Chapter 18
Just inside the gate was an open square that had three roads leading off from the entrance. The left and right diverged off at roughly forty-five-degree angles into the city and the other went straight ahead. The streets were cobbled and worn smooth by the passage of thousands of feet and wagon wheels. As Mitchell gazed down the avenue, he saw that further into the city, there were taller buildings with greater architectural variation.
Mitchell knew he was gawking but he couldn't help it. As Lethelin pulled him along, her desert-tan cloak billowing behind her, Mitchell was trying to look everywhere at once. There was simply so much to see.
The buildings themselves were not all that interesting, at least not just inside the gates. Walls, windows, doors, etc., made of the same sand-colored stone found everywhere and all of it geared more toward functionality than decoration. Most of the buildings were plain squares or rectangles with only a few being more than four stories tall. All the windows were open and Mitchell saw shutters attached to each, but it was the people that drew his attention.
All around Mitchell, there was some new shape of humanoid to be found. The bulk of Basari's population was human but there were also elves and dwarves, and a small race of people Lethelin called halflings. They looked like miniature humans but had slightly more elfin features with their pointed ears and eyes that were angled just a little too sharply. In addition, he saw two cambions like Revos, only their skin tone was different. The male was a more reddish-purple color with midnight-black horns that curved up over his head in a more traditional devilish style. He had two swords made of some sort of black metal in a harness across his back. The other one, a female, was an almost midnight blue with glistening ebony gold-tipped horns that curled around behind her ears. Crowds gave them both a bit of space as they walked through. He even saw a race of reptilian people that made no sense to him from an evolutionary perspective but he'd given up on trying to square that circle a long time ago.
Despite numerous races and cultures present, everyone seemed to be getting along reasonably well. Commerce was ubiquitous and it was happening at a brisk pace.
After days spent in relative isolation, he found the din and press of the crowd somewhat disorienting, but it didn't take him long to adjust. He was a city boy, after all. The noise seemed a little more subdued than outside the walls, which had an almost Arabian bazaar quality about it, with people calling out, advertising their wares, and trying to grab the attention of passersby. Their tactics were noticeably more aggressive outside the gates than in but trade was still happening.
The shops that lined the cobbled streets just inside the gate seemed to be designed specifically to attract travelers. While Mitchell couldn't read the language yet, he thought he could still identify the types of businesses. The inns and taverns were easy enough to spot given the sounds of revelry from inside even at this early hour.
There was also the strong scent of strange foods wafting from cafes and restaurants. Mitchell's stomach rumbled at the idea of eating something besides their trail rations and the occasional bit of daka meat or some other small desert animal they would serve up, but Lethelin didn't stop or waver. Her grip tight on his hand, she set a brisk pace and picked the center road straight into the heart of the city towards the spire.
"Stay close," was all she said as she deftly maneuvered through the throngs of people that crowded the square.
Mitchell noticed - and not for the first time - the fluidity of her movements. She had a definite grace about her - a lightness on her feet. She walked with a confidence and a purpose that made her seem taller than her modest height. If Mitchell had to guess she was only about five-foot and six inches. The cowl of her sand-colored cloak was down and Lethelin's coppery-red hair was pulled back in a no-nonsense ponytail. As he glanced at her, he saw that her eyes were ever watchful.
"Are you expecting problems?" Mitchell asked her, picking up on the slight tension.
"I always expect problems," she told him with a sidelong glance before resuming her scanning. "If something is going to happen it's usually in the press of people just inside the gates where there is a lot of activity. It's the easiest place to steal a purse or slip a knife between someone's ribs. Once we get a little farther into the city, it will calm down."
"You sound like you speak from experience."
Her mouth turned up in a smile but she didn't look at him. "I've been known to use the confusion of crowds to my advantage more than once."
Something caught her attention then and she pulled up short. Glancing around quickly she saw a small shop just to their left that was selling textiles.
"Here, I'll show you."
She pulled him over to the racks of brightly decorated cloth and started to examine them. The shopkeeper, a human woman who was sitting in the shade of an umbrella out of the harsh sunlight watched but didn't comment.
In a somewhat lower voice, Lethelin said, "Look casually to your left. You'll see a boy about twelve high suns or so wearing a white cap, a red vest, and brown pants standing in the alleyway."
Mitchell, curious, looked to where she indicated and saw him right away leaning on a wall just inside and watching the crowd.
"I see him."
"Now..." Lethelin said, scanning around. "There."
She tugged at Mitchell's sleeve and he turned to look up the street. He saw a procession of five well-dressed men and women walking toward the gate. They were wearing flowing white robes with ornately decorated hemlines. The men's heads were shaved, tan, and glistening in the sun and the women had their hair pulled back into a single severely braided ponytail. They walked with an imperious air.
"That would be my target," she said conspiratorially, "if this were my job. Merchant lords with heavy purses. Watch."
She made a show of picking up a roll of bright red fabric with gold leaves embroidered into it. "What do you think about this for a sleeping gown, dear?"
"Oh, um. Yeah, it's nice," Mitchell said, trying to look like a shopper while also watching the group of rich people walking toward them.
In just a moment they walked past the stall where he and Lethelin were browsing and approached the alley where the young boy was standing. Mitchell saw him take his hat off and, just a few moments later from deeper in the alley, two more small children near in age to the first came out carrying a cask between them secured with some ropes. They made a show of struggling with the weight and not looking where they were going before "accidentally" walking right into the middle of the group of merchants where they immediately got tangled up as the clay vessel dropped among them. It hit the ground with a crash and broke open spraying everyone with a dark and foul-smelling liquid that made Mitchell's eyes water.
Amid the screams of outrage from the merchants, one of which had fallen and now lay in a spreading puddle of the nasty stuff, the boy in the alleyway began to move. In the bustle and confusion of people either gawking or moving in to help, he stepped between them like a ghost. Mitchell saw his little hands dart in and out, plucking things from pockets. He only saw it though because Lethelin had told him to keep an eye on the prepubescent thief. If he hadn't known to watch for him he would have been just like all the other gawkers looking on partly in fascination and partly in disgust.
As the man who'd fallen picked himself up the little pickpocket stepped out of the melee and slipped off into the crowd.
The two boys who had been carrying the cask and who were also covered in whatever they'd been carrying looked suitably horrified and evaded the hands of the now-reeking merchants as they darted back into the alley. Moments later the cry went up that coin purses were missing and people began calling for the guard.
Mitchell looked at Lethelin who was grinning openly.
"Shouldn't we say something?"
"Why? Those kids will be long gone by now. They'll have half a dozen bolt holes to lay low in, if not more. And the merchants can afford it."
She sounded like she admired them and he commented on it.
"They did a good job. The kid was a little slower than he should have been but he shows promise. The clay pot of fermented jivi piss was good planning on his part."
"Is that what that was? It smells disgusting."
