The most immediate thing they noticed when stepping through the walls was the smell. It was of salt, sea, and fish, damp wood and overgrown moss. It was vibrant, if a bit overwhelming. Tessanna seemed to love it, though, inhaling deep and smiling. It was good to see, and Qurrah grinned despite the stench.
“It’s alive here,” she said. “So unlike Mordeina.”
Qurrah shrugged.
“Mordeina smelled better.”
She winked at him, but did not counter. The traffic was light, and merchants called to them from both sides of the road. Qurrah meant to ignore them, but Tessanna drifted away. She looked over the food and trinkets, saying nothing, only drinking it all in with her eyes. Like a child, thought Qurrah. Despite his impatience, he let her go from booth to booth. A darkness had settled over her the past few months, he knew that. What he didn’t know was why, so anything that chased it away, anything that brought out the joy he knew was buried deep within her, was something he would encourage.
At last she returned to Qurrah, a guilty expression on her face.
“I was bad,” she said. “The man gave me a shrimp because I was pretty.”
“Hardly that bad,” Qurrah said, taking her hand so they might resume walking toward Bram’s castle.
“I might have leaned forward before asking for a taste. Very far forward.”
Qurrah rolled his eyes.
“You’re insufferable.”
“You suffer well enough.”
“You say as you lean forward.”
He laughed, and she squeezed his hand
The castle had three tall towers rising from the corners of its walls. Two of them were plain enough, though the third easily stood out from the others. From what Qurrah had learned of the city when first moving into the west years ago, that tower was known as the Eye. Its door was a deep crimson, oversized and bolted shut with a blatantly exaggerated lock. Above the door were ten skulls carved out of stone, leering down as if mocking anyone who might seek to enter. All three towers had guards stationed outside, plus the main castle gate. Figuring the direct approach to be the best, Qurrah walked up to the guards at the gate and bowed low in respect.
“I’ve come to speak with your king,” he said. “My name is Qurrah Tun.”
“Sure you are,” said one of the two, snickering at him. “And I’m a bloody angel.”
The guard looked to his comrade, as if to share a laugh, then saw the wide-eyed look he was getting. When he turned back to Qurrah, his mouth dropped open a little.
“You mean, he…he’s…”
“I am Qurrah,” he said. “Now either sprout wings, or find your king.”
“Begging your pardon,” said the other. “But he’s in the Eye. We’re never to disturb him when he’s in the Eye.”
Qurrah sighed, and without waiting for their permission he began walking alongside the castle wall toward the great red doors of the Eye. The guards hesitated, then rushed after him. Tessanna remained at his side, and she giggled.
“You scare people so easily,” she said.
“One of the few benefits of our reputation, I guess.”
“I just think it’s your glare.”
“We can’t let you go in,” the guard said, moving as if to cut in front of them yet still too frightened to do so. So instead he kept stepping in and out of their way, as bothersome as a fly.
“I’m not going in,” Qurrah said. “Calm yourself.”
This had the opposite effect.
“Then what are you going to do?”
Qurrah stared up at the Eye, noticing its various windows, all of them constructed of stained and colored glass to hide whatever happened within. Still, the glass would be thin enough for them to hear. Putting magic into his voice, he cried out, his words like that of a bellowing giant.
“King Bram, Qurrah Tun requests your presence!”
The two guards who’d been stationed before the Eye drew their weapons as the two from before clutched their ears and winced. Tessanna, meanwhile, just laughed.
“First Mordeina, now here,” she said. “I think guards everywhere will soon hate us.”
“Drop your weapons!” the first guard shouted to the others. “King Bram named him friend at the Bloodbrick!”
They looked far from convinced, but thankfully the great red doors cracked open, and out stepped the king himself. Qurrah let out a sigh of relief. How nice to be his brother, who was cheered as a hero everywhere he went. Qurrah doubted Harruq had to endure terrified guards every time he tried to visit someone.
“I expected your return months later,” Bram said. “Did you change your mind about traveling to Mordeina?”
“Sparrows dream of traveling as fast as us,” Tessanna said, and she curtseyed to the king. “But we did indeed change our minds.”
Bram’s eyes sparkled for a moment, no doubt hoping he interpreted Tess’s speech correctly. Qurrah took her hand, then gestured to the tower.
“We would like a word with you,” he said. “In private.”
“Come inside the Eye,” Bram said. “I assure you, there is no more private place in all of Dezrel.”
Mildly curious about the interior of the over-exaggerated tower, Qurrah nodded his head, then followed Bram through the doors. Directly before them was a single staircase, looping upward through the low ceiling. They climbed the stairs, emerging onto the lone floor of the entire tower. This ceiling stretched high above them, and decorating the massive wall space were hundreds of paintings. They showed men fighting angels, demons, trolls, orcs, and even a few creatures Qurrah had never seen put to drawing. In every image, Qurrah realized it was men who fought them, never the monsters against one another. Torches burned at regular intervals, which, combined with the various stained glass windows, ensured each painting was given visibility. In the center of the room was a large wooden table, the wood well-aged. Carved in perfect detail atop it was a map of the world of Dezrel.
“Forgive the theatrical nature of the place,” Bram said as he took a seat before the enormous table. “But the walls are sheer inside and out, which leaves no place for spies. No ears at these walls, not even those of an angel, so speak your mind.”
Tessanna wandered over to the table, admiring the map. Her fingers drifted over a representation of the Elethan Mountains, her fingertips brushing their pointed tops painted a snowy white.
“They don’t need to hear us,” Tessanna said absently. “Just find us.”
“I’m not sure I understand,” Bram said.
Qurrah took a seat beside his wife. The chair felt slightly oversized, leaving him feeling like a dwarf. He frowned but ignored it.
“You were right about Mordan,” he said. “Things there are foul, and over the few days we spent in Mordeina, they turned all the fouler.”
“How so?” Bram asked.
“Assassins made an attempt on my brother’s family, well-paid assassins that even after death I could learn nothing from. As for the angels…”
Qurrah sighed, not wanting to get into it but knowing he had no choice. Before he could, Tessanna interrupted.
“This map isn’t right anymore,” she said, staring keenly at the northwestern corner.
“My dear, this map is older than my father’s father, but I assure you we’ve kept its borders and representations very precise over the years,” Bram said.
“It’s still wrong.”
She slid around the side, then placed her hand atop of the carved city of Mordeina. Her eyes flared wide, and after a few words of magic, her hand began to glow. Bram tensed but remained seated. Qurrah watched, merely curious. He sensed no real anger from Tessanna, just a vague unease. When the spell enacted, he understand why. Rising from the wood was a small city glowing entirely out of light. It hovered above Mordeina, a shimmering replication of the golden city of Avlimar. Its light shone across the entirety of the west, casting long shadows.
“Forgive me,” Bram said. “It does appear my map was incomplete.”