The City of Towers

CHAPTER 7

If the dragonmarked houses held power to rival nations, then the district of Dragon Towers was where they maintained their embassies and consulates. Dozens of shops promised the mystical services of the true heirs of each house, and beyond these little businesses lay the enclaves of the houses themselves-massive towers where the heirs lived and learned their arts. The Great Healing Hall of House Jorasco was the largest to be found in Breland, and Sivis Tower was a nexus for communication across Khorvaire. The services of the dragonmarked were expensive, and the people who thronged the streets were not the peasants and beggars found on the lower level. Here aristocrats rubbed shoulders with knights and merchant princes. The street was a tapestry of colorful silk, and the air filled with the scents of rare perfumes and the exotic spices of the Ghallanda vendors.

Pierce and Lei made their way through this glorious chaos. Although the streets were crowded, most people made way for the warforged soldier. But even as Pierce scanned the streets for any possible threats, his thoughts were on the Lady Lei. Pierce had an intuitive understanding of combat. A shifting shadow, the glint of a blade, the smell of fire-he would know how to respond to such things. But he had no guidelines for the sorrow of a friend. It was not the first time he had seen pain or anger. He himself still felt the loss of each comrade who had fallen in the war-a hollow emptiness when he envisioned the faces of Jholeg or Jani. But no one had ever taught him what to do with these feelings or how to address the sorrow of another. So he cleared the way for the Lady Lei and waited for her emptiness to pass on its own.

Ahead he saw the sign of a smithy; the hammer-and-anvil seal of House Cannith was emblazoned below the name of the smith. “My lady, should we begin our inquiries with this armorer?”

Lei glanced up at the sign and shook her head. “No. Black anvil.”

Lei was speaking less frequently than usual. It seemed reasonable to assume that talking would help repair her damaged spirit. “I do not understand the significance of the color. Is it not your-uh, the seal of House Cannith?”

Lei sighed. “The powers of the house extend far beyond the actual heirs of the mark, Pierce.” While her voice remained dull, she began to fall into her usual lecturing cadence. “Each house has found ways to apply the powers of its mark to provide services to the people of Khorvaire. But the houses have extended their influence farther into these fields. The black anvil indicates that the smith has been trained and licensed by a Cannith guild and that his work will meet the standards set by the house. But he is not an heir of the blood and could be of no use to us.”

“I understand, my lady.”

“Cannith Tower is the central enclave of the house.” She pointed at the silver spire rising up ahead. “That’s where we’ll get our answers … if they’ll speak to me.”

“You have doubts?”

“If … if what that Domo said is true,” she said, “then yes, I have doubts.” She reached out, resting her hand on his mithral shoulder. “I just don’t know what to expect. I thought the war was finally over.”

“Perhaps the war is never won,” Pierce said. “We must simply find satisfaction in survival.”

Lei tightened her grip on his shoulder, and they continued on their way.

Cannith Tower was a masterpiece, a testimony to the architectural talents of the House of Making. Silver threads had been embedded into the surface of the stone walls, creating the impression of a glittering web of light rising into the sky.

“I remember when I first saw the tower,” Lei said. “I came here to study firebinding.” She pointed to a window high on the tower. “My cousin Dasei and I stayed in that room while we were learning. She couldn’t bind to save her life, but she always managed to charm her way through the challenges.” She shook her head.

While Pierce listened, his attention was on the defenses of the tower. For all that they appeared to be leaded glass, he had no doubt that the windows were mystically hardened to resist physical damage. There was one central gate, and five guards spread before it. All five were identical warforged-massive warriors built from gray adamantine alloy. They stood as still as statues, but Pierce had no doubt that they had already spotted him and were evaluating the threat he might pose. Each of the ’forged carried a long hammer and a shield bearing the Cannith seal. Pierce couldn’t spot the slightest scratch on the polished skin of any of the soldiers. This could reflect a lack of combat experience, or it could be a fringe benefit of working for the House of Making. While combat seemed unwise, Pierce loosened the chain of his flail. Should Lady Lei be threatened, he needed to be ready.

“Are you certain this is a wise course of action, my lady?”

“Don’t worry, Pierce. There is no question of violence here.” Nonetheless, he could hear fear in her voice. “Follow my lead.”

Lei took a deep breath and walked up to the gate. One of the warforged moved to block her path.

Lei made a sharp gesture with her hand. “Stand aside, guardsman. I have dealings with the baron of this house and have no time for underlings.”

Pierce was watching the guard’s face, and he saw a slight motion as the warforged looked down to examine Lei’s fingers. While Lei had the imperious manner of a noble, she no longer had her ring, and the guardsman held his ground.

“What is your name and the nature of your business?”

“I am Lei d’Cannith,” she snapped, “an heir of the mark, and my business is not for you to know.”

The speaker glanced at one of the other warforged soldiers. Pierce tightened his grip of the haft of his flail.

“Please inform the warden, Twelve,” the sentinel said. One of the other warforged nodded and entered the building.

“You dare to keep me waiting on the doorstep?” Lei said.

The guard met her gaze. His face was a steel mask of indifference, but Pierce could sense a touch of uncertainty beneath. He wasn’t prepared for this situation. “If you will wait one moment, I am certain that the warden will be able to assist you.”

Pierce could see Lei’s anger building, but she maintained her composure. She had expected a cold welcome.

Minutes passed, then a new figure appeared at the gate. A large man in his late forties, he had red hair that almost matched Lei’s, but there were a few streaks of gray in his flaring mustache. He wore studded leather armor died a deep blue, and a harness bearing five rods of polished darkwood-each holding a potentially deadly enchantment, Pierce was sure. It had been two years since Pierce had seen this man, but he remembered him clearly enough-Dravot d’Cannith, whom they’d last seen as the warden of the Whitehearth armory.

Lei glowed at the sight of a familiar face. “Dravot!” she cried. “You’re alive!”

She moved to embrace the warden, but a warforged guardsman stepped into her path. Her face tightened in anger, and for a moment Pierce thought she might actually attack the warforged; he had heard of her exploits at the battle of Keldan Ridge. But then Lei saw Dravot’s face. She stopped, the energy draining out of her.

“You have no place here,” Dravot said. His voice was as cold as his expression. “You have been declared excoriate, and have no rights to the name of this house. You are to have no dealings with this house or its heirs, and you are not to present yourself at enclaves of the house. Failure to comply with the dictates of the house will be … dealt with.” His hand dropped to one of his wands.

“But Dravot …” Lei grasped for words. Clearly she hadn’t expected such treatment from a familiar face. “Tell me why! What have I ever done?”

Dravot’s face was as impassive as any of the warforged. “You have no rights to any answer, and you will receive nothing from any member of this house. You will leave this place now, and you will not trouble the rightful heirs of this house ever again. Do you understand?”

“Dravot-?”

“You will receive no answer from any member of the house. Do you understand?” Dravot drew one of his wands, glittering darkwood bearing a single band of gold.

Pierce studied the wand, determining whether he could shatter it with his flail before Dravot could unleash its powers. But as he let the chain slide free, Lei nodded.

“Let’s go, Pierce,” she said. Turning, she looked back at Dravot. “I’m glad that you’re alive.”

He said nothing, and the wand stayed level in his hand.

Slowly, Lei and Pierce walked away from the tower. Lei seemed dazed. Pierce put his hand on her back, holding her up and keeping her moving. They’d walked about fifty yards when there was a loud whisper.

“Jura still lives in Darkhart Woods.” It was Dravot’s voice.

Looking back, Pierce saw Dravot still standing at the gate of the enclave. Apparently he had used some magic to send the whispered words along the length of the street. Pierce looked down at Lei. The words had roused her from her shock, and now she was deep in thought.

“My lady?”

She raised a hand. “Let’s go back to the Manticore. I need to consider this.”