The Doktor's Spyglass

Chapter 11.1

Mark the ruins on the Horn of Oridos: the great Prosekhal, southernmost, crowning the tip of the Oridosi peninsula as it rises above the calm waters of the Inner Sea. And inland, the firstsun to the Prosekhal's moon, stood the Derukammer—the parliament of the ancient city-state of Oridos, once the seat of the imperial diet that upheld the sovereignty of the Elimannen Empire of old.

Nothing but shattered stone, now, but of old they stood high and strong and immortal, the seat of power and the setting for the accomplishments and conflict of ages.

Such were Thijis' thoughts as he walked beneath the streets of the city center, beneath the current, more modest houses of parliament and the Protector's palace, beneath the joint facility that served both the Sheriff of Oridos and what remained of the Knights Prosecutor. A life in old stone, told one block at a time.

The Undercity was large but strangely quiet in these parts. The pipe in the Forge he'd come in through was a little known entrance—possibly unknown to any but Thijis himself, as he'd never known anyone else to use it. If you headed roughly north (a compass being a necessity in the Undercity), you'd find the outskirts of the great black market that Warreners called Fouler's Fair (Warreners being an incomparably witty lot—or so they'll tell you). Thijis had avoided it scrupulously, staying to the lower tunnels and the catwalks over the sunken canals, easing himself south toward the promontory.

The Derukammer was a great square edifice with half-ovate wings on each side and a great cupola atop it. The aboveground levels were dominated by the council chamber and associated offices, at least from what historians were able to make from the ruins that were left of it. It existed in popular memory, an oral history, no more than the traceries of a foundation left. Its stone had likely been scavenged and used in the construction of innumerable houses in the surrounding districts after the Rehabitation.

But beneath its bulk lay its foundations and basements, the sublevels that had served variously as treasuries, meeting chambers, and dark settings for less savory activities. These still stood, built into the bedrock, now a part of the Undercity that had become the beating heart of Oridos.

Thijis found himself staring at the entrance to the arched hall that sat directly beneath where the main council chamber had been, and deliberately pricked the swell of these thoughts with a pin of pragmatism. He could, and had, spent hours distracted by the stuff of the city's history, and had no time for it now.

Sighing, he weighed Helg's key in his palm. It was heavy and brass, filling out his hand. Below the deepest dungeon, the old man had told him, below all that is or was holy and all that may be again, lies their great secret. A secret which, if the doktor could be believed, might very well unravel the city-state of Oridos and the land she used to rule.

He went down again. Down a spiral staircase, hewn out of the stone by ancient hands using methods lost to time, past three landings opening out onto claustrophobic halls where few feet had stepped in the last five centuries. Past archives and storerooms and armories; past dungeons and walls and holding pens; and finally past a long low level of walled-off passageways that might beckon even the most cautious explorer.

The attitude towards this part of the city, and its underground analog, was strange: it was as if by unspoken consent, the vast majority of Oridosi stayed clear of it. Even the criminal element wanted nothing to do with it, or so it seemed. Men whispered, of course—drunken conspiracies shared over ale at the Tribe or the mindless chatter of apprentice confidence men waiting for a mark to leave the house. Some used the word "curse," while others preferred to talk of ghosts; still others made up stories out of whole cloth about unwritten laws passed by Mother and her predecessors, banning the use or occupation of this not-insubstantial section of cityscape to the masses.