The Sceptre of Samnos

Ilandia Part 7

     The next morning, they entered the town along with a party of merchants from Silverlode leading a train of mules laden down with sheepskins. Andor was, if anything, even more cramped and crowded than Fort Battleaxe. It had only one main street, running parallel to the River, which widened out into the market place in the middle and was so crammed full of market stalls, salesmen, beggars, buskers, guardsmen and customers in search of the day's bargains that it took a real effort to cross from one side to the other. It was a pickpocket's paradise, and Thomas warned them to keep a tight hold onto their pouches as they struggled through.

     Around the market place stood most of the town's public buildings, such as they were. The combined courthouse and town hall, the town's one and only temple, the appraisal office owned by the nearby copper mine, the moneylender's offices and also, probably most important of all, the town's largest inn, the Pick and Shovel. Thomas led them past all of these, however, and took them to a narrow road between the large (well, largish) homes of two of the town's most prominent citizens. Once past these well built, attractively decorated buildings they came to the real Andor, a grubby place with narrow mucky streets whose foul smelling drainage ditches were choked with litter and drying mud.

     The buildings on either side were made from rather poor quality bricks which had a tendency to disintegrate after a few years, making it necessary to rebuild at regular intervals, thereby ensuring the brickmakers a steady source of income. They were three or four storeys tall and their upper storeys were wider than at ground level, so that people leaning out of opposing second storey windows could almost have shaken hands across the street. It made the streets dark and squalid even on the brightest, sunniest days, and only a narrow strip of blue sky could be seen high above them. They had small windows made from thick, cloudy glass which only admitted just barely enough light to see by, and those who could afford them used lamps and candles even during the brightest part of the day. Since most people spent most of their lives indoors, their eyes tended to adapt permanently to the gloom, and a town dweller who ventured out into the countryside could be spotted easily by the way they squinted and shaded their eyes in the sunlight.

     "Your family lives here?" asked Lirenna, wrinkling her nose at the smell. She found it hard to believe that anyone would choose to live under these conditions. It was such a stark contrast to the beautiful valley of Haven in which she'd grown up, in which, with the exception of the silver city, no town had more than a few hundred inhabitants and sprawled over as great an area as they wanted, mingling with the surrounding countryside. This place, in comparison, was like a cramped, squalid prison.

     "Yeah," agreed Thomas. "I know it's not exactly paradise, but this part of the world was shaped by the Shadowwars. Out here, you have only two options. Either live out of town, in one of the surrounding villages, where you can be comfortable and happy, surrounded by nature, fresh air, the twittering of birds and the lowing of cattle, or cramped and uncomfortable in the town, surrounded by crowds of noisy people, bad smells, and the ever present threat of being mugged and murdered. An easy choice, you might think, until you remember that in this town you're surrounded by strong city walls and protected by a garrison of Beltharan troops. Most of the people living out of town are the ones who have to, like farmers for instance, and most of them have relatives in town with whom they can stay in times of trouble. Old habits die hard."

     "What does your family do here?" asked Jerry.

     "My dad's a cobbler, and my mum weaves carpets that she sells in the market. We're not a terribly wealthy family, but we get by."

     Thomas saw a man pushing a cart full of potatoes, a man about his own age but larger and stronger, with long tangled hair and hands almost black with deeply ingrained dirt. He gave a cry of recognition and dashed over to greet him. “Henry! It’s me, Tom!” The man paused to look at him without recognition. “Thomas Gown! I went off to become a wizard! Remember? Thomas! Thomas Gown!”