Ancel shook himself and looked around. He had stopped to stare at his surroundings. Ahead of them, Shin Galiana and Ryne stood waiting. They spurred their horses and caught up.
Distant clangs in a familiar, constant rhythm echoed. A smithy? The sound repeated around him from dozens of directions. He was certain they were hammers. He discerned the shushing sounds of steam on hot metals, mixed in with other clanking noises. There must have been hundreds of blacksmiths. Where the chimneys for each were located, he could not tell. Occasionally, he noticed a low rumble of what he thought to be a cart’s wheels, and a loud, squeaking noise he did not recognize.
“There’s at least fifty smithies here.” Mirza paused and licked his lips, his apprehension obvious. Normally he would rattle off whatever it was he knew.
“Go on,” Ancel encouraged.
Mirza smiled sheepishly and nodded. “Harval also has a quarrying operation, and only Ilumni knows, how many carts going back and forth from the mines deep in these cliffs. The squeaking? The wheels of an ore tram. Someone needs to get to oiling. They usually have six or seven of them hitched together. You know,” a thoughtful expression pinched his face, “I can’t figure out how they get them to move or stop on those rails.”
“Earth and air essences,” Shin Galiana said. “Air to move and earth to stop.”
“They use Ashishin to run them?” Ancel’s brows climbed his forehead.
Shin Galiana gave him a look that said he should know better. “Do not be foolish. Almost all in Harval are Dagodin.”
Ancel had not expected to hear that either. “But shouldn’t they be off fighting …” His voice trailed off.
“Dagodin are good for other things besides weapons. Without the ones adept in using divya tools, we wouldn’t be able to build much of what we do. This town would not exist.” She gestured up at the cliffs. “Harval is an old town and produces most of the stone and metals used throughout Barham and Doster, the same as Eldanhill and the villages to the north provided for Sendeth. Much of the divya created here are for quarrying and mining.”
“Weapons too,” Mirza added.
Galiana inclined her head.
Ancel frowned. If they did produce that much, then Harval must have several dozen Imbuers. He always wanted to see how they worked their craft. The books considered them something of an enigma, more Dagodin than Ashishin. The Tribunal only recognized Matii who could use their Forges in battle as Ashishin.
By now, they stood directly under a vast majority of the stone bridges. With the amount of homes, Ancel would have expected there to be a pungent stench from drainage or refuse, but there was only a slight whiff. Curious, he searched for drains. He picked them out near the cliffs, each disappearing into the rocky foundation.
Shin Galiana led them into a gateway, several dozen feet wide and tall, carved into the cliff on their left. It opened into an impossibly large cavern, housing line after line of stables and pens. The smell of manure and livestock permeated the air along with a cacophony of animal cries. The cavern contained various domesticated animals, from horses to fowl.
On spindly legs, backs littered with small humps, several slainen ate from a trough. Their beady eyes ignored everything around them as they chewed contentedly. More than a quarter of the pens contained hibernating dartans. The creatures appeared as little more than large, mottled shells, their limbs withdrawn into their carapaces.
Ancel glanced from Mirza to Shin Galiana. Mirza had one of those silly grins on his face again. Curious, Ancel backed his horse up outside the door. The sounds died. He opened his mouth to ask how but stopped. A Forging.
He returned inside. Several young boys mucked out stables and pens. They washed them down with buckets of water into drains that ran along the back of each stall. A couple of dogs lazed about, barely raising their heads at the newcomers. One of them trotted over to Charra and sniffed at him. Charra growled. Head bowed, the dog slunk back to its original spot and lay down.
“Shin Galiana,” exclaimed a rotund, pock-faced old man, with short, straight hair and a bald spot on the crown of his head. “Pleasant surprise. It’s been the Ewald Stables’ blessing of late to be graced by this many Ashishin.” The man’s watery gaze drifted to Ryne several times. He shook his head.
Shin Galiana nodded to the man. “Nice to see you also, Master Ewald.”
He gestured behind him. “Been a busy week as you can see. Why, with rumors of troubles beyond the Vallum, and the recent clashes in Sendeth, business has increased tenfold.” His eyes darted from side to side; he took a breath and added, “I heard Eldanhill was involved. Something about the Setian returning.”
Master Ewald’s voice reminded Ancel of when he had a hoarse throat. A raspy mix of whispering and coughs. Shin Galiana had a barely noticeable frown on her face as she regarded the stable master.
“You should not believe everything you hear, Master Ewald,” Galiana’s expression gave away nothing. “Some things are not worth repeating. Others are … like the rumors of these troubles at the Vallum.”
The stable master nodded as if satisfied with Galiana’s answer. His voice dropped to a whisper. “Don’t mention you heard it from me, Shin Galiana, but some of the peddlers from Torandil have said war is brewing.”
Galiana gave the man a skeptical look. “But there is always war beyond the Vallum.”
Ewald peered around nervously. “Not like this. I heard there’s been more fighting than usual. Our armies have actually lost ground. But you did not hear any of that from me, Shin Galiana, no, you did not.”
“I will remember not to mention it.”
Master Ewald bowed to her. “Where’s my manners. Welcome, welcome back to Harval.” He gave Mirza a nod and a grin. “And you Master Faber, tell your father that Milnar is looking for him. He has some new ore and a new mine Devan may be interested in.”
Mirza returned the grin.
Ewald stroked the stubble on his chin. “And you must be … wait don’t tell me,” he said, as Ancel opened his mouth. “I would know that face anywhere. Stefan Dorn’s boy. You’re welcome here too, lad.” He smiled at Ancel’s nod of affirmation. Finally, he gave Ryne another once over. “And,” he paused, “any friend of Shin Galiana’s is welcome here also.”
Ryne actually smiled and nodded to Ewald. “Call me Ryne.”
He held out one of his massive hands to the stable master, who stepped forward and took it tentatively. Ewald’s eyes widened, while he shook Ryne’s hand.
“Ah, my manners again,” said Ewald, with a shake of his head. “Dismount, the boys will take your horses.”
Ewald signaled to several of the stable hands who were gawking at Ryne.
“Master Ewald,” Shin Galiana said after they dismounted, “you mentioned that quite a few Ashishin visited Harval.”
The stable master nodded.
“Are they still here?”
“Why, yes. I think they may be at the town hall or the Stoneman’s, or both.” Ewald put a hand to his chin as he contemplated his answer.
“Hmm. Tell me, since it has been so busy, which of the inns do you think still has room?”
Ewald stroked his chin briefly before he answered. “Why, the Stoneman, of course. I’m sure Master Gebbert has space on the upper floors.” He eyed them for a moment. “And the warmest baths too.”
Instinctively, Ancel looked down at the grime and dirt covering his furs. He had not realized just how dirty they had become.
“Thank you, Master Ewald.” Galiana reached into the folds of her clothes. Moments later came a distinctive clink as coins changed hands. “That will be all.”
Ewald’s cheeks reddened. “Thank you, Shin Galiana. Well, I will leave you to it then and return to my work.” He hurried off.