As he, Esprë, Sallah, and Monja waited on the dock, Kandler nudged his stepdaughter. Jerking his head toward Burch, who stood talking with a stern elf dressed in full battle regalia, he shot Esprë a questioning look. She shrugged.
Kandler noticed that every one of the elves he’d seen so far wore a suit of armor and some kind of weaponry. The dockworkers favored spears or short swords, but the lookouts further down the wall in each direction carried longbows and stood nearby loaded ballistae and catapults that were ready to loose their loads at anyone so bold as to invade the space around the fort without permission.
Every piece of equipment bore fine filigree run through with images of death and war, and they looked delicate by human standards. Kandler knew, though, that they’d likely been made by the finest smiths and crafters. Valenar elves never made anything cheap or fragile. By comparison, the Phoenix seemed like a crude bit of hackwork churned out in a mill staffed by idiotic children.
The buildings of Aerie might have seemed ridiculously ornate to the untrained eye. Kandler knew that they would stand up to an assault better than all but the best fortifications in the Five Kingdoms. He spied few balconies or terraces built to take advantage of the spectacular views to the south. Those he did see were framed with trellises and colonnades that let in vast amounts of sky. They would also, however, protect from any attacks from above, whether by airship or some other means. The people of Aerie took their security seriously, as they should, given their proximity to the frontier nation of Q’barra, the border of which lay scant miles to the east.
“I do not care for this place,” Sallah said quietly.
Monja nodded in agreement, her head bobbing like that of a small child. “A fort like this can quickly change from a haven to a trap.”
Burch bowed to the elf he’d been talking to then trotted back to the others. Try as he might, Kandler could not read the shifter’s face. He’d known Burch long enough to realize that this was not a good thing.
“The dockmaster welcomes us to Aerie,” Burch said. “Just how welcome are we?” Kandler asked.
Burch pointed at the heavy weaponry mounted on the turrets nearest the airship. “Those aren’t for show,” he said. “I’m told the elves who staff them don’t care much for dwarves and have itchy trigger fingers.”
Esprë gasped. “Shouldn’t we bring Duro with us then?” she said. “We can’t just leave him out there to be shot down.” Burch smiled. “He’s safer there than he would be in the fort. At least out there an elf would have to work at it to pick a fight with him. Here, he’d find himself in a tangle inside an hour.
“Have you located lodgings for us?” Sallah asked.
Burch cocked his head at her. “We’re staying on the ship.” “You may be,” Sallah said, “but once you leave, I will need a place to sleep, unless you can help me arrange for passage out of here before the rest of you depart.”
Kandler winced inside, but Burch took it all in stride. “I’ll see what I can do,” the shifter said.
Kandler hoped his friend wouldn’t go out of his way to succeed.
“What about supplies?” Kandler asked. “I’d like to get underway as soon as we can.” He avoided Sallah’s gaze as he spoke.
Burch grimaced. “They don’t always sell supplies to outsiders, but they’re under orders to deal with us as if we were citizens of Aerenal.”
“How’s that?” Kandler asked, suspicious.
He glanced around and saw the dockmaster regarding him with an imperious smirk. An awful lot of the weaponry on these battlements seemed like it could be pointed at him as easily as the Phoenix.
“There’s someone here—someone important—who wants to have a word with us.”
“And this elf has enough pull to get us access to the supplies we need?”
Burch nodded. “If we go see him right now.”
Kandler narrowed his eyes at the shifter. “Who is it?” “Name’s Ledenstrae.”
Kandler felt his head spin, and he heard Esprë gasp in shock.
“My father?” she whispered.
15
Esprë hadn’t objected when Kandler ordered her back onto the Phoenix. Whether she thought it was the right idea or was just too stunned to object, he couldn’t tell. Either way, she had let Monja lead her back onto the airship without comment.
“Take us to Ledenstrae,” Kandler said to the dockmaster in Elven.
The dockmaster stared cold-eyed at Kandler from under his high-crested helm—a crimson feather topping its crest of polished brass—and gave Kandler a thin-lipped sneer. “My orders are to bring you all to him at once.”
Kandler’s fangsword leaped from its scabbard and parted the air just over the dockmaster’s head. The sword returned home before any of the nearby elves could even reach for their blades. The feather from the dockmaster’s helmet flipped before his eyes as it floated to the ground.
“We’ll be enough,” Kandler said.
He’d wanted to take the elf’s head off, and he’d had to fight with himself to keep it from happening. Spilling the dockmaster’s blood wouldn’t get him what he wanted: supplies and a good northerly wind to send them on their way.
The dockmaster pursed his lips as he tried not to display being impressed. “Very well,” he said, using the common tongue. His thick accent betrayed how rarely he saw fit to use the language, and from the sour look on his face it seemed to leave a rancid taste in his mouth. “Your friends will stay here.”
Kandler knew they’d be safer on the Phoenix than in Aerie. With a little luck, the airship might be able to make a clean getaway in a pinch, especially if the first rounds from the large weapons in the turrets went wide of the craft’s restraining arches. Such weapons packed a devastating punch, but they took forever to reload, and the Phoenix had proven she could take a devastating amount of punishment and still remain skyworthy.
The justicar gestured for the dockmaster to lead the way. The proud elf with the featherless helmet marched them down off the battlements and into the fortified village.
Unlike most of the wartime cities Kandler had walked through, Aerie had clean, sharp lines. Each street, building, and square had been planned out before the first stone had been laid. Everywhere the justicar looked, the best way in and out of any given area seemed painfully clear.
“Who would build such a place?” Sallah asked. “The moment invaders managed to breach the walls, they would have an easy path to every important building in the town.”
The dockmaster scoffed at the lady knight and her companions. “These walls never have been breached, and they never shall. The warriors in this region are dogs scratching at our doors—if they manage to crawl that close.”
“Tell you what,” Burch said, his eyes constantly scanning the walls and roofs for the best angles for a shot with the crossbow that hung against his back, “How about you just shut your pointy yap until we get where we’re going?”
They continued on in silence until they reached the foot of a tall building. Its ivory-colored walls soared high into the air, the top of it invisible from the street. “The ambassador’s chambers occupy the upper three floors,” the dockmaster said.
The guards standing at the building’s entrance swept aside for the dockmaster and his guests, holding open a large brass door on which an elf skeleton in exquisite robes had been carved in bas relief. Inside, a massive foyer with a high, plastered ceiling occupied the entire floor, except for a large basket set off behind a short fence created by a semicircle of ebony ropes. The dockmaster led Kandler, Burch, and Sallah to the basket and removed one of the ropes so they could climb into it.