The days before had passed without incident. Kara and Lo’ffen had spoken at length about a myriad of topics. Kara found she had a lot of questions about clerics, and Lo’ffen – as always – seemed to know more than most about the subject. She could tell Lo’ffen knew exactly what the source of her sudden inquisitiveness was, and did not hesitate to tease Kara over it. In the scheme of things Kara had thought it a pleasant, if uneventful couple of days.

That was until the grey stone walls of Tarwall came into view. Most of the troupe had been to enough cities to no longer feel anything close to awestruck at the sight of one. Kara had too, but she couldn’t help but feel some excitement at the notion of being among all those people.

“I don’t know what’s so exhilarating about them,” Lo’ffen had told Kara, “it’s the same limestone they use for houses in all the villages we passed. It’s just stacked higher.”

But Kara’s enthusiasm would not be dulled. She was in a city; a city with some ten-thousand inhabitants according to Bull. Ten-thousand faces, ten-thousand stories, probably from all corners of the world. And cities always meant markets. Kara had been saving for a few months and Lo’ffen had promised to take her to the markets to buy something nice for herself.

The caravan came to a stop at a spot Turner chose just outside of the city walls. City watches never allowed all of their wagons into any city, knowing who they were. They would cite a lack of space, which would not be untrue. They would also turn away the troupe members if they tried to walk under the gates in too large a group. People in their trade had a somewhat tarnished reputation, and well-to-do city folk who were more than happy to watch the performances didn’t like to see that sort hanging around in their city. Kara thought back to her job several nights ago, and resigned herself to the understanding that if she lived here, she probably wouldn’t want people like her coming into the city either. That thought stuck with her as she passed under the shadow of the looming outer walls of Tarwall.

They weren’t asked to, but Kara and Lo’ffen helped out with erecting tents. Not especially difficult work, but work that needed a lot of hands to get done. Once that was complete, they waited for Bull to be done raising the great logs that would be used for their tight-rope performances. As the troupe’s strongman, Bull was often given duties it would take three or four other men to complete. He hadn’t cut down the trees or stripped them of branches, but Kara was pretty sure Bull had carried them all to the stage by himself. Once the fourth log slotted into the hole that had been dug for it, he turned to the two of them.

“Ah! Hello ladies!” he bellowed, “Behold my magnum opus; it’s as though they were never cut down to begin with.”

He could be ringleader if he wanted. With his voice.

“Oh my! How strong you are!” Lo’ffen teased, clapping languidly. “We’re heading into the city to do some sightseeing, and thri-jür here wants to get something in the markets.”

“And you agreed to take her?” Bull laughed, “After last time I remember you two bickering for half a week.”

“We weren’t bickering. I was lecturing her” Lo’ffen cut in, “I mean who saves up Crowns for two months and buys an hourglass? Honestly.”

like that hourglass, Kara thought sullenly, but she decided to keep her mouth shut. Best to let sleeping dogs lie.

The three were laughing by the time they passed under one of the lesser gates, the one closest to their camp. The watchmen knew what they were, but as a group of three they warranted no more than a sideways glance or two. And those were focused fully on Bull. He stood a head taller than the tallest of the guards there, and was nearly as wide in the shoulders as two men. He has the girth of four these days, Kara thought, then felt guilty. Worse than waking a sleeping dog is hurting its feelings. Outside of shows Bull usually wore a cloth vest with a belt, so his giant’s arms were on display alongside his bald head and his full, thick beard. He had an intimidating aura about him, though he never intended it to be so. Kara dropped her trail of thought on the instant her eyes found the bustle of the city. All at once she could see an Elven merchant wearing as fine a clothes and cape as she had ever set eyes upon, a lizardfolk hauling a crate filled with fish over one of his massive shoulders, a group of kenku all muttering in some incomprehensible tongue and a human woman so affluent she was being carried in a chair by four men with poles on their shoulders. I must ask Lo’ffen what one of those things is called. That had only been one street. Kara couldn’t wait for the next one.

The streets close to the gate – known locally as the land gates – were packed. Lo’ffen explained that this was the newer part of the city, further from the old docks. Here the narrow buildings were all wood and plaster, lofty with often three or more levels and standing shoulder to shoulder with their neighbours, with little space in between for any sort of alley. Lo’ffen explained that it was built that way to house as many people as possible. She also pointed out the first floor of almost every building was taken up some business or another; be they kitchens, blacksmiths or tailors, though Kara only half-heard that exposition. She had already decided she wanted to buy something down at the old docks; something fresh off a merchant ship, something from far, far away. So that’s where the trio headed.

Shortly they were on a wider road, though even more densely packed with people. In the throngs, the space felt narrow with occasional wagons squeezing people aside and the lanky wood-and-plaster buildings leaning over from every direction. What was ahead of them loomed even higher; a sprawling stone keep with high walls and battlements. Kara could see the flag of the region waving from every tower and every other merlon; a verdant green cross diagonal against a white field, each held taut by the unwavering sea winds. Within the grounds stood a tower Kara remembered from her last visit, built from the same stone as the keep and the walls, but much taller and skinnier. Like a stone beanstalk it looked almost ready to topple at any moment. Kara thought she made out a green cross flapping at the top, but it was much smaller than any of those hanging from the keep-proper.

“That’s the wizard’s tower” Lo’ffen commented.

She always notices when I’m staring at something.

“Most of the lesser royalty have their own court wizard, but this one is supposed to be quite special” Bull added.

“What can he do that other wizards can’t?”

“I don’t know for sure,” Bull admitted, “but I heard he concocts a fierce elixir of male enhancement. I hear the Duchess is extremely happy with his work.”

Kara chuckled and Lo’ffen scowled at her old friend.

“I’ve been told that’s why they built that tower for him. But I will not repeat what the locals call it.”

Kara laughed again and Lo’ffen punched Bull on the arm. I swear she was smiling, if only for a moment. Kara decided it would be fun to guess the local’s name for the thing.

“The Duke’s Glory?”

That time Lo’fffen hit her on the arm, while Bull let loose roaring laughter.

“The Sorcerer’s Surprise?” he added and Kara giggled. Bull’s laugh had always been contagious.

Lo’ffen glowered at the two of them, but Kara thought she saw a slight twitch in the corner of the elf’s mouth. Then Lo’ffen took a deep breath and glanced over at the tower.

“The Duchess’ New Throne” she said resolutely. Bull’s laughter was so loud it actually startled some of the passers-by.

As they neared the keep and the tower, the trio came to another set of gates. The wall here was shorter and visibly older than the one they had already passed under, though hewn from blocks of the same limestone. That meant they were entering the older part of the city; the Old Docks. Once it had been all that existed of Tarwall; a not-unformidable keep and a small town of grey stone buildings behind a grey stone wall, under a green-and-white flag. The streets were immediately wider, though no less crowded. Compared to the new part of the city, the buildings here seemed squat, stunted things, though infinitely more sturdy than their counterparts. One building stood apart from the others; it was not much taller than any of the other buildings around, but its grounds took up almost as much space as the keep, and every inch of the Temple of Sὀlar was plastered a brilliant white. Kara gasped a little when she saw it. Not as loudly as she had the first time the troupe had passed by Tarwall, but it was audible at least to Lo’ffen. Could Shane be here? No, I mustn’t stare. If I do, no doubt Lo’ffen will tease me more than she already has.

Sὀlar is the god of the sun. He lives in the sun, and he makes all of the light. He has been there for a very, very long time. He has more followers than any other god. He looks like a big lion head with white fire for hair. His wife is Litas, the lady-god goddess of fertility. My grandpa has a very old vase with a picture of a lady with no clothes and a lion (who also has no clothes). He says it is Sὀlar and Litas. I think it is very interesting.

Solár, God of the Sun – Sineagh MacTargh, Aged 9

The three were able to move at a much better pace now, free from the confines of narrow streets, and before long reached the market square. The square was huge, a literal square maybe three-hundred feet from one end to another. No permanent structures existed within the space; it was home only to wooden stalls with wheels and the crowds; locals and out-of-towners, humans and non-humans, experienced shoppers and nervous buyers. All types were present that day. It took nearly an hour for Kara to decide what she wanted to buy; a genuine magnetic compass. It had a wrought-iron housing with a simple engraving Kara liked, and inside the face bore a decal of two doves volant flying away from the centre. When she chose it, she wasn’t sure if Lo’ffen was coughing or laughing or spluttering.

“Should I start calling you captain?” was one of her many questions.

But Kara had made up her mind, and that was that.

After some more playful disagreements Lo’ffen eyed the sky warily.

“It’s getting late. We’d best be getting back.”

Kara looked too. She couldn’t decide what Lo’ffen had seen in the empty blue sky, going by the light they had at least an hour and a half until sundown. But she too felt like the hours were slipping by.

“Okay, but can we see the docks before we go?” She remembered from her last visit being tremendously impressed by the giant twin stone wharfs that characterised the old docks of Tarwall.

Almost as soon as the words left her mouth, a lengthy procession of sailors – some dressed in the white and green of Tarwall, others wearing the red and white of the King’s armies – marched orderly in double-file by the edge of the market square. All in the direction of the stone wharfs.

“The Navy of the Kingdom of Aren” Bull stated. “There aren’t many places a whole fleet could come to port and resupply. I’m sure they’re a regular occurrence in this city.”

“We really ought to be getting back” added Lo’ffen.

I doubt a busy fleet of sailors would give the time of day to two acrobats and a strongman, Kara though. Still, she nodded reticently and the three made their way back to the smallest of the Land Gates and to the troupe’s campsite nearby.

“We’re headed north-west, by the way” Kara added, to the amusement of Bull. Before she made it to her tent, Kara found Turner walking towards her directly and smiling to himself.

“Kara! Just the person I wanted to see. I have a little job for you.”