“You’re not making sense, Maggie,” Gallen said, shaking his head. But he stared out across the valley, thinking, considering what it would be like, and his voice had held no conviction. “What about the Tekkar, and the other warrior races? You would be scared to step out of your door at night.”
“Och, and who would be so bold as to come threatening the household of Gallen O’Day?” Maggie asked. “I know you, Gallen. You wouldn’t mind it a bit, finding some village in the wilds and becoming a sheriff, keeping the peace for those who want it.…”
Gallen said no more. But as they walked on, he eyed the homesteads and hamlets and the fertile valleys keenly, looking beyond the exterior, as if considering the possibilities.
In the late afternoon, the road became cobblestone and wound down out of the hills to the sea, leading to an oddly shaped granite bluff, where the road led into a vast cave.
There were a few buildings perched next to the bluff-a sizable stable, some shops, but no houses-and people were going into the cave with wagons filled with wood and produce. Maggie realized with a start that the inhabitants of this city all lived within that monolithic rock.
She studied the place a bit-some rounded pillars had been carved into the rock, and they thrust up high, carrying a bit of smoke. In other places, holes had been gouged into the roof, giving light and air. In some holes, she could see through to whitened walls.
As with the temple she’d first noticed back in Northland, this place was built by someone who had no concept of symmetry. Each of the chimneys was a different height, and the windows were each shaped in their own ways. And yet there was a gracefulness, a peaceful organic feel to the structure, that was both comforting and inviting.
Cormorants and gulls wheeled out over the gray ocean, and the skies were getting dark, promising rain. Maggie and Gallen went down to the city.
Under the arching entrance, they could see the city before them-a vast cavern filled with people and noise and the smells of smoke and sweat and fish. The rock had been carved away so that long stone staircases led away under great arches. The walls were not only painted white, but crystals had been set in them, casting light back like stars.
Between the skylights and the guttering lamps on wrought-iron posts placed strategically beside the roads, the caverns sparkled with light.
Maggie looked up, and along the roads going up the hill were side corridors, where people of a dozen races lived. Children screamed and played in the corridors, and clothing was left along stone walls to dry.
There was the smell of seawater in the air, and off to the right, a path led to the ocean. There, on broad stones at the sea’s edge, sea people swam through an underwater channel, bringing up fresh fish and crabs. Maggie saw a gaggle of hooded merchants who were bartering loudly for the fish, offering brass bracelets and sacks made of fine cloth.
Directly ahead, just above sea level, a central pillar, like an enormous stalagmite, filled the middle of the complex, and carved at the column’s center were several shops and a large pub where a dozen burly giants guzzled mugs of beer at wooden tables. The delicious scent of fish and sausages filled the air.
As Maggie and Gallen headed toward the pub, a grizzled giant approached. He wore a green tunic over black leather pants, and had a rope tied around his waist. His dark brown hair was tied back, and he wore beads of aqua and cardinal woven into it. His enormous beard spilled down his chest, thinning into a ragged wisp at his belly. It wasn’t until he was nearly on them that Maggie realized how truly large he was-eight feet tall, with broad shoulders. He wore a short sword on his hip, but he handled himself like a man who wouldn’t need weapons.
“My name’s Fenorah,” he grumbled, studying Gallen’s sword. “Welcome to Battic, where land kisses the sea.”
“Thank you,” Gallen said, lifting his chin high to stare the man in the eye.
“We’re a peaceful town,” Fenorah’ said, scratching his nose. “I’ll be straight with you. You carry a sword, and from the way you wear it, I’d say you know how to do more than split kindling with it. And there’s blood on your boots-and I’d rather not know how it got there. But these are my folks, my town. There’s peace here.”
He looked deep into Gallen’s eyes, as if trying to gauge what lay beneath their cool blue surface. “I appreciate an honest man,” Gallen said. “And I admire one who seeks peace. As long as I’m given it, I shall give it in return.”
The giant laughed, slapped him on the back. “You look hungry from the road. I saw how you eyed the pub. May I buy you dinner? We’ve the finest flounder you’ll taste on the coast.” Gallen hesitated, but Maggie could sense something in this giant, a lack of guile, that she found refreshing.
“We would be honored,” Maggie said, and the giant took her arm, led them into the pub, where they dined on sea bass roasted in rosemary and a fruity wine. Other giants like Fenorah lumbered around.
Fenorah talked long and boisterously, asking Gallen’s business. When Gallen said that he wanted to purchase a wagon and draft animals, Fenorah called a serving boy and ordered them, as if he’d been ordering dinner, and the boy rushed to fetch them.
Then, Fenorah took them down to the “docks,” the stones where the sea people rose from the dark waters, their tails flashing silver, and there Fenorah talked to Gallen of the city’s trade agreements.
He showed Maggie and Gallen a great cavern where the annual fairs were held, where images of the city’s founders were carved in three giant stalactites, so that their beards were hanging shards of stone. Fenorah then took them to the upper chambers above the city, where small swarthy men and women of the Ntak race still carved, singing in high voices as their picks and hammers rang, with each blow extending the city back deeper and deeper into the bones of the earth.
The giant seemed to Maggie to be enormously proud of his city. He was obviously a man of wealth, a man of worries. And at last when they were in the far upper recesses of a cave, looking back down over a vast stairway of a thousand feet, and the ringing of hammers and picks below them rose like some strange music, Fenorah motioned for Gallen and Maggie to sit on a rock. Then, with a grunt, he knelt down beside them, and stared down into the distance.
“Gallen, my friend,” the giant whispered, his voice a mere grumble, hard to be heard over the ringing hammers, the piping music. “There was a ship that burned last night, a ship not far off the beach. Its sails lit up like a bonfire, and we could see it sailing as if it would fall off the edge of the world.”
“Aye?” Gallen asked, curiously.
“Aye,” the giant grunted. “The sea folk went to investigate, and they brought back some survivors.” The giant sighed, measured his words. “They told … stories, about a swordsman with two beautiful women. They hinted that he was a great warrior, and that they would pay well for his capture. Too well.”
“And what did you tell them?” Gallen said.
“I sent them away, though I’ve thought better of it since. They had broken none of our laws, and yet.…”
“And yet what?”
“And yet I found it hard to spare them their lives.” Fenorah dug his hand into the stone at his feet, broke off a small boulder. Maggie had not seen any sign of a chink in the stone, and even Gallen caught his breath at witnessing the giant’s tremendous strength. “The thing is, Battic is small for a sea town, and distant from other cities. We don’t even have a port. And we’ve been careful to watch one another, protect each other. Perhaps for this reason, we have escaped the Inhuman’s scrutiny. We have been … beneath notice. But I fear that now the Inhuman will turn its face our way, if it is searching for you. It’s a small fear, perhaps unfounded.”