Dreams of Darkness Rising by Ross M. Kitson Read Free Book Online

us. Expand the portfolio, so to speak.”
    “Seriously? If we were to run scams involving contraband alcohol perhaps...but he was hardly competent as a swordsman, or a thief. You know I feel we’d be better trying to enlist another Wild-mage.”
    “Well we’re unlikely to find someone that satisfies all our needs, mate—be realistic. Azagunta hasn’t exactly got the widest choice has it?”
    The ramshackle timbers of the docks were gradually giving way to a row of better presented houses as the two ascended the hill towards the city walls.
    “Remind me again why we’re in this place,” Jem said. “It’s filthy and it stinks. Even the old city smells of blasted dead fish and that’s half a mile away. It took me a morning of spells to clean my room.”
    “Jem, nowhere is ever going to be clean enough for you,” Hunor said. “It’s hardly my fault if the shipment I’d heard about ended up ten fathoms under the Corthinian archipelago, is it? There’s probably a Subaquan thief at this very moment picking through those quality silver goblets. Say, do you reckon Subaquans have thieves? I mean fish are free to grab under the sea, aren’t they?”
    Jem looked in exasperation. Hunor swiftly interjected, sensing that Jem was about to launch into one of his pedantic diatribes about other cultures.
    “So we’re at a real loose end, old mate. What say we catch a ship around to Bomor? The Sea of Mists has to be warmer come winter than this dump.”
    The pair had reached the city gate so Hunor’s question hung in the dank air.
    Kir had grown from the ashes of an ancient port called Theles, a city built in the boom of Azagunta during the Era of Magic. Its archaic stones were now blackened and drab. The crumbling wall that once held carvings and frescos of beauty now only displayed vague shapes that hinted of a magical grandeur some twelve hundred years past.
    It was as if the city was embarrassed at what it had become. The walls served to contain a memory of what once was. Yet even this had been tainted over the years by shabby restorations and tasteless modification, the hallmark of the island of Azagunta, the so-called Isle of Thieves.
    Two city guards scowled as Jem and Hunor approached. Their only remit was to keep out thieves and lower life forms from the small walled city.
    Hunor beamed a large smile. “Good day, kindest sirs. Imagine our dismay when we realised that all the beauty to see in finest Kir was behind these walls where our salubrious accommodation resides and not in the charnel pit that lies at its delicate feet. Can we trouble you to allow our return?”
    Two coins glittered in Hunor’s agile fingers. The guards nodded gruffly and the pair passed the gates, slipping the money to them as they entered.
    Jem resumed their conversation as they strolled through the Old City. The mist of the docks had left them halfway up the hill but the air remained chilly. Whale oil lamps gave the narrow streets a strange amber glow. Hunor could make out only two of the moons through the clouds above: the silver Eerian and the red Pyrian.
    “Maybe Bomor’s not so bad an idea, Hunor. I do worry about going back to Bulia until that fiasco with Igred is sorted out. Mind you, I could do with attempting to retrieve some of the clocks that I was half way through making from the house.”
    “Not really worth a knife in the back, mate. We’ll get back there soon enough,” Hunor said. His keen eyes scanned the busy street ahead. They were passing the guild houses near to where the city warden’s keep was located.
    “How about contemplating a change? We could traverse the Sea of Mists and see what’s transpiring with the Mirioth legion and their lizardmen neighbours?  Or how about the Emerald Mountains? Perhaps some worthy cause will appeal to us as we travel? You know, something different to illicit pursuits, for once?”
    “Not enough profit and too much danger, Jem. We’ve been there and done that remember? I thought