Kelven's Riddle Book Three by Hylton Daniel T

Author:Hylton, Daniel T [Hylton, Daniel T]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2011-09-26T16:00:00+00:00

27

Compared to Sunderland, which had been airy and bright and roomy, with wide avenues flanked by spacious homes, Condon was cramped and crowded and gloomy, with stone-paved streets that seemed to slink and cower beneath the tall buildings to either aside. Here, at least, on the main avenue that led from the gate into the upper heart of the city, every building was a multi-storied affair, composed of sturdy, dark gray stone. Hulking and dark in the twilight, many seemed to overhang the street, making Ka’en look up at them with some trepidation. Aram pulled her close as they walked.

Over all, there towered the central hill, higher than those on which the bulk of the city was built, itself crowned by a massive structure, which in the fading light of evening appeared somewhat foreboding. This was the official residence, Muray pointed out a bit unnecessarily, of the Hay. There were lights in some of the windows of the upper stories of this building, but while Aram watched, no shadows crossed those small bright squares. Behind it, the massive mountain towered into the sky, a hulking behemoth, its timbered slopes darker than the coming night.

They came to a square, where the avenue broke away at sharp angles to completely enclose a small park, in the center of which there was a fountain of stone, carved in the shape of a creature Aram had never seen, fishlike in that it had fins and a tail, but with a rather bulbous snout and intelligent eyes. It was not a fish, but it undoubtedly lived in, and moved through, water. Surrounding the square, there were buildings fronted with verandas and brightly lit windows. Muray informed them that they had arrived at the inn district, where important – or wealthier – travelers stayed during visits to the city. After the trip up through the deep and darkened streets, this open space, still lit by the light that remained after sunset, seemed an oasis.

Muray pointed out an inn at the center of the group of buildings opposite, immediately below the hill upon which the official residence loomed.

“The Silver Arms,” he said. “The Hay’s family owns it. My ken insisted that I put you up there.” He stepped aside at the base of the steps leading up to the veranda. “My lord, my lady, and honored guests – if you please.”

Despite his reticence in the presence of so much obvious wealth and the soul-dampening weight of ancient and proud – perhaps even smug – civilization, Aram smiled at the dramatic delivery of the announcement and led Ka’en up and over the threshold into the enormous inn. He stopped.

Aram had become used to being the object of wonder as he’d traveled throughout unknown lands riding upon, and accompanied by, horses – those mythical beasts of legend, heretofore unseen in these lands, and believed by many to have vanished millennia ago.

But now, it was his turn to wonder.

Never had he seen such opulence. Golden light, provided by hundreds of candles set in a crystal chandelier, flooded the vast entrance hall of the inn.

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