She grimaced. “I didn’t think of that. You’re right to be careful. Then where are we going?”
“To a tavern I know. It’s called the Deepshelf Inn, and we’re not likely to bump into friends of the king there.”
They turned onto a wider road, one that curved gradually as they walked along. Sooty smiths pounded their hammers against red steel anvils in several shops to the left, and they passed another foundry where they could see red-hot metal being poured from a great bucket into a series of molds, sparks trailing from the liquid. The workers all wore heavy leather aprons, hoods, and gauntlets with slit faceplates to protect themselves from the searing heat.
Gretchan looked around wide-eyed and would have stopped to investigate if Brandon had let her. Instead, he continued to lead her along until they came to a wide cave mouth on the side of the road. The establishment’s name, Deepshelf Inn, was carved into the mantel above the entrance. From within came sounds of laughter and genial argument, as well as smells of roasting meat, burning tobacco, and yeasty beer.
They stepped through the door into the crowded interior. The entryway was fairly dark, but the rear of the room was much brighter. As they advanced, Gretchan saw that the inn’s great room ended in a broad, curved balcony that was open to the air on the far side. The vast space was illuminated from above by a diffuse glow that, while it wasn’t as bright as daylight, suggested the pale glow of sunset or dawn.
“It looks like a view of the outside world!” she exclaimed.
“That’s the Atrium,” Brandon explained. “It’s a shaft that runs up and down through the center of Garnet Thax. The palace stands at the very top. All of the city’s levels have a view of the Atrium at some point-I guess you could say it’s Kayolin’s most significant feature.”
“Like the Urkhan Sea in Thorbardin,” she suggested in a tone of wonder.
“Maybe,” he replied with a shrug. He’d never thought of it like that before; as a Kayolin dwarf, the Atrium was just another part of ordinary life.
“What’s at the bottom?” Gretchan asked.
“Nobody knows. The horax have their dens far down there, somewhere. Lower than that, you’d probably come to the middle of the world; if you look down there, you can see the faint glow of lava and even feel the heat.” That vista had never failed to impress him as a boy, first, then as an adult.
“Can we sit next to it?” she asked, as if reading his mind. At first he was reluctant because there seemed no place more likely for him to be noticed. The balcony at the outer rim of the inn was visible to observers on the various levels above. But since they were in the deep-levels, it would be hard to pick them out on the crowded terrace. In fact, it would be pleasant to sit near the Atrium. Gretchan’s questions made him feel fond of it.
They made their way between the crowded tables, past the bar, and finally found themselves on the balcony, with the Atrium yawning before them. Gretchan gave a little gasp of surprise and stepped right up to the low stone railing that prevented an accidental fall. After glancing around for any signs of overly curious dwarves-though the bar, including the balcony, was crowded, all the customers and servers seemed to be occupied with their own business-Brandon stepped up to join her.
He felt, again, the dizzying sense of space that the Atrium provided, and he instinctively understood why the nation’s ancestors had chosen to build Garnet Thax around the vast, airy shaft. The deep well plummeted below them. They were near the bottom of the city, so most of the view downward was simply barren stone walls, cliffs that were pocked with ledges and the occasional crack, chimney, or cave mouth. The shaft here was perhaps a hundred and fifty feet across, and if they looked directly ahead, they saw a balcony similar to theirs, though not as large or as crowded, on the other side.
A few more of those vantages marked the presence of the city’s very deepest levels, below, until the gradually narrowing shaft vanished into a blue mist. Far below, a faint crimson glow, like the embers in a dying fire, suggested the deep fires at the heart of Krynn.
“You’re right; I do feel the warmth,” Gretchan said, leaning over so precipitously that Brandon grabbed her shoulder. “It’s rising like a breeze.”
“Yep,” Brand agreed, not releasing his grip. “It warms the whole city.”
They turned their eyes upward and beheld a dazzling array of lights where lanterns marked the more prosperous parts of the city. A series of shelves jutted from the cliff as it ascended toward the heights. There were dozens of levels to Garnet Thax, each of them centered around that deep shaft. They could pinpoint numerous other balconies, and many dwarves were leaning against the railings just as they were, taking in the sights. The Atrium was the focal point for all the dwarves of Kayolin, and many innkeepers exploited that fact by establishing patios and tables with a view.
Hundreds of dwarves were visible all around them, leaning on balconies like theirs, talking, drinking, or just staring thoughtfully. Looking around, Brandon hoped no one would notice them and recognize him.
From the great room of the Deepshelf Inn, they could hear sounds of raucous laughter, mugs clinking in a steady round of toasts. “The Deepshelf is one of the lowest social establishments in the city-in elevation, as well as class. The folks in here are mostly miners and laborers.” He gestured toward the higher reaches of the great shaft. “Up there, you’ll find a lot of prosperous merchants, with the wealthiest-and the nobility-sticking to the very top levels. The midlevels have a lot more inns and cafes right on the Atrium,” he explained. “It’s always been a popular spot for Kayolin’s dwarves to congregate. On the highest levels, those just below the governor’s palace, there are private manors with their own balconies looking out onto the shaft. Those are generally considered the most desirable homes in all Garnet Thax. The Heelspur clan owns one that circles halfway around the shaft at one of its widest points.”
“It looks like it gets wider the higher you go,” Gretchan observed.
“Yes, that’s right. It’s about three hundred feet across at the palace level, and gradually narrows as it descends. Some say it’s only ten or twenty feet wide down below, but it’s been a long time since anyone went down to look.”
They found a small table near the edge and took their seats. A few minutes later, a serving maid came by to ask for their order; she returned with their drinks, but the priestess ignored hers; she was still gawking at the vast shaft of the Atrium. Brandon also wasn’t ready to dive into his tall mug of bitter beer. He sat morosely, alternately watching Gretchan, peering around, and staring at the black slate table.
“How did you do what you did back there?” Brandon asked. “How did you get me past those guards who were going to arrest me?”
“Well, it was a simple charm spell,” she replied modestly. “Pretty useful on dimwits like those four. They probably still think you’re a long-lost buddy. And when the effect wears off, I hope they’ll be too embarrassed to tell anyone what happened.”
“But to think of my name on some kind of list!” Brandon declared, still trying to wrap his head around the idea. “Things are worse here than I imagined.”
“They mentioned the League of Enforcers,” Gretchan said. “I take it there was no such vigilance at the checkpoints when you left here?”
He shook his head. “No. But times have changed-and fast. I’ve got to find my parents and hear about what’s going on here!”
“I’m sure they’ll be happy to see you,” the priestess returned mildly.
“But if my name is on a list of undesirables,” he replied, “who knows? Their house may be watched. My father helped me get out of here when the governor and Lord Heelspur wanted my head.”
“What about friends?” Gretchan asked sensibly. “Some of the people you know, who you trusted-and could still trust. Why don’t we seek one of them out, find out what’s going on, maybe see if they’ll get in touch with your father for us so you don’t walk straight into a trap.”