Baldur's Gate Philip Athans

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Few of the buildings in the city were taller than two stories, most of them shops with apartments above. There were
houses, and cramped row houses. The air over the city was thick with smoke from countless fireplaces. Years of smoke
had stained the once pale waddle and daub a dark gray. The sea of squat structures was occasionally punctuated by
the odd unusual edifice. Even though it sat far back in the city's northernmost district, Abdel could see the tops of
three of the seven towers of the High Hall, the city's ducal palace. The steeply arched roof of the temple of Gond the
so-called High House of Wonders blocked the other four towers. To the west, jutting out on a brick-lined island and
connected to the city by a strong stone bridge was the Seatower of Balduran, a fortress of five tall, round towers
linked by a high wall, crinkled with battlements. Here the city's protectors, a mercenary company called the Flaming
Fist, kept watch over the busy harbor.
And busy it was. Abdel counted thirty big merchant vessels tethered to piers or at anchor in the deep water before
he gave up counting altogether. Two ships were leaving, slowly slipping through the traffic of smaller boats with only
a small portion of their sails up. At least one massive ship was slowly making its way in.
The ferry passed the southernmost tower, and Jaheira appraised it ambivalently as they passed by. Two soldiers
peered over the side at them, their faces only pale dots against the gray sky. Abdel made out the hair-thin line of a
spear.
The sight of the first close buildings along the waterfront made Abdel's heart race. After what they'd been through
way beyond bis already considerable experience as a sell-sword Abdel longed for the sense of normalcy a city like
this could provide. He'd find a bath here, and a bed, and a flagon of ale, and an actual meal of seasoned meat and
roasted vegetables. Abdel's mouth watered at the thought of it.
"Which is the Seven Suns?" Jaheira asked the old ferryman. Abdel had almost forgotten why they'd come to Baldur's
Gate.
"The Seven Suns?" the ferryman asked. "Yeah, I 'eard of them. Which what's there's?"
"Warehouse?" Jaheira asked. "Or maybe they have a pier to themselves?"
"I think they do," the old man answered gravelly. "See that first big pier the one with all the little piers sticking out
of it?"
Jaheira nodded.
"Well, it ain't that one."
Jaheira turned on the old man, and her smile was disturbingly unamused. "It was a simple enough question,
ferryman."
"I'm not a tour guide, missy," the ferryman spat back, then turned to Abdel and said. "Steer us to that first pier, son,
and let me get the womenfolk on their way."
Jaheira sighed and surveyed the city silently for the next half an hour as Abdel helped the old man and his crew
maneuver the wide boat to the edge of the pier. A set of crumbling stone steps led up to the quay, and when Abdel
made to disembark the old man put up a hand to hold him back a comic sight in itself.
"Easy there, big fella," he said, "I want that fart-smelling cow off here first."
Jaheira looked at the old man like she was going to kill him, then blushed when she realized he was talking about the
ox.
* * * * *
Someone spat on Jaheira as they walked through the crowded streets from the "ferry landing to the Elfsong Tavern.
The culprit was fast enough and knew the streets well enough to slip away before Abdel could kill him and Abdel
would have killed him. Jaheira took it in stride, though, and this surprised and, on some level, disappointed Abdel.
"It's because I am Amnian," Jaheira tried to explain. "The Iron Throne is getting their way, if slowly."
The looks on the faces of the crowd made it clear that if there were sides to be taken, the spitter would have plenty of
locals on his side. Abdel took her smooth elbow in one hand and led her more quickly through the streets. He breathed
a sigh of relief when they finally crossed the threshold of the big, venerable tavern Abdel had visited so many times
before. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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