9. Chapter 9
Chapter 9
Mace
O n the fourteenth day since Viola left us, we exit the Tabria rainforest and reach the abundant coastal city of Feria.
The city itself is sprawling, larger than the three others we have visited by far. People wander the streets, children play in the town squares, and fishermen shout from the docks. "Did you know this city was so big?" Plume asks me under her breath.
I shake my head, unable to tear my eyes away from the sheer number of people filtering down the streets. "None. All of the records report a very low population. I had no idea. It's got to be the size of Ytopie."
"I think so too," Morrow says from Plume's other side. "It's richer than the other cities, too. I don't see the poverty here I saw in Dalery."
Tulip skips ahead of us, the lone human in a crop of fae, arms full of edible vegetation that we collected during our journey through the rainforest. She is fearless in a way that Viola is not as she approaches street vendors and barters for food, drink, and a new head scarf for Morrow. When she places the burnt orange cloth in his hands, he gapes, fingers digging into the silky fabric. " What's this for, wife?"
"Well, you've been letting me wear yours. It only seems right that I replace it." She places a chaste kiss on his cheek and then is off again, conversing with people as we keep six paces behind her.
The people here look happy, most of them with rich, deep skin and bright eyes. Their clothing is vibrant in bright azures, brilliant oranges and yellows, and seductive reds. Most of the men wear pants cut off at the knee and leather sandals, while the women wear swishing skirts or pants with wide, billowing legs. The men are shirtless or sporting open vests, with few wearing full tunics, and the women wear decorated chest wraps, their stomachs on display, or gauzy blouses that are nearly translucent.
This city is not at all what I was expecting.
It is bustling with activity, culture, and life. I was expecting a barely inhabited city of people struggling to make ends meet, and instead, I find a place I could see myself spending a significant amount of time in.
I wish Viola were here to see this.
"I've gotten us a room for the next two nights," Tulip says, shaking me out of my thoughts. She presses a small metal key in my hand. "They have rooms you can rent out here, can you believe it? To have extra space like that!" She sighs dreamily. "It's incredible here."
"How'd you pay for a room?" I ask her, turning the key over in my palm.
"Turns out those spindly blue things Plume boosted the growth of are a very powerful medicine. They're worth a lot." She pulls her pack off and opens it, showing me she still has handfuls of root. "I think we're all set for the time being."
"I don't even know where to begin," I admit, following Tulip into a large stone building. Inside, the noise of glasses and chatter and the slightly too-sweet smell of soured alcohol greet me. "A tavern?" I ask, whipping my head towards Tulip.
She points up a set of stairs. "Rooms are up there. But hey, a drink couldn't hurt, now could it?" She leads us to the rooms where we store our things. On the way down the steep staircase, I notice the attention we've garnered.
It's not like the attention we got in the other three cities. No, these people don't look shocked to see fae in their midst. They just seem curious. I slip onto a backless stool and lean my elbows onto the scuffed wooden bar top. Plume sits to my left, with Morrow on my right and Tulip on his. The bartender walks over to us, eyes narrowed.
"Tulip, you didn't tell me your companions were fae," he says with a sense of familiarity.
She shrugs, pushing her hair from her face. "To be fair, Quade, when I told you I needed some rooms, you didn't ask."
"S'pose you're right," he says, swinging his head to look at all four of us. "Whatcha drinkin'?"
"That liqueur you told me about?" Tulip asks with a glimmer in her eye. "You wouldn't believe the shit we've been through, we definitely need to unwind."
He grabs a bottle of a firey orange liquid and pours us all healthy portions in low glasses. "Zzar," he says, shoving them towards us. "Feria delicacy." The first sip of the nutty liquid doesn't go down easily for me, but after that initial bite, I find it quite smooth.
"Did you get today's messages out?" I say, turning to Plume.
She takes a sip of the zzar and nods slowly. "I did. It's strange not knowing if they're being received."
"We just have to hope, I guess. What else can we do?" Cutting my eyes to the right, I notice Morrow fuming at the attention Tulip is getting from the bartender, Quade. I tap his elbow with mine. "You're going to set him on fire if you keep staring like that."
"Good riddance," he says, tossing back the entirety of his glass. "How does she manage to attract this much attention everywhere she goes?"
"Ask yourself. She captured yours basically immediately if memory serves." My glass is empty now, too, and I raise it as I catch Quade's eye. He nods and tops all of us off.
The tavern behind us is alive, people snaking in and out as the day goes on. Eventually, there is a lull after the dinner hour has passed but before the late group piles in, and Quade uses that time to press us for details of our visit.
"Have you heard any rumors about the Gods lately?" Plume asks in her gentle voice. She snuck off at some point to get cleaned up, and her hair is still wet and braided long down her back. Despite the fact that we've been on the run for almost two months now, she still manages to look poised.
"Mmm," Quade hums, pouring himself a glass of zzar. "Some weird rumblings from some sailors, but nothing concrete."
"What have they been saying?" I ask, infusing a small amount of Influence into my voice.
I see his head shake as his brain registers the magic that his consciousness can't understand. "Rumors of a new God," he rumbles. The man is heavyset, with a stomach that hangs over the band of his pants. His face his hidden behind a bushy black beard, his cheeks ruddy with color. Bright blue eyes sparkle under heavy brows, and dark hair is tied back against his neck. He's friendly-looking and attractive, a fact the women in the tavern have been admiring all night.
Tulip leans forward and places her hand on top of his. It looks affectionate at first glance, but the glint in the corner of her eyes reveals that she has picked up on some of the calculating manipulations Viola excels in. "The rumors are true, Quade," she says with a grin. "We met her."
"Her?" he says, swinging his gaze to Tulip. "They didn't say much. Just that a friend or family or something in one of the northern cities told someone to tell them that there's a new God and Winter magic is back."
Morrow can't rip his eyes off the combined hands of Tulip and Quade, but he still grunts out a response. "Aye, the Shadowweaver. She's something else."
"How do I know you're not just pulling my leg?" Quade asks skeptically .
"Who won the Race this year?" Tulip asks, sitting back and crossing her arms.
Quade sucks on his teeth and shrugs. "I don't know. Hold on." He kicks open the door to the kitchen, yelling back there. "Huck, who won the Race this year?"
A skinny man with tattoos up his neck pokes his head out the door. "Some broad, Viola something or other. Fogstream or something. Oh, and she had a tiny blond thing with her. Name was Tulip something or other. You didn't hear everyone talking about it for like two weeks?"
Quade raises his eyebrows and turns back to our group. Tulip's mouth stretches into a full grin. "Nice to meet you, Quade. I'm Tulip something or other."
"So you won the Race," he says, appraising her with newfound respect. "And this Viola?"
"The new God," I say firmly. When Viola arrived in Ytopie, the magic that was lying dormant within her fully awoke. It turns out it was a portion of the Frostweaver's magic." I drain my fifth glass of the Ferian liqueur. "Unfortunately, we found that out because the Frostweaver came back and decided he wants to force all humans to worship him and throw Krillium into eternal winter, with no care about how that affects the delicate ecosystem our world balances on."
Plume steps in. "So we have been traveling to help the Shadowweaver gain devotion and the supplies she needs to bring the Gods of Spring, Summer, and Autumn to the plane so she can step into his place."
Quade rubs his fingers between his eyebrows. "You lot are giving me a headache. Can you give me a shortened version of all of this?"
"We know the God. She needs people to believe in her. We came here in search of an item and journal she needs to stop the Frostweaver from ruining our world," I say dryly.
"Are all fae filled with such fantastical stories?" he asks with a chuff. "I'm supposed to believe a human woman turned into a God?"
"Believe it or don't." My irritation seeps into my words. I've been on a very steep ledge since Viola left us, and the smallest thing could push me over the edge. "Don't you know who I am?" I say, squinting my eyes at him. "I'm Mace Nightroot. Head of the Patricians. Orchestrator of the Race. If I tell you someone won my Race with Godly magic, you damn well better believe me."
"Simmer down, big guy," Morrow says, rolling his eyes. He looks at Quade. "Said God is also his lady, and it's been a minute since he's seen her. He's getting crotchety."
Quade narrows his eyes at me further. "You fucked a God?"
Tulip spits out her drink and laughs, and the sound of it is contagious because Plume joins her in a fit of giggles. "To be fair," Tulip says, wheezing through her laughter, "he didn't know she was a God the first time it happened."
"He doesn't need you spilling stories of his sexual exploits," I grumble, crossing my arms.
"Then don't have your sexual exploits where we can hear them," Morrow says impassively. "You're not sneaky."
Eventually, my companions decide they don't need to continue spilling the details of my carnal relationship with Viola, and a comfortable quiet falls over us. To my surprise, Quade breaks it.
"Alright, say all of this is real, and you're here to stop some massive dick from fucking up the world. How can I help?"
I sit up taller. "We're looking for an artifact and a journal. Someone very pious and potentially higher up in power may know if it. It belonged to the last high priest of the Bloomtide."
"Oh," Plume says, interrupting me. "And we need you to spread word about The Shadowweaver. She needs people to believe in her, to be devoted to her so her magic is strong enough for what we must accomplish."
He scrunches his nose. "I suppose I can confirm the rumors when they start and mention her plan. The journal, though, may prove more difficult."
"Any idea where we can start?" I ask, hopeful.
"Yeah, maybe check with Xande. He's the leader here." Quade peers out the window. "Tomorrow, not tonight. See him in the daytime, and maybe he can point you in the right direction."