Hierarchy (Book Four of the Torrent Skies Saga)

Chapter Twenty-Two: Barbarism, Pt. 1

The halves of Rastridge were as warm sun and shadowed night. One was welcoming, while the other made Katerin feel ill at ease. One was quaint and quiet, while the other held boisterous noises of every sort. The trader's on the gnomish side of the city wore their finest finery and screeched for someone to view their wares. The construct guardsman's metal feet scraped across the stone in an unerring spine tingling manner.

I should have let Mikhale do my hair, Katerin thought, as she saw the attire of the people she passed on the street. She could only wonder how the council dressed.

The street was crowded even for this late in the afternoon, but Graiden paid it no heed, weaving between wagons and down alleyways when something blocked the roads. To the side, Katerin could just glimpse the river every now and again. It was a small beauty, how little floats of ice drifted down it, and how the docks men and sailors looked bundled up in their coats.

Finally, they approached a regal, tall and white building centered on this side of the city. With Silver scrolling and half pillar's decorating its front. With another look, Katerin realized someone had painted it, and that it was not true marble or silver. Just made to look like it. Vacantly, she wondered what the giants might think of that. They would likely call it farce, and smash it to pieces. The thought of that amused her for a moment.

As they approached, Graiden slowed and offered Katerin his arm. The hubbub before them cleared away, and Katerin could see a line of constructs before the steps, standing shoulder to shoulder. A few people approached, spoke, and were allowed through by the gap the guard made moving aside, but others approached, spoke, and weapons were raised. It took only that for the people to clear away, but it was still a strange sight.

Graiden sighed. "Don't mess with these. The strongest ones in the city, by far."

"Do they stay here, always?"

"No, Graiden said. "Half are the personal guards of the council member's."

Katerin squeezed his arm "Is this going to be terrible?"

"Oh, surely," Graiden's weathered face wrinkled a little further as he smiled at her, "But it's nothing we can't handle, Rhys Vicar."

Katerin held in her sigh at the use of her title. "Any last words of wisdom?"

"Wait until they ask you questions, and please, for the love of justice and balance, do not defend me. You'll only spur them on."

Before Katerin could reply, they stopped before the large construct. It stood taller by half then a man and had no light in its carved approximation of eyes. Its shield came up and extended towards them.

"State your name and reason for the visit."

Katerin had been expecting a cold, unsympathetic sound, but the constructs words sounded as if they had been spoken by a nasally voice. She blinked, and touched Ralore's book, where it sat at her side. The change in her vision was so intense it made her wobble, but she could see layer upon layer of enchantment over the constructs. All of them were uniform lines, parts grayed out and weaved over with newer magics.

"Graiden Vliss, High captain and commander of Sahn-Raidar, with the Lady of Itrea, Sahn-Raidar's Rhys Vicar, Katerin Moonshadow. Here for a scheduled appointment with the council of eleven."

The construct said nothing as its shield dropped and it stepped aside. Katerin would have been too distracted by its enchantments to move, had Graiden not had her arm. It was a conscious thought, and push of will, to tear her fingertips from the book, and in doing so she huffed out a breath.

Graiden must have mistaken her reaction as one of nervousness, as he gave her an encouraging look—something that seemed almost strange on his face—and said, "Don't look so worried. It will all be alright."