles. He gave me a thumbs-up after a moment. “How’s that? You think I’m weaker than you or something?”

  I cocked a wry smile. Then we were off again, running over the rooftops and around the main courtyard. Around here, it seemed that no one really watched the roofs, although we still kept an eye on the guardsmen up on the walls. We hopped over a couple more gaps between roofs, climbed where necessary, and eventually made it to the Archlord’s great palace, the Hall of Eternity. It was a massive, multi-tiered spire jutting up fifty paces into the air, surrounding the great Sky Funnel. Therein lay the Wellspring of Life, if everyone was telling the truth. Guarded closely by the Archlord.

  And so we began to climb the palace. We made it over the first wall without too much trouble, helping each other out when necessary, and then found the best point to climb the next wall. The Hall of Eternity had a series of walls, each one higher than the last. The whole Hall formed a ring shape, leaving a large amount of space for the Inner Hall, which contained the Well.

  Finally, we reached the top and looked out over a circular space nearly a hundred paces across, reaching far below to the . . . no, all the way into the ground, from the looks of it. It was a dizzying drop, causing Kaen and me to shy away as we saw it.

  “Wow,” Kaen breathed. “That’s quite the pit.” It was impossible to even see what lay at the bottom, or where the floor was. But rising out of it was a single stone pipe enclosing the gushing Sky Funnel.

  Looking upwards, I gazed at the awe-inspiring geyser, which now roared with the sound of a thousand rushing rivers, so close were we to it. The very air seemed to vibrate with the intensity of it. No wonder the Archlord had his whole palace walled off from it—the noise would be quite the distraction otherwise.

  A soft thud of feet sounded from our left, and we spun, Kaen drawing his sword, only to see Rhidea alighting on the stonework of the wall.

  “Hello, children,” she said evenly. “You can put away your sword, boy.”

  He sheathed it, looking slightly abashed but still startled. “Next time, milady, perhaps you could give us advance warning of your joining us.”

  “Well, that would be no fun at all,” she said with raised eyebrows. “Just call me your extra security. You’ll probably need it.” She surveyed the view, upwards and downwards. “Ah, but what a sight! I’ve never been here before, though my curiosity has nearly gotten the better of me on more than one occasion. But, well, I’ve never been this desperate. This might just pay off. I must say, it’s surprising that the two of you were not caught already.”

  “Oh, come now, teacher,” I muttered, rolling my eyes. Then I frowned. It’s a good thing the rush of that great geyser is so loud, otherwise we would all be heard by now.

  “So what is your plan now?” Rhidea asked.

  “We . . . weren’t sure,” Kaen admitted. “We didn’t plan this far ahead because we didn’t know what this supposed Well even looked like.”

  The mage nodded, staring down into the black, abyssal hole. After a moment, she said, “Stay put.”

  Then she jumped off.