Page 5 of Dragon Eternal (Dragon Kings 4)
CHAPTERTWO
Stonemore
Shaw stepped out of Ferdon Woods and gazed at the red sandstone city before him. Stonemore was impressive, built into the middle mount of the Tunris Mountains. There were eight levels in all. He lifted his eyes to the very top where a grand structure sat, seeming to stare down at the rest of the city. The place the Divine ruled. Shaw couldn’t wait to come face-to-face with this so-called ruler. No doubt he would give Shaw a number of reasons for why he thought it a good idea to kill children.
He pushed that from his mind for the moment. Shaw’s gaze moved from level to level until he looked at the tall, wooden gate that appeared new. The guards watched him from the gatehouse. Merrill was already inside. Shaw had walked among humans before. Nothing about the mortals on Zora worried him. From everything he had learned so far, they acted just as those on Earth did.
Shaw adjusted the pack draped over his shoulder and headed for the closed gate. He halted before it and lifted his head to the guards. Cullen had schooled both he and Merrill in the clothing and accents used, which was a combination of those spoken in Asia and India.
“What brings you to Stonemore?” one of the guards shouted.
Shaw stared at the man and his armor for a long moment. Then, he replied, “I’m visiting the city.”
“Do you have magic?”
Were the occupants really relying on people to give their word? Shaw nearly snorted at the thought. He hated to lie, so he tried another tack. “Why would anyone with magic come to this city, which is known for its strict rules?”
“Be sure you hold to them,” the guard warned before calling down to someone.
The gates creaked and swung open enough for Shaw to pass through a moment later. He looked at the four soldiers on either side of the inside gate. They held their hands on the hilts of their swords as if they expected to be thrust into war at any moment. He took in every detail before walking on.
The city was crowded. And loud. He already missed the easy sounds of Cairnkeep. Shaw steeled himself as his gaze moved around him. The abject poverty startled him. There had been those who had more than others in his clan, but he’d never let any of his clan starve. It always outraged him how easily humans could ignore those in need, especially when they stood right beside them. A little kindness went a long way.
But it wasn’t just a few who were starving here, it seemed. The majority of those on the bottom level seemed to be. Surely, the wealthy saw them when they left the city. Shaw fought the urge not to use his magic to produce food for those in need. It wouldn’t do him any good to be found out within seconds of his arrival. Yet, it was difficult for him to turn a blind eye to those slowly starving to death.
He put his hand in his pocket and drew out a coin. Cullen had shown him and Merrill the coin earlier, and they had each created some with magic. Shaw walked to a small boy whose eyes were vacant and haunted, the look of someone long past famished. He squatted before the lad and picked up the boy’s hand before placing the coin in it.
The lad blinked and focused on Shaw’s face. His dark eyes lowered, and he saw the coin. He stared at it for a long minute before slowly looking at Shaw.
“Get yourself something to eat,” Shaw urged him.
It took him two tries before the lad said, “Thank you.”
Shaw gave him a nod and watched as he walked away, a group of children quickly following. Shaw remained long enough to see the lad buying bread for himself and the others. Then, he turned and started up the street that wound through each level. The architecture was simple and basic once he moved past the gatehouse. He spotted some stairs that would quickly get him to the next level, but he decided to use the street and get a better feel for the city and people.
So far, he didn’t like what he saw. Sure, the red sandstone gave the city a pinkish look, which was majestic against the dark mountain, but he was not impressed by anything yet—and he didn’t imagine he would be.
The second level showed poverty mixed with the middle class. The inhabitants wore better clothing but still ignored those in need. The buildings appeared as if more thought had gone into their design and structure. Some would still call them simple, but there was beauty in simplicity at times.
By the third level, he realized that each layer of the city denoted the hierarchy of the citizens. The poorest were on the bottom, with the wealthiest on the top four and those in the middle stuck in between. Even greater care had been taken with the third level’s design. There were beautiful patterns cut into the sandstone, giving each building its own look. The clothing was still basic, but the material was better, and the women had added jewelry.
On the fourth level, Shaw was struck by how different the women’s hair looked from the first three levels, those who usually wore it long and plaited or pinned up. The women here went to great lengths to try various hairstyles. Men also flashed jewelry on their wrists and fingers. Apparently, this was the upper-middle-class section of the city. And everyone here knew it.
Not only were the residents of Stonemore subjected to class segregation by the coloring of their clothes—the wealthy favored dark blue, while the rest chose greens, browns, reds, and oranges—they were forced into it by the levels. No one on the first four wore blue.
Shaw kept walking until he came to another gate that led up to the fifth tier. Armed guards stopped anyone who appeared as if they didn’t belong on the upper levels. If Shaw were to see any of those, he would have to find another way in—or sneak in. He grinned to himself. Sneaking it would be. He’d rather rely on himself than trying to gain someone’s trust in the city.
He made his way back through the streets. Shaw spotted Merrill talking to a rug vendor on the third level. Neither of them looked at the other. Shaw kept going until he stopped at one of the pubs. He stepped inside the dimly lit room, and the smell of stale ale, smoke from pipes, and food struck him.
A well-endowed woman with pinned-up, sandy blond hair shot him a smile as she passed, carrying tankards of ale. She set them down at a table and then returned to him. “Welcome to The Full Fiddler. You lookin’ for a room?”
Shaw nodded once.
Her hazel eyes looked him over once before she turned and walked to the bar. “I expect payment upfront.”
Shaw’s black trousers and beige shirt signaled that he was a traveler. He followed her and drew out a few coins. He laid them on the bar and raised a brow.
“That’s a week’s worth,” she whispered, then swiped the coins into her hand and smiled. “For that, you get my best room.”
He followed her down a short hall before taking a set of steep stairs. She proceeded along the narrow corridor to a room at the end. She unlocked the door and pushed it open before walking inside.
“This one has a view,” she told him.
Shaw glanced out the small window to see the tops of the trees from the forest and the two lower levels. “Thank you.”
“Oh, so you can talk?” She laughed at her joke, her big breasts bouncing as she did. “You won’t find a better meal anywhere else, that I can promise.”
“And the ale?” he asked.
