Asunder: A Gathering of Chaos Cameron Hopkin (read a book txt) 📖

older man’s helping hand and got himself past them without incident. “Where are we going, then?”

Gamarron pointed out at the main boulevard they were walking toward, which was indeed less crowded than before. Now it’s only got twice as many people as I’ve ever seen in my life instead of five times as many. He tried to calculate how many people he’d ever seen but got lost somewhere around three dozen, started over, got lost again, and gave up the effort. He couldn’t seem to keep the numbers nailed down in his head. The northern savage was talking at him, and Kest refocused on his words. “We’ll pass through Center over the river and into the Commerce District. That’s where he lives.”

“He?” Kest blinked owlishly up at the taller man. “He who?”

“The man I spoke of just now as you were concentrating on walking in a straight line,” responded the monk patiently as they merged into the flowing crowd of the boulevard. “He is a professional of a particular sort. He is expecting me, but there are protocols we must abide by when meeting with him. Being drunken is definitely not one of them.”

“I’m not drunk,” the young man protested. “Let me walk for a bit and I’ll be fine. Do you think I’m going to puke all over him? Give me a shred of credit for once. I can handle myself.” He drew a deep breath of the pungent evening air and the sheer stink of it cleared his head a bit, letting him walk with a little less weave in his gait. Maybe that beer was a bit too strong for me. Not that he was about to open his mouth about it, but at least privately he allowed that he should have drunk the stuff a little more slowly. “And who has ‘protocols’ for meeting? What does that even mean?”

“It means that this man is a dangerous criminal notorious for his thefts and getaways, and the City Guard would dearly love to make his acquaintance. He has complicated and thorough security procedures one must abide by in order to obtain face-to-face meetings. The amount of money I’ve spent just in preparation… well. He is the reason I was so insistent that we leave Serpentslip and row here ourselves: our meeting is scheduled for this evening and missing it would mean significant delays.” He eyed Kest’s careful steps. “Perhaps it would have been better for you to stay at the inn.”

“Stop it,” Kest snapped. “I won’t embarrass you or mess it up. Look at me – am I falling down? Singing stupid songs or crying on your shoulder? I’m feeling better already.” In truth, none of his joints fit together quite right, the top of his head felt as if it were floating a meter above the crowd, and the horizon kept tilting to one side and then the other. But if he concentrated, he could stay steady, and he wasn’t about to get left behind. “Tell me where to stand and what to say. I’ll be your tame little Beast Rider so you can scare all the soft-handed Mainlanders.” He threw a toothy, nasty smile at his companion to show what he thought of the idea. He knew he should stop giving the old man such a hard time, but he couldn’t seem to help himself.

Gamarron was quiet as they walked up the boulevard, the river burbling on their right and grand ship-buildings on the left. “All right,” sighed the older man. “I will trust you. Please do not make me regret it.”

Kest snorted and opened his mouth to give another sharp comment, but the words died in his throat. Up ahead, the darkness that had been growing at the fuzzy horizon of his vision resolved itself suddenly into an impossibly large building. He stopped in his tracks, letting the flow of traffic surge around them as if they were rocks in a streambed. “What –” he broke off, lacking the words. Instead, he just pointed, and Gamarron turned to see what had startled him.

In the near distance, bridging the mighty Hydenso River that split the mainland in twain, stood what had to be the most colossal structure ever erected by human hands. It was a grand stadium rearing a hundred meters into the air, the massive stone pillars that supported it plunging into the depths of the swirling waters, holding the ponderous bulk of the building above the flow so that boats could pass underneath and continue upriver. It was the sole connecting point of the two halves of the floating city of Megalith that spread like scum on the water of both banks. Full-masted ships drifting beneath the dark maw of the building looked like toys in comparison to the mind-boggling scale of the stadium. How did I not see it before? The sun was in my eyes as we sailed into the city, I suppose, but that thing looms over everything. I must be worse off than I thought. His eyes drank in the impossible structure, darting from one feature to the next. Even at this distance, the eye could not comprehend it as a unified whole, only piece by piece.

Its walls were dark granite sandwiched between vertical pillars of white that arched inward to the stadium’s interior with organic grace. Most incredible of all, though – even more impossible than the size of the thing itself – was the object that reared itself high over the walls, looking down from incredible heights into the open circle of the stadium like a vengeful being from beyond: it was the skull of a sea serpent on the same scale as the rest of the structure. The teeth were as tall as the mast of a ship, and Serpentslip could have sailed through those jaws side by side with five vessels of equal size without bumping into each other.

“The Great Coliseum,” said Gamarron with something very near to reverence. “It never fails to inspire awe.”

Shaking his