Diffraction

Chapter Thirteen: City of Refuge

"I encountered significant difficulty procuring objective accounts from within the City prior to the subject's exposure to public attention and approval. Recollections from that point on should be presumed biased by a halo effect."

The gleaming walls of Aulivar loomed over the three wagons like white snow from a mountain peak. The sun coasted above the southern edge of the Snowtips, casting pure light and long shadows. Kristophe Tranthus smiled at the thought of returning to civilization. Not sure how this city is supposed to measure up against Aelwyn's proud towers on steep plateaus. But a bed and warm meal will be nice after all this traipsing about in the woods.

But storm clouds seemed to linger over Jahrin. He pounded the lead wagon with a gauntleted fist and locked eyes with Lyllithe. For the third time he asked, "You're sure no one saw anything? Not a single clue? You believe them, girl?"

"Gracemarks don't lie."

Kristophe gave the Ghostskin girl a sidelong glance. But do Devoted? Especially ones that have been cast out of their order?

He made a mental note to speak to Jahrin in private about his doubts.

The Soulforged girl seemed to trust her friend implicitly. So, while I can admit I'm glad we brought Josephine along, she also falls into the category of dubious allies for now.

He thought back to the fight on the road, and the amateurish manner with which Lyllithe manipulated elemental energy. Though she'd been first to figure out how to use Refocusing indirectly against the Fractured, he scoffed at the way she'd struggled with each cast. If she gets accepted to the Hall, I might withdraw my application for training.

He chuckled. Well, let's not be hasty. Why withdraw mine if I can press them to ignore hers instead?

The road ran along the north side of Aulivar's wall toward the central gate. Shacks and huts sprouted up on both sides of the road, centered around the Mud Gate in the eastern wall. A crowd of servants and dirty peasants gathered in a line to pass through the gate under the scrutiny of guards posted at the entrance. No doubt comprised of the unfortunates who cannot afford to live within the city.

Farmers brought their produce through the Mud Gate on rickety wagons or heavy-laden mules. All fell under the eyes of the Militia, its sparse ranks maintained with conscripts from the able-bodied males. Aelwyn operates by the same system, though there are ways around post duty, for the enterprising young noble.

Kristophe couldn't help feeling relieved when Jahrin led the group toward the Sun Gate in the north wall, the favored route of traders and upper-class citizens.

Jahrin turned to his small following. "The Lord Mayor has instituted several stringent policies in order to maintain the peace within the walls. Of greatest concern to us, commoners are forbidden weapons. We'll be required to turn them in at the gate."

Ellers balked, and Josephine grew tense. Kristophe snickered. "A pity for you all. Don't worry. I've had extensive training with the sword. I'll defend you if the rabble assault you within the walls."

"You're turning your sword in too, Kris," Jahrin said. He didn't even have the decency to turn around to address me.

"I most certainly am not. I am a Tranthus, scion of the House of that name, and nephew of the High Lord of Aelwyn, Lord—"