Simon Hawke by The outcast

Author:The outcast
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Multiple personality, Fantasy - General, American Science Fiction And Fantasy, Science Fiction, Fantasy fiction, Fiction - Fantasy, Modern fiction, Fantasy, American, General, Modern & contemporary fiction (post c 1945), General & Literary Fiction, Fiction, Non-Classifiable
ISBN: 9781560766766
Publisher: TSR
Published: 1993-11-16T06:32:50+00:00

* * *

Sorak had never seen anything even remotely like the warrens before. Long accustomed to the peaceful solitude and open spaces of the Ringing Mountains, he had found the market district’s noise and crowded conditions shocking enough. He was not prepared for what awaited him in the warrens.

The streets grew narrower and narrower until they were little more than zigzag dirt paths. These paths led through a maze of two-, three-, and four-story buildings constructed from sun-baked brick covered with a reddish plaster that varied in hue. The colors were a patchwork of earth-tones, muted reds and browns, and many of the walls were cracked where the outer coating had flaked off with time, exposing the bricks underneath.

The buildings were square or rectangular, with slightly rounded corners. The front of almost every building had a covered walkway, with arched supports made out of plaster-covered brick and a roof of masonry or wood. Often, the roof would extend along the entire length of the building front, providing some shelter from the blistering sun. Some of these walkways were paved with brick, some had wood-plank floors, but most had no floors at all. In the shade of many covered walkways, filthy beggars crouched, holding out their hands in supplication. In others, scantily dressed women struck provocative poses.

All of Sorak’s senses were assailed as never before. The smell was overpowering. The people here simply threw their waste and refuse into the narrow alleys between buildings, where it was left to rot and decay in the intense heat, creating an eye-watering miasma of oppressive odors. Flies and rodents were everywhere.

As he was escorted through the narrow streets by Captain Zalcor and a contingent of the city guard, people rushed to get out of their way. There were many unusual sights in Tyr, but this was the first time anyone had ever seen a tigone in the city streets. Even for the warrens, a squad of city guards escorting an elfling with a psionic mountain cat by his side made an unusual procession.

“Well, you said you wanted to find the cheapest accommodations,” Captain Zalcor said to Sorak as they halted outside one of the buildings. “This is it. You won’t find cheaper rooms anywhere in the city, and when you see them, you’ll know why.”

Sorak gazed at the three-story inn. Its plaster coating had flaked off in many places so that much old brick and mortar was exposed, and the walls were veined with cracks. The smell here was no less offensive than anywhere else in the warrens, but that wasn’t saying much. Scrofulous beggars crouched in the dirt beneath the covered walkway, which ran the length of the building. A number of women with heavily painted faces and lightly clothed bodies lounged by the entrance, gazing with interest at the group.

“I suppose this will do,” said Sorak.

“Are you sure?” the captain asked. “The council bid me to escort you to an inn. They did not say it had to be the worst one in the city.

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