Daughter of Ice and Fire

Twenty-One

Gauthier reached the main part of Kaladhin around Midday. It was brutally hot, and he could see people closing up their businesses for the afternoon. He had heard how they rested during the hottest part of the day, returning after the sun began to set, and now understood why. The heat was incredible, sucking the breath out of him and making him feel like he had walked into an oven. The air was so dry that his sweat evaporated immediately but did nothing to cool him down. Doing his best to keep to the shade, he stopped several people and asked for directions to the Magistrate's building. Most of the citizens spoke a foreign language and it took several attempts to find someone who both understood him and was able to direct him where he needed to go. Thanking the man, he slowly walked towards the center of the city, marveling at how different it was from Westhyl.

The most obvious thing was the color and shape of the buildings. Every single one was white, the exterior smooth and without blemish. He stopped beside one and ran a hand over the wall, wondering what it was made of. There were no seams or any indication the walls were painted brick or stone. And the surface was cool, surprising for something that was baked by the desert sun.

Their shapes were surprising as well. He was used to the thick stone of the castle, laid at right angles and creating a heavy, almost bulky look. The buildings not made of stone, such as the homes in the villages, were made of wood, sometimes plastered with mud or limestone. But even the houses of the wealthy weren't as graceful as these. The buildings in Kaladhin seemed to flow like liquid and blended harmoniously with the buildings around them. Tall, impossibly thin spires reached towards the sky, light green roofs with bright pendants topping them. Every roof was the same color as the spires and many of the buildings had green shutters as well. The street he trod was made up of square stones, fitted so well that no gaps could be seen. They were impossibly clean, and he concluded they must be swept on a regular basis to keep them free of sand and refuse.

Reaching the center of town, he got another surprise. He could see it was a market, only there were no stalls. Instead, the shops were all housed inside the buildings surrounding the square with large awnings in stripes of white and the same light green providing more shade. A huge fountain sat in the exact center, and tall trees that branched out overhead provided even more relief from the blazing sun. He stopped alongside the fountain and gazed around, feeling like he had entered some child's story.

On the far side of the fountain, he could see a wide avenue that ran perfectly straight for about a league, ending at a tall, delicate-looking arch. Behind it was the most magnificent building he had ever seen. At least three stories high and graced with several tall spires, it reminded him of the fantastic cakes he had seen at one of the weddings he had attended. The building was white, just like all the others, and even from this distance, he could make out the intricate iron railings that ran the length of the upper stories. The arched windows were impossibly tall with more intricate latticework and lacy-looking vines covered in pink flowers climbed the walls. Boxes overflowing with more pink flowers hung from the upper stories, giving the place a bright, cheerful look. Funny-looking trees with smooth bark towered over the large open area fronting the building, the long leaves that crowned the top reminding him of the fringes on a woman's shawl.

Reaching the arch, he looked up, noticing for the first time it was covered in some sort of odd markings. Graceful lines swirled and flowed across and around it and he wondered what it was supposed to represent. Stepping under it, he stopped, unsure where to go.

A small man dressed in a flowing white outfit that looked like a loose nightdress approached and bowed. "How may we help?" he asked, placing his palms together.

Gauthier was pleased the man spoke the common tongue. Returning the bow, he pulled the parchment from his shirt. "I am to deliver this personally to the Magistrate."