As they approached the Farmer’s Gate, a guard motioned Da to pull the wagon into a separate line from the Mokaddians.

At least a dozen guards stood on the rampart with strung bows. From their colors, he could see they were a mixture of Fir-Noy and Burund. Down at the base and off to the side of the gate, a guard held a dead rabbit up by its hind legs, baiting the two mastiffs chained to the wall. He told the handful of guards standing with him to watch, then he tossed the rabbit between the two dogs. The result was a violent scuffle, but in moments the smaller dog had most of the rabbit and gulped it down, leaving only a tuft of fur and one leg that had flown off into the weeds when they’d pulled it apart.

“See,” said the guard. “That’s the one to watch. And now I’ll take your coppers.”

“They’ve posted double the men,” said Nettle.

“It won’t do them any good,” said Da. “Not against that creature of grass and stone.”

Two guards motioned Da to come down off the wagon. One told Da and Talen to strip completely.

“Do you not see the token of the Council?” asked Da. “I’ve been summoned.”

“Then we’ll have to be double sure, won’t we?”

“They’re not going to strip,” said Nettle. “I vouch for these men.”

“You little piss,” the second man said and reached out to strike Nettle, but the first grabbed his arm and stopped him.

“That one is Captain Argoth’s.”

The second man wrested his arm from the other man’s grasp. “Well, well. The Koramite lover’s boy,” he said. “All alone out here while daddy is in the fortress. Where’s your wet nurse?” He pointed at Nettle’s belt. “I see they’re letting you dress up like a man, are they? Good for you.”

Nettle clenched his jaw, but he didn’t say anything.

So Talen spoke up. “He’s man enough to knock one of your armsmen about.”

“Quiet!” said Da.

The second guard licked his bottom lip. “Our orders,” the first guard said, “are to search every Koramite. Now strip.”

“And you,” the second said to Nettle. “You may move along. Wouldn’t want you to get a boo-boo.”

“Don’t listen to them,” said Nettle.

Da held up his hand. “Talen and I will satisfy the requirement.” Then he began to pull off his tunic.

Dozens of Mokaddians in the other line stood and watched. One wife stood with her arms folded and a scowl across her face as if this were his just desserts. Talen turned his back on her and gave her the bum. Soon the two of them were naked except for the poultice around Da’s neck, standing in the sun, their legs spread and arms held wide, while the guards and flies came to investigate.

When the guards found no Sleth-sign, they allowed Da and Talen to pull their clothes back on and bring the wagon round. But another guard stopped them there.

“It’s four coppers to enter,” he said. One of his ears looked to have been chewed off.

Da shook his head. “Every man who works on the wall has rights to enter.”

“Every clansman,” said the guard.

“No,” said Da, “every man.” He pointed at the Sea Gate in the distance. “I helped build that tower.”

The guard looked over the contents of the wagon. “Four coppers, and I want that small sack of barley.”

Da did not raise his voice in anger, instead he enunciated every word. “I am here at the Council’s request.”

The man put his hand to his sword. “There are many who think we should just beat you on principle. I’m doing you a favor.”

“You’re robbing me.”

The guard shrugged. “Everything has its price.”

Da clenched his jaw.

The guard flipped open the basket with the smoked meat. “Ah,” he said. “This looks good.” He pulled out a strip of salmon and took a bite. Then he grabbed another handful and tossed it to the other guards. “See,” the man said. “I’ve got to let you in, but I don’t have to let your wagon through.”

“I’ll pay you four coppers,” said Da.

“No,” said Talen.

“Be quiet,” said Da.

“Very good advice,” said the guard.

Da reached into his purse and withdrew the coins. “The Council’s going to hear about this.”

“Give them my regards.”

Da picked up the reins and flicked Iron Boy on.

Smoke from a multitude of chimneys trailed into the sky, the wind blowing it like a sooty smear toward the sea.

Talen hated the Fir-Noy. But he was beginning to hate some of the members of his own race. The smith and his wife. They had tainted all the rest of them. Brought down a load of grief. He was happy the smith died. He deserved it. His wickedness was treachery, a stab in everyone’s back. He thought about what Da was doing with the hatchlings. That was treachery too. Couldn’t Da see that?

The farther they traveled, the houses became taller and more closely placed. More and more were made of brick and stone. Yet, between roofs, Talen caught glimpses of the temple on its hill and the seven statues for the coming Festival of Gifts. At the end of the festival, the community would pull down the statue for Regret, tie it to a boat, and send it out to sea. And while it burned upon the water, thousands would sing the hymn of defiance along the shorelines. This same ritual would be repeated by the other clans in their cities, but none would match the festival held here in Whitecliff.

Of course, this year it would not be the same. Usually, the reigning Divine would bestow gifts during the festival, including healings for man and beast. The festival was one of the regular times for people to offer the days of their life up for the good of all by letting the Divine draw quantities of their Fire. It was also during the festival that common men were raised to the ranks of the dreadmen. But none of that would happen this year.

Talen took his eyes from the temple and looked up the road. They were almost upon the lodgers field. Not all of the merchants could afford to raise a booth or tent in the central square. Those slots went to many of the permanent families who held homes in the city itself. But there were three other spots in the city where merchants paid to set up their business. This was the largest of those, a ten-acre field filled with tents of all colors-blue-and-white trimmed with yellow, scarlet-and-black, green-and-blue-each with pennants above them declaring who they were and what they sold.

“Look,” Nettle said and pointed. “The Kish.”

Talen looked and saw the black-and-white tent of the Kish bowmaster. He was surprised that merchant was here. In the last four years of Bone Face raids, many merchants had become wary of sending ships to the New Lands. And now with the Sleth, it was a wonder those who did come would stay. Kish bows were the finest made. They were small and powerful, made of wood, sinew, and bone. He could have the finest bow for sale along with a few dozen bundles of arrows; all he had to do was turn those hatchlings in.

Talen watched a merchant’s guard chase two boys away from a wagon, and then, with a jolt of the wagon, the road turned from a humped dirt affair with weeds growing in the middle to a flat cobblestone street.

What a fine arrangement for the rich to be able to step out of their houses in the middle of a rain and not muddy their boots.

Up ahead, people thronged the way. In front of them a man led an ass laden with bundles of dried hemp. To the side a young woman wearing a yellow hat pointed to a clay prayer disk laying on a holy man’s table. Each disk was engraved with some type of boon-the holy man would write your name on the disk in ink, then you could hang it on the wooden statue in front of the temple and let the fires carry your request to the ears of the Creators.

A young boy carrying a yoke of water across his shoulders cut in front of the wagon, followed by a girl in a pale blue dress selling candles that hung from a pole fitted with a double cross.

Da halted Iron Boy. When the two had passed, he flicked the reins again. A few minutes later, Da turned off the busy street, following the lane that led to Master Farkin’s. Farkin’s house stood three stories high and had half a dozen smoking chimneys. Talen wondered how it would be to have a hearth in almost every room. A lot of work or money in firewood, that’s what it would be. Perhaps that woodsman was on his way here.