The portal room in the Spire looked nothing out of the ordinary. As far as places accommodating the reality-bending devices, which were built by copying the ways of a long forgotten race of divine-like creatures go, that is. Merely a simple, round chamber, located as high as it sensibly could. Which, in case of the Spire, itself a relic of the past, meant quite high indeed.
The reality-bending device in question had a form of a wrought-iron round loop, around two and a half mers in diameter, hinged on steel pillars firmly pressed into a massive round plate placed in an equally massive ring. Both the bearings and the baseplate were made of solid brass. The centrepiece could also be rotated in order to align the ring with a desired azimuth, marked in numbers and names etched in the baseplate.
This entire contraption was one of only two pieces of furniture in the room. The other one was a control panel, built in a form of a tall pedestal, comprising a seemingly chaotic web of pipes, joints and valves and terminating in an oblique brass plate, with only few indicators and the actual controls in a shape of embossed hoomin hands. The two were connected via a channel covered with rectangular bronze plates, a channel which most probably contained more pipes and valves which supplied the portal with required energy.
The walls of the room were currently painted mauve, with the exception of a thick golden trim surrounding the round windows, or rather the plain holes in the walls, to be more specific. These were bereft of glass or any other obstruction, and so the hot air was freely blowing in, creating a breeze which lifted sparse dust off the floor, causing it to swirl and dance in the shafts of afternoon bivlight.
At first it seemed that a third piece of furniture had been added, in the form of a hoomin mannequin, currently posed to lean against the wall, right next to the control panel. But when, after a considerable time, the portal operator, possibly one of the Spire’s numerous members of staff, asked a question and the mannequin answered, it turned out that it was none other but Beorg himself, wiling the time away by wondering whether Anh was going to show up.
Of course, the tanai was going to arrive precisely on time. Over all the years of their acquaintance he had mastered the fine art of using every single drip of time assigned to a task. Every single one. Anh being late was actually an exceedingly rare event.
The massive door to the room opened with a bang and the hexergist floated in. He dressed up for the occasion in a green robe adorned with a silk trim and sophisticated webbing of embroidery, both dyed in a contrasting, bright orange. Right behind him rolled in a sizable chest, made of wood and reinforced with iron. Rolled, because it was furnished with four solid wooden wheels attached to its corners. It moved with a barely audible squeak, which nevertheless had a grating effect. The nord almost considered smiling at this very familiar sight.
-“Yous made it. I was beginning to attribute a loss of a day caused by tight portal schedules to extenuating circumstances.” - said Beorg to Anh while straightening up and then gesturing to the operator - “We are almost out of time. Set up a transfer to Sheridawn.”
-”You gave me a candle, quanter and eleven triskols. I believe I am still a few drips too early.” - scoffed Anh.
-”The window will be available in a…” - the technician took a quick peek at his handheld timepiece -”...hundred and seventeen drips.”
-"See?" - added the tanai in a triumphant tone - "We are almost two triskols too early! I could brush my goatee a few more times." - the last sentence he grumbled to himself with an undertone of regret.
Beorg ignored him and nodded at the operator. Only when he made sure his order was being executed, he turned his attention back to the tanai, who positioned himself before the baseplate, making sure he looked appropriately to whomever would look at him from the other side of the portal. The nord then looked the luggage over and made a quiet 'hm' sound.
-“Yous took way too much equipment. We will be gone for two, maybe three days at most.”
-“Beorg. My friend. This is a carefully packed and minimised version of our usual setup. We need this. It took Thernhohh a year to devise a proper packing sequence that optimises the amount of wasted space there while maximising carrying capacity.” - replied the hexergist, sounding somewhat annoyed - “This is not up for discussion. There might be happenings happening or finds found there. We may witness interesting places. What if we get struck with the desire to do some chemistry or botany?”
Anh continued his tirade ignoring the noise which filled the room. It started off as a low and fairly quiet hum, which soon grew in strength, all to the background noise of steam hissing in the pipes.
-“Additionally, what do you think we're going to do before, during and after we catch that fugitive woman? Huh? Do you expect us to ‘socialise’ with whoever lives there?”
The noise intensified even further and to top it up, the temperature now started to rise. The heat was emanating from the device in the middle of the room.
-“We already are down to only bare essentials! Some clothes, some books, cosmetics, a portable alchemy station…”
The air in the ring started to ripple and weave, and then suddenly a sengular formed in the centre, distorting the view behind it.
-“It is done.” - Beorg used the booming sound accompanying the opening of the portal to interrupt his accomplice.
The space framed by the metal of the portal ring, rippled once more, the sengular collapsed in on itself and was then replaced by a transparent eventor, showing the view from the target station - a man dressed in bright yellow uniform and a great hall in the background. The view wasn't entirely clean, rather it seemed akin to watching the world as though through thick lenses, the surface of which never really stayed still or entirely smooth. It warped slightly, bending the picture here and there.
The Spire’s operator left his console and headed towards the glowing surface. Before doing so he stuck two handy flags, one red and one green, to his belt. When he assumed his position, he took a long look at the portal ring and then rose the red flag into the air.
Grotesquely disfigured image of a man on the other end of the connection was waving a red flag as well, a sure sign that the passage is not yet stable. After a short while though, he stopped, stowed his flag behind his back and took out another one, this time green. At the same moment the operator on the Spire’s side has done so as well, then gestured at the aberrants to enter the portal plate, a gesture which was repeated on the other side of the portal, in a poorly synchronised motion. Both the hoomin and the tanai entered, followed by the wheeled chest, forced into motion by the latter's hexergy.
-“Welcome to Sheridawn, Mr McKeone.” - said the signal man when both aberrants appeared on the other side - “We are pleased you are on time. Your connecting portal is being readied at the ‘silver’ pad”.
The man, now seen without the distortions caused by the portal, seemed to be rather proportionately built. He was dressed in a uniform, which comprised yellow military kaftan, decorated in imperial style with braids and two rows of polished brass buttons, as well as yellow trousers with black lampasse and colour-matched soft square cap, without a brim. A wide belt, made of soft, blue cotton, completed the uniform.
Anh looked the man over, from tip to toe, noting the materials and fashion of the uniform, but Beorg just nodded and stepped off the pad.
Neither Beorg nor the technician seemed to pay that much attention to the surroundings. Unlike Anh, as there definitely were things to look at! The Great Hub of Sheridawn was awe-inspiring when first witnessed. Designed by no less than four tanai engineers, built by the best maargardian masons and finished by tahei craftsmen over almost twenty years. It was only surpassed in sheer size by the Grand Actosia of Vhirs in Graat Koch and in the number of portals by the Qvorum Complex. However, where the latter might have had more portals, they were designed for personal use and would not accommodate anything much bigger than a hoomin. The Actosia on the other hand was simply a place of worship, impressive in its own right, being able to accommodate over fifty thousand souls at a time but somewhat neglected as the importance of Maargard faded.
The Hub was designed in the shape of a gargantuan domed hall with massive mosaic windows built right into the structure of the ceiling, which served to provide light during daytime. The dome was supported on five half-arches emanating from a massive marble ball which acted as the keystone. The arches were in turn supported on tall and thick columns, organically dividing the structure into five distinct and colour coded areas. Each area's walls were overlaid with coloured granite - grey, blue, red, brown and black, while the portals' elliptical frames were inlaid with brass, steel, copper, iron and bronze, and where each metal was carefully chosen to contrast with the walls of the section it was built in.
The portal rings had a form of an impressive black loop, at least three mers in diameter. They were firmly embedded within a polished granite floor and permanently aimed at a corresponding beam-relay on the outskirts of the city. Each portal was surrounded by several marked areas used for crates and bags with goods, and also sitting areas for passengers. Right in the centre of the structure, directly below the keystone, was the office of the person considered the third most important in the Cammot Commonwealth, where the first was obviously the divine Vihrs, the second was the Regent himself whilst the third position was occupied by the Master Firector of Sheridawn. He, who made sure the furnaces feeding the portals of the Great Hall were always stoked and burning.
When the structure was first announced, the vast majority of engineers and architects considered it impossible to build, due to its complicated nature but mostly because of its colossal size. The entire project very nearly bankrupted the Regenture, despite numerous loans from Maargard, material help from Tanais and significant fund injection from the largest bank on the continent. Even the Utmostly Venturous Emperor of Sorres lended a significant sum of Ryals in spite of his country’s perceived near-constant financial strife.
Once it was finished, The Great Hub changed the balance of power on the continent almost overnight. Owing to the fortuitous location of the capital city of the Commonwealth, everything using the ever growing network of portals had to go through Sheridawn if it travelled from east to west or north to south. Thus the Great Hub was almost constantly busy, with a veritable horde of certified labourers ceaselessly preparing and schlepping goods for transport, and crowds of awestruck passengers waiting for their turn to travel. Since the tolls for the usage of the network reached an eye-watering level in the last few years, the landing and transit fees for using the Great Hall were equally steep and went straight to the coffers of the Regent and the Qvorum of Hexergists in equal split, with a percentage sent to Tanais. And a small sum was posted each month to an undisclosed individual in Usterlan Zeim. Suffice to say that in those few short years the Hub was operating, most of the debts had already been paid off and Sheridawn became the centre of the known world.
None of this however seemed to matter to Beorg. Firstly, he had been through here on numerous occasions. Secondly, he was well aware that the blueish-black stone, abundant here, was quarried on Kan Dag Sori under his watchful eye. Thirdly, and perhaps most importantly, the bank he kind-of-but-not-really part-owned had contributed a significant share of the initial funds. Considering all of this Beorg really couldn’t care less how tall or thick the columns were or how splendid the light filtering through the mosaic windows looked.
Anh however, or more specifically, Thernohh, one of his kin, was always impressed. Every single time the hexergist travelled through, she made a lot of racket in the shared mindspace, wanting the dominant to go here and look there and talk to this person, check and measure that column. Almost unwillingly, Anh lifted his head and looked at the arches, masonry, furnishings, trimming and equipment strewn all over.
The singularity leading to the Spire has collapsed by now, and the signalman who welcomed the aberrants was waiting for them to move off the pad to complete his duties and checks with the machinery. He coughed quietly.
-“The transfer of the Commonwealth Postal Service to Usterl is scheduled to depart in thirteen triskols. Silver portal. Allow me to be so bold as to suggest haste.”
- “We shall move to the input queue this instant." - responded Beorg and directed himself to the exit ramp. Anh followed him, dragging his luggage.
-“So” - shouted the hexergist, struggling with the ever present hustle and bustle of the hub, voices of men working on parcels, grating of boxes pushed along the floors, the annoying hum of portals punctuated by a periodic boom of collapsing reality, not to mention bells, whistles and other signals used by the Hub's staff - “Can you tell us more about this person we're saving?!”
-“Her name is Olga." - replied the nord, also elevating his voice - "Just Olga. I know very little of her background as of yet. Came from the deep south, around Mosvok perhaps, or possibly further south, maybe even Loria. She is a vagabond of a simple mind. Likes to fight, drink and fornicate, not necessarily in that order.”
-“A real intellectual I see. Anything else?”
-“A little over a year ago she arrived in the town we are headed to today. Port of Tevros. Gained notoriety when three men tried to bother her which reportedly included violence. She massacred them in the middle of a busy tavern in broad daylight. According to eyewitnesses, whom I interrogated personally, the corpse of the first one did not yet hit the floor when she was already done with the last.”
-“These eyewitnesses wouldn't have a penchant to colourise everything, would they? Seems too dramatic.” - pondered Anh - “But, on the other hand, in the light of your encounter… definitely plausible. After all, we have both seen Therese dispatch two dozen mercenaries before her hex wore out.”
Even though the hexergist's robes commanded at least some respect, the aberrants were still forced to do some manoeuvring around nobles, merchants and their merchandise being moved to and from different pads. Owing to the well designed and marked passages and areas it didn't take long and they soon arrived at their own destination, a ‘silver’ gate to Usterl. Apart from the cart filled with several brown sacks which was guarded by two men in Commonwealth Postal Service uniforms, they were the only people in the waiting area. The signalman for the silver pad, dressed in the white and grey version of the uniform of the man who welcomed Beorg and Anh, raised his red flag upon their arrival, looked tensely at the clock located just beneath the keystone and then gestured at the Heatician to start the procedures of opening the sengular to Usterl. He then blew a small whistle, which he had strapped to his left hand.
-"Scheduled transport to Usterl is now being prepared!" - he shouted - "All a-pad! Please mind the portal ring!"
It took less than a tenth of a candle for the reality to collapse, a tribute to how effective the heating system of the Hub really was.
When the green signal appeared on the other side, repeated by the same here, the postmen sprung to action and quickly entered, dragging their cart alongside them. The signalman then gestured with his flag at Anh and Beorg, and so they followed.
In comparison to the Sheridawn’s Great Hub, the network hub in the capital city of the Empire of Sorres seemed drab and mundane. While still a significant building, by size at least, its interior was far less ornate and its utilitarian character was quite self evident. Built on a rectangular plan, it had three portal pads arranged in a line. The middle one was also out of service, which was made apparent by the sight of several workers adjusting the ring in its mount. The walls were built out of glazed brown bricks and the ceiling of thick wooden planks. Windows were few and far between, and in addition quite dirty.
Thus the sight which greeted the aberrants exiting the singularity was rather gloomy. Quite literally, since even though it was still pretty bright in Sheridawn, here the Bivos already began to set, and so the waiting hall was only dimly lit with sparse crystals and the sad remnants of natural light.
The Usterlan signalman, a middle aged man with a sizable beard, sizable moustache and equally sizable tummy, looked the newcomers up and down then requested the travel papers from Beorg, perhaps assuming that he's the hexergist's manservant. Only after he validated the documents he bowed, stroked his moustache and shouted on the top of his lungs, practically straight in the nord's face.
-“On behalf of the graciously ruling Venturous Emperor of Sorres, I bid thee welcome to Usterl! Your scheduled transfer will be opened in a halfer on portal number one!” - then he made another shallow bow, and added in a bored tone - “We also invite you to take advantage of refreshments in the waiting area. Just there.” - the man pointed at a set of wooden benches fenced off the main hall by a chest-high wooden wall. A couple of wheeled stalls, now empty due to the late candle, were strategically positioned at the entrances therein.
Beorg nodded.
-“Thank you. We will move straight towards our pad.”
Signalman coughed.
-“That, sir, would be against regulations. During the portal cooldown, nobody except the crew is allowed on the pad floor.”
Before Beorg could respond Anh took over the initiative.
-“Regulations, Beorg. Need to follow them.” - he said and then unceremoniously floated over the labyrinthine ramps leading off the pad and then directed himself toward the waiting area.
*damn straight* - mentally nodded Tow - *we don’t want a repeat of that incident*
*precisely* - confirmed Thernohh
This should have been the point at which Beorg shrugs and maybe says something. He did no such thing, but simply followed the tanai, blissfully unaware, or maybe just willingly ignorant, of being a subject of talk by Anh’s subservient personalities.
They reached the waiting area but neither chose to sit down, even though there was enough seating. There were only three other hoomin there.
Beorg folded his arms and leaned against the fencepost, whilst Anh simply hid his hands in the robe's wide sleeves and remained where he was, facing the nord.
-“Continuing our discussion." - the tanai picked up the conversation in a leisurely tone, as if they didn't just travel halfway across the continent in less time than it takes to milk a cow - "How did you end up against her?”
-“A dig site." - replied Beorg in his usual monotone - "Ruins of a Precursor outpost of some sort. There were three of us, Niven, Maanica and I." - his eyes flashed at the mention of archeology - "The site was very promising. In just under a week, we have secured more artefacts than lesser digs yield after months of work. Nothing fancy, mind, but some pieces might still be functional…"
*great, here we go again* - thought Tow sarcastically in Anh's head. Beorg, as if he heard this comment, mitigated himself and quickly returned to the subject at hand.
-"...but I digress. Prior to setting up the camp I obviously secured proper allowances and concessions...”
*he means he paid, cheated, forged documents or leveraged the right people* - Anh joined the internal conclave - *to keep the pretense of legality*
-“...however, this is the Empire in its full glory. Invariably and inevitably one of the ‘branches’ of the local government, the so-called ‘Novikov Agency’, took interest in us and attempted extortion...”
*always amazes me that hoomin are always making life of other hoomin miserable* - commented Greoo - *it's hard to understand their propensity to do that*
*i am all too well aware, my dears* - confirmed Anh - *but let beorg talk*
-“...money prepared. This was to be expected, but their leader demanded an unreasonable sum.”
-“How much was that? I assume you had ‘leave me alone’ money prepared?”
Beorg glanced at his companion. Anh only now realised that the nord had already answered this question just a few drips prior. They both retained stone faced expressions.
-“They wanted four thousand. I assumed silver, not copper.”
-“Four Ki duds? That is indeed unreasonable.” - confirmed Anh, carefully pretending this part was equally interesting as the previous revelations - "Why did they not talk in duds?"
-“The Novikovs, as I later found out, are a relatively insignificant group. They seem to mostly leech off peasants and miners of the region with a side of contraband smuggle every so often.”
*so dud is the silver coin used in the empire as everyday money, do I recall correctly?* - Greoo was wondering aloud.
*If you are a pampered merchant in Usterl, or are Beorg who just throws money at issues until they go away, maybe* - shrugged Thernohh - *peasants see much more copper pfanns or whatever scrap they are made of ‘farts’ and tokens*
*thusly, what follows*- giggled Greoo -*if he assumed they wanted silver, then the old curmudgeon suffered a critical failure of understanding how the world works*
*yes, indeed.*- continued the youngest -*I wouldn’t hold it against him though, we all know there are entire vaults full of his valuables he has forgotten about * tends to skew one’s thinking*
*he has forgotten about many things.* - added Birdekk thoughtfully after a short pause.
*then again*- Thernohh continued to wonder -*it is also a failure of the gangers that they didn’t state what kind of money they want force out of him*
*maybe we should tell them, to do so next time, I’m sure they are going to appreciate it * now hush we want to try and listen*
-"...let him go to deliver the terms." - continued the nord - "This ended the first encounter.”
-“Let me guess. They returned with their ultimate problem-solver, which was this ‘Olga’ woman, and she was supposed to teach you a lesson or two.”
-“Yes.”
-“Figures. So what is our plan? I say ‘our plan' to later leech off the splendour and glory that your overcomplicated scheming is going to bring.” - said Anh, batting his eyelashes.
-“Upon our arrival in Tevros I expect to receive a report on the whereabouts of the Novikovs hideout. Presupposition is that our target escaped there...”
-“...licking her wounds." - interrupted the tanai, stroking his goatee - "Logical. Then what?”
If Beorg grew irritated by the constant interruptions he never let it show. He just simply replied in his flat voice.
-“We are going to confront them and extract the target. If either the Novikovs or Olga won’t cooperate, we will use force.”
-“We?” - asked Anh in unison with his kin, although only his voice was heard - “We prefer to have no input in this matter and rather talk about it over a beverage.”
Beorg's lower lip moved forward a fraction of a cimer.
-”Yours preferred means of conflict resolution are not going to be of much use here.”
-”And why is that?” - the tanai tilted his head a bit, slowly - ”This is according to your own assessment, or judgement rather, which we don’t really feel a need to heed or listen to.”
-”Because the people we face are already hostile towards us.” - flatly replied the nord - “I deem the situation unsalvageable. At this moment I want to obtain the target without causing another civil war in the region.”
Tanai scoffed, then wiggled his eyebrows.
-”Still salty over that? It happened almost half a century ago. Maybe it's time to let go?”
Beorg didn’t answer immediately, just allowed the question linger for a little bit.
-”Yes.” - he said finally, just when his companion wanted to berate him for avoiding the question - “...and no.”
Anh sighed in resignation.
-”Right, whatever. But we still think that we, and by that I mean you, ought to at least attempt diplomacy. Some? Maybe? A little?”
Beorg glanced at his companion.
-”The things have been set in motion already, there is no turning back.”
-”See? This is what infuriates us about you.” - Anh raised his voice a bit - “Once you are set in your ways, you never even consider trying anything else.”
-”Are yous referring to me specifically or are yous making yours own tanaicentrism speak?” - a shadow of a smile played on the hoomin's lips - "How extremely prejudicial of yous."
-”Both. Actually.” - replied Anh after a few moments. It was then l Beorg's turn to delay a response.
-”There are no other tanai involved, hoomin only.” - he finally spoke, sounding very disinterested - ”With all our violent tempers and preference for quick and final solutions. I deem it improbable that there is a way to resolve this with even the most verbose and stimulating of discussions over the most exquisite beverage.”
Anh wiggled his earlobes nervously, not at all liking what he heard. In the shared mindspace Tow groaned impatiently, noting a wasted opportunity for sarcasm, because Beorg's version was completely unsatisfactory.
-”This being said, yours presence is required" - quietly continued the nord - "...because I want to make sure that since we already want to catch this woman, we do so in the manner that is least damaging, for her and us. Yous are the keystone, so to speak.”
The tanai comically raised his eyebrows, surprised for the second time this evening at how direct Beorg was.
-”You are just saying this to make us feel crucial and appreciated, don’t you?”
-”No. I’m saying this to also make yous feel crucial and appreciated.” - the nord made a dismissive gesture - “Yours involvement, as my ‘domesticated hexergist’, as yous so eloquently put it, is to be a failsafe against whatever she can, and will, do.”
What followed was silence, since Anh immersed himself in a lengthy conversation with his kinfolk. It lasted some considerable time, finally interrupted by the operator of the portal which was supposed to carry the aberrants to their final destination. The signalman opened a low gate, allowing the passengers to enter the pad. Then he took a simple megaphone and used it to shout loudly, even though there were just five people in total waiting in the portal hall.
-“Heed’ye heed’ye! By the will of the Utmostly Venturous Emperor of Sorres a transmitting portal to Tevros shall be opened within a quanter on pad one, herein! Prepare thine travel documents and approach!”
Beorg stood up, nodded at Anh and they both went towards the portal ring, the tanai in addition tended to his luggage, making sure the box was following him, and that it was still emitting low key squeaking noise, although the latter resulted from the chest's own initiative and may or may not have been a side effect.
They were to be the last passengers to travel from the Usterl hub that day, accompanied by a lone traveller dressed in the Imperial Navy uniform and two men tending to a large stash of wooden crates marked with insignia of some winery and intended for the representational use of the Tevros City Hall, if one was to believe the documents attached to each of the crates.
When they arrived at the pad, the heatician only just started to light the sengular. The portal had a form of a simple iron ring, just two or so mers across, and was set manually on an equally simple iron bearing, with indentations on its edge denoting different destinations. Even so early in the heat-up process it emanated a terrifying amount of warmth.
-“They should really upgrade their heat ducts.”- muttered Anh with a tone of disgust -”They are literally wasting coal.”
The space framed by the ring stretched and collapsed suddenly with an all familiar booming sound. A man appeared, dressed in an identical uniform to those worn by the staff in Usterl. He too was holding a red flag. It was quite hard to be sure that the portal really worked as intended and that what they saw wasn't just a reflected image. But no, as soon as the hum stopped intensifying, the man in the mirror lowered the red flag, and then started to wave the green one, whilst the signalman in Usterl repeated the same a few moments later. Anh and Beorg waited for the navy man to enter and then passed the threshold themselves.
Of all the portal halls they went through in the last candle, this last one was the simplest, or rather the most primitive. It had the form of a large-ish octagonal room with a tall, windowed ceiling and simple wooden walls. There was barely any sky visible and so several torches stuck on long stakes in the corners of the room were the only light source - apart from the eventor, which produced an eerie, blue-purple glow. The rather rickety portal was embedded directly into the stone floor and permanently set for the capital city; its design clearly suggesting that it was quite old, perhaps even from before the Portal Boom times. There was a single door on one of the walls and on the opposite side an open double door led to a spacious balcony. Dark silhouette of the urban landscape, barely visible through the opening, hinted that the entire portal chamber is way up high, perhaps even as high as the third or fourth floor. An extensive rope and pulley system coupled to two wooden cranes installed directly on the balcony likely allowed for easy transport of the merchandise from the ground level. There were two workers near the portal ring, guarding a hand drawn cart filled to the brim with crates similar to those the aberrants saw in Usterl.
The travellers were not greeted officially in Tevros, as the flagman apparently didn't consider this service to be a part of his duties. He just scoffed and then nodded towards the smaller of the two doors. Both aberrants had nothing better to do, so they just went through. Anh did so with a considerably less enthusiastic approach than before. The rude welcome was one thing but when he saw that behind the door there was just a spiral staircase, his mood deflated even further. It didn't help that the kin in his head currently held a competition on who could provide the most compelling proof that this entire escapade wasn't really worth the effort.
The staircase was very narrow, which would force the tanai to telekinetically lift his faithful chest and carry it all the way down. For near-enough half a triskol he considered allowing the crane crew to lower it using their platform, but that would mean being separated from it and, to his horror, allowing others to take care of it.
With a pained sigh he concentrated for a bit, reaching for his craft, and practically dragged the luggage downstairs. The chest on the other hand knew better when to keep quiet, and didn't squeak even once. The trip downstairs turned out to be rather long and unpleasant, confirming his suspicion that the tower was several stories high, but when both Anh and his luggage finally reached the bottom, it turned out that even more unpleasant things awaited.
The staircase exited into a customs room, furnished with a large desk with a chair and some simple shelves holding several heaps of papers. There was also a wooden barrier, resting on timber trestles, which served the purpose of, as the name would suggest, barring anyone from exiting the room. Two guardsmen in patched uniforms, of hard to identify colour, were leaning against the wall on either side of the obstacle. They were armed with pistols and iron-shod clubs and looked so thoroughly bored that they very nearly could also be classified as pieces of furniture.
Behind the desk sat a corpulent man, dressed in well tailored and clean clothes, which nevertheless already sported large patches of sweat. He had a greying beard and an untidy moustache, and wore a brass-rimmed monocle, which nearly fell off when he saw the aberrants enter. His moustache lifted up, evidently because he smiled. Then his gaze landed on the chest and his mood significantly improved, which was punctuated by his facial hair rising even higher, which in the end looked quite grotesque.
-”Greetings, citizens, to the port of Tevros.” - he announced in a loud, booming voice. His speech was slightly slurred - “Please present your travel papers and prepare for customs control.”
Anh threw Beorg a long, questioning look.
-”I honestly hope you have this covered.”- muttered the tanai, noticing the lustful gaze of the customs official directed straight at his wheeled kit -”Nobody is going to rummage through my luggage.”
In lieu of responding, Beorg approached the desk, opening his travel satchel. He hesitated for a moment - the satchel was fit to bursting with tightly packed scrolls - then he pulled one of the documents contained therein and unceremoniously presented it to the clerk.
-”I have an iron letter signed by the Honourable Greogor Andros, the mayor of Tevros." - he said, taking care to pronounce the words slowly and correctly - "This document grants the bearer an explicit permission to let three persons with their luggage and servants or slaves through this very portal without incident and with exemption from intrusion."
The man blinked a few times, and looked at the nord with a hurt expression on his face.
-"This includes customs checks.” - added Beorg, almost as an afterthought.
The clerk's face sagged, which made his moustache return to its initial position. He corrected the monocle, straightened the document and then studied it for quite a long time, mostly concentrating on the wax seal at the bottom of the parchment. Then he sighed, returned the papers and once again looked longingly at Anh’s luggage, which made a quiet squeak.
-”You may pass.” - he said in a defeated tone and gestured at one of the guards, who proceeded to lift the barrier which up until now prevented the aberrants from exiting the customs. Without any further troubles they soon found themselves outside, breathing what Anh was hoping to be a fresh seaside breeze, but in reality was a near-lethal concoction of nostril-assailing smells of civilization.
The portal tower was located right on the edge of the marketplace. It wasn't entirely dark yet but the day was ending rapidly. In the last sad remnants of the natural light all they could see were brown, rectangular silhouettes of houses, only dimly lit with a few dozen basket torches. It was hot, so hot in fact that even Anh, who was used to the daily scorch characteristic of the Averam desert, deemed it nearly unbearable. The Bivos had only just set, and all the heat of the day was only now beginning to radiate away.
Despite the late candle, quite a few people were still outside. Unlike almost everywhere else, the daily activities in the northwestern parts of Sorres tended to start in earnest only when the worst of the midday scorch was already past. The ‘day’ ended well past midnight as well, and so, the marketplace still bustled with activity. There were quite a few stalls, containing a large variety of merchandise, mostly fish, but also pottery, weapons, crafts and spices. The merchants were shouting, urging the customers to come over and look, their guards were looking for thieves, buyers were buying, sellers were selling, slaves were slaving away. Hordes of, apparently unattended, children were running all around the place, participating in several extremely loud games.
-”So. We are here." - said And, sniffing loudly. Part of his brain attempted to identify the types of fish on offer only by their smell - "Now what?”
-”There is a carriage waiting for us near the western gate.”- replied Beorg -”We better start now, as we have a long way to go. We should reach the dig site within three or so candles."
As they were pushing through the crowds, Greoo made the journey much more bearable by making educated guesses about the people they passed by, followed by a deeply sarcastic riposte by Tow. Whilst, on a certain level, the exchanges were fairly amusing, the fact that Tevros was home to so many different taxons of hoomin didn't slip Anhs' attention. Practically every shade of skin, hair colour and cheekbone height was represented, alongside a myriad of accents and spoken dialects.
-"Very colourful indeed." - muttered the hexergist to himself, regretting that his inkwells and clean sheets were stashed in the chest and not directly accessible at a moment's notice. A diagram representing the distribution of hoomin subdivision in Tevros would have to wait.
The portal room in the Spire looked nothing out of the ordinary. As far as places accommodating the reality-bending devices, which were built by copying the ways of a long forgotten race of divine-like creatures go, that is. Merely a simple, round chamber, located as high as it sensibly could. Which, in case of the Spire, itself a relic of the past, meant quite high indeed.
The reality-bending device in question had a form of a wrought-iron round loop, around two and a half mers in diameter, hinged on steel pillars firmly pressed into a massive round plate placed in an equally massive ring. Both the bearings and the baseplate were made of solid brass. The centrepiece could also be rotated in order to align the ring with a desired azimuth, marked in numbers and names etched in the baseplate.
This entire contraption was one of only two pieces of furniture in the room. The other one was a control panel, built in a form of a tall pedestal, comprising a seemingly chaotic web of pipes, joints and valves and terminating in an oblique brass plate, with only few indicators and the actual controls in a shape of embossed hoomin hands. The two were connected via a channel covered with rectangular bronze plates, a channel which most probably contained more pipes and valves which supplied the portal with required energy.
The walls of the room were currently painted mauve, with the exception of a thick golden trim surrounding the round windows, or rather the plain holes in the walls, to be more specific. These were bereft of glass or any other obstruction, and so the hot air was freely blowing in, creating a breeze which lifted sparse dust off the floor, causing it to swirl and dance in the shafts of afternoon bivlight.
At first it seemed that a third piece of furniture had been added, in the form of a hoomin mannequin, currently posed to lean against the wall, right next to the control panel. But when, after a considerable time, the portal operator, possibly one of the Spire’s numerous members of staff, asked a question and the mannequin answered, it turned out that it was none other but Beorg himself, wiling the time away by wondering whether Anh was going to show up.
Of course, the tanai was going to arrive precisely on time. Over all the years of their acquaintance he had mastered the fine art of using every single drip of time assigned to a task. Every single one. Anh being late was actually an exceedingly rare event.
The massive door to the room opened with a bang and the hexergist floated in. He dressed up for the occasion in a green robe adorned with a silk trim and sophisticated webbing of embroidery, both dyed in a contrasting, bright orange. Right behind him rolled in a sizable chest, made of wood and reinforced with iron. Rolled, because it was furnished with four solid wooden wheels attached to its corners. It moved with a barely audible squeak, which nevertheless had a grating effect. The nord almost considered smiling at this very familiar sight.
-“Yous made it. I was beginning to attribute a loss of a day caused by tight portal schedules to extenuating circumstances.” - said Beorg to Anh while straightening up and then gesturing to the operator - “We are almost out of time. Set up a transfer to Sheridawn.”
-”You gave me a candle, quanter and eleven triskols. I believe I am still a few drips too early.” - scoffed Anh.
-”The window will be available in a…” - the technician took a quick peek at his handheld timepiece -”...hundred and seventeen drips.”
-"See?" - added the tanai in a triumphant tone - "We are almost two triskols too early! I could brush my goatee a few more times." - the last sentence he grumbled to himself with an undertone of regret.
Beorg ignored him and nodded at the operator. Only when he made sure his order was being executed, he turned his attention back to the tanai, who positioned himself before the baseplate, making sure he looked appropriately to whomever would look at him from the other side of the portal. The nord then looked the luggage over and made a quiet 'hm' sound.
-“Yous took way too much equipment. We will be gone for two, maybe three days at most.”
-“Beorg. My friend. This is a carefully packed and minimised version of our usual setup. We need this. It took Thernhohh a year to devise a proper packing sequence that optimises the amount of wasted space there while maximising carrying capacity.” - replied the hexergist, sounding somewhat annoyed - “This is not up for discussion. There might be happenings happening or finds found there. We may witness interesting places. What if we get struck with the desire to do some chemistry or botany?”
Anh continued his tirade ignoring the noise which filled the room. It started off as a low and fairly quiet hum, which soon grew in strength, all to the background noise of steam hissing in the pipes.
-“Additionally, what do you think we're going to do before, during and after we catch that fugitive woman? Huh? Do you expect us to ‘socialise’ with whoever lives there?”
The noise intensified even further and to top it up, the temperature now started to rise. The heat was emanating from the device in the middle of the room.
-“We already are down to only bare essentials! Some clothes, some books, cosmetics, a portable alchemy station…”
The air in the ring started to ripple and weave, and then suddenly a sengular formed in the centre, distorting the view behind it.
-“It is done.” - Beorg used the booming sound accompanying the opening of the portal to interrupt his accomplice.
The space framed by the metal of the portal ring, rippled once more, the sengular collapsed in on itself and was then replaced by a transparent eventor, showing the view from the target station - a man dressed in bright yellow uniform and a great hall in the background. The view wasn't entirely clean, rather it seemed akin to watching the world as though through thick lenses, the surface of which never really stayed still or entirely smooth. It warped slightly, bending the picture here and there.
The Spire’s operator left his console and headed towards the glowing surface. Before doing so he stuck two handy flags, one red and one green, to his belt. When he assumed his position, he took a long look at the portal ring and then rose the red flag into the air.
Grotesquely disfigured image of a man on the other end of the connection was waving a red flag as well, a sure sign that the passage is not yet stable. After a short while though, he stopped, stowed his flag behind his back and took out another one, this time green. At the same moment the operator on the Spire’s side has done so as well, then gestured at the aberrants to enter the portal plate, a gesture which was repeated on the other side of the portal, in a poorly synchronised motion. Both the hoomin and the tanai entered, followed by the wheeled chest, forced into motion by the latter's hexergy.
-“Welcome to Sheridawn, Mr McKeone.” - said the signal man when both aberrants appeared on the other side - “We are pleased you are on time. Your connecting portal is being readied at the ‘silver’ pad”.
The man, now seen without the distortions caused by the portal, seemed to be rather proportionately built. He was dressed in a uniform, which comprised yellow military kaftan, decorated in imperial style with braids and two rows of polished brass buttons, as well as yellow trousers with black lampasse and colour-matched soft square cap, without a brim. A wide belt, made of soft, blue cotton, completed the uniform.
Anh looked the man over, from tip to toe, noting the materials and fashion of the uniform, but Beorg just nodded and stepped off the pad.
Neither Beorg nor the technician seemed to pay that much attention to the surroundings. Unlike Anh, as there definitely were things to look at! The Great Hub of Sheridawn was awe-inspiring when first witnessed. Designed by no less than four tanai engineers, built by the best maargardian masons and finished by tahei craftsmen over almost twenty years. It was only surpassed in sheer size by the Grand Actosia of Vhirs in Graat Koch and in the number of portals by the Qvorum Complex. However, where the latter might have had more portals, they were designed for personal use and would not accommodate anything much bigger than a hoomin. The Actosia on the other hand was simply a place of worship, impressive in its own right, being able to accommodate over fifty thousand souls at a time but somewhat neglected as the importance of Maargard faded.
The Hub was designed in the shape of a gargantuan domed hall with massive mosaic windows built right into the structure of the ceiling, which served to provide light during daytime. The dome was supported on five half-arches emanating from a massive marble ball which acted as the keystone. The arches were in turn supported on tall and thick columns, organically dividing the structure into five distinct and colour coded areas. Each area's walls were overlaid with coloured granite - grey, blue, red, brown and black, while the portals' elliptical frames were inlaid with brass, steel, copper, iron and bronze, and where each metal was carefully chosen to contrast with the walls of the section it was built in.
The portal rings had a form of an impressive black loop, at least three mers in diameter. They were firmly embedded within a polished granite floor and permanently aimed at a corresponding beam-relay on the outskirts of the city. Each portal was surrounded by several marked areas used for crates and bags with goods, and also sitting areas for passengers. Right in the centre of the structure, directly below the keystone, was the office of the person considered the third most important in the Cammot Commonwealth, where the first was obviously the divine Vihrs, the second was the Regent himself whilst the third position was occupied by the Master Firector of Sheridawn. He, who made sure the furnaces feeding the portals of the Great Hall were always stoked and burning.
When the structure was first announced, the vast majority of engineers and architects considered it impossible to build, due to its complicated nature but mostly because of its colossal size. The entire project very nearly bankrupted the Regenture, despite numerous loans from Maargard, material help from Tanais and significant fund injection from the largest bank on the continent. Even the Utmostly Venturous Emperor of Sorres lended a significant sum of Ryals in spite of his country’s perceived near-constant financial strife.
Once it was finished, The Great Hub changed the balance of power on the continent almost overnight. Owing to the fortuitous location of the capital city of the Commonwealth, everything using the ever growing network of portals had to go through Sheridawn if it travelled from east to west or north to south. Thus the Great Hub was almost constantly busy, with a veritable horde of certified labourers ceaselessly preparing and schlepping goods for transport, and crowds of awestruck passengers waiting for their turn to travel. Since the tolls for the usage of the network reached an eye-watering level in the last few years, the landing and transit fees for using the Great Hall were equally steep and went straight to the coffers of the Regent and the Qvorum of Hexergists in equal split, with a percentage sent to Tanais. And a small sum was posted each month to an undisclosed individual in Usterlan Zeim. Suffice to say that in those few short years the Hub was operating, most of the debts had already been paid off and Sheridawn became the centre of the known world.
None of this however seemed to matter to Beorg. Firstly, he had been through here on numerous occasions. Secondly, he was well aware that the blueish-black stone, abundant here, was quarried on Kan Dag Sori under his watchful eye. Thirdly, and perhaps most importantly, the bank he kind-of-but-not-really part-owned had contributed a significant share of the initial funds. Considering all of this Beorg really couldn’t care less how tall or thick the columns were or how splendid the light filtering through the mosaic windows looked.
Anh however, or more specifically, Thernohh, one of his kin, was always impressed. Every single time the hexergist travelled through, she made a lot of racket in the shared mindspace, wanting the dominant to go here and look there and talk to this person, check and measure that column. Almost unwillingly, Anh lifted his head and looked at the arches, masonry, furnishings, trimming and equipment strewn all over.
The singularity leading to the Spire has collapsed by now, and the signalman who welcomed the aberrants was waiting for them to move off the pad to complete his duties and checks with the machinery. He coughed quietly.
-“The transfer of the Commonwealth Postal Service to Usterl is scheduled to depart in thirteen triskols. Silver portal. Allow me to be so bold as to suggest haste.”
- “We shall move to the input queue this instant." - responded Beorg and directed himself to the exit ramp. Anh followed him, dragging his luggage.
-“So” - shouted the hexergist, struggling with the ever present hustle and bustle of the hub, voices of men working on parcels, grating of boxes pushed along the floors, the annoying hum of portals punctuated by a periodic boom of collapsing reality, not to mention bells, whistles and other signals used by the Hub's staff - “Can you tell us more about this person we're saving?!”
-“Her name is Olga." - replied the nord, also elevating his voice - "Just Olga. I know very little of her background as of yet. Came from the deep south, around Mosvok perhaps, or possibly further south, maybe even Loria. She is a vagabond of a simple mind. Likes to fight, drink and fornicate, not necessarily in that order.”
-“A real intellectual I see. Anything else?”
-“A little over a year ago she arrived in the town we are headed to today. Port of Tevros. Gained notoriety when three men tried to bother her which reportedly included violence. She massacred them in the middle of a busy tavern in broad daylight. According to eyewitnesses, whom I interrogated personally, the corpse of the first one did not yet hit the floor when she was already done with the last.”
-“These eyewitnesses wouldn't have a penchant to colourise everything, would they? Seems too dramatic.” - pondered Anh - “But, on the other hand, in the light of your encounter… definitely plausible. After all, we have both seen Therese dispatch two dozen mercenaries before her hex wore out.”
Even though the hexergist's robes commanded at least some respect, the aberrants were still forced to do some manoeuvring around nobles, merchants and their merchandise being moved to and from different pads. Owing to the well designed and marked passages and areas it didn't take long and they soon arrived at their own destination, a ‘silver’ gate to Usterl. Apart from the cart filled with several brown sacks which was guarded by two men in Commonwealth Postal Service uniforms, they were the only people in the waiting area. The signalman for the silver pad, dressed in the white and grey version of the uniform of the man who welcomed Beorg and Anh, raised his red flag upon their arrival, looked tensely at the clock located just beneath the keystone and then gestured at the Heatician to start the procedures of opening the sengular to Usterl. He then blew a small whistle, which he had strapped to his left hand.
-"Scheduled transport to Usterl is now being prepared!" - he shouted - "All a-pad! Please mind the portal ring!"
It took less than a tenth of a candle for the reality to collapse, a tribute to how effective the heating system of the Hub really was.
When the green signal appeared on the other side, repeated by the same here, the postmen sprung to action and quickly entered, dragging their cart alongside them. The signalman then gestured with his flag at Anh and Beorg, and so they followed.
In comparison to the Sheridawn’s Great Hub, the network hub in the capital city of the Empire of Sorres seemed drab and mundane. While still a significant building, by size at least, its interior was far less ornate and its utilitarian character was quite self evident. Built on a rectangular plan, it had three portal pads arranged in a line. The middle one was also out of service, which was made apparent by the sight of several workers adjusting the ring in its mount. The walls were built out of glazed brown bricks and the ceiling of thick wooden planks. Windows were few and far between, and in addition quite dirty.
Thus the sight which greeted the aberrants exiting the singularity was rather gloomy. Quite literally, since even though it was still pretty bright in Sheridawn, here the Bivos already began to set, and so the waiting hall was only dimly lit with sparse crystals and the sad remnants of natural light.
The Usterlan signalman, a middle aged man with a sizable beard, sizable moustache and equally sizable tummy, looked the newcomers up and down then requested the travel papers from Beorg, perhaps assuming that he's the hexergist's manservant. Only after he validated the documents he bowed, stroked his moustache and shouted on the top of his lungs, practically straight in the nord's face.
-“On behalf of the graciously ruling Venturous Emperor of Sorres, I bid thee welcome to Usterl! Your scheduled transfer will be opened in a halfer on portal number one!” - then he made another shallow bow, and added in a bored tone - “We also invite you to take advantage of refreshments in the waiting area. Just there.” - the man pointed at a set of wooden benches fenced off the main hall by a chest-high wooden wall. A couple of wheeled stalls, now empty due to the late candle, were strategically positioned at the entrances therein.
Beorg nodded.
-“Thank you. We will move straight towards our pad.”
Signalman coughed.
-“That, sir, would be against regulations. During the portal cooldown, nobody except the crew is allowed on the pad floor.”
Before Beorg could respond Anh took over the initiative.
-“Regulations, Beorg. Need to follow them.” - he said and then unceremoniously floated over the labyrinthine ramps leading off the pad and then directed himself toward the waiting area.
*damn straight* - mentally nodded Tow - *we don’t want a repeat of that incident*
*precisely* - confirmed Thernohh
This should have been the point at which Beorg shrugs and maybe says something. He did no such thing, but simply followed the tanai, blissfully unaware, or maybe just willingly ignorant, of being a subject of talk by Anh’s subservient personalities.
They reached the waiting area but neither chose to sit down, even though there was enough seating. There were only three other hoomin there.
Beorg folded his arms and leaned against the fencepost, whilst Anh simply hid his hands in the robe's wide sleeves and remained where he was, facing the nord.
-“Continuing our discussion." - the tanai picked up the conversation in a leisurely tone, as if they didn't just travel halfway across the continent in less time than it takes to milk a cow - "How did you end up against her?”
-“A dig site." - replied Beorg in his usual monotone - "Ruins of a Precursor outpost of some sort. There were three of us, Niven, Maanica and I." - his eyes flashed at the mention of archeology - "The site was very promising. In just under a week, we have secured more artefacts than lesser digs yield after months of work. Nothing fancy, mind, but some pieces might still be functional…"
*great, here we go again* - thought Tow sarcastically in Anh's head. Beorg, as if he heard this comment, mitigated himself and quickly returned to the subject at hand.
-"...but I digress. Prior to setting up the camp I obviously secured proper allowances and concessions...”
*he means he paid, cheated, forged documents or leveraged the right people* - Anh joined the internal conclave - *to keep the pretense of legality*
-“...however, this is the Empire in its full glory. Invariably and inevitably one of the ‘branches’ of the local government, the so-called ‘Novikov Agency’, took interest in us and attempted extortion...”
*always amazes me that hoomin are always making life of other hoomin miserable* - commented Greoo - *it's hard to understand their propensity to do that*
*i am all too well aware, my dears* - confirmed Anh - *but let beorg talk*
-“...money prepared. This was to be expected, but their leader demanded an unreasonable sum.”
-“How much was that? I assume you had ‘leave me alone’ money prepared?”
Beorg glanced at his companion. Anh only now realised that the nord had already answered this question just a few drips prior. They both retained stone faced expressions.
-“They wanted four thousand. I assumed silver, not copper.”
-“Four Ki duds? That is indeed unreasonable.” - confirmed Anh, carefully pretending this part was equally interesting as the previous revelations - "Why did they not talk in duds?"
-“The Novikovs, as I later found out, are a relatively insignificant group. They seem to mostly leech off peasants and miners of the region with a side of contraband smuggle every so often.”
*so dud is the silver coin used in the empire as everyday money, do I recall correctly?* - Greoo was wondering aloud.
*If you are a pampered merchant in Usterl, or are Beorg who just throws money at issues until they go away, maybe* - shrugged Thernohh - *peasants see much more copper pfanns or whatever scrap they are made of ‘farts’ and tokens*
*thusly, what follows*- giggled Greoo -*if he assumed they wanted silver, then the old curmudgeon suffered a critical failure of understanding how the world works*
*yes, indeed.*- continued the youngest -*I wouldn’t hold it against him though, we all know there are entire vaults full of his valuables he has forgotten about * tends to skew one’s thinking*
*he has forgotten about many things.* - added Birdekk thoughtfully after a short pause.
*then again*- Thernohh continued to wonder -*it is also a failure of the gangers that they didn’t state what kind of money they want force out of him*
*maybe we should tell them, to do so next time, I’m sure they are going to appreciate it * now hush we want to try and listen*
-"...let him go to deliver the terms." - continued the nord - "This ended the first encounter.”
-“Let me guess. They returned with their ultimate problem-solver, which was this ‘Olga’ woman, and she was supposed to teach you a lesson or two.”
-“Yes.”
-“Figures. So what is our plan? I say ‘our plan' to later leech off the splendour and glory that your overcomplicated scheming is going to bring.” - said Anh, batting his eyelashes.
-“Upon our arrival in Tevros I expect to receive a report on the whereabouts of the Novikovs hideout. Presupposition is that our target escaped there...”
-“...licking her wounds." - interrupted the tanai, stroking his goatee - "Logical. Then what?”
If Beorg grew irritated by the constant interruptions he never let it show. He just simply replied in his flat voice.
-“We are going to confront them and extract the target. If either the Novikovs or Olga won’t cooperate, we will use force.”
-“We?” - asked Anh in unison with his kin, although only his voice was heard - “We prefer to have no input in this matter and rather talk about it over a beverage.”
Beorg's lower lip moved forward a fraction of a cimer.
-”Yours preferred means of conflict resolution are not going to be of much use here.”
-”And why is that?” - the tanai tilted his head a bit, slowly - ”This is according to your own assessment, or judgement rather, which we don’t really feel a need to heed or listen to.”
-”Because the people we face are already hostile towards us.” - flatly replied the nord - “I deem the situation unsalvageable. At this moment I want to obtain the target without causing another civil war in the region.”
Tanai scoffed, then wiggled his eyebrows.
-”Still salty over that? It happened almost half a century ago. Maybe it's time to let go?”
Beorg didn’t answer immediately, just allowed the question linger for a little bit.
-”Yes.” - he said finally, just when his companion wanted to berate him for avoiding the question - “...and no.”
Anh sighed in resignation.
-”Right, whatever. But we still think that we, and by that I mean you, ought to at least attempt diplomacy. Some? Maybe? A little?”
Beorg glanced at his companion.
-”The things have been set in motion already, there is no turning back.”
-”See? This is what infuriates us about you.” - Anh raised his voice a bit - “Once you are set in your ways, you never even consider trying anything else.”
-”Are yous referring to me specifically or are yous making yours own tanaicentrism speak?” - a shadow of a smile played on the hoomin's lips - "How extremely prejudicial of yous."
-”Both. Actually.” - replied Anh after a few moments. It was then l Beorg's turn to delay a response.
-”There are no other tanai involved, hoomin only.” - he finally spoke, sounding very disinterested - ”With all our violent tempers and preference for quick and final solutions. I deem it improbable that there is a way to resolve this with even the most verbose and stimulating of discussions over the most exquisite beverage.”
Anh wiggled his earlobes nervously, not at all liking what he heard. In the shared mindspace Tow groaned impatiently, noting a wasted opportunity for sarcasm, because Beorg's version was completely unsatisfactory.
-”This being said, yours presence is required" - quietly continued the nord - "...because I want to make sure that since we already want to catch this woman, we do so in the manner that is least damaging, for her and us. Yous are the keystone, so to speak.”
The tanai comically raised his eyebrows, surprised for the second time this evening at how direct Beorg was.
-”You are just saying this to make us feel crucial and appreciated, don’t you?”
-”No. I’m saying this to also make yous feel crucial and appreciated.” - the nord made a dismissive gesture - “Yours involvement, as my ‘domesticated hexergist’, as yous so eloquently put it, is to be a failsafe against whatever she can, and will, do.”
What followed was silence, since Anh immersed himself in a lengthy conversation with his kinfolk. It lasted some considerable time, finally interrupted by the operator of the portal which was supposed to carry the aberrants to their final destination. The signalman opened a low gate, allowing the passengers to enter the pad. Then he took a simple megaphone and used it to shout loudly, even though there were just five people in total waiting in the portal hall.
-“Heed’ye heed’ye! By the will of the Utmostly Venturous Emperor of Sorres a transmitting portal to Tevros shall be opened within a quanter on pad one, herein! Prepare thine travel documents and approach!”
Beorg stood up, nodded at Anh and they both went towards the portal ring, the tanai in addition tended to his luggage, making sure the box was following him, and that it was still emitting low key squeaking noise, although the latter resulted from the chest's own initiative and may or may not have been a side effect.
They were to be the last passengers to travel from the Usterl hub that day, accompanied by a lone traveller dressed in the Imperial Navy uniform and two men tending to a large stash of wooden crates marked with insignia of some winery and intended for the representational use of the Tevros City Hall, if one was to believe the documents attached to each of the crates.
When they arrived at the pad, the heatician only just started to light the sengular. The portal had a form of a simple iron ring, just two or so mers across, and was set manually on an equally simple iron bearing, with indentations on its edge denoting different destinations. Even so early in the heat-up process it emanated a terrifying amount of warmth.
-“They should really upgrade their heat ducts.”- muttered Anh with a tone of disgust -”They are literally wasting coal.”
The space framed by the ring stretched and collapsed suddenly with an all familiar booming sound. A man appeared, dressed in an identical uniform to those worn by the staff in Usterl. He too was holding a red flag. It was quite hard to be sure that the portal really worked as intended and that what they saw wasn't just a reflected image. But no, as soon as the hum stopped intensifying, the man in the mirror lowered the red flag, and then started to wave the green one, whilst the signalman in Usterl repeated the same a few moments later. Anh and Beorg waited for the navy man to enter and then passed the threshold themselves.
Of all the portal halls they went through in the last candle, this last one was the simplest, or rather the most primitive. It had the form of a large-ish octagonal room with a tall, windowed ceiling and simple wooden walls. There was barely any sky visible and so several torches stuck on long stakes in the corners of the room were the only light source - apart from the eventor, which produced an eerie, blue-purple glow. The rather rickety portal was embedded directly into the stone floor and permanently set for the capital city; its design clearly suggesting that it was quite old, perhaps even from before the Portal Boom times. There was a single door on one of the walls and on the opposite side an open double door led to a spacious balcony. Dark silhouette of the urban landscape, barely visible through the opening, hinted that the entire portal chamber is way up high, perhaps even as high as the third or fourth floor. An extensive rope and pulley system coupled to two wooden cranes installed directly on the balcony likely allowed for easy transport of the merchandise from the ground level. There were two workers near the portal ring, guarding a hand drawn cart filled to the brim with crates similar to those the aberrants saw in Usterl.
The travellers were not greeted officially in Tevros, as the flagman apparently didn't consider this service to be a part of his duties. He just scoffed and then nodded towards the smaller of the two doors. Both aberrants had nothing better to do, so they just went through. Anh did so with a considerably less enthusiastic approach than before. The rude welcome was one thing but when he saw that behind the door there was just a spiral staircase, his mood deflated even further. It didn't help that the kin in his head currently held a competition on who could provide the most compelling proof that this entire escapade wasn't really worth the effort.
The staircase was very narrow, which would force the tanai to telekinetically lift his faithful chest and carry it all the way down. For near-enough half a triskol he considered allowing the crane crew to lower it using their platform, but that would mean being separated from it and, to his horror, allowing others to take care of it.
With a pained sigh he concentrated for a bit, reaching for his craft, and practically dragged the luggage downstairs. The chest on the other hand knew better when to keep quiet, and didn't squeak even once. The trip downstairs turned out to be rather long and unpleasant, confirming his suspicion that the tower was several stories high, but when both Anh and his luggage finally reached the bottom, it turned out that even more unpleasant things awaited.
The staircase exited into a customs room, furnished with a large desk with a chair and some simple shelves holding several heaps of papers. There was also a wooden barrier, resting on timber trestles, which served the purpose of, as the name would suggest, barring anyone from exiting the room. Two guardsmen in patched uniforms, of hard to identify colour, were leaning against the wall on either side of the obstacle. They were armed with pistols and iron-shod clubs and looked so thoroughly bored that they very nearly could also be classified as pieces of furniture.
Behind the desk sat a corpulent man, dressed in well tailored and clean clothes, which nevertheless already sported large patches of sweat. He had a greying beard and an untidy moustache, and wore a brass-rimmed monocle, which nearly fell off when he saw the aberrants enter. His moustache lifted up, evidently because he smiled. Then his gaze landed on the chest and his mood significantly improved, which was punctuated by his facial hair rising even higher, which in the end looked quite grotesque.
-”Greetings, citizens, to the port of Tevros.” - he announced in a loud, booming voice. His speech was slightly slurred - “Please present your travel papers and prepare for customs control.”
Anh threw Beorg a long, questioning look.
-”I honestly hope you have this covered.”- muttered the tanai, noticing the lustful gaze of the customs official directed straight at his wheeled kit -”Nobody is going to rummage through my luggage.”
In lieu of responding, Beorg approached the desk, opening his travel satchel. He hesitated for a moment - the satchel was fit to bursting with tightly packed scrolls - then he pulled one of the documents contained therein and unceremoniously presented it to the clerk.
-”I have an iron letter signed by the Honourable Greogor Andros, the mayor of Tevros." - he said, taking care to pronounce the words slowly and correctly - "This document grants the bearer an explicit permission to let three persons with their luggage and servants or slaves through this very portal without incident and with exemption from intrusion."
The man blinked a few times, and looked at the nord with a hurt expression on his face.
-"This includes customs checks.” - added Beorg, almost as an afterthought.
The clerk's face sagged, which made his moustache return to its initial position. He corrected the monocle, straightened the document and then studied it for quite a long time, mostly concentrating on the wax seal at the bottom of the parchment. Then he sighed, returned the papers and once again looked longingly at Anh’s luggage, which made a quiet squeak.
-”You may pass.” - he said in a defeated tone and gestured at one of the guards, who proceeded to lift the barrier which up until now prevented the aberrants from exiting the customs. Without any further troubles they soon found themselves outside, breathing what Anh was hoping to be a fresh seaside breeze, but in reality was a near-lethal concoction of nostril-assailing smells of civilization.
The portal tower was located right on the edge of the marketplace. It wasn't entirely dark yet but the day was ending rapidly. In the last sad remnants of the natural light all they could see were brown, rectangular silhouettes of houses, only dimly lit with a few dozen basket torches. It was hot, so hot in fact that even Anh, who was used to the daily scorch characteristic of the Averam desert, deemed it nearly unbearable. The Bivos had only just set, and all the heat of the day was only now beginning to radiate away.
Despite the late candle, quite a few people were still outside. Unlike almost everywhere else, the daily activities in the northwestern parts of Sorres tended to start in earnest only when the worst of the midday scorch was already past. The ‘day’ ended well past midnight as well, and so, the marketplace still bustled with activity. There were quite a few stalls, containing a large variety of merchandise, mostly fish, but also pottery, weapons, crafts and spices. The merchants were shouting, urging the customers to come over and look, their guards were looking for thieves, buyers were buying, sellers were selling, slaves were slaving away. Hordes of, apparently unattended, children were running all around the place, participating in several extremely loud games.
-”So. We are here." - said And, sniffing loudly. Part of his brain attempted to identify the types of fish on offer only by their smell - "Now what?”
-”There is a carriage waiting for us near the western gate.”- replied Beorg -”We better start now, as we have a long way to go. We should reach the dig site within three or so candles."
As they were pushing through the crowds, Greoo made the journey much more bearable by making educated guesses about the people they passed by, followed by a deeply sarcastic riposte by Tow. Whilst, on a certain level, the exchanges were fairly amusing, the fact that Tevros was home to so many different taxons of hoomin didn't slip Anhs' attention. Practically every shade of skin, hair colour and cheekbone height was represented, alongside a myriad of accents and spoken dialects.
-"Very colourful indeed." - muttered the hexergist to himself, regretting that his inkwells and clean sheets were stashed in the chest and not directly accessible at a moment's notice. A diagram representing the distribution of hoomin subdivision in Tevros would have to wait.
