“What brings you to Shadowspire?” a veteran sergeant, bald on top with white hair on the side, asked at the main entrance. A group of four guards in chainmail and helms stood nearby and watched with long spears and back up long swords.
My-re and Vomarian looked at each other and said in unison, “Pleasure.” “Business.”
The guard’s brow crinkled in confusion. “Which is it?”
My-re and Vomarian considered each other and said in unison, “Business.” “Pleasure.”
“What my husband and I mean to say is both.” My-re reached for Vomarian’s hand, who flinched. She grabbed it as his face went red. Using her other hand to take it lovingly, she continued. “We’ve just recited our life vows to each other and came to enjoy our honey mead, moon celebration in your fair city.”
“Ah, I fondly remember mine with the wife, through I’d have to say we didn’t see much of the city, outside of our bedroom,” the sergeant chuckles and winked. “Ya know what I mean.”
“Great,” My-re said with forced enthusiasm and pulled Vomarian’s hand to cross into the city.
“Woah, wait.”
“Wait, what?”
“I understand the pleasure part,” the guard said nodding his head and gesturing knowingly with his hands. “What business do you have in Shadowspire?”
“Oh, that,” My-re stammered. “Yes, my husband is a renown and skilled fighter and wishes to test his mettle in the gladiatorial arena.”
“Wonderful, we could always use more talent on the sands. What stable did he join?”
“Uh…”
Vomarian Fae said, “I’m here to find a stable, as I’ve heard it pays well.”
The Shadowspire sergeant considered them for a moment and asked, “Where are you two from?”
“The village of Sanaras. It’s within the Rirorni Empire,” My-re said. “You’ve probably never heard of it.”
“I have.”
“Great.”
“Now, since you are coming from the Empire all I need to confirm is that you two aren’t spies.”
“We’re not spies,” My-re and Vomarian said together.
“Yes, something I would expect a couple of spies to say.” The guards around the sergeant stepped closer with hands gripping their spears.
There was silence for several heartbeats.
“Just kidding!” the sergeant exclaimed smiling and the other guards stepped back. “I love doing that. Go on in kids and enjoy yourself. I was about to say not too much, but I think in this case it’s expected.”
“Thank you very much,” My-re said exasperated, pulled Vomarian’s hand again, and proceeded to enter.
“Oh, one more thing,” the sergeant said.
The two Lord Protectors turned towards the veteran sergeant.
“Egan!”
A middle aged warrior, clean shaven with graying dark hair emerged from the crown dressed in fine, leather armor, with two long swords at his side, with two more daggers thrust through his waistband. Approaching, he had a multitude of healed scars and a testament he’d been in many fights. He regarded My-re and Vomarian, and took a step closer studying them.
The sergeant of the guard nodded towards Vomarian Fae and said, “Arenamaster Egan, this one is interested in joining the games. However, they are on their honey mead, moon celebration, so you might give them a fortnight together before getting him on the sands.
“Welcome,” Egan said to the couple. “Your names?”
“I’m Vomarian and this is My-re.”
“I’m his new wife,” My-re added and scooted closer to him.
“Yes, my new wife,” Vomarian echoed with a pleased smile racing across his face at saying the words.
“You’ve been on the sands before haven’t you? Actually, both of you have.” Egan then clarified, “Your feet are in a fighting stance. You’ve received training. That’s good, but we have strict rules about ringers and tournament fighters in the arena.”
“And that is?” Vomarian asked.
“We don’t allow them. Come with me.”
The two Lord Protectors followed Arenamaster Egan through the crowds to the arena. Moving through a small archway, they entered the ground floor on the sands. The oval shaped arena and stands were white around the circumference, as well as the seats, to reflect heat. An awning that could shade the spectators on particularly hot sunny days was retraced. Across the way was a larger archway, which was the main entrance with three animal monuments above it.
“What do those represent?” My-re asked.
Pointing Arenamaster Egan said, “The two rearing horses facing each other are a tribute to our Rirorni neighbors to the south and some of our best customers. Once introduced to the gladiatorial games after the war, they can’t get enough. We see more and more visit every year. It helps keep the stadium filled.”
“And the coffers with gold too,” Vomarian Fae commented. “Aren’t you concerned about the Rirorni Empire to the south?”
“Yes to both,” Egan nodded then motioned. “In the middle of the stallions are the flying eagle and a reminder that Shadowspire is always watching the Sons of the Horse.”
Traveling across the sands a hooded figure in a red robe entered through the entrance. By the silhouette the person appeared female. She was carrying a bucket of water with an over-sized sponge floating on top.
“Who’s that?” My-re asked. “Isn’t it a little hot to be wearing that? Can’t she take it off?”
“No!” Egan exclaimed. “Don’t tough her and leave her alone. That’s Terina the Arena Cleaner. Never remove her hood. No one knows for sure, but the rumor is she was once a very beautiful woman, but was struck down by the gods for her vanity and arrogance. Anyone seeing her face is cursed to scream for a day from the horror. To each her family humility, the gods tasked her to hide her face and clean the arena grounds after every gladiator cycle until there are no more games on the sands. And before you ask, she gets paid. Even the cursed need to eat and live.”
My-re’s gait slowed and stared at Terina. She began to scrub the arena wall, but stopped. She turned her hooded head towards My-re, but her face was obscured.
“This way My-re,” Egan called.
They followed Egan to a door with a sign reading ‘Arenamaster’ and he motioned form them to enter. Inside was a little dark, but a large shelf along one wall held a wide variety of goblets and mugs that must have come from every corner of Alastari. Three strategically placed cases displayed faded ribbons and plaques, so a guest could easily see the owner’s accomplishments. In the center of the room was a large table and a cushioned chair with parchments scattered all over it with some fallen to the floor.
Going behind his desk Egan rummaged through it and pulled out an unconventionally sheet of sky-blue paper with several names already scribbled on it. “Now, before we go any further. You need to sign a pledge that you will not partake in any tournaments, face-to-faces, pit fighting, underground fight clubs, and etcetera.” He then pulled out and opened an elaborate case and retrieved a snow white, feathered quill and ink container. “Sign the blue cover sheet with this.”
Taking the quill, Vomarian dipped it and began to sign his name, but the ink disappeared and absorbed into the blue paper. He tried again with the same result.
“That’s bizarre. Shelia Greywand provided this quill and ink personally. It’s worked for years without any issues.” Eyeing them Egan said, “We’ll no matter. There’s still the Trap of Truth,” Egan said.
“The what?” Vomarian asked.
Rummaging through his desk, Egan pulled out a hand sized glass object. It was a convex quadrilateral with one pair of parallel sides.
My-re said, “I get it, the Trap of Truth, because it’s shaped like a trapezoid.”
“Ah, someone’s been rated as very intelligent,” Arenamaster Egan said nodding to her.
She felt proud.
“Yes, it’s something else Shelia provided. It just ensures you aren’t a tournament charged warrior,” Egan said. “Go on pick it up. It won’t bite.”
Vomarian Fae cautiously regarded Egan then My-re and back to Egan, who motioned from him to continue. The Shagornan elf picked up the object. It then began to radiate light from within. It suddenly went pure white and blazed, lighting the entire room.
Dropping it, Vomarian Fae said, “The nine hells, that thing started to burn.”
“As I thought,” Egan commented. “That’s never happened to a new initiate.”
My-re and Vomarian looked at each other.
“But I’ve seen it do that to a tournament charged Lord Protector,” Arenamaster Egan said. “Now, do tell me why Shelia Greywand sent two Lord Protectors to Shadowspire.”
“Lady Greywand didn’t send us to Shadowspire,” Vomarian said.
Egan regarded the Shagornan elf for a moment and said, “Yes, of course. I’ve had dealing with Shelia before, so I know confidentiality is paramount when it comes to her…errands. The last thing I want to do is get on that one’s sore side. So, what can I do to help?”
Vomarian Fae began, “How do we know we can trust-“
Interrupting, My-re said, “Lady Greywand didn’t’ send us to Shadowspire specifically. We’re looking for a person. He goes by the name Westwind. We’re told he was here.”
“Westwind, the lamp merchant?” Pondering for several heartbeats, Egan rapped his knuckles on his desk and continued, “Now, it makes sense why Greywand sent you here; one of the lamps he’s selling will grant three wishes. It wasn’t just a marketing ploy.”
My-re and Vomarian looked to each other. Her expression likely mirrored Vomarian’s confusion. “Will you take us to him?”
“Yes, I suddenly have an urgent need to purchase myself a few lamps.”