The Spice of Magic Part III
Fourteenth Day of the Eleventh Month 293 AC
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Narrow Sea, Stepstones, approaching the harbor of Sorcerer's Deep
Baelon stood proudly at the bow of his ship, peering through a Far-eye that had been granted some aspect of visual enhancement by Airborn enchanters. The sights further ahead were monumentally terrifying and exhilarating all at once, for ahead of the fleet was a structure... no,
a tree, a tower of bone white, crowned by blazing leaves of red. The single tallest thing that Baelon had ever gazed upon in his entire life, and he had seen the grandest cities, one of which would swallow up smaller ones several times over and have room for more inhabitants.
A flutter of wind blew across the top all at once and up rose a dragon of living moss and wood, churning earth and solid stone, the shape of the foliage across its vast body mimicking hundreds of bristling scales. Then it disappeared, sharp horns sprouting from its head and swept backward, and they were flying toward the other side of the island in moments. Shortly followed a swarm of shapes, a flash of red, then white and blue and finally green.
What are those? Baelon wondered.
They glinted ever so peculiarly.
They were soon blocked from further observation by a cloud of birds disturbed from their rest upon the eaves of the Great Tree on the Isle of Sorcerers, no doubt leaving feathers that would go on to grace many a hat or adorn fine garments.
The island had completely changed, more times than Baelon could honestly count in the past couple of years since King Viserys had forged it into his jewel amidst the waves. Stand after stand after stand of trees sprouted where once there had been barren rock without a hint of green, one might find rare woods from across the world here, bothered naught by distance from their place of origin and watered by gentle rains. Mist rose from numerous waterfalls which fell from the greater heights above, furthering the air of mystery and wonder.
Stoneways and accompanying verdant green hillsides, lying in neat rows, mountainous terrain cut into productive farmland through stone-shaping sorcery, the same sorcery which linked the island to the mainland via a series of titanic bridges, battered by waves yet undaunted, such was the magnitude of their construction.
And the ships! Ships everywhere, sails on the horizon, to either side, traffic funneling in and out of the harbor ahead with frantic energy. Millions in coin and goods passing through these lands every month, more wealth each day than the last. Men could prospect amid hills of gold for a lifetime and die of exhaustion before they might match such fortunes.
And of the men who lived there, fortune indeed was in evidence, for each had a roof of stone above their head, masterfully crafted furniture of fine timbers, well-stocked pantries and warmed by a blazing hearth, gorgeous views through crystalline and clear windows fit to make a craftsman tear their hair out of their own heads, and the streets were clean and industrious, wide boulevards and roads, careful city-planning making of it an incredibly organized chaos. Inwardly, Baelon wondered what new expansions he would see as he walked through the streets of Sorcerer's Deep, what buildings would be there that had not been present before, what uncanny sights he would stumble upon?
One might walk from one end of the city to the next each and every day and see something new, it was said, through the gardens that plant spirits tended, amid the buildings with their pleasant top-level pathways and covered with botany, each flowering vine adorning the side of a building almost tasteful in its arrangement, the intent of the lightest touch of magic upon the most inconsequential part of the city almost uncanny if it weren't so idyllic.
And married to that natural beauty was a people who lived by the commonality that they were all driven from distant lands to seek safety, wealth or their own fate, whatever it may be that brought them together, they would all agree in the end that if you grew bored while in that City of Growing Wonders, you were tired of life itself.
"I will live among that splendor, a Prince among Princes," Baelon vowed, slipping away his seeing-device. "It is my destiny."
And each moment the intrepid Prince did move with a frantic energy about him, not merely chasing the next great score, but dreaming grand dreams indeed, dreams of wealth secondary, for in his mind the respect hard earned from delving into the far-off places of the world which other men dared not venture, returning triumphant where others had died, was the sweetest treasure of all.
Some had called it an addiction, even folly.
Baelon called it a challenge he was set forth upon the world to meet.
***
The 'embassy', if it could be named such, for it did not recall the stately abodes of grand artistry he had seen before which the Stoneborn and Air-Driven had set upon the Capital, nor even the buildings put aside for foreign entities in advance of what had once been the beating heart of the city, that which is constantly pushed back by newer districts where trade was flourishing. Business was booming all over, of course, but Baelon saw that same energy among new immigrants there that he himself possessed, though he did not mean to remain overlong.
The building was built of strange geometries, not quite alike with that of the Temple of the Great Serpent, but deliberately open to the air and sky, allowing in some of the elements and with standing stones carved with alien iconography that would send shivers up the spines of lesser men, as indeed its sole inhabitant might. The twin heads of the great mage-lord before him watched with uncanny coordination, and one might stop speaking just as swiftly as the other began, two as one acting in perfect sync.
"
What bargain offered?" They asked directly and succinct, contrary to his initial impression the thought-voice was not sibilant but of perfectly neutral diction, almost too ordinary that one might sooner believe them to be their own errant thoughts, were they not guided by an unmistakably cold and focused great intelligence.
"One with which both our peoples might mutually prosper."
"
Upon which scale measured?" Eyes unblinking, the albino serpent-being weighed a black rod in one hand, though the gesture was anything but unconscious.
This was a powerful sorcerer lord who had crossed an ocean, distance not their greatest concern, no, but time, Baelon thought,
time and the welfare of their people.
A thousand calculations flew through Baelon's head each moment, but he never lost track of his courteous smile for even a single one. He swiftly searched for an appropriate answer and arrived at an acceptable one heartbeats later. "One by which even King Viserys would weight his, in gold and treasures, in word and deed. Look merely to the trades I have made in Astral Currents, to my company's publicly traded stock, it will be apparent to all that word is true, and you will know I have always delivered promptly and within the bounds of each agreement brokered thus."
"
Fairly said," the voice replied, four red eyes boring into his own before their head performed an odd dip, "
I shall do so." They meant it as a dismissal, Baelon realized a moment later, and he bowed quickly.
Though he couldn't help but ask... "When shall we meet again?"
"
I will come to you," the other head replied, craning its long neck to gaze back at him even as the other kept its gaze forward, the strange being sweeping away as if on some urgent business. Perhaps it was, who could say what drove on sorcerers and wizards, much less walking, talking snakes? "
Do not go far," the other head added, before turning back swiftly, sweeping around to look at his manservant, who bore the scrutiny with grace.
"Of course," he called, clearing his throat the moment he believed them to be departed.
"Did it go well, Young Lord?" His companion asked, offering him a wine-skin. Baelon took a long drink, noting it had been filled with lemon-water rather than something stronger. He eyed his old friend with a put-upon expression, somewhat amused by the choice and the question.
"As well as could be expected. I would not say he is untrusting... say on rather that he looks for the truth as the world presents it, not as silver tongues might wish to present facts in the most pleasing of ways." He did not take offense to it as some might. In fact, he would have found it profoundly more disconcerting if the mage had taken the time to divine the truth ahead of time as some might have, to display their power and knowledge, and merely played through the conversation as a matter of formality.
Whatever you could say of the mage who had left, they did not believe in wasting their time with tiresome games such as that, nor did they apparently believe in wasting spells or rituals for something which might be easily confirmed with one's own eyes.
"Then you find your pending negotiations with them to be promising?" Agreppo asked, curious.
"Gods willing. Let us make our other arrangements in the interim," Baelon answered, eyes sharp as he considered the negotiations ahead, already adding and subtracting sums in his mind's eye. "We have much to do and little time to do it in."
Let none say he could not follow a worthy example set before him.
