“It translates from Silvan poorly, doesn’t it? The ‘power of night’ doesn’t begin to describe its myriad of nuances. There are forces at work in this valley stronger than my amulet or my sword. But the talisman that was abandoned and forgotten in Landmoor is stronger than any Firekin. It was created by the Shae to be so. Strong enough to protect you… and your people.”
Thealos nodded solemnly. “I’ve never…this has never happened to me before.” He shook his head slowly. “I felt…compelled to leave Avisahn. That if I stayed there a day longer, I would lose myself. I thought I knew why, but now I’m not sure.” He scratched his scalp and sighed heavily. “You know so much about us, Jaerod, about our ways, about what is happening down here in this country. You say you are a Shaefellow, and I believe you.” He swallowed, wondering what he should say. “And I’ve heard that some humans are allowed to live in Avisahn. If they renounce Dos-Aralon and swear to abide by the Rules of Forbiddance. Do you worship one of the Shae gods?”
“Keasorn, Shenalle, and Vannier?” Jaerod’s eyes twinkled. “No, Thealos. No, I don’t.”
Thealos was disappointed, but not surprised. “How can you be a Shaefellow and a Sleepwalker? You said many of your peers were Shae. Are they Kilshae then? Is our true way of life then just another culture to you? Something that fascinates you, like studying fire or listening to the wind?”
“Not at all,” the Sleepwalker replied with a chuckle. Then his expression hardened. “I do not believe that the Rules of Forbiddance are truly commandments of the gods. I think they are rules made by men. And men, whether they are Shae or not, are full of hypocrisy. That is why I’m not welcome in Avisahn, Thealos Quickfellow. Or with the Druid-priests, or with the sundry religions of Dos-Aralon.” The tongues of fire licked the cool night air. His gray eyes were deadly serious. “And maybe you and I are more alike than you’re ready to believe.”
XII
The conversation with Jaerod changed Thealos’ entire point of view. He barely slept that night, thinking again and again about what he had been told. When dawn came, he rose early, washed in the river, and hurriedly prepared to leave. He had never felt such a pressing urgency, not even in his desire to abandon Avisahn. If he could make it to Landmoor and grab the talisman, he would have the proof he needed to thrust in Nordain’s face. No – he wouldn’t bother with Nordain. He would go to Laisha Silverborne and her high council or to the Sunedrion itself.
“How far is it to Landmoor?” Thealos asked as Jaerod patiently buried the fire ashes.
“We’re stopping in Sol first.”
“Why? We should go straight there.”
“The Wolfsmen, Thealos,” Jaerod reminded him. “You stirred up some trouble in Avisahn when you left. We can hide our trail better in the city. Now be patient. Don’t let the importance of this rush your reason.”
Near mid-afternoon, the fog finally dissipated and the colors and scents from the valley returned. Thealos could see the sprawling city of Sol in the valley lowlands, perched on a high outcropping on the right bank of the Trident river. The city itself wasn’t as enormous as Dos-Aralon, but its size had always impressed him. The outer walls were easily thirty feet high, spiked with watchtowers. Small villages hunkered down along the shadows, close to the protective bastions. From his vantage in the highlands, Thealos saw the needle-like masts from scores of ships on the far side of the city – the docks of Sol. Seagulls filled the sky like hundreds of gray leaves swirling in the wind, mingling with the smoke from smithfires and chimneys. There was also a smell, one that grew stronger the closer they approached. It was the stench of sewage mingled with the salty aroma of the ocean. Even from several miles away, it bothered him.
They approached a gate and joined a branch of the King’s Highway just east of the main road from Dos-Aralon. As they passed beneath the spike and rail portcullis, the comforts of the Inlands vanished. Sol was a giant hulk of a city, bursting furiously inside the tight walls. Buildings rose two to three stories on each side, with narrow jagged streets barely separating them. Down the alleys he saw that the top levels of the buildings hung out over the streets, close enough that someone could reach across and open a window on the other side. A dog urinated in the sloping gutters choked with grit and debris. The stench was awful, and Thealos covered his nose and mouth to keep from gagging.
“It’s not this bad along the trading wharves,” Thealos complained.
“Of course it isn’t. The Shae wouldn’t trade here otherwise. But you get used to the smell…eventually. And the Shae sense of smell is more highly refined after all.”