The streets of Dimos are oppressively hot, just like the rest of the country of Veilsung. The city may be built in an oasis, but I really think all that does is make the heat all the more humid, which is making me feel more sticky and gross than I did while we were sweating through the open desert on the way here. I try to keep to the shade as I walk under the late afternoon sun with Suzanne and Portia to look for the next street corner on which to present our pitch.
I am Catarina Ansaldi, a member of a large travelling troupe of around forty musicians, actors, and poets, plus their children, lovers, friends, and some people who just want to travel along with us for a good time. We call ourselves the Restless Warblers, and we’ve been touring the entire continent of Welkun for decades now. My mother was one of the founding members. I was born on the road and that’s where I’ve been my whole life, never spending more than a month in any one place. I’ve loved every second of it.
About two months ago, we hit a string of towns along the southeast border of Chavalia. They weren’t big towns, but visiting so many in quick succession had set us up quite nicely, well enough to get stocked up on supplies to make the long trek south through the Revanni mountain range and into the isolated country of Veilsung, through which we’ve been travelling for some distance, hopping from town to town until reaching the capital city of Dimos just last night.
In many ways, I miss southern Chavalia. It was still pretty warm, but nothing like this. At least there, it rained. I don’t know how the serpent folk who call Veilsung their home can stand living here under the eternal, uninterrupted sunlight.
“Let’s head down this street,” Portia suggests, pointing ahead to what seems to be a bustling thoroughfare. “It looks pretty busy.”
When we come around the corner and get a better look at the street, it seems to be lined with shops and other businesses, which explains the crowd. Perfect for our purposes, so long as shop owners don’t come outside and try to shoo us away from their storefronts. We walk a ways down the road and look for a spot where we won’t be in the way of the flow of the crowd but will still be easily visible. Once we have a good spot, Portia pulls her violin from its case and starts going to town on the strings, playing loudly to be heard as far as possible through the mass of bodies occupying the walkways.
Suzanne takes a deep breath and uses her impressive stage voice to project our pitch across the crowd.
"Come see the Restless Warblers, the greatest traveling show in all Welkun," she proclaims, waving her hands in grandiose sweeps. "Theater, music, art and dance the likes of which you've never before seen! Only in town for one week, with a different show every night! Whether you want to broaden your cultural horizons or just get out for a night of fun, you will find everything you want and more!"
Suzanne is human, but unusually tall, so much so that she can be seen quite easily even through the crowd consisting primarily of serpent folk, who average about a head taller than most humans. She makes a good focal point for delivering the pitch. Portia, standing beside her, is a halfling and consequently quite a bit shorter. She’s amazing on the violin, the sound of which travels far even through the cacophony of the busy street, and she always helps to draw quite a crowd. Between the two of them, we always get a lot of attention pointed our way.
My job is to hand out fliers and answer questions, which is just perfect for me. As much as I love being on stage, standing alone as the center of attention isn’t my favorite. I’d much rather be out actually talking to people. I stand next to Suzanne and look out into the crowd to pick out someone who looks interested, however briefly, and then walk up to them and tell them they should come.
The people of Veilsung have a bit of a love-hate relationship with outsiders. They tend to be incredibly curious about visitors to their country, initially welcoming them with open arms, but they make no secret of when a visitor has overstayed their welcome and gone from a pleasant curiosity to an untrustworthy stranger. For an outsider to be truly accepted into a Sungian community is exceedingly rare. Since we’re only in any given town for a week or two, though, we’re generally regarded as safe. I get a lot of bites handing out fliers.
When we came into town yesterday evening, we only had time to set up camp before night fell. In smaller towns, we typically set up on the outskirts, where there's more room, but in a city as big as Dimos, we arranged to set up within city limits, in a large open field used for various outdoor events. Since we arrived so late, that means that we have the whole day today to separate out into groups and rove the city, drumming up interest for tomorrow night’s big opening concert.
Suzanne, Portia, and I have this down to an exact science. Suzanne makes the exact same speech sound new and captivating every time she says it, Portia draws people in from afar with her impressive violin playing and has a sixth sense for knowing exactly when to move on to a new corner, and I'm the friendly face that reels people in and answers questions, plus the master navigator who keeps us from getting lost even in the biggest cities.
Over the course of the day, we’ve crossed nearly the entire city east to west. Dimos may be large, but it doesn’t require too much of my navigational skills as it’s built up the side of a mountain, and our campsite is clearly visible in its large clearing even from here. It’s been a long day, and the sun is starting to get rather low in the sky.
“Think it’s time to start heading back?” Suzanne asks as the amount of interest shown by the passers-by starts to dwindle. “We have a long way to walk, and I don’t want to risk missing dinner.”
“Oh thank the gods you said something because I am so fucking sick of walking uphill,” Portia complains. “My ass muscles are killing me.”
“You two can head back if you want,” I say. “I still want to go all the way to the top before the sun sets.”
“Oh yeah, I forgot you wanted to do that,” Portia says. “What’s wrong with you? Your legs are going to be dead by the time you get back.”
I grin, well enough acquainted with her abrasive attitude to know when she’s kidding, which is most of the time.
“I’m hoping the view will be worth the dead legs,” I say.
“You’re insane. The sun sets every single day, Cat. It’s not going to look any different this time.”
“I’m sorry you’re unable to appreciate the beauty of the natural world, Portia, but not all of us can be as cynical and uncultured as you.”
“Do you have your knife on you?” Suzanne asks.
“Yup,” I affirm, patting the spot over my thigh holster.
“And the lantern has enough oil in it to get you back across the city?”
I double check the lantern clipped to my belt. “I filled it full before we left camp this morning, and it’s still full now. Plus the moon is going to be nearly full tonight, so I’ll have plenty of light.”
“Then I guess we’ll see you back at camp,” Suzanne says with a smile, apparently satisfied that I’m set up to survive the walk back in the dark. “We’ll be sure to set some food aside for you. Hand me the rest of those fliers; I’ll take them back for you.”
“Thanks, Suzie. I’ll see you two later tonight.”
We part ways, and I continue my climb to the top. There should still be an hour or two before sunset, but I’ll need to keep up my pace if I want to make it in time from where I am now. I groan internally. Portia is right – my ass is going to be killing me by the end of today. This might be the only opportunity I have to see the sunset here, though, since every other night we’ll be putting on one performance or another. I have to hurry and make it today, or I won’t be able to see the sunset at all.
The reason I’m so desperate to get to the top goes back to the last time I was here before, many years ago, when I was around ten years old. We were invited to play in the king’s castle that time, all the way at the top. The other side of the mountain on which Dimos rests falls away sharply as an impossibly tall cliff, overlooking a vast view of the surrounding desert mountains. I can clearly remember standing in the ballroom before a wall of nearly floor-to-ceiling windows, pressing myself against the glass, listening to the music swell behind me and the shuffle of all the adults dancing around the room, completely transfixed by the view of the sun setting across the most beautiful landscape I had ever seen. The windows opened so directly over the cliff that it felt like there was nothing beneath me, like I was flying a mile above the earth. It left a strong impression on me. I’ve never forgotten that feeling.
I’ve wanted to come back ever since, to relive that moment. But this time, I have the opportunity to be alone. No room full of strangers laughing and talking, no fellow children from the troupe trying to ply me to join them in their antics. No windows, either, since I won’t be inside the castle. Just me and the endless expanse of earth beyond the peak of Dimos.
I try to remind myself of the serenity that awaits at the top as I trudge up the seemingly endless slope, breathing getting more and more ragged with each step. I thought singing was supposed to give you greater lung capacity? Sure doesn't feel like it…
When I get close to the top, I run into a slight problem. From what I can tell, almost the entire peak is dominated by the castle and its surrounding grounds. There is little if any publicly accessible space to either side – certainly not the south side where I find myself now. I chew on my lip. The sun is getting very low. If there is a public overlook spot to the north, I don’t have enough time to check now. I weigh my options for about five seconds, glance around to see if there’s anyone nearby, and step into the castle garden, keeping behind hedges wherever I can.
I sneak across the beautiful, well-irrigated garden, a shock of green amidst so much desert brown. I can’t help but admire the beautiful vegetation as I go – it’s all blooming so beautifully in the late spring. Fortunately, I don’t see anyone the whole way across the expansive garden, and I make it to the edge without incident. Between the edge of the yard and the drop of the cliff there is only a low yet sturdy stone wall, rising to about the height of my waist, which will be perfect for looking out over the landscape. I managed to time it just about perfectly, the sun just beginning to sink below the horizon. I run the rest of the way to the wall and place my hands along the rim of the world.
It's exactly as I remember it. Endless. Vast. Picturesque. Only this time I am alone, steeped in a profound silence against which I can only hear my ragged breaths and the pounding of my ceaseless heart. I close my eyes for a moment and breathe in as deeply as I can manage, centering myself, feeling the gentle wind caress my face and cool my overheated skin. I get as close as I can, pressing myself against the safety wall, trying to make it look like there's no ground beneath me at all, that I'm a single fixed point high above the earth. I sink into a headspace of deep serenity and lose myself in the silent beauty of the earth.
Then, from behind me, I hear the noise of someone clearing their throat, and I jump so hard I feel the world spin.
