“So now what, Cap’n?” Hal asked.
A wide, dirt road stretched out before the six of them, leading from the gates straight through the city to the Trade Market at the center of town. Known as Dyfin Way, this road was the hub of most traffic into, out of, or through the city. Throngs of people filled the street, as far as the eye could see, everyone moving past hawkers and merchant stalls on the side of the road, or around horses, mules and wagons in the middle. Most Tyrans dressed in the same style of clothing, men wearing sleeveless tunics with calf-length trousers and women in long, sleeveless dresses with very thin shawls, most of it colored in light shades of brown, orange or green. The effect created a river of muted colors that mirrored the land around them, with only occasional striking colors mixed in.
“Now we find a place to stay.” Iago led his five companions to a crossroads a few dozen yards ahead and stopped, considering his new route now that they’d made it inside. “This way.”
Iago took the path to his left. The others followed in a tight line, weaving through the crowd, which moved in the opposite direction. The buildings on either side of the street were small and jammed together, an unruly mix of homes, shops, bakeries or craft stores with tables out front for selling wares or food. They passed a few open-air buildings, with no street-side outer walls, used as pens, forges or smiths. One concerned itself primarily with weaponry, based on the large array of swords, maces, axes and spears displayed on the back wall. Another conveyed a wider variety of products, with two of the blacksmiths inside working on hitches and rims for horse-drawn carts, along with other, unrecognizable items.
Iago kept his hood up, and his head down, careful to avoid too much attention. He looked straight ahead, avoiding eye contact, something that wasn’t too difficult since Tyrans weren't known for their cordiality. They were in Ohvro, the smallest of the city’s five districts. It stretched from the main outer gates all the way down the road to the inner gates of the Old City and extended several blocks east and west of Dyfin Way.
Ohvro was mostly a market area, where merchants and artisans set up shop to catch visitors to the city. The Trade Market, a large market center full of shops and goods, was located in a town square found outside the gates to the Old City, the walled center of Tyr where the clerics resided. The Tyran Trade Market was renowned throughout the Lore Valley for having nearly every possible item and service you could imagine for sale, no matter how obscure, as long as you knew whom to ask. Those who'd been there never really disputed that claim.
The crowd of people steadily thinned out as they moved to the north end of the city. Stragglers moved from shop to shop, buying what they needed, and then headed the opposite direction, towards the Gotan district, on the other side of Ohvro. Gotan was filled with sprawling neighborhoods of small houses stacked next to and on top of each other. Despite its overcrowded nature, however, Gotan provided a much better depiction of Anzarin life than the settlements outside, or the refugees huddled around fires, or even the city of rogues that the Avis district, their current destination, had become.
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A guard station appeared ahead of them, on the left side of the road. A small, stout barracks stretched from the road all the way back to the outer wall, where a wooden staircase gave the guards access to the top of the walls. Four guards waited outside, two sitting on a bench, and the other two lounging on the ground on either side. They chatted casually, barely paying attention to anything or anyone, although every so often they glanced up and down the street, making sure no one important caught them in their idle state. That guard station marked the border between Ohvro and Avis, not only physically, but symbolically. The guards here cared little about what happened on the other side of that line.
As they moved past the guards and into Avis, the atmosphere almost immediately became different. There were no more merchants hawking wares along the street, or kids running alongside their parents. The sun had set over the top edge of the walls long before they entered the city, and wide shadows stretched across the street and buildings, making dark corners seem even darker. Old homes filled the outer edges of Avis, with inns, warehouses, and taverns scattered about. Farther in, though, the taverns became more frequent and seedier. Avis did have a small market center, located deeper in the district, and the wares there were similar to anywhere else – the only difference being the heavier focus on unadvertised services.
The Avis district was a haven for all manner of scoundrels in the steppes, including bounty hunters, assassins, thieves and murderers. The Cleric-Major of the Avis district was a man named Maibro, a short, fat, troll of a man who cared for his money and nothing else. He’d run the Avis district like his own personal whorehouse for almost forty years now, overlooking criminal actions as long as he got something out of it. As a result, Avis provided a certain bit of protection the others didn’t, if you could afford it.
Almost every alleyway they passed held some sign of life. Dogs ran in small packs, rats scurried in the corners, beggars slept on the street, small groups of people huddled to talk quietly, away from prying ears. One alley in particular caught Iago’s attention as three men stood at the entrance, wearing dusty black clothes that stood out markedly against the earthy Anzarin fashions. They all seemed short in comparison with Anzarin men, and wore their black hair long and unkempt, with similarly long black beards. Their faces were pale, punctuated by dark eyes, and they each had a long dagger sheathed prominently in their belts. It wasn't their appearance that caught Iago’s attention, however – he saw strange people in town every time he visited. What he noticed was how intently they seemed to be watching him and his group. He wondered if they were thieves looking for easy prey, and as they passed by, he chanced a look behind him, still covering his face as best he could with the hood of his cloak. When he looked back, though, they had disappeared back into the alley.
Iago chuckled to himself. They would be surprised if they tried anything on this group. He almost welcomed the chance. Some action would cover his unease, but then he cautioned himself, knowing that same urge had been the source of plenty of his prior troubles in this city. He’d never been at home here, and he was smart enough to know that’s why he usually felt anxious on these streets. But today he knew better. A fight would invite attention they didn’t need. Best to just find an inn, conduct their business and leave.
