The Chronicles of Nir

8 | Welcome to Ardensfall

As the party neared the outskirts of the city, Erianthus took the reins with Maisie at his side. With a simple band of cloth bound over his brow and covering the tips of his ears, he looked almost human. Only the brightness of his eyes would give him away, and he kept them lowered.

Tallon would have a harder time concealing his nature. His shining silver hair, purple eyes, and perfectly balanced features not only drew stares, but marked him clearly as an Esilunian—a high elf—or, at the very least, as someone with Esilunian blood. Normally, this wouldn't cause the stir it might have in a place like Ballsdeep—Ardensfall was diverse by human standards—but under the circumstances, Eri thought it best they keep a low profile.

"At least until we reach the noble quarter," Eri explained. "There, our true identities may prove more valuable than a disguise; Tallon's will certainly bear more weight. But the lower circles are full of eyes and ears, and only a fool would assume all are friendly. I highly doubt the poachers got a good look at us—the sun was in their eyes and they were more interested in surviving than in learning our names—but a pinch of prevention is worth a pound of cure, as they say."

Tallon sat in the back with Sprout and Scamp, wrapped in a cloak with the hood drawn up. If the city guards (whom Eri told them had a habit of inspecting travelers at random) became suspicious, they would claim Tallon was ill (but not contagious, for fear of being seized and thrown into the plague quarter, which was under perpetual quarantine).

As the gates loomed ahead—tall, iron-wrought doors large enough to accommodate a giant, Maisie gaped, openmouthed. The walls were taller than towering trees, and beyond them the city rose in tier upon tier of closely packed buildings, like a great stony cake.

"Here are the guards," Eri warned under his breath, leaning towards Maisie. "They're nosy as pigs rooting for truffles, but easily bored. You're a lady from Duskvale, remember? I'm your hired man and Tallon is your husband. He's got a horrible case of indigestion. We're on our way to visit your sister, Jenet, who's just had her first child. Got it?"

Maisie lifted her chin and squared her shoulders.

"I'm from Duskvale and my husband is Marvin Bushtit," she murmured, repeating the concocted story under her breath.

"That is a really stupid name," Tallon grumbled from the wagon's bed. It was a stupid name, in his opinion, though he might have liked it better if Eri hadn't come up with it.

"Bushtits are my favorite birds," Eri argued amiably. "They're adorable."

Maisie waved at both of them to be quiet as she continued her rehearsal. "He's got indigestion and painful gas from eatin' lard cakes, an' now he's got farts horrid enough to stun a dragon."

Tallon glared at her back. Just thinking about lard cakes brought back the greasy texture and pungent smell, making his stomach roil. At least he wouldn't have to try hard to appear ill.

Maisie continued all the way to the gate, muttering her story to herself as Eri pulled the cart to a halt.

Two guardsmen approached; both had the swaggering gait of bored men in search of entertainment.

"G'day," said the first, tipping his lightly armored cap and revealing a mess of sweat-flattened hair beneath. "Papers?"

Wordlessly, Eri handed over the forged documents, which he'd drawn up on the way.

The guard sniffed and appeared to inspect them closely, but given the way his eyes tracked in the opposite direction to the written word, Eri doubted he could read at all.

"Where ya from, then?" he asked, confirming Eri's suspicions as he handed back the papers; if he'd read them, he'd know.

Eri bowed his head, deferring to Maisie. This both kept the guard from noticing the unusual golden hue of his eyes and befitted his role as her hired man.