Smoke and Iron

Chapter 7-Adventures in the Market

Mornings at The Coal Inn are always too slow for my liking. While everyone is still sprawled on the floor of the kitchen I'm already up and scheming. Perched on top of the roof, I watch as the Quarter comes to life beneath the cloudy sky. Dressed in a black cotton blouse and gray leggings I shiver against the cold. The wind finding its way through the waterproof layers of my jacket, sending goosebumps across my skin. 

My other set of clothes are probably lying in a wash bin somewhere. I didn't realize till this morning how much mud I had got on my clothes. I guess running through the grimy streets and not bothering to leap over the puddles will do that to clothing. Still it was worth it in the end.

As I munch on an apple that I snuck from the kitchen, I watch as wagons and people move through the dirty streets. Women hall buckets of water from the wells. While keeping a close eye on their children that play in the street. Dock workers head down the road. To the wharf where they will unload the cargo that will be sent to the Market and Merchant Quarters.

The sound of laundry being hanged with the snap of wooden pins, and shutters opening brings a steady rhythm to another gray morning. Wagons rumble across the uneven roads, many of them filled with coal. Heading towards the factories that stand like sentries in the distance. 

Finishing the apple I toss the core onto the street below. A pained grunt reaches my ear as I make my way across the roof. I leap across to the neighboring roof, landing in a crouch on the rough shingles. Stepping lightly I head to the edge of the roof. Peering into the alley below I make sure no one is in sight. 

Glancing to the entrance I make sure no one lies in wait near the narrow passage. Where a willow tree has wound its roots around the stone archway. It's branches and leaves giving a small amount of cover.

Reaching for my rope and hook I step off the roof's ledge. 

Gravity pulls me towards the ground threatening to leave me broken against the stone. With practiced ease I throw my hook above my head and wrap my hands around the rope. My descent slows in a bone shaking rush. My thoughts focus on the hook as I command it to slowly lower me to the ground. When my feet gently touch down I release the hook from my control. Shaking, it tumbles down and into my waiting grasp. 

Hooking it back into my belt I head down the alley. Into the chaos that is Talvos' docks. Ships of every size and shape are moored here in the maze of bridges and stairs. Sailors and dockworkers hurry across them. Carrying boxes and barrels filled with trade goods destined for the many foreign markets across the vast ocean. Two levels of docks and bridges are filled with these scurrying men and women.

The lower level is filled with large wooden ships that bob in the dark choppy water. Above lies the small slim gondolas with sails resembling the outstretched wings of a bird. These wings are fixed to the sides of the gondolas while a single mast placed in the center of the deck holds up the mainsail. 

Though these flying ships are a wonder to behold. How they fly is what is truly unnerving. The way these ships fly is by the use of air mages. Mages forced into the servitude of the Merchant Guild. Made to man these ships for long journeys takes its toll, no doubt leaving them drained and exhausted. Unfortunately they have no choice as according to the laws this is the only job they may have. A fact that brings my anger boiling to the surface.

Unfortunately I don't have time to mull over my hatred for the king and his rules. Forcing my feet to move I head down the water soaked street. I move through the crowd with ease. Slipping past rough looking sailors that smell as if they haven't washed in weeks. Stepping onto the wooden boards of a bridge I head into the wooden maze.

My destination lies on the other side of the wharf. A place where I mean to sell a few acquired items. A hidden market known only to people of the criminal variety. Where under the noses of the Silver Guard we make our fortune through our own, if illegal means. A place that has never been found in the hundred years of its existence. Dubbed the Underground Market as it lies in the heart of a hidden cavern. Far from the watchful eyes of the king and his soldiers.

Unfortunately only a few go between the city and the market at any given time. Each gang in the city sends one or two people at most. In order to sell stolen and illegal items that only it can offer. Lowering the chance of it being discovered. 

As I trek across the crowded wooden walkways I take stalk of my surroundings. Barrels being rolled onto trembling gangways, sails being raised as ships prepare to make their way across the sea. The cry of gulls permeates the air. Mixing with the voices of sailors as they call out amidst the rigging of the ships.

All of the vessels swarm with a curious amount of increased activity. Especially the ones bearing the royal seal emblazoned on their sides in stark white paint. Barrels of gunpowder and heavy cannons are being wheeled onto the black ships. While guards stand with muskets at their sides. Watching the gangway and the moving crowd with grim stony glares. 

My skin crawls as I slip past fishermen hauling their catch on wooden poles. I spy more and more soldiers on the prowl. Usually I only see them when heading into the section of the docks reserved for the sleek platoon of merchant vessels. Their presence here is not a good sign. 

Darius's words of the pirate queen's treasure comes to mind. Could they be really looking for a lost treasure? Is the king mad enough to send his men to find something that might not even exist? The thoughts swirl in my mind as I head into the very heart of the docks.

Above my head lies the walkways where the airships lay moored. On sturdy platforms they rest tied down by thick ropes. Men and women scurry along the rope bridges above me. Some carrying rope, tools, and wood. Others wearing goggles and scarves rush to the ships that lie ready to take off. The level below is filled with booths selling, fish, mussels, and diving tools. 

Troths of ice overflow with oysters, crab, and eel. The ripe scent of salt and seaweed greats my nose. Trekking through the market, I keep a wary eye on the small groups of soldiers that march through the crowd. Though their presence makes the hair on my arms stand up, I have no need to fear. 

Unlike in the Market, Bronze, or Merchant Quarters where they could grab anyone off the street with no rhyme or reason. Here they must tread lightly for not only are they in the most dangerous of the quarters. They are also treading through the territory of the city's most notorious gangs.

The biggest of them being the four gangs that hold the greatest power over all the others. The Ghouls, Serpents, Blades, and Sparrows control the main sources of wealth that flows through the city. Mercenaries, drug lords, hired thugs, and thieves make up the criminal empire of Talvos. An empire that will make these soldiers think twice before confronting one of our own. 

Here at the docks the Sparrows reign supreme, making me and my friends targets for other rival gangs. The docks being rich hunting grounds for misplaced cargo and coin purses. Our hold over our territory is a silent and hidden one. Shopkeepers here lock their earnings behind their booths. Not knowing that even these won't stop a determined thief regardless of well secured safes or hired guards.

Miss Cole's group of armed enforcers stroll through the market. Stopping at booths to collect protection money from the owners. Others lean against wooden posts or sit on steps with a clear view of the walkways and entrances. All wear a simple brown scarf either wrapped around a neck or belt. Their long coats hiding an assortment of knives, short swords, and guns. Their job, to keep order in the key part of the gang's territory. Without it we would not survive the everchanging grabs for power in the Iron Quarter.

They also make sure that me and my friends are doing our part. Our days are filled constantly looking for marks. Taking money and valuables and selling them in the Underground Market. A task both exhilarating and down right dangerous. To get there I must go through the Merchant Quarter without attracting the notice of wary merchants and watchful soldiers.

Increasing my pace I wind through the maze of booths and tables. Reaching the bridge that connects to the merchant docks, I take a steadying breath as I step onto the rough wooden planks. As I walk I tuck my own brown scarf into one of the inside pockets of my jacket. Reaching into another I pull out a gray scarf, securely wrapping it around my head and tying it in a knot.

Tucking my locks of hair under the scarf, I pull the flaps of my coat closer to my face. My actions of yesterday make me more cautious as I walk past the elegant forms of the merchants ships. The silver colored threads that weave through my hair are both noticeable and distinctive. Foolishly I had left my hair uncovered yesterday, making the odds of me being caught for humiliating that lieutenant even greater. 

Now they know who to look for, making my job even harder now that I will have to watch my back more closely as they continue their search.

Not only if caught, I could risk revealing a well guarded secret. If discovered it would spell doom for me and my friends. 

The threads are a mage mark and like all mages I can't get rid of them. Every mage has a different mark associated with each magic. As a metal mage the threads in my hair are pure silver that are embedded in my scalp. Gemma, Mark, Erik,Lark, and her brother Farris also bear the mark of the magic that runs through their veins.

Gemma hides hers underneath her pilfered rings, covering symbols of waves and sea serpents, marking her as a tide mage. Lark and Farris's gold eyes shine like flaming sparks. Their control over fire second to none. Mark, our air mage, has swirling gold patterns across his back and Errick with unmatched strength. Has small flecks of amber tangled in his blood red hair.

Luckily for us these can be passed off as tattoos and exotically dyed hair. But if looked at closely these reasons would not suffice. If the soldiers find out then everyone I knew and loved would be forced into hiding and hunted down like dogs. If caught we would be sent to work in mines or farms. Our wrists, shackled with cuffs made out of the one thing that can suppress and keep us from using our powers.

Pure solid titanium collected from the deepest parts of the mines. Even the slightest touch can strip a mage of their magic for hours. The threat of the titanium cuffs keeps the mages indebted to the merchants in line. Being a metal mage makes it even worse. A metal that I should be able to control is the one thing that could be my undoing. 

The only reason this secret hasn't been found out yet, is that many of the mages forced into servitude or found, have either cut of hair or parts of their bodies. Hiding the marks and in someway doing what they can to protect the rest of us from discovery.

I push away the churning thoughts, returning my focus to the task at hand.

Following the line of the crisp white sails, I reach the end of the wooden platform. Stopping before the wooden rail I peer out over the dark waters of the bay. Dolphins leap out of the water, making their way across the vast expanse. As they head for the rich icy waters to the south. 

Finely dressed men in gray wool coats and women holding lacy parasols. Walk across the wooden path gazing at the sleek forms of ships loading carts with silk, spices, and casks of wine. The carts head towards the gray stone bridge leading towards a busy road lined with a bevy of small shops that line the street.

The morning crowd fills the street, as people make their way in and out of shops underneath the cloudy sky. Young girls in frilly silk dresses and their primly dresses mothers gaze and gawk at silks and flowers in display windows. Little boys in suspenders and girls with bows in their hair. Push their faces against the glass of a candy shop. Admiring the baskets and trays of cakes, chocolates, and caramel. 

Young delivery men and women carry hat boxes and wooden crates through the street. Off to deliver their burdens to the fine brick houses up the road.

Gray scarves wrapped around heads or necks and simple leather jackets flapping behind their scurrying legs. The inspiration for my outfit and the perfect disguise to walk unnoticed by shopkeepers and soldiers.

Relaxing my shoulders I head towards the carefully crafted buildings. As I pass the white paneled windows and doors, I breath in the pleasant scent of roses in baskets that hang from the eves above. Each door is painted with different designs and symbols, telling people what each shop has to offer. Pictures of cakes and loaves of bread for a bakery. Strings of pearls and gemstones for a jeweler, and a hammer for the blacksmith. 

The one I seek has a spattering of stars painted in gold on the wood. The windows of the shop are made of stained glass. Depicting a silver moon and a golden sun, surrounded by silver stars set into black glass. Heading up the stone steps to the door I knock twice against it. Slowly the door opens slightly at my touch. I gently push open the door and step into the room beyond. 

Closing the door with my foot, I am greeted by the scent of lavender and mint. The walls are filled with wooden frames that hold beautiful carved pictures made of glass. Luscious reds and dark purples greet my eyes, forming shapes of roses and violets. They glint and sparkle from the light that spills through the windows above. Small brass tables display plates, bowls and vases made from finely cut glass in colors of green, blue, and gold. Even the floor is decorated with bits of colored glass that form swirling patterns in the brown wooden boards.

At the back, behind a clear glass counter, is a simple carved archway with dark silk curtains hiding the back room. On the counter small clay bowls in colors of coral and plum hold rocks, coins, and flower petals made of multicolored glass. The same glass that dangles from leather cords that hang from the ceiling on curved metal hooks embedded into the wood. Glass shaped into stars and planets, a mini universe of light and color.

I head towards the counter, boots thumping a gentle beat across the floor. Gently I reach out my fingers and ring the small silver bell that lays on the smooth surface of the counter. The sound of the bell summons a thin girl with dark skin the color of chocolate with long brown hair braided with a rainbow of small glass beads. A girl in her early teens, a long green dress pooling around her feet. Purple and blue ribbons wrap around her bare arms and shoulders, threatening to drown her in the multitude of fabric. 

"How may I help you," her voice ringing like the bell on the counter. 

"Are you here to get a delivery or buy from our extensive inventory,"  she says as she gazes up at me with ocean blue eyes.

"Not exactly," I reply, "I am looking for something that is rare and hard to find. Do you have an idea where I could get such a thing."

Her eyes brighten and a conspiratorial smile spreads across her face. 

"Yes I believe we do have something like that. I will need your help though, it is too high for me to reach and I could use a helping hand."

Pushing the curtain aside she gestures me on through. Stepping lightly I brush past her into the small room at the back. Cupboards and shelves filled with panes of carefully stacked glass and bowls fill the space. With soft steps the young girl heads to a small chest near the wall. Fishing out a key from a hidden pocket in her skirt she opens the chest with a small pop from the brass lock.

Opening it she turns to me and holds out her hand. Rolling my eyes I hand her a copper to her immense delight. With my fare paid I step into the chest. Fitting my foot onto the iron ladder, I pull the rest of my body into the space. Making my way down the creak of hinges draws my gaze up. With a wave the girl closes the lid plunging the hole into darkness. 

Huffing a breath I continue down until I reach the bottom rung. With a small leap off, my feet meet the rough packed dirt of well trodden ground. 

I pull a match from my pocket and light it with a scrape against the ladder. Turning around I head down the dark passage. Above my head roots dangle like twisted branches through the dirt ceiling. The skitter of beatles whispers across the ground. 

Time quickly passes as I journey through the underground tunnel. A beam of light shines at the end of the tunnel. The gurgle of water echoes through the passage. Soon the flat dirt floor steadily starts to become steep as the tunnel heads toward the surface.

I blow out the match and drop it in the dirt. I firmly crush it under my boot leaving no sign of it ever being there. Breathing in a lungful of air, I run the rest of the way up the incline, only coming to a stop when my boots crunch over lush green grass. Spreading my arms, I let out a long sigh as the weak sun shines over my face. The sound of rushing water and birdsong fills my ears as I bask in the clean forest air. 

Filled with resolve I continue on my path. Ducking tree branches and maneuvering around thorny bushes, I follow the gurgling river. The water cuts a curving path through the forest, leading to a pile of boulders covered in moss,  that blocks the way between a strand of thick tall trees. The river flows underneath the pile, the hole only large enough to let the water slip through.

Cracking my knuckles I climb up the massive rocks. Climbing until I reach the branches of the nearest tree. Like a cat I jump from my rocky perch and onto the limb overhead. With great care I make my way to the other side of the tree. Small branches snag at my clothes and hair as I go. Bracing my legs against the rough bark, I head down until my feet meet the firm ground. Brushing off my clothes I drink in the sight before me. 

The water coming from beneath the boulders, cascades into a small waterfall and edding into the river below. Trees surround the small clearing of grass, bushes and wildflowers. Hiding the small dock and long boat that float on the clear watery surface. A dock holding the forms of three other passengers for the small vessel manned by a gray robed figure with a long sturdy pole. 

My blood begins to hum as I head to the crumbling dock. Stepping onto the platform, I happily take off the scarf, letting my hair tumble down in a cascade of curls. Shaking out my tangled tresses I gaze at my fellow passengers. 

Two girls with matching almond eyes and blue dresses, hold bags filled to bursting with glistening jewels. Their pale skin decorated with symbols of water belay their magical heritage. A young man dressed in worn leather shoes and a coat torn and ragged, carries a serene falcon on his shoulder. It's white feathers matching the pure white locks of its handler. The boatmen grunts and taps his pole against the dock. His message clear, we pile into the boat, and after setting ourselves on the wooden benches does he push off from the dock.

With sure strokes of his pole the boatman takes us down the quiet river. The trees overhead block out the light as we move along. The bank is covered in tall bushes of wild thorny roses. Long and willowy cattails fill the water on both sides. While the small forms of fish and water spiders, dart through the water. 

Peering over the side of the boat, I see an array of colorful smooth stones laying across the river bed. 

The boat comes to a bend and turns following the flow of the river as it divides into two separate directions. The boat heads to the right and into the mouth of a small cave. Long strands of moss cover the cave entrance. Droplets of dew collecting on the dark purple flowers that grow from the mossy foliage. Entering the cave, the moss brushes over our heads, as we go along. The familiar groan of tree branches, still makes me look behind. The cave entrance is soon blocked by thick oak limbs and a fine covering of ivy and green leaves.

Again I am shrouded in darkness, our sole light the small blue flame of a lantern that one of the girls has pulled out. Water laps against the cave walls and water drops from the ceiling fall onto the scattered rocks below. Above the small furry bodies of bats hang from the craggy stone. Minerals in the surrounding rock shine from the lantern as we pass. The boat then passes through a curtain of thick green ivy, the soft vines brushing my skin as we head into the waters of a hidden lake.

Spots of bright purple light greet my eyes, as the boat glides across the dark water. The bright lights shine over a line of piers and bridges. Supporting rows and rows of wooden houses and huts. Smaller foot bridges connect the piers to the rock shorey, where two story tall stone buildings crowd against each other. 

Our boat is not the only one making its way into the cavern. On the other side of the lake two large iron doors open, revealing the form of a large three masted ship with blood red sails. It is followed closely behind by another smaller but no less formidable vessel. This one made from pure white wood and festooned with sleek copper sails cuts a path through the water. Narrowly avoiding the many smaller boats that make their way to the docks nestled below the piers.

Unable to turn away I gaze in awe as the white ship glides across the dark lake. Slim cannons shine like molten amber under the purple light. One of the three masts bears a red flag, it's fabric decorated with golden flames. In the very front of the ship a figurehead in the shape of a bird on fire, glows with a golden sheen. Its wings spread wide against the vessel's sides. Beak raised as if emitting a mighty screech. 

It can't be, there is no possible way it could be here. As it was last spotted near the White Cliffs according to Darius. My eyes must be playing tricks on me. Quickly I rub my eyes and open them again. The ship is still there in all its glory. The Phoenix, the ship of legends and tragic tales. Its presence here can mean only one thing. Queen Ivena has come to find her missing treasure and she has chosen to dock here of all places. The shock of it sends an icy feeling skittering down my spine.

Our boat goes under a foot bridge at that moment, the wooden beams blocking my view of the ship. A woosh of heat from above turns my gaze skyward. On the bridge, a bare chested man in red pants juggles sparking balls of fire over his head. While a woman in a gold dress and face paint blows a gust of flames into the air. 

As we make our way under the wooden paths above, I take in all the wonders before me. Wonders that could never happen in Talvos. Men and women with bright tattoos and colored hair, walk along the bridges and piers without a care in the world. Clothes in every color and fabric cover their bodies. Flowing silken scarves, leather vests, feathered hats, richly embroidered masks and hoods, are just a hint of such variety.

 Birds of all colors and sizes fly overhead. Some carrying small cloth parcels and papers tied with string. Groups of veiled dancers and focused musicians, perform along the wooden paths. The clink of belled ankle bracelets, the swish of silken skirts, and a medley of reed pipes fills the rocky cavern with a heavenly sound.

The boat comes to a sudden stop, bumping into the small dock set against a stone wall. We file out of the boat and give the boatmen his payment. Waiting patiently for the others to go up the wooden ladder, I watch as the boatman pushes off from the dock. After they all reach the top, I head up the wobbly water soaked rungs. Reaching the top I drink in the sight of it all. 

The stone buildings emit a spattering of bright light from candles and torches from windows and doors. In front of them the stone square hums with life. Carts laden with silks, jewels, exotic birds, and weapons crowd the square. While a trio of acrobats performs to the delight of the gathered crowd.

I pass by the heavily laden carts. The glistening steel knives and guns call to me from their velvet cases on a nearby vendor's stall. Controlling myself I head for the stone buildings covered in strands of ivy. Copper and brass doors are nestled between the cracked stones. One embedded with black stones in the shape of a gryphon, leads to my first stop of the day.

Stepping up to the door, I pull a black rope that hangs beside it. A brass gong sounds from behind the door. Swinging open, the door reveals a room bathed in silver light. With sure steps, I head into the room beyond. The door closes behind me with the click of a lock, while a thin board of copper slides down, bolting the door. Turning back around I take in the wonders of the room around me. 

The high ceiling is filled with clay pots, holding flowering vines of black, white, and purple flowers. Woodens beams covered in dark green moss, form into the shape of a star overhead. Fine woven rugs depict images of fierce dragons with glistening scales and curled horns. Their mouths spewing fire in shades of red and gold.

Polished wooden shelves line the stone walls. Shelves filled with bottles of whiskey and rum sit next to small blue and green bottles filled with bubbling liquid. Gold and silver chalices decorated with pearls, rubies, and sapphires fill in the gaps. Below the shelves, long black tables hold the skulls of animals ranging from birds and fish. To those of wolves and bears, including a single human skull bleached white by the sun.

In the very center of the room is a series of leather chairs and side tables in various sizes, that surround a large bronze cauldron. Inside bubbling blue liquid froths against the metal sides. But it's the chairs that draw the full force of my attention. Nestled on the chairs are the small sleeping forms of dragons. Five of them in varying shades of green and gold, lounge on silken throw pillows. Wings fluttering lightly as they sleep.

The groan of the wooden board beneath my feet, makes them stur from the throes of slumber. Bracing myself I watch as their scaled forms leap from the chairs, straight for me. Their bodies collide with mine sending me sprawling on my back. Chirps of delight reach my ears as they bounce across my stomach. One has gotten ahold of my hair, wrestling the strands into submission.

"Ok, ok I missed you guys too," I say laughing.

The cheeky buggers continue their mad assault on me. Rubbing their heads against my face, neck, and arms. Two of them have sunk their sharp teeth into the leather of my boot. Their little bodies try to drag me across the floor, but their size impedes them from doing so. With great effort I manage to sit up, bracing my weight with my hands spread out behind me.