"Your first time here?" Jaya said.

  Skiver grinned. "The world I come from, dearie, if you stray more than a dozen blocks from where you were born, they say you're getting above your station and putting on airs. My clan is not known for their worldly ways. No, I've never been anywhere. Happy for the opportunity to see the world. Why, there must be dozens of kinds of people I've never beaten at cards or kicked in the unmentionables or cadged a drink off of. About time I expanded my horizons."

  No denying the city was impressive. Even the ships in the harbor were a wondrous and varied bunch, from cogs, caravels, and carracks to longships that must hail from the Lands of Linnorm Kings and junks with ribbed sails like the fins of swordfish. (Dining with the captain had forced rather a lot of knowledge about ships into Alaeron's brain, which always had room for one more bit of trivia anyway.) There were also any number of wrecked warships in the harbor, tilting masts sticking up from the waves, forming a sort of unnatural reef or maze. The government of Absalom left the ruins of would-be invaders in the water for the same reason savage kings mounted the heads of their enemies on spikes at their gates: as a warning to other potentially hostile visitors. It was also a source of revenue, since an accredited harbormaster from the city had to guide any ship of size through the wreckage for a fee.

  From the docks, you could see enough of the city itself to have your breath taken away: golden domes topped with statues; towering spires beyond counting, including one so high it seemed to literally brush the clouds; even the small buildings crowded together close to the water must be exotic to eyes that had only seen Andoran, with tiled roofs and baroque decorative touches. Even the poor here were a house-proud bunch, and why not? They heard every single day that Absalom was the center of the world, and had no reason to doubt it.

  "We're going to see a bit of the city," Skiver said firmly. "We don't leave on our next ship until tomorrow morning, so we've got all day, hey?"

  Alaeron groaned, and Jaya elbowed him in the ribs. "Come on. Humor him. He hasn't seen the world like we have. Don't you remember your first time here? You didn't go gawk at the cathedral in the Ascendant Court, or drop a note with a wish written on it into the chasm?"

  Alaeron had of course done both things—but then, he'd been a boy when he last visited. But seeing Skiver enthusiastic about something other than knives, gambling, or causing annoyance was at least a change from the ordinary.

  "So what should we see first?" Skiver said. "You two've been here before."

  "The Petal District is very beautiful," Alaeron said. "Views of the whole city from up there, and lovely palaces, and of course the flowers."

  "If you're interested in seeing people from all over Golarion, we might visit the Foreign Quarter," Jaya said. "They have food from all over the Inner Sea, too. Chelish spice beef, candied eels in Drenchport style, Katapeshi almonds." Skiver didn't look impressed. Jaya said, "Well, and there's an arena there, too, we could take in a fight ..."

  Skiver grunted. "Better, but how about getting into a fight? A city this big, there must be places to eat and drink and gamble, where I can see all sorts of interesting foreigners and take their money away."

  "Ah," Jaya said. "You don't want to see the Precipice Quarter, or the Azlanti Keep, or—"

  "I want to see the bottom of a tankard of ale," Skiver said. "I'd like to see it several times in a row, if you get me. That watered rum they had on the ship didn't agree with me. And then I might like to see a different sort of bottom, or two." He winked. "So what do you say?"

  Jaya and Alaeron exchanged a glance. "Well, then," Alaeron said. "I guess we should go to ...the Coins?"

  Jaya nodded. "The Coins."

  "Sounds grand," Skiver said. "The Coins. A rich place, is it? Streets paved with silver and gold?"

  "Not exactly," Alaeron said.

  ∗ ∗ ∗

  Skiver took to the Coins like he'd been born to it, though in point of fact, very few were born to the Coins. It was the chief trading district, mainly, but it was also where sailors just off the boat went to spend their money, where cutpurses lurked to work the crowd, and where women and men of negotiable virtue could be negotiated with. There were more or less respectable sections where the serious merchants went to make their deals, but the rest of it was given over to a transient population of various peoples looking to make money by any means necessary, or spend it on any vice imaginable.

  "Oh, this'll do fine," Skiver said, gawking around like the newcomer he was and leaning against a statue of a two-headed monster that Alaeron dearly hoped was entirely imaginary. "A man could find lots to keep him occupied—Here now!" Skiver's voice was filled with delight, and he lifted up a dirty-faced boy by the wrist, letting the child dangle and twist in his grip. "This little bastard tried to pick my pocket! Me! Why, back home none of the little dips would dare. Does you good to go new places, doesn't it, opens you up to new experiences."

  "Don't hurt him," Jaya said, and Alaeron was again touched by her sympathy. He belatedly joined in, saying, "Yes, he's just a boy."

  The child was spitting, cursing, and trying to bite. Skiver grinned. "Settle down, little man, we're all of the same fraternity. I'll give you a coin, and a second if you tell your friends that me and my companions here are off limits." He leaned in closer. "And if you think to come back with some friends to empty my purse by force, well, then I'll have to take those coins back, and maybe an ear with them, so you'll remember you should have listened to me. Understand?"

  The boy stopped fighting, and just nodded. Skiver put him back on his feet and tossed him a couple of coins. Alaeron had expected him to toss copper, but the metal had the glint of gold. Must be nice, having Ralen Vadim's money to spend. The boy snatched the money out of the air and scampered off.

  "Ah, youth," Skiver said. "I wasn't so different from that boy in my time. We'd better walk on. If I was him I'd go find the biggest fellas I knew and start following us with an eye to coshing us over the head and robbing us hollow." He set off whistling into the throng of sailors and shouting street vendors. Alaeron trudged after, his pack growing heavier with every step, avoiding the puddles of piss, ale, and piss that could probably double as ale. If anyone tried to pick his coat pockets they'd lose a finger—he'd improved his security overall after Skiver's act of larceny—and Jaya moved with an easy grace that looked dangerous enough to keep people from trying their luck with her.

  Skiver finally settled on a tavern—called the Dagger and the Coin—though what differentiated it from the other dozen smoky, noisy bars on the block was a mystery to Alaeron. Skiver tracked down the tavern's owner and haggled for a while, securing a pair of rooms for them—apparently two of the whores had killed each other in a knife fight the night before, so there was space to spare. Alaeron resolved to sleep on the floor, and let Skiver brave whatever passed for bedding in the room. He and Jaya settled into a small table in a corner of the room with mugs of ale before them, where they could both keep an eye on the door. Absalom was a city of some three hundred thousand people, not counting the huge number of sailors and traders and adventurers just passing through, so the odds that Kormak would appear in this particular doorway seemed infinitesimal ...but the last time Alaeron had been in a tavern was the first time he'd seen the Kellid, so he was automatically nervous.

  Skiver found a card game and wheedled or bought his way in, and looked settled in for the night. He was playing with a disreputable-looking pair of sailors and one hellspawn woman in a bright red robe. Purple hair was gathered in a knot atop her head, and short, sharp horns jutted from her pale red brow. Alaeron didn't think he'd care to gamble with a devil-spawn, but perhaps Skiver considered such individuals kindred spirits. Jaya clucked her tongue disapprovingly. "Look, they're playing with a harrow deck."

  "Ah," Alaeron said. "They're usually used for fortune-telling, yes?"

  Jaya narrowed her eyes. "They are used for great and sacred magic. In the right hands, they are a powerful tool of divination, and can show what the future holds. They're not meant for gambling and playing towers."

  "Mmm," Alaeron said. "I don't dispute that fate and destiny exist—for some. Certainly those who, oh, brave the test of the Starstone and emerge victorious as gods. Those may be acting out a part in some preordained plan. But for most of us, I don't believe we have any particular fixed future. We're too small for the universe to take any notice. We have to seize our own futures, not wait for destiny to sweep us along."

  Jaya laughed. "Perhaps. Is it nice to think we're free to live or die on our own, or sad to think that the gods don't care if we live or die?"

  "The former, if you ask me," Alaeron said. "My preference is to leave the gods alone, and hope they do the same for me."

  "Ah," Jaya said. "So you've never been tempted to go to the heart of this city and try for a chance to touch the Starstone yourself? See if you can be a god?"

  Alaeron shook his head. "The odds don't favor it, do they? How many hundreds—thousands!—have tried their luck since the Starstone fell from the sky and gouged this great sea into the earth? Only four people have touched the stone and come back alive. And one of them is dead anyway. No, I won't be crossing the chasm anytime soon, though I'm sure it's fascinating inside—they say the interior of the cathedral is never the same for any two people who venture in. Of course, I'd love to have a few scrapings from the Starstone to analyze in my lab, see how they react with various substances, see if I can synthesize its effects—how wonderful would it be to have a potion that turned you into a god for, say, an hour or so, then let you go back to being peacefully mortal?" Jaya laughed, and touched his hand, and Alaeron grinned.

  After a moment, her face became serious. "Kho, though—it might be just as dangerous. The empire of the Shory is not as old as the Starstone, I know, but it is old, and from the tales my mother told me, it has its share of dangers."

  Alaeron nodded. "It might be wise for you to tell me what you know, or suspect, or have heard of the city. Before I went to Numeria, I mastered the language of the Kellids, learned about the way they dress, learned all I could about the Technic League and the Black Sovereign, interviewed people who'd been there—and even so, I was ill-prepared for the reality. If I'd been given more time to prepare for this journey, I would have found books, and sought out historians and experts, to piece together whatever information does exist about Kho—though I gather it's not much. But instead I find myself woefully lacking in knowledge."

  She shrugged. "Before we get to Kho, we must pass through Osirion. Shouldn't we worry about that, first?"

  Alaeron waved it away. "Osirion is known. There are maps of the place, histories, diplomats, embassies. I've never been there, I admit, but I've met people who have, even people who hail from there. I'm not worried about Osirion. I'm worried about the great mystery beyond its southwestern border."

  Jaya nodded. "Fair enough. I'll tell you what I can of Kho, but remember, this is all secondhand—worse, thirdhand, fourthhand. First, it's wrong to think of it as a ruined city. I'm sure that's what Vadim envisions—buildings covered with vines, crumbling statues, roads with trees growing up between the paving stones. But I don't believe it's like that."

  Alaeron nodded. "It was a city that fell from the sky—it must have shattered."

  "So I understand. My mother said the tribesmen do not approach closely, but that from a distance you can see a sparkling plain of glass. Thousands upon thousands of shards, from the hundreds of windows that broke when the city fell. The ruins fill a valley of sorts, but it's a high valley, a cloud valley. Filled with mists and waterfalls, which is why no one can describe it well, even though many have tried to look down on it from the safe distance of a far-off ridge. There is a taboo among my mother's people about going to the city. Adventurers come, hoping to buy relics from the villagers instead of going in after their own, but the Uomoto do not trade in such things. They don't stop adventurers from going into the ruins, and might even guide them partway, if the fools pay for the privilege. But there's no need to stop them. Very few of them ever come out again, you see, and those that do usually turn back before they even make it across the Fields of Glass, not even entering the ruins themselves." She looked around, then leaned forward, lowering her voice. "Mother did not like to talk about it, but of course my brother and I adored the scariest stories, so we made her. There is a stone—called the Stone of Sacrifice. It is a fallen monolith, thrown from the city when it crashed. Those who break oaths, or rape, or do murder, are taken and bound there ...and when the morning comes, they are gone, taken by things that live in the ruins."

  Alaeron groaned. "What things, exactly?"

  Jaya shrugged. "My mother did not know. She said it was a dark bargain, struck long ago—generations ago—by tribal elders. The monsters stay in their valley, as long as they are sometimes appeased. There are creatures who fear light that stray from the ruins—tuitele, they're called, "light-haters"—but as for what they are, I cannot say, and I gather they are more nuisance than true danger."

  "Ruins like this can be ...unpredictable," Alaeron said. "All the Shory are dead thousands of years, but their legacy remains, broken magic spilling out. Magic like that is a beacon for certain creatures. They feed on it, or hope to profit by it, or just want to bask in its strange light. Such ruins attract all manner of things. I suppose we won't know what we're dealing with until we get there. Perhaps we can filch a few artifacts from the outskirts, enough to satisfy Vadim, and find our way out."

  "And perhaps my relatives can tell me a better way to approach the city," she said, sipping her ale. "I assume they just send adventurers through the Fields of Glass the same way a crooked boatman directs newcomers to an inn where he knows they'll be robbed. It's just what you do with people who don't know any better, when there's profit in it."

  "Ha," Alaeron says. "That reminds me of when I first went to Numeria. They've made an industry of fleecing the crusaders on their way to fight in the Worldwound—"

  Suddenly, Skiver's voice cut through the crowd noise. "Bugger!"

  Alaeron and Jaya looked over, but there was no obvious ruckus. "What's happening?" Alaeron said.

  "I believe," Jaya said. "That the man who holds all the funds for our journey has just lost badly at cards."

  Alaeron and Jaya walked over to the table. "Everything all right?" Jaya asked, laying a hand on Skiver's shoulder. The hellspawn holding the deck gave them a lazy smile and puffed at a foul black pipe.

  "Ah," Skiver said, slumping in the chair. "Just a bit of bad luck. Spot me a bit, maybe, to win it back?"

  "Can we speak to you for a moment?" Alaeron said. "Privately?"

  "Won't hold the chair forever," the hellspawn woman drawled. Alaeron had expected a Chelish accent, but her voice was more lilting and southern. "We'll play a three-handed round now, but find money quick, or someone else will buy in."

  Skiver got up from the chair shakily and followed Alaeron and Jaya back to their table. "Did you lose everything?" Jaya said, voice low.

  Skiver rubbed the back of his head, then shrugged, his grin distinctly sheepish. "Everything? That's about the size of it."

  "A crooked game," Jaya said, but Skiver shook his head.

  "No, no, I talked to the boys on the ship, they said this was the place to come for a straight game, and I know enough about cheating to know they weren't. It's just ...towers isn't my game. I'm a dice man. I had a bad run, that's all. I wouldn't worry about it, I can always find more funds, but ..." He glanced at Alaeron. "You have to understand, I had the best cards I've ever seen in my life, I thought there was no chance I'd lose, and I was down to nothing, my pockets empty, otherwise I never would have bet it—"

  "Bet what?" Alaeron said, his body going terribly still.

  "Just a little gray disc," Skiver said. "One of your trinkets."

  Chapter Eleven

  Cards and Coins

  Alaeron closed his eyes. He turned and marched back to the table where the card players laughed and drank. He cleared his throat until they all looked at him. "My friend inadvertently bet something that belonged to me."

  The hellspawn lifted up the gray disc—the relic from the Mount that had levitated, though Alaeron had yet to discover what else it could do, and it had never floated again, either. "This?"

  "The very same. Could I buy it off you? I have ..." He looked through this money pouch. He'd recently sold his last bit of skymetal from Numeria, so he wasn't as poor as usual, but he was poor enough. Still, the relic was worth everything he had and worlds more. He held the coins out in his hand. "All of this."

  The hellspawn puffed at her pipe, then shook her head. "No. Not enough. We valued it at three or four times that in the bet."

  Alaeron nodded. "Very well. My friend has had enough of the game. But I'd be grateful if you'd deal me in."

  The devilborn raised her eyebrow.

  Jaya, behind him, gripped his shoulder. "Do you even know how to play towers?"

  He shook his head. "But I'm a fast learner. And it can hardly go any worse for me than it did for Skiver."

  "Just don't ask to borrow any money from me," Jaya said. She paused. "Mostly because I don't have any, and I'm not about to bet my boots."

  Skiver perked up. "Say," he said. "Would you be willing to stake me something in exchange for my boots?"

  The hellspawn snorted. "I admire your dedication to giving me all your possessions, but I think I'll let the man with a little gold sit at the table for now." She gestured, and Alaeron sat. The hellspawn briefly explained the rules. Towers essentially involved arranging the cards together so that certain symbols were adjacent to one another, with each player placing cards in turn, trying to use up all his cards, and owing a debt at the end of the game for each card he didn't use. A matter, then, of patterns and permutations; it was possible Alaeron might be able to excel at the game, with a little time.

  But since he didn't have a little time, and couldn't afford the losses any learning curve, however shallow, would require, he slipped the red circle of metal he'd found in the Silver Mount around his thumb. The circle squeezed around his flesh, shrinking from the size of a bracelet to the size of a ring. It began to warm up, and once he was sure it wasn't visibly moving, he took his hand from his pocket. Alaeron wasn't even remotely sure how the ring worked—if it was magic, or simply some technology indistinguishable from magic—but he knew what it could do. In a way, it was the most disturbing of the effects he'd discovered—he had no idea what its limits were, if any—but it was worth the risk to win his trinket back.