At the base of the towers, an open-air market had been set up among the stone buildings. Wagons loaded down with every imaginable good were parked in front of the buildings, and human, halfling, and dwarven merchants hawked food: carts full of strange fruit, the colors so vivid they hurt Ashok’s eyes. He’d never seen colors like that. Steaming meat on spits whirled past him clutched in dwarven fists. The stout men and women pushed the savories at the group. Skagi tossed them coin, and the group each took a haunch of boar.
Ashok bit into the meat and felt the juices slide down his chin. He was used to meat that had been long preserved in stores, hard biscuits, and water from a silt stream deep in the underground. The flavors of the hot, spiced boar assaulted his tongue and made him light-headed. He was shocked to feel his heartbeat speed up slightly. The intense spices stimulated not just his tongue, but his whole body, the way a wound sharpened him. He could hardly believe what he was feeling.
And it wasn’t just the food. There were wagons filled with tools for building, fire-making, and weapon repair. Finely tailored clothing hung from iron bars suspended between the shops, breezes making crimson skirts billow like enflamed clouds. Ashok reached out in wonder to touch the fabric.
“Wipe the grease off before you touch!” a voice said as a hand slapped his hand away.
Ashok looked up at a tawny-skinned human man with flushed cheeks and thick brown sideburns. His eyes-brown and white and black-were hypnotic to Ashok with their circles of color.
“Eh, what are you lookin’ at?” the merchant demanded.
“Your eyes,” Ashok said.
“My eyes?” the merchant repeated, looking Ashok over curiously. “Haven’t seen you before. What’s your rank?”
“I don’t have one,” Ashok said.
“Nice armor you got though,” the merchant said, passing his hand over the bone scales, poking and prodding. Ashok resisted the urge to snap the human’s wrist. “Good color, the charcoal and white,” the merchant continued. “Not white, though, more tooth-shaded. Bit muddled crimson too-I got a good eye for color. ‘S not one of mine. Where’d you buy it?”
“I made it,” Ashok said.
“Made it!” the merchant said, laughing loudly. His breath reeked of strong herbs and liquor. “A fine jester you are too. No, truly, where’d you get it?”
Ashok didn’t reply. He started to turn away.
The merchant clamped a hand on his shoulder.
Ashok dropped his meat, pivoted, and batted the merchant’s hand aside. He drew his dagger with his left hand, brandishing the weapon between his body and the human’s.
“Ashok,” Skagi said, appearing suddenly beside them. “Gaina, what’s going on here?”
Cree, Chanoch, and Vedoran trailed behind Skagi. The merchant had broken into a sweat when he saw Ashok’s drawn dagger.
“I was just askin’ where he got the goods,” the merchant said, pointing to Ashok’s armor. “Said he made it-”
“And you called him a liar,” Skagi said. “I heard you.”
“Well he didn’t hafta pull the blade on me,” Gaina grumbled. “How’d you make it then?” he said to Ashok.
“From a boneclaw corpse,” Ashok said flatly. “An undead. I killed it, skinned it, and re-fitted the bones.”
For a breath, the merchant didn’t speak. He opened his mouth, closed it, and rubbed his jaw. “Now I know you’re jestin’. You’re havin’ fun at me. You can’t make a suit of pretties; can’t do nothin’ for yourselves.”
Cree flicked his nail playfully against Ashok’s brandished dagger blade. “Except use one of these-can you say as much, Gaina?”
The merchant glared at Cree. “Fine, then. But tell your friend not to be touchin’ the goods ‘less he got cleaner hands,” Gaina said.
“Now you’re calling us dirty?” Skagi said, spreading his hands under the merchant’s nose. “These turn your stomach?” He took some silver coins from his neck pouch. “What about now, Gaina? How about when they’re silver, or when they bleed to make you safe as you squat in your bed at night-they aren’t clean enough for you?”
The merchant shoved Skagi’s hands away and sneered. “Don’t smell that good either. Have your fun, then. But these hands”-he raised his thick fingers, beringed with silver and platinum bands-“hold the needles you’re too good to touch. You don’t mind wearin’ the frippery, do you? But you won’t stoop to makin’ it with those cut-up digits. You remember that next time you come at me with the grease on your hands.”
Vedoran cleared his throat.
Skagi looked up when the graceful shadar-kai stepped forward. “Our apologies,” Vedoran said to the merchant. “Ashok, put the dagger away. Skagi, we have business,” he said pointedly.
Skagi sniffed. He turned away and let Vedoran lead him on through the crowds.
Ashok fell into step behind them, listening. “If I’d known you were looking for a fight I wouldn’t have asked you to come,” he heard Vedoran whisper to Skagi.
Skagi, walking easily, shrugged. “Don’t know what you mean. Gaina and I are old friends. It’s not a good day unless we go about cutting each other down.” His eyes narrowed. “He’s a fat coward who’s made a fortune in this market, and everyone up the avenue knows it. He needs to be reminded every so often who brings his food to the table.”
Ashok felt a hand fall on his shoulder. The impulse to lash out, to cut with the dagger still in his hand was almost overwhelming, but then he saw Cree fall into step beside him. The young one moved like a ghost.
He must know he could kill me, Ashok thought. All he needs is an instant of distraction. Why doesn’t he try? Why don’t any of them take advantage?
Cree slapped him on the back. “A boneclaw?” he said.
“Yes?” Ashok said uncertainly.
Cree shook his head and grinned. “Outstanding,” he said. “You’ll tell me the tale someday.”
Ashok could only nod. “What was that about?” he asked, changing the subject. “Between Skagi and the human?”
“Don’t worry about it,” Cree said, waving a hand vaguely. “It’s just … the way things are. Everyone has a role to play to make the city work, but some people’s roles are more important than others.”
“And the human’s role is to clothe you?” Ashok said.
“Not just him,” Cree said. “All the merchants have their place in the trade district. They keep the coin flowing in and out of the city, but none of them would have a safe place to do business if the shadar-kai weren’t here to protect Ikemmu from outside threats.”
They walked on through the crowd and up into Tower Pyton. Ashok noticed that the farther they climbed up the winding stair through the tower, the less he saw of the other races. The upper levels were dominated by shadar-kai, and they were dressed in finery equal to that hanging from Gaina’s wagon, and greater.
There were shops in the tower: weapon dealers and brewers, wine makers and jewelers. They passed levels with locked, heavily guarded doors. The shadar-kai who came out of those mysterious rooms carried padlocked boxes, often inscribed with faintly glowing runes.
Ashok passed a slender, hooded figure carrying an iron-shod staff with shadowy tentacles winding up the shaft. As they passed each other, almost touching, Ashok breathed in and smelled sulfur. He looked up into the face of the tiefling, and she smiled at him. The shadow fingers reached up from the staff and plucked at her hood. She swirled the staff in her hand, and they quieted. Then she was by him, and he was forced to keep walking up the stairs.
Vedoran halted them on a crowded level with many doors, open as those on the previous levels had not been. The doors gave the room an airy feel and revealed many open portals cut into stone down the hallways. They looked out on the city and the Shadowdark in every direction. Ashok went to one while Vedoran approached a shadar-kai seated at a long table across the room.
Guards stood at the portals holding their weapons and the red and black banners Ashok had seen from below. They stood on narrow ledges jutting out from the tower, watching the city below while strong winds threatened to pluck them off their perches. None of them seemed afraid to fall.