And she did trust, both her captain and his liveship. But she wished Leftrin was here. She longed for his return as much as she dreaded it, for when he came back, the days of this untouched city would be numbered. A pang of guilt struck her. There was work to be done, a vast amount of work. The short winter day was passing swiftly, and she had to be back and waiting for the dragon before sunset.
She walked quickly past two buildings that had fallen prey to time or earthquake or perhaps both. The façade of one had collapsed, leaving a heap of rubble that spilled out into the street, revealing its deserted interior. As she clambered over it, she marked how the building next to it leaned on the first. Cracks ran up through the black stone foundation. She hastened past them on the far side of the street.
Shivering now, and hungry, Alise decided to find shelter in which to eat her noon meal. She had strips of dried smoked meat in a packet and a small bottle of water. Simple food, but her hunger made her mouth water at the thought of it. What wouldn’t she give, though, for a cup of steaming tea, spiced with cinnamon and sweetened with honey. And a few of those greasy sausage rolls that the street vendors sold in Bingtown! Tubes of flaky pastry, oily and brown edged, stuffed full of spiced sausage and onion and sage.
Don’t think about such things. Don’t think about hot rich food, or new warm woolen stockings, or her heavy winter cloak with the fox fur collar and hood, folded uselessly on a shelf in Hest’s house. How she longed to feel its welcome weight on her shoulders.
At the end of the street, an immense plaza, paved all in white stone, glittered in the sun dazzling her eyes. It seemed to have been created for giants. A huge dry fountain held a statue of a green dragon clawing his way into the sky, his gleaming wings half opened. Was it oversized, or could the creatures truly attain that size? She gaped at it, imagining a horse sliding down that throat in one gulp.
Beyond the fountain a wide set of steps led up to an immense building. Gigantic white figures in bas-relief graced the outside of the black walls. A woman was plowing a field behind a team of oxen. She wore a crown of flowers, and her skillfully portrayed diaphanous robes appeared to billow behind her in the wind. Her slender feet were bare. The image made Alise smile as she imagined what the woman would look like at the end of a single furrow, let alone a whole plowed field. Someone had indulged a very artistic imagination in that image!
She lifted her eyes to consider the tower that reared up from the massive building. At the very top was a dome made with curved glass panels. A glance around her assured her that she had come to the tallest structure on this hilltop, and perhaps the tallest in the city. As she dropped her eyes again, her gaze fell on the inscription chiseled above the entryway. The Elderling characters writhed and danced, enticingly familiar in their evasion of her understanding. Lions of stone guarded the entryway.
Very well. She would go inside, eat her meal, and then see if the steps to the tower were still intact. If they were, she would take advantage of that viewpoint to create a grand sketch of the entire city, something she should probably have done when she first came here! She began the long climb to the entrance. The steps were broad and shallow. “What an annoying design,” she muttered, and then gave a snort of laughter. They were annoying to a human’s legs and strides. For a dragon, they would be perfect. She looked up to the looming black gap of the entrance. The great wooden doors to this chamber had long since collapsed. Bits of them littered the steps. She reached the doorway and stepped over the rubble of fallen wood and brass fasteners and into the interior.
A surprising amount of light entered the interior chamber. Its vast marble floor was littered with the scattered remnants of furnishings. Desks or tables? Had this been a bench? Tapestries that had once graced the walls between the windows now hung as tattered remnants. She advanced into the room, fragments of desiccated wood from the door crunching under her feet.
There were stone benches in the window alcoves, and Alise chose a likely one for her luncheon. She sat on the cold bench, pulled her knees up to her chest, and carefully tucked her damp cloak in close all around her, hoarding the warmth of her body. She thought of the Elderling robe that Leftrin had given her; if she had been wearing it now, she would have been warm. But despite the apparent sturdiness of the ancient fabric, she preferred not to wear it outdoors. It was as irreplaceable as any artifact from this city, and something to preserve and study rather than use as a common garment.
She took her packet of smoked meat out of her bag and unslung the leather water bottle from her shoulder. Stripping her gloves from her hands, she unwrapped her meal. The twisted sticks of reddish meat were tough, but the alder smoke had made it flavorful. She chewed doggedly and followed each bite with a sip of water. The water was water. A simple meal and not a large one, it was soon over, but she reminded herself to be grateful for what she had. As she ate, she looked at the fading day through the broken door. Winter days were so brief. She would climb as high as she could, look out on the city, and sketch what she could before returning to the old docks to wait for Heeby.