The hunter sat back with her eyes wide above her scarf. “Ha’azit teith,” she said in awe. “How is all this possible, Singe? Even magic has limits, doesn’t it?”
Singe smiled. “You know about other planes of existence like Xoriat and Dal Quor,” he said, trying to keep concepts simple for her. “Xoriat is the Realm of Madness and Dal Quor is the Region of Dreams. There are other planes as well, worlds that are the pure expression of an element or concept. Sometimes they’re far away from Eberron, other times they’re closer. Sometimes the reality of one of those other planes bleeds through into Eberron, making a permanent connection. Wizards call those places manifest zones, and things are possible in them that wouldn’t be possible anywhere else. The Shadow Marches has many small manifest zones of Xoriat. It’s one reason the daelkyr and the cults of the Dragon Below are so powerful there.” He gestured around them. “Sharn is built within a manifest zone of Syrania, the Azure Sky. Magic related to flight works better here, sometimes with hardly any effort at all. That’s how towers can be built so tall and why lifts and skycoaches-” He rapped his knuckles against the hull of the coach. “-work at all.”
Ashi still looked as if she was struggling to understand his explanation. Singe tried to think of an even simpler way to describe the nature of Sharn to her, but the coach driver beat him to it. “Things don’t want to fall down here,” she said, and Ashi’s face cleared in comprehension.
They curved in a wide arc, passed over another dark chasm, and entered another ward. Their driver began naming sights again, and Ashi once more became entranced. “The Old Spire of Deniyas. Kavarrah Concert Hall. Looks like there’s a performance tonight-I think it might be Egen Marktaros, the Thrane exile. Dalannan Tower and Morgrave University.” The coach dipped sharply, diving between towers so closely packed it might as well have been flying through tunnels. They emerged into a district that smelled of alchemical experiments and shone with magical light in myriad hues.
“Everbright, the wizard’s district,” said the driver-then plunged into a real tunnel bored through the thick stones of one of the great towers and came back out into the night.
A wall of sparkling lights, a sweeping view of an entire arm of the city, rose above them in a spectacle so unexpected and breathtaking that even Singe found himself amazed. Their driver slowed the coach so that they seemed to be drifting into Sharn’s embrace like a leaf on the wind. The wall of light swelled before them, breaking slowly into individual lanterns in streets and windows. The coach eased up beside a landing, and the driver broke the spell by calling out, “Deathsgate district!” She grinned at Ashi. “How did you like the ride?”
Wordlessly, Ashi bent her head and touched her fingers to her shrouded lips, then to her forehead.
“That means she liked it,” said Singe. He paid the fare and added a generous tip. The driver grinned and helped them out of the coach, then sent the vessel skimming back off into the darkness. Singe looked at Ashi. “Are you going to blink?” he asked.
“I don’t think I can,” she told him.
They set off into Deathsgate. Located in the middle levels of the great towers, the district had a strangely contained feel to it. Although the ground was far below, the height of the towers above emphasized how far away they were from open sky-when they could see the sky at all. Most of the streets were more like very large passages, and the courtyards were massive enclosures with bridges leaping beneath shadowed roofs. There was no hint of the rain that had caught them earlier except for drips and leaks and one empty square where water poured in a cascade through cracks in the ceiling.
“Trickle down,” Singe explained to Ashi. “Most of the rain that falls on the upper city ends up in reservoirs, but what doesn’t has to go somewhere. They say that when it rains in Sharn, it takes two days for it to stop.”
In spite of the late hour, the neighborhoods of Deathsgate were livelier than any other they had passed through, rivaling the waterfront of Cliffside and certainly surpassing the restrained hush of Fan Adar in Overlook. The people stumbling in the streets and staggering from the doorways of taverns looked like they had more in common with the sailors of Cliffside as well. All manner of races-from humans, to dwarves, to shifters, halflings, and warforged-were represented. Most them went armed as well. Swords, spears, axes, and maces hung ready for use, and even those in the crowds who carried no obvious weapons walked with a confident and dangerous stride. Singe caught Ashi staring again and nudged her.
“Try not to do that,” he said quietly. “The more you look like someone new to Sharn, the more people will try to take advantage of you.”
“You’re scared they’ll start a fight?”
“I’m scared you might start a fight. Look around.” He nodded to the profusion of banners that decorated the buildings they passed, the strings of pennants that hung across the street, and the paint and posters that daubed bold colors onto dark stone walls. Like Overlook, Deathsgate had been decorated for the coming celebrations of Thronehold. Unlike Overlook, however, the crimson and gold of Breland were not the dominant colors. The black and red of Karrnath, the blue of Aundair, the silver of Thrane, and the green of lost Cyre were all represented in equal or even greater proportion. The colors and crests of a variety of regiments and companies, some Singe knew and others that he didn’t, added to the display.
“The people who gather in Deathsgate come from across Khorvaire, and the majority of them are no strangers to violence,” he said. “They’re old soldiers, mercenaries, treasure hunters, inquisitives, war wizards, bounty hunters, probably even a few assassins. I’d lay odds that every one of them saw something of the Last War. They’re not going to be looking for trouble, but if it finds them, they won’t back down.”
Ashi looked and a little of the intensity faded from her eyes. She nodded slowly. “You and Geth belong here,” she said.
A smile curled one corner of Singe’s lips. “I suppose we do.”
“You’ve forgiven him for what happened at Narath?”
The smile faded and an old ache grew inside the wizard. “I wouldn’t go that far,” he said. “You can’t understand what Narath was like, Ashi.”
She turned her eyes on him, and her gaze was abruptly hot and angry. “Blood in your mouth! I may be an innocent to Sharn, but remember who you’re talking to and how we met. The Bonetree hunters raided and killed in the name of the Dragon Below. We stood in awe of dolgrims and dolgaunts as the perfect children of Khyber. I understand death.”
Singe returned her gaze without flinching. “What was the largest raid you ever took part in?”
“The Bonetree destroyed the Hill Shadow clan shortly after I was made a hunter,” Ashi told him. “Their camp was maybe three times the size of Bull Hollow. We killed their warriors and gave clean death to anyone too old to bring new blood to the Bonetree.”
“The Hill Shadow clan had about a hundred people then.” Singe pressed his lips together tightly for a moment. “More than ten times that number died in Narath. Very few of them were given a clean death. And I was on their side.” He looked away from her. “I wouldn’t say that I’ve forgiven Geth. I might say that I don’t hate him the same way I used to.”