She nods. “And it was all three hundred years ago? Is that when Prell fell?”
I shake my head. “Old Prell was destroyed over a thousand years ago, long before the Mancer Wars. But after the Mancer Wars, without magic, people didn’t know how to protect their holds. Wars broke out constantly and the lords of the holds were unhappy because they felt they didn’t have enough power to hold on to their lands. A man called Sparkanos was interested in ancient history, and he traveled to the ruins of Old Prell. Three hundred years ago it was simply a cattle pasture. He dug into the earth and pulled up an orb with a word of power on it, and brought it to the king. The nobles all wanted orbs of their own, and the ruins were overrun with thieves and vandals. Sparkanos and the king knew the flow of artifacts had to be controlled so it could be kept amongst the nobility. They walled off the caverns that led to the Everbelow and declared it owned by the Royal Artifactual Guild, and if anyone wished to hunt for artifacts to sell, they would have to join the guild. Understand?”
“I thought you were going to give me the shortened version.” She winks at me. “That’s a lot to remember.”
It’s because that is the shorter version. I’m skipping three hundred years of politics, guild maneuvering, discoveries, and holder power grabs. “All you need to know is that Old Prell went boom nearly a thousand years before the guild was created. All right?”
“Old Prell, really old.” She lifts one finger and then another as she counts. “Guild came much later. Wait, when was Vastwarren built?”
“The city itself grew around the walled-off section of the Everbelow controlled by the guild. So the guild was here first, and Vastwarren came second.”
“Oh, sure.” Her expression tells me I’ll probably have to go over it all again, but I’ve studied Old Prell and Vastwarren for years. I can’t expect everyone else to know as much as me. She scratches at Squeaker’s chin and glances up at me. “So when are we leaving?”
“You should stay here.”
“What? Why? I thought we were joining together.”
We are. Biting at my thumb’s cuticle, I consider the situation. I would love for Gwenna to come with me, all told. I’m terrified, but if we leave our luggage and poor Squeaker unattended here at the inn, I suspect I’ll never see either again. They’re all I’ve got left, because if my father finds out I’ve run away, I’ll be privately disowned. He won’t make it public until he’s got another heir lined up, and I’m hoping that I’ll have my guild certification by then, and hopefully an artifact or two to bring to my family to restore our glory. If not…
With a lump of emotion in my throat, I grab Squeaker and haul her into my arms. Gwenna doesn’t like to be hugged, so I lavish kisses on the cat, letting her lick my nose raw as I snuggle her. “I won’t take long,” I promise. “I need you to stay with Squeaker and guard our things. I’ll find a teacher for both of us and return to collect you. Give the woman downstairs a penny and see if she doesn’t have scraps of meat for the cat.”
I kiss the cat a dozen times, until she’s squirming against my chest and I can’t put off leaving any longer. Then I set her down and try to hug Gwenna, since I’ve decided that I’m now a hugger. She waves me off, though. I might be a hugger now, but Gwenna is firmly not.
With my umbrella in hand, I head out of the inn and into the nasty streets of Vastwarren City. Today it’s no longer as foul smelling, at least; the weather is washing the scent away. Unfortunately for me, it’s creating quite a slog of mud, and even the raised cobbles in the center of the streets for walking upon are slick and filthy. My skirts, swishing at my heels, are still getting soaked and slapping against my stockings. I let this annoyance go on for one street, then another, and then I give up and duck into a dark alley and fasten the loops that hike my skirts up for tunneling. They now bunch up at my knees and I look a right fool, but I can walk with purpose.
With my umbrella over my head again, I stride back out into the street and squint at my surroundings. I need to find the main guild hall of the Royal Artifactual Guild, as that’s where all of the artificer meetings are held.
It’s just going to be damned difficult without my spectacles.
I’m nervous as I head through the crowded, filthy city on my own. It’s not that anyone is threatening me—it’s just that this is the first time in my life I’ve ever gone anywhere unaccompanied. I keep expecting to look over to a chaperone on my left, or a maid, or a guard. It’s strange to walk alone. I feel exposed, vulnerable, and oddly lonely.
And damp. Very, very damp. The drizzle of rain is never-ending as I walk through Vastwarren, as if the gods themselves are spitting on my dreams.
The huddled buildings lining each street are so strange compared to Honori’s tall stone walls and elegant architecture. Back home, there are not many windows in the hold, as it was originally built for defense, but over time, my relatives have sought to beautify the place. If the room has no natural light, gorgeous, artistic metal chandeliers hang from the ceiling. Rich tapestries and paintings adorn otherwise plain walls. Lush carpets ensure the stone floors are warm and inviting, and everything has a look of elegance. Here, everything is haphazard, as if it were slapped together overnight. The buildings sag against one another and I’m pretty certain a few of them are made entirely of cast-off wood. There are no tile roofs here—houses and shops are covered with battered tin or equally battered wood. The impression is not of functionality but of “good enough,” and everything looks temporary.
Or at least, it does until you get to the heart of the city.
All roads in Vastwarren lead to the guild, because the city was built up around the guild holdings. The guild’s thick stone wall is visible from a distance, making it easy to find—I just have to continue up to the top of the anthill, so to speak, and head for that wall. Unlike the rest of the city, it’s impressive in its make, and taller than the tallest inn. As I approach, I can’t help but think it reminds me of my family’s holding, with enormous, forbidding walls to protect the treasure inside.
By the time I find the entrance to the walled-off part of town that belongs to the guild, I’m soaked. Once I pass through the impressive gates, I’m lost in an entirely new maze of barracks and halls and libraries. When I find the large, ostensibly gray building that must surely, surely be the main guild hall, my clothes are heavy and dripping with water and I’ve wandered over half of Vastwarren itself. I’m probably carrying all the mud in my boots, too.
I’m in a dreadful mood by the time I see the statue of Sparkanos the Swan, the first artificer. Triumph surges in me again, and I tilt my umbrella back, ignoring the fat drops of rain that spatter on my clothes as I regard him. Sparkanos’s statue wears a long cloak, the fabric swirling out behind him as he clutches the Sphere of Reason under one arm, a sword in the other. At the hem of his cloak, it looks as if the fabric is turning into feathers, a nod to his curse. It’s a powerful-looking statue, and one I’ve read about and seen drawings of in books, but this is the first time I’ve seen such a wonder in person. I’m utterly breathless at the sight.
To think that could be me someday, with a powerful artifact tucked under my arm, paving the way for others to bring our world out of darkness and back to the enlightenment of the ancients.
My mood lightens and I’m smiling as I race toward the long climb of stone steps that leads to the hall itself. It seems as if the entire city is here. There’s a crowd on the steps despite the driving rain, and when I push my way forward with a few muttered apologies, I’m not surprised to see that the doors to the hall are wide open and even more people are crowded inside.
