Finding the place proved to be difficult. The city had grown to half again its population as Relhan approached, and while Trent had doubled the number of soldiers patrolling the streets, they were all working hard leading wagons, keeping crowds in check, and breaking up any disputes that arose. Most of the soldiers that Damian came upon were too busy to speak with her. She remained polite and aloof but firm, and eventually she got her answer.
Evening fell as she walked alone through the town, the sky as golden as her eyes. She turned them in a cool glare to any who treated her roughly as she sifted through the thick crowds. While it had bothered her to lose even more of the day to sleep, she was glad for the calmness and confidence it had restored in her. All of the morning and afternoon's troubles were gone from her mind and she focused solely on her mission. Squaring her shoulders, she continued through the throng of people, not unnoticed, but mostly unmolested.
Finally, she arrived. After a moment's hesitation, she steeled herself and stepped inside.
The entrance was small and sparsely furnished. Two soldiers sat at a round table hardly larger than a tavern stool playing cards. Near the heavy door leading into the rest of the building, a third soldier sat behind a battered desk littered with paper, quills, and horns of ink. All three fell silent immediately and gazed at her as she entered. The guard behind the desk was the same dark-haired, thickly-bearded soldier that had addressed her the evening before. She fixed him with her gaze, fighting hard to keep confident. The two guards in the corner looked her up and down with leering grins, but the black-haired guard stared hard into her eyes. She stepped toward the desk.
"I want to see Domino," she stated. The black-haired soldier raised an eyebrow.
"You want to see 'im?" he asked. Damian had awakened to find a coin pouch on a belt hanging on the doorknob of her room, but she had left it back at the Yawning Bear. Her new dress had pockets hidden within, which served her well enough. She retrieved a coin from a pocket and set it on the desk, her eyes never leaving the soldier. His gaze reluctantly wandered to the silver coin worth five moons, a jay imprinted on one side and the other marked with the phoenix rampant and olive branch of Faneria.
"I want to speak with Domino," she repeated. The soldier's eyes returned to her. Silence fell over the room for a long moment.
With a grunt, he rose from his chair and grabbed the jay. She followed him to the large door, not sparing the other soldiers a glance. The dark-haired soldier unlatched the door and lead her inside.
It felt as if she had entered a tomb. The hallway was narrow and dark, lit only by torches and crowded with the cells that lined the path. Each cell was enclosed by three solid stone walls with a row of black iron bars facing the hallway, making the prison seem suffocating. Guards stood on either side of the hallway after every third cell, holding their pikes up in stiff formation. The smells of mildew, stale bread, and waste hung heavily in the damp, cool air.
The prisoners within the cells rose and approached the bars as she passed by them, walking behind the black-haired soldier, and their voices filled the air.
"Oooh!"
"What's your crime, gorgeous?"
"She can share a cell with me, guard!"
"Bet she stole that dress! I'll take it back from her!"
The soldiers standing guard alongside the hall stared at her when she walked by. As the catcalls reached the other prisoners, they began approaching the bars before she passed their cells and stretched their hands out toward her, but she paid them all no more mind than did the black-haired soldier.
Damian glanced briefly down a side hall as they walked past it. Toward the end of the hallway, the torches grew more distant and the cells became walled completely in stone. At the far end of the hall, she couldn't even make out the solid wood doors locking the prisoners within in utter darkness and silence. They continued through the torchlit rows of cells.
Suddenly, one of the prisoners grasped her cloak and pulled her toward the bars roughly. Before she could struggle, the black-haired soldier swung, slamming the pommel of his dagger onto the prisoner's hand. She hadn't even seen the soldier draw it. She couldn't fully suppress a cringe at the crunch of steel on bone and the howl of pain from the prisoner as he withdrew. Swallowing hard, she pushed him out of her mind.
Finally, the soldier stopped. He banged the hilt of his dagger loudly against the bars of the cell he faced.
"Oi! Hawk-killer!" he yelled out. "Y'got someone here wants to talk to you." With that, he stepped aside and folded his arms, watching Damian closely.
She looked into the cell to see Domino glance over his shoulder from the pallet he lied on. He showed only a brief moment of confusion before faint surprise crossed his face. He rose.
The mercenary had been stripped of most of his equipment. He stood beyond the barred gate wearing only shirt and trousers. Even his bloodstone amulet was missing, she noted with dismay. He looked small and vulnerable without his cloak, leather breastplate, gloves, boots, sword, and satchel. Yet, with the collar of his shirt ending in a low "V" on his chest, she could see better how well built he was. She remembered how easily he had pulled her up onto the horse in front of him when they escaped the creatures that attacked Aether. Her heart sped as she forced her eyes up. His hair, black in the darkness of the cell, was tangled and dirty and straw clung to his clothes from the pallet. Yet, as her gaze traveled over his arms and hands and into his clear blue eyes, she longed to hold him. She fought to remember the things Garrick had told her about him.
Domino's eyes swept casually over her form, examining her new wine red dress, long lilac gloves, and royal purple cloak. After a long moment filled only with the murmurs of other prisoners, he commented, "You look nice."
Conflict raged within Damian. Her heart wanted to trust him, but her mind told her she couldn't. She tried to draw strength from the soldiers and other prisoners. Regardless of her feelings for Domino, she couldn't show her emotions to them.
"Is it true?" she asked. His eyes narrowed.
"I swear to all the gods, I had nothing to do with the attack on Aether," he replied with a vehemence that surprised her. 'Yes, I know!' she wanted to cry out and rush to him. The soldiers' and prisoners' eyes bore into her, keeping her steady in place and betraying no feeling. She focused, remembering her own apprehensions.
"Then why..." she attempted. "Why did you look at me..." Domino glanced at the soldiers and prisoners listening in.
"I thought you believed them," he stated. Damian's mask of confidence began to break as her desire to touch him grew. "You're the only person who hasn't judged me for what I've done." With a shrug, he leaned against the stone wall. "At least, you hadn't. Maybe that's changed."
"It hasn't," she responded, too quickly. Frowning, she grasped the bars. "I've been told that I shouldn't trust you, but... I just can't." Domino gazed stoically at her.
"You really want to trust me," he suggested.
"I need you!" she remarked and cringed at the outburst. She shook her head. "I don't have anything else left." Her knuckles turned white as her grip tightened on the bars. She wanted to continue, but couldn't force the words out with all the ears listening. "Please, tell me I'm not wrong to trust you." She saw a familiar sadness pass over his eyes.
"No one can tell you that," he answered. "To a dishonest person, what is it but another lie?"
"Then how will I know who I can trust and who I can't?" She remembered her failed attempts in recent years to make friends in Aether. "I never learned how to really trust anyone. You're the first person I've been able to and even that may be wrong." He stepped toward her, so close she could reach through the bars and touch him. Her heart pounded in her chest.
"Follow your heart," he told, his voice deep and soothing. "Always. That way, you'll never be lead wrong." Damian gazed at him for a moment. Her eyes then passed over his small, dirty cell with its bare straw pallet and back to him, stripped of everything but the barest of clothes.
"Then why are you in here?" she asked.
His eyes grew dark. "I think you know that as well as I do."
"But... if your heart lead you to..."
"There's no excuse for what I did," he cut in. "It was madness." Her golden eyes widened.
"But," she stated, "they were doing bad things. Isn't that..."
"That's why I wanted to act," he continued quietly, "but what I did was treachery." Damian hung her head, feeling more confused than she had before she came into the prison. His words were all she needed to hear, but how could she believe them if not even he followed them? After a pause, she felt his bare hand lay on hers. She looked up at him.
"I didn't follow my heart," he uttered. "I knew it was wrong. So will you. Even if you place your trust in someone who doesn't deserve it, as long as you truly believe what you're doing is right, you'll never have any regrets." She saw a shadow of despair pass over his eyes as he finished and felt tears gather in her own.
"Hey," the black-haired soldier interrupted, scowling. "Hurry it up." Damian glanced at him, then turned back to Domino.
"I still believe in you," she stated softly. The faintest hint of a smile graced his face, but it was gone as quickly as it came. "You don't belong in here." Domino shook his head.
"Don't worry about me," he told. "I've earned my mistrust."
"But you're innocent," she responded.
"They'll learn that. They're examining my amulet and looking into the evidence." He drew back, the sadness returning to his eyes. "You have enough to worry about as it is. Don't concern yourself with me."
"I am concerned," she replied, pulling her hands back from the bars. "I... I care about you." She wrung her hands, surprised at how easily the words had come out. "I hope they'll release you soon. I... I'll pray for justice for you."
"Truth," Domino concluded. "Pray for truth." Damian hesitated a moment. Justice was a device of Light, but the deeper Truth was one of the gods of Time. She contemplated his choice of words.
Eventually, she nodded. With a brief glimpse at the black-haired soldier, she turned and walked out of the prison, forcing herself not to look back. Domino's words rang in her mind as she strode past the reaching hands and jeering voices, feeling stronger with every step.
Follow your heart. You'll know what to do.
The next few days Garrick filled her with the sights of Trent. The city was known throughout Faneria and beyond for its entertainment and Relhan was the greatest celebration it had. Craftsmen and artisans of all kinds flocked to the town to sell their wares, and if one couldn't find something in Trent's market, odds were it didn't exist. The city rang with music from the scores of minstrels that would compete for a grand prize during the celebration. There was more to experience in the town than Damian could hope to see in even six full days.
She and Garrick visited Plaza Medalia, the town square where the rivers intersected, crowded with people preparing for the festivities of Relhan. There she bought a bag of seed for the pigeons that flocked to the plaza and laughed as she threw her arms into the air in a storm of wings. Returning to the bakery nearby where she and Clyde had visited the final night of Relhan every year, she bought the same butter cream cake and shared it with Garrick, telling him tales of her time in Trent on her father's trade routes.
Garrick took her all over the town showing her its wonders. They went to a water garden roofed in wisteria wrapped over a trellis and paved in raised stone paths in concentric circles around an immense fountain. They went to towers and gardens and great halls filled with statues and paintings that looked so real she thought they were going to come alive before her. They saw acrobats practicing over the eastern fork of the river and watched a parade of dancers in silk gowns carrying fantastic creatures made of paper, all lit with torches wrapped in oilcloths that gave off green, purple, red, blue, and white flames. They listened to a group of musicians play a song in harmony on flute, drum, and plucked cello with a violinist leading the melody with speed and skill Damian had never dreamed of. It was ten times as impressive as any bard she had ever heard and she couldn't help but dance when Garrick pulled her to her feet and began spinning her around with him. They spent the rest of that day listening to dozens of singers and musicians that made her cry or dance or feel like she was soaring through the air and she couldn't even say why. And when the market days came that week, she visited the huge market square she had grown to know so well through her life.
As she stood gazing at the empty space where her father's cart should have been, she remembered a time a few years ago when Clyde had fallen ill in the distant city of Alegro and she had to sell his wares by herself. Though the organizer of the town's market provided her with additional guards to watch the stand, she had felt nervous the first few days. As the week progressed, however, she grew stronger and more confident. She realized that she could do well on her own without her father, and the memory gave her hope for her present situation.
Many of the stands she visited she didn't recognize, as she had rarely had a chance to explore the market on her father's trade routes. At one stand filled with beautiful stone jewelry she bought a tiger iron brooch shaped like an owl. Her father had loved the birds, and since she had lost all she had in the attack on Aether, yet still had her mother's boots, she wanted something to remind her of Clyde. She pinned the brooch over the clasp of her cloak.
It was there that a familiar voice called out to her.
"Damian!" the word boomed over the crowd. "Damian Sires!" She turned and smiled to see Caleb Brown, the organizer of the town's market, spreading his arms wide toward her. They were arms larger than her legs on a body built like an ox. He came from Maia, far to the north on the fringes of the great desert along the northern coast of the kingdom of Edan. Though he had lived in Faneria longer than Damian had been alive, he seemed as if he had just come from the desert yesterday. His brown skin was covered in a gold satin tunic over thin white shirt and trousers and a bushy beard of pitch fell down over his chest in a sharp point. A silk turban of a lighter shade than his tunic covered his head, though the spring day was cool. She remembered how the large man with his booming voice, foreign appearance, and overly friendly disposition had intimidated her when she was young, but now she couldn't be more pleased to meet him.
"Damian, I am so glad to see you!" he exclaimed in his deep, rolling accent that was music to her ears. He pulled her off her feet into an embrace that took the breath out of her. "I had heard what happened in Aether and feared for you! Tell me your father is here as well!" Damian only shook her head, her smile fading.
Caleb put a hand over his chest and looked away with a dramatic gesture. "Oh, Damian, my heart breaks for you! Do you have family here? Friends? Someone to take care of you?" His gaze grew increasingly more worried with each question. Damian couldn't help but smile at his expressiveness.
"Someone is helping me, yes," she told. He breathed a large sigh of relief.
Sobering, he took her by the shoulders and continued, "Listen, Damian, you come by Caleb's office first thing tomorrow morning. I would give you a gift to help you in this troubled time."
"That's alright," she replied with a smile, but Caleb cut in before she could finish.
"No, no, no, no, I insist," he answered. "Your father was a good man. A good, honest man. He gave me many years of loyal service and always paid all his taxes and fees on time." He glanced around warily and lowered his voice as he added, "The same cannot be said of many of these sellers. These new vendors are not the man your father was. They are... umph!" He waved his hand in a frustrated gesture. Standing straight, he clapped her on the shoulder with enough force to knock her to the ground, had she not been anticipating it. "I must give you a gift! It is Caleb Brown's meager way of offering his consolation and thanking your kind father for all his years of hard work. His stand made my market a joy and he will be dearly missed." Damian's smile widened.
"He will. Thank you." Though she acted nonchalant, Caleb's offer and his recognition almost drove her to tears of happiness. He always had a way of making every vendor in his market feel like the most important person there, and even though she knew he shared such friendliness with everyone around her, his kindness towards her warmed her heart. For the first time since Aether was attacked, she truly felt cared for.
She felt strong enough to take on the world for the rest of that day and the next were filled with wonder as she joined in the festivities of Relhan for the first time in her life. Every day of the festival was spent in celebration, dance, games, and performances that astounded her. The music that she and Garrick listened to was even more captivating than that she had heard before the festival began and she tasted a thousand different foods from a hundred different regions. She lost herself in celebration, forgetting entirely about having to find a job or a home or all that she had lost. She visited Domino when she could and even went in to a temple of Time twice to pray for truth. The Gods of Time meant little to her, but if it was Truth that Domino desired, then that was what she would ask for.
Caleb's offer turned out to be even more generous than she had been expecting from the jovial Maian. He showered her with gifts from the far reaches of the land wrapped in a fine leather satchel. Inside was spices, two bars of juniper-scented soap, a copper hair comb, a black drinking horn, and a slender dagger with a hilt of red marble veined in gold. She tried to refuse his gifts, but he wouldn't let her leave the smallest pinch of coriander behind and still apologized that he had nothing more to offer her. They shared a toast to Clyde over flagons of red wine made for kings and he wrapped her in another rib-crushing embrace before she left with her sincerest thanks.
All of the kindness and beauty she had experienced and the wondrous festivities lifted the clouds from her heart and made her feel like the queen the young girl in Graeme's Arbor had claimed her to be. She began to feel loved and accepted by all for the first time in her life and felt that nothing could take that away from her.
Then one night, she saw Garrick's horns.