It was nearing dusk as the weary magic students finally disembarked. The docks seemed to erupt into chaos. Hawkers and vendors selling sweetmeats, fragrant flowers, pastries, and other wares descended to intercept the crew, along with criers for the various inns and taverns that made Anchorswane their home. Whores and prostitutes, dressed in the most skimpy and gaudy of outfits and jewelery, flocked to the willing sailors, many of whom already had one on each arm and were being marched toward the darkened alleys of the warehouse district. Toward the outskirts of the crowd, several higher class courtesans appareled in flowing transparent gauze dresses made ready to greet the captain and officers.
The press of humanity almost caught Aaralon by suprise. With a muttered incantation to shrink his duffel bag at his side, Aaralon focused on extracting himself from the throng. In moments Olive, Stanton, and Nora had vanished from his sight as he struggled to wade through the crowd.
A pair of giggling, comely young girls, dressed in revealing, clinging night gowns beckoned him toward the night district, while a crier for the Clipped Swan Inn seemed intent on dragging Aaralon away to his charge by main force while entreating the student with promises of delicious meats and thick, black ale. The air, loaded with the smell of delicacies had reawakened Aaralon's appetite, and the student realized that he was ravenous. In the distance, over the wooden shingled rooftops, the guarded entrance to the metil mines beckoned.
A young woman, nearly the same age as Aaralon stopped before him. She was attired in a crimson satin dress with a matching crimson silk ribbon laced through her blonde hair, clearly wellborn, and possibly noble. A hint of a smile crossed her face as she spotted Aaralon and examined him curiously.
"Are you lost, mage student? Perhaps you would like to accompany me." |