The Old City

0.34: Silver Phoenix

The Underground, five in the morning

When Marek finally pressed his hand against the slimy rock wall, he sighed with relief. He'd spent all night in the Underground, crawling in darkness to find this spot. His pants were soaked from the inevitable pools that formed from dripping stalactites.

The wall stretched further than he could see, not that anyone could see that far in this darkness. Rubbing his hand over the surface, Marek could tell it curved slightly in each direction, so it would form an oblong perimeter.

Thirty familiar men and a few women stood at the ready. Proudly stitched on each of their right arms was the indicative silver bear, a severe creature with claws extended and maw agape as though roaring through the ink. But they were not alone: Ten Black Phoenix, including Mordat, stood mixed into the crowd.

The air was heavy and icy with distrust. Venomous glances shot between the gangs. Weapons rolled in hands, itching to lash out.

Only Marek was immune to the tension. The leader of the Silver Bears knew his decision for truce would be upheld. His men would never disregard his order and Lucien's reputation preceded him: The Black Phoenix were too terrified of his wrath to disobey.

"How much longer?" whispered Pernita, a scythe of blood already drawn. She was the loosest of their group, though Marek figured her calm was due to her madness mostly. His newest lieutenant was invaluable for her violence, but she was also the only one he didn't fully understand. She would remain on his side so long as he could provide her battles, and battles were a commodity he had in great supply.

"Fifteen minutes," called Rhys.

"Spread out," Marek ordered.

***

The Grand Bazaar, at the same time

Soft rays of the morning sun dripped through the clouds, casting the whole market in a golden hue. It was idler at this hour, yet merchants still buzzed about, scrambling to complete the last minute trades that would shore up their wares for the day ahead. A few desperate customers darted from stall to stall, praying for day-old wares they might acquire at a discount. Everybody needed something.

The sprawling market was famed for its commerce, it was the one place on the Continent where you could get anything. The perimeter teemed with local vendors who hawked fruits and vegetables. Rosy tomatoes gleamed next to huge heads of cabbage, and fresh berries dominated the entire east side. Even the rats of the First Ring could shop in these stalls, most of them at least.

This layer bled into the next, an array of curated foods and imported spices, artisanal cheese, cured meats and fish. Scents drifted in from everywhere, depending on how the wind blew. Here, the air was deep with sweet cinnamon. There, it was heavy with the peppery jaral of the Jade Swamp.

The third row transitioned from food to goods, boasting handcrafted furniture and clothes. It smelled of wood and smelted metals. The rhythmic thump of hammers sounded all over. These stalls began to take a more personal form. Some were carved with ornate designs, fashionable reliefs and proud columns. Others had a simple structure but were draped in lavish silks or filigreed metalwork. Carpenters, tailors, smiths. The third region of the Grand Bazaar possessed some of the finest craftsmen on the Continent.

The penultimate set of merchants dealt in fine goods. Fine jewelers showed off their glistening gems, and artists displayed works on all mediums here. Statues and sculptures were spread throughout the very streets. Some merchants designed their own tents with painted canvas and tapestries, though most booths were made of metal. Enforcers protected this area in earnest.

The innermost section of the Bazaar is small, so small it was missed by most of its visitors. Plenty Soranians did not know it existed, not that they could have made use of its goods. This place that was holy for some, the Mercat Arcana. Only four buildings stood in this area, one for each of the Mage Guilds.

Lucien entered the Bazaar from the south, cloaked in heavy lambskin to protect against the rain, which was gratefully lightening. His senses were open, listening for every whistle, alarm, kiss, and step. At this moment, he heard three other groups walking into the Bazaar, each of which was led by one of his most trusted men.

Katulus's squad approached from the north and scattered as soon as they hit the first row of stalls. Every one of them carried additional crystals filled with magic. Lucien ensured they spread out to surround the whole Bazaar before turning to the next group.

Demyor was the pound-for-pound strongest brawler In the Black Phoenix and stomped in on the west side. His hefty footfalls thundered across the Bazaar so loudly Lucien was certain even non-mages would have heard them. Standing over two meters tall, he claimed to be descended from the giants of the north. A delusion, surely, but not a deception. Demyor didn't walk, he strutted. He was the hammer of the Black Phoenix, and Lucien had found many nails in the city to use him on.

From the east came Firkaan the Silver Bear. *The werewolf,* he reminded himself. *That piece of information was almost valuable enough to pay for the injuries Granada sustained. Even if he was human though, I would not trust him.* He moved gracefully on the tips of his toes. *Or are there claws inside his shoes?* A dozen Black Phoenix followed clumsily by comparison, having been ordered to keep Firkaan close.

Lucien looked down at his wristwatch, a black timepiece inlaid with silver, whose hands were the wings of his phoenix. He reached out, touching the mind of every Silver Bear and Black Phoenix around the Bazaar.  It is time.

At once, the Bazaar exploded.

***

The Underground, five fifteen in the morning

Marek saw his team shudder when they heard Lucien's voice in their heads. The range of his enemy's telepathy concerned him, but he was pleased that he could keep the voice out with relative ease.

Pernita stepped forward, brought her scythe back in a wide arc, and slashed it into the wall. She cut again to form a cross and a few more times to loose the new blocks from the wall, which came crumbling down. Dust plumed around them and Marek covered his face with his collar to breathe. When his men cleared the rubble, Marek was the first into the hole, though after a few steps he was forced to stop.

The storeroom of the Grand Bazaar was the largest cavern he'd ever encountered in the Underground. It was the largest room he'd ever seen for that matter. It was hundreds of meters tall, with long columns of stone reaching from the floor to the craggy ceiling, each of which connected to a stall on the surface.

The hole Pernita had cut was a dozen stories below the floor, too far for any of them to jump.

"Rope!" Marek called. A moment later, his men brought climbing gear. They hammered stakes into the ground and tied the rope to it to keep it steady and they fitted Marek with a harness, which was tied to the other end. Soon he was descending, plunging a dozen meters at a time toward the bottom. When he hit the floor, he tugged upon the rope to signal the next to follow. 

Already two more lines had been dropped and his men followed.

Now he looked up at the expanse around him. The storeroom was a rumor. Few really believed that such a place could exist - somewhere that excess wares could be held for years, for decades, without rotting. A lifeline while any conflict on the surface wore itself out.

"I want two squads around the perimeter and one to patrol the columns." He pointed at the hole from which they'd descended. "The entrance will be guarded at all times. Set up a pulley to transport materials and men in and out of here. We probably need to carve out more space.

"One of you Black Phoenix, tell Lucien that we've done our job. The storeroom is ours."