SONG OF POWER

Chapter XXIV: Everton

SONG OF POWER

CHAPTER XXIV:  EVERTON

“Milord Baronet,” Grivel the Magi addressed Cipher, and the young noble turned to face the chronomancer.  Leaning his staff against his shoulder, Grivel reached out his hands to the others.  Grivel, Cipher, Ninthalsaya, and Rowena formed a circle and, with a word of Grivel’s magic, they were gone.

Every fantastic dream Cipher had ever dreamed could not have prepared him for the sights he beheld, even if they had all teamed together and paraded themselves before him for a fortnight.  Such was Everton, the City of Magic, alive with arcane forces that infused every inch of its existence.

The buildings of Everton were laid out in a vast web stretching from the shore of the RedWest Ocean to the first trees of the Dreadwood.  Most of them were tall, slender affairs that more closely resembled prim minarets than residences.  They were crafted from every imaginable material; rice paper, quartz, brick and mortar, there was even one four-story spire fashioned from humanoid teeth! The windows set into the buildings ranged from lead crystal to great panes of polished obsidian, and Ninthalsaya swore that the one nearest to her was no more than a pale green illusion manufactured by a journeyman trickster.  Some of the buildings swayed gently in the breeze like the trunks of tropical trees.  A few of the buildings levitated inches or feet above the thoroughfare, and the young man observed no less than three strange huts that danced on massive chicken legs.    One squat tower of stoic gray marble was cast in the shade of a much larger, three-towered edifice, so it sprouted lizard-like legs and moved out into the middle of the street so that it could bask in the sun.

The construction of some of the buildings defied gravity; they would ascend from their foundations normally enough before jutting out at odd angles for no apparent reason other than to serve the architect’s whims.  Others were built quite impossibly, such as towers that were no thicker than a lance at their base, yet wide as any house Cipher had seen at the top.  Still others seemed to have missing floors, such as one that rose some twenty feet into the air, then there was a large gap, after which the tower continued as if nothing were amiss and that it was offended that anyone would even consider that it was incomplete.

Gaily colored flags fluttered in a breeze that smelled of rose petals, and soldiers in smart blue tabards patrolled the streets in orderly fashion.  The populace of Everton carried on with their day-to-days without even a sidelong glance at most of these occurrences, seeing this as the most natural way to exist and thinking nothing was out of the ordinary.  Some citizens behaved as those in other settlements Cipher had observed; purchasing foodstuffs, delivering parcels, and chatting with their neighbors.  Layered atop the mundane were magic-users practicing spellcraft, wranglers who rode fantastic beasts, and some people who interacted with the enchanted buildings as one might with another living person.  An elderly wizard tottered past the group, followed by a talkative and ambulatory bookshelf.  Everton’s people were as varied as the buildings, including humans, dwarves, sidhe, giants, lizard-men, giant insects, dragonen, goblins, and other races.  Strange was normal, and bizarre was the new black.

Cipher’s head swam from the sheer alien nature of his new surroundings.  Ninthalsaya seemed cool as a cucumber, as always, but Rowena had a hand to her temple, her eyes downcast.  Cipher reached out and took her hand to reassure her, even though he himself felt overwhelmed.  Rowena smiled at Cipher, squeezing his hand, but he could feel her trepidation.  Ninthalsaya took Cipher’s other hand, drawing his attention to the half-elf.  She wore the gossamer veil that obscured the lower half of her face, as always, but her large, brilliant violet eyes spoke volumes.

“How do we gain an audience with the Highwizard, husband?”  Ninthalsaya softly asked Cipher, who shrugged.  The witch’s practical question helped to ground him, drawing him away from the insanity of Everton to the gravity of their quest.