5: City of Cliffs

Feral approached the edge of the cliff. The mare seemed to share her rider's hesitancy. The stone crumbled into a slope and a long fall to the canyon below. Yet as the Gasts stared back at her and her companions, disdain plain on their faces, Leiyn refused to submit to fear. Setting her jaw, she led them forward.

"Qasaar," Teya announced flatly. "What do you make of it, Ranger?"

Leiyn hadn’t expected much. The lands beyond the Silvertusks were dry and foreboding, and she’d been skeptical they would hold much cause for interest. 

Yet wonder touched her as she stared down at the Gast city.

Qasaar was like nothing she’d seen before. The canyon, a deep gash among the mesas, didn’t hold the city; it was the city. Buildings were carved from the ocher stone up and down the sheer faces. Once, it had been meticulously and lovingly built, and signs of that grandeur remained in the elegant arches and faded colors.

The clearest sign of its ancient origins was invisible to the eyes. The buildings weren’t dark to her mahia as rock should have been, but felt alive like the wardstone they’d passed coming in, or the bridge at Saints’ Crossing. Wordless whispers edged into her thoughts, unsettlingly human in their feel. Leiyn was tempted to throw up her walls against them, but resisted the urge. She couldn’t afford to blind her lifesense now, nor did she truly wish to repress her magic anymore.

The paths down to the canyon’s bottom were mostly intact, but where they’d eroded, they were shored up by wooden walkways and plank bridges. Those who trod upon them seemed not to fear their haphazard roads. Up and down the canyon, Leiyn saw hundreds of people at a glance and sensed many more within the buildings. Qasaar wasn’t near as large as Southport, but it was far more expansive than either Folly or Saints’ Crossing. Calling it a city proved no exaggeration.

Teya's gaze lingered on Leiyn, perhaps evaluating her reaction. Leiyn ignored the scout and turned to Acalan. 

"You must have found this place. Your people have only been here, what, six decades? This took centuries to build."

The chieftain's eyes flickered toward his fellow Gasts. "No. We did not carve Qasaar.”

She’d hoped for answers, but once more, Acalan held back, turning toward the winding narrow path down the canyon wall to the city below. Leiyn pretended not to see the scouts' shared amusement as they followed. She looked back at Isla and Batu, who stayed farther from the edge.

"Gasts," she muttered, to their fleeting smiles. Then she turned Feral down after the chieftain and scouts.

Her vexation was soon replaced by apprehension. The path clearly wasn’t made for horses, and Feral knew it. Though wide enough for a cart, the edges had eroded enough that a misstep would cause both rider and mount to tumble to their deaths. Draconions had their claws to maintain a steady grip. Horses had No such advantage.

The whites of Feral's eyes showed as she tossed her head, frequently backing up instead of moving forward. In the end, Leiyn had to dismount and haul at her reins. Her jaw clenched tighter at the amused look from the scouts, Teya's smarting worst of all. She cursed at Feral as she dragged the mare forward.

Despite the plodding pace, they made progress down the path, and soon it widened. Feral settled down, but Leiyn kept walking before her, uneasy still at the great height. This high up on the cliffs, only a few people were milling about, but all of them watched as they approached. 

The path widened further, becoming large enough that traffic could proceed in both directions. Holes appeared in the side of the cliff. These seemed as roughly hewn as caves at first glance. Yet the entrances were rounded into archways, and images had been carved around the openings in intricate detail. Paint in aqua, scarlet, and gold freshened up the old art. To her surprise, Leiyn found the decorations cheery and attractive. They were so unlike anything she’d seen in Southport or Orille, and not in a bad way. From the doorways issued forth scents stranger still, some less pleasant. The aroma of food both sour and spicy made her nose itch and her eyes water.

The populace was less welcoming. While most stared blankly, the children seemed amazed by the strangers. Others wore their hostility openly. More than once, Leiyn heard muttered curses and identified gestures as offensive.

Her ire flared, but she kept it locked behind a stony mask. She was an envoy of Baltesia. She could not go around challenging Gasts to honor bouts at the slightest offense, much as she might feel tempted. She wondered how it must feel to be in their place, to have three of their old enemies enter their refuge. 

Sympathizing with Gasts now, are we? she mocked herself. Tadeo would be proud. 

By reflex, Leiyn touched the pouch with the fox figurine he'd carved. A small smile flitted across her lips.

Acalan and the scouts led them past one section of the cliff city, which gently sloped downward, and followed a switchback to the next. At the curves, fences had been erected, likely to stop any runaway carts or clumsy children. Down the next slope, they arrived at an opening more generous than the others. Leiyn guessed it to be a stable by the reptilian stink wafting from it.

Acalan slid off his mount, so Leiyn and the others followed suit. Feral danced, eyeing the cave with wide-eyed distrust. A glance inside showed the axolto were placed four to a gated section, all surprisingly complacent in the shared space.

Leiyn ran a quick hand down the mare's snout, just avoiding the snap of her teeth. "Don't take it out on me," she muttered. "Wouldn't be my first choice of accommodations, either."

After stripping Feral of her saddlebags and sagging under their weight, Leiyn was almost relieved to hand the reins over to the nearest groom, a girl no older than fourteen who wore her hair in twin braids like Zuma had. The girl seemed as leery of the horse as Leiyn was around the giant lizards. She hid a smile as the girl jumped at Feral's sudden stamp. 

"Good luck," Leiyn said in the Gast tongue before turning away.

Acalan, unburdened by his packs, waited for her and their companions. Next to him stood a man shorter and slighter than the chieftain, and with an eye that wandered with a will of its own. His tattoos were green, marking him as one of Acalan’s tribesmen.

"This is Tozi,” Acalan said. "He will show you to your rooms."

"And you won't?" Leiyn, already on edge, found her temper flaring. 

As usual, the chieftain appeared unaffected. "I have other business. The Tetrad summons me, and I must go."

That he went running at the first call from this “Tetrad” was further proof of his lack of authority. Still, he remained their best link to an alliance. She had to trust he knew what he was doing—for the moment, at least.

"Fine,” she relented.

Isla was already stepping forward, even as she trembled under the weight of her own saddlebags. “May the sky lift your spirit,” she said to Tozi.

The man seemed delighted by the ritualistic greeting. “And the hills bury your fears.” He switched to Ilberian. "You do not come to Qasaar unprepared. I am impressed!"

"You are too easily impressed." Acalan crossed his arms and glanced back at Leiyn. "Wait in your rooms. I will come for you soon."

Sending us to our rooms like children. But she only gave a stiff nod. Isla was more gracious in her reply.

"Thank you, Acalan. We will be eager to meet the Tetrad ourselves."

The chieftain only gave a grunted farewell, then strode down the path.

"You will want to set those down, I am sure," Tozi said brightly. "Please, follow me. The grooms can carry down your bags. We will not go far."

Leiyn glanced at Acalan’s receding figure, then shook her head. “If it’s not far, we’ll carry our packs.”

Tozi’s smile faltered, but he only bobbed his head and turned down the path.

She watched Acalan descend into the valley, while they continued along the ledge. Leiyn’s back soon screamed with the weight of the saddlebags, but she stubbornly kept it from showing. Isla had more trouble with that. The limp in her half-mended leg grew more pronounced, but she refused Batu each time he offered to carry them. Leiyn faced forward, smiling. No matter how much her friend had changed, Isla still had a ranger’s pride.

After passing several more cavernous shops, Tozi led them out from the overhanging and into the sunshine. “You may stay here. I hope you find the rooms to your liking…”

Leiyn craned back her neck to look at their accommodations. Holes were the best she could say for them; they rose three stories high and spread a dozen in each direction. Spacious, perhaps, but seeming to lack comfort. 

Like sleeping in a bear’s den.

Still, she’d stayed in worse. She spared their host a smile, not wishing his good humor to slip away. “They’ll be fine. Good, even,” she added as Tozi’s brow crinkled.

Isla chuckled as she hobbled up next to her. “I believe my fellow envoy is trying to thank you, Tozi.”

The Gast’s grin widened again. He dipped a bow before gesturing to the open doorway. “Please, allow me to show you to your chambers.”

With bracing enthusiasm, Leiyn led her small company inside. She found her initial judgments too harsh, though not by much. The building seemed to have been just as carefully carved out as the rest of Qasaar, though time had worn away some of the efforts. Still, ornate murals decorated the walls, telling stories at which Leiyn could only guess. Even worn, they were beautiful to behold, and though painted in a foreign style, she found them oddly comforting.

Tozi showed them to rooms on the second floor. Isla and Batu took the first two, so Leiyn approached the third doorway. A curtain hung open before it, and there was no evidence a door had ever existed. Grimacing, Leiyn stepped inside and slumped off her bags. She hoped any activities her companions got up to wouldn’t be too loud. Saints knew she’d endured enough of their antics already.

She looked around the room. More murals decorated the walls, but they were otherwise bare. A single, arched window was set into the wall facing out toward Qasaar, devoid of glass, its curtains billowing from the constant winds. Other than a chair, there was no more furniture but the bed, if it could even be called that. The cot boasted a single blanket, and when she peered under it, she was surprised to find no mattress, but only what appeared to be a solid wooden block, gray and smooth with age.

Some envoy I am, she thought with a twisted smile. Even a ranger would struggle to sleep with such scant comforts. Still, all she wanted was to lie down, close her eyes, and try to rest. But that was a dream that would have to wait until nightfall.

Repressing a sigh, Leiyn stepped back into the corridor to find Tozi standing there. He looked as if he wanted to leave, but wasn’t sure how to broach the subject. She smiled at him, and he looked at her as if she were a lioness and he a doe, his lazy eye wandering away.

She spoke her question. “Do you know where Acalan went?”

Tozi hesitated, then nodded. “The Tetrad meets in the Whisperspire.”

“Good. I want you to bring me to it.”

“Please, Envoy Leiyn, I do not think—”

“Just call me Leiyn,” she interrupted. “Or ‘ranger,’ if you must.”

Isla stepped out into the hallway then, Batu emerging behind her. “Might as well relent now,” her fellow ranger advised the caretaker. “She’ll get her way in the end.”

The poor man looked between them, then flashed another of his long-suffering smiles. “Very well. Follow me, Envoy Isla, Envoy Batu and, ah, Ranger Leiyn—that is, if you are not too weary.”

Leiyn only sighed and trailed Tozi as he led her and her companions from the old barracks.

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