Malcolm chuckled. “I wasn’t there long. I used to serve in the fortress.”
They both looked up toward the Spyrok; that’s what Malcolm called the insanely tall watchtower linked to the Kype by a giant bridge. Upon seeing it for the first time, Gifford had described the tower as looking like Mari had been tending her garden and left her shovel jammed in the dirt. That’s what the potter meant to say at least, but because of his inability to pronounce the R sound, what he said was: “Looks like Ma-we left a shovel in the ga-den.”
“That’s where they tortured you?” Tesh asked. “In the fortress?”
“No one mistreated me.”
“Didn’t even beat you?”
“No.”
“Starved you?”
Malcolm shook his head and frowned.
“They must’ve done something pretty awful for you to run from this. I know families who’d sell their firstborn to live here.”
Again, Tesh looked at Raithe, who supported him with a nod. Having already gone through this conversation with Malcolm, Raithe wasn’t as shocked, but there was a difference between what he’d pictured and reality. Usually, Raithe’s imagination outstripped the real world—not this time.
Tesh had worried eyes, as if this was the part in the dream where monsters closed in and a door to safety refused to open. He’d had that look ever since they’d crossed the Grandford Bridge. The kid was swimming in a pool of deadly snakes, waiting for the first one to bite. Raithe understood. He felt it, too. These were their enemies, the evil gods who’d butchered their people, and he and Tesh were strolling their streets as if they owned the place. They didn’t. The ten clans had done nothing to earn this right. The Fhrey had invited them in. Spiders did the same to flies.
“How many families lived there with you?” Tesh asked.
“None,” Malcolm replied. “Just Shegon, me, and Meryl.” The ex-slave tilted his head with a puzzled look. “The plants are doing well. I wonder who lives there now?”
“What made Shegon leave the fortress?” Raithe asked him.
“Shegon was never in the fortress. He was from the Asendwayr tribe, not in the Guard. Very few non-Instarya are.”
“I thought you said you were in the fortress.”
“Oh, yes.” Malcolm nodded. “Ah…I had a different master then.”
“He sold you?”
“Died.”
“Died?”
“You of all people should know Fhrey do that.”
“How old was he?”
Malcolm shrugged. “Fifteen, sixteen, maybe.”
“That young?”
“Hundred. Fifteen or sixteen hundred.”
“Oh, okay—I always wondered how long they lived.”
“He didn’t die of old age.”
“Accident?” Raithe looked up at the walkways between the massive tower and the dome. A fall from either of them would kill anyone.
“He was killed in combat.”
Raithe couldn’t imagine what sort of beings killed Fhrey, prior to him at least. Giants, goblins, a dragon? Likely it was something he’d never heard of. Seeing the inside of Alon Rhist made Raithe realize how limited his understanding of the world was.
The three paused at the city square near a big well with a little roof to protect those using it from sun or rain.
“How long did it take them to build all this?” Tesh asked.
Malcolm shrugged. “A thousand years or so.”
“It’s so beautiful.”
“Where are all the people?”
“Hiding.” Malcolm dipped a hand into the fountain’s pool and wiped his face. “The barbarians have entered the gates. The residents have no idea what might happen. This is unprecedented, and likely terrifying.”
“They’re scared?” Tesh said. “The elves are scared…of us?”
“When we arrive by the thousands, and the Rhist’s guards let us wander their streets, yes. These people have been told that we’re wild, little more than mindless animals. I suppose they expect we’re here to loot, pillage, and burn.”
“So goes the planting, so comes the harvest,” Raithe said. He stood up on the rim of the well and looked out. The place was fine, to be sure, but a bit too orderly. This was a home built by warriors, for warriors. It lacked the flowers and winding paths of Rhen. To the south, over the orange clay roofs, he located the river gorge. At Grandford, the Bern River flowed through a canyon. Somewhere down that way the Bern joined forces with the Urum at a place known as The Forks—the place he’d buried his father. “The Gula still might have a mind to do a bit of pillaging.”
“I suspect that’s why Nyphron asked them to remain camped in what’s left of Dureya,” Malcolm said.
“Not going to like that. Probably disappointed there was no battle. I know several who were looking forward to killing those they previously believed to be gods.”
“I just can’t believe the elves are scared of us,” Tesh said.
“Fhrey,” Raithe corrected. “These ones are on our side now. At least that’s the story Nyphron is spreading.”