Earwen strolled through the city. After Amara had been dismissed from the first meeting, Eramire had decided she would go to the second one alone. Earwen was relieved; she didn't want to sit and listen to her sister argue with a bunch of old men. But then, she was also tired of sitting in the villa they had been provided and had decided to amuse herself by exploring the city. Amara was training a group of soldiers with Thorindir, as he had promised they would in return for Alistair's hospitality.

Earwen looked around as she walked. The architecture of the city was astounding. One moment she would be walking between a row of houses, and the next she'd find that the street ended at a wall or at a steep drop into another street. Houses were stacked on top of each other, and yet she could turn a corner and find herself in a small field plowed and growing anything from potatoes to wheat. These people had carved a life into a seemingly lifeless place.

Even more interesting than the preposterous city were its people. It was peculiar how much they seemed to value warfare, but it seemed they had no intention of interfering with the world around them. They were simply creating a utopia—a fortress impenetrable and unconcerned about the happenings around them. Women carried weapons, and children were taught to fight as young as twelve. Earwen had passed a home and seen a little boy being drilled mercilessly by his father. The parent swung a pole at his son, who held an ax much too heavy for him, drilling the son in blocking techniques, commanding him to move quicker. Even the women were well muscled and sturdy. No one lacked the hard, sturdy stature—unless, of course, they didn't carry giant blood in their veins.

The thing about the city that fascinated Earwen the most was that they allowed every citizen equal opportunity to rise up the ranks of society. Though she had gathered those most directly descended from the giants were still revered, immigrants were allowed to prove their worth. It wasn't easy, but this place could still provide even the most impoverished person with a second chance.

But even with this equality, the city was not without its dangers. The lowest rings of the city were dangerous and reminded her of her brief glimpse of Gaearost. Just the day before she had made the mistake of wandering down too far. Luckily an elderly woman with soot smudged on her face had herded her back onto the correct street, warning her not to return. Earwen obeyed and decided to only go as far as the marketplace that was just a few minutes' walk from the villa.

The city buzzed with constant activity, the squawks and caws of countless birds echoing everywhere. Birds were the main source of communication. People in the lower levels of the city could easily reach relatives above them. All they needed to do was grab a falcon or eagle, scrawl a quick note, and off the feathered creature would fly to deliver its message. There was also an occasional rumbling that rolled beneath their feet. Earwen had been told it was from the thousands of mining tunnels that ran under the city. These were the main source of employment for the citizens. Taiman was the largest producer of gems and metals in Rhovamben. But the mines had existed long before they had settled in the cliffs the second time.

The mines had been built by the dwarves centuries ago. Then the Purge happened. Long ago the giants and dwarves had shared the Carnelian Mountains in peace until one day, the dwarves pushed their mines into the giants' borders. A tunnel collapsed on a nest of prized dragon eggs. This sparked a war that would leave both races nearly annihilated. The dwarves and dragons were obliterated, and the giants, unable to survive the rough terrain with so few, limped away from the mountains to live in the villages of men. Not a single kingdom reached out to the survivors, and the Carnelian Mountains became nothing but wilderness.

But the call of their homeland was not lost even as the giant's blood was intermingled with men's. Eventually a leader stood out among them, and he led the half breeds back toward the red cliffs. His name was Leonidas. He tamed a new species, the gryphon, resurrected the lifestyle of his ancestors, and the people followed him readily. But the elves were unsettled by the giants' return to the mountains. The mines had collapsed with the disappearance of the dragons and dwarves. Some said the mountains had been cursed with the violence that had unfolded on their slopes. The elf king at that time had demanded Leonidas not open the mines. But the new king needed a way to support his rising kingdom, which was sitting on one of the largest treasure troves in all of Rhovamben. He had no intention of leaving it trapped in the rocks below.

As soon as word reached the elves that Leonidas would not yield, they marched on the city, intending to stop him. The first battle began, but the elves had underestimated the fury of the half breeds. Their new mounts helped them greatly, and the two races were evenly matched. The Taimanians called out to the allies they had made in men, and they rushed to the new kingdom's aid. The elves, seeing they were outmatched, retreated and allowed the new kingdom to remain. The mines were opened, and Taiman flourished. But the relations between the two races were fractured. Leonidas never forgot how the elves had tried to strip his people's land from them for a second time.

Earwen remembered the word Nauro had mumbled as the approached the city—emitherios, meaning "half beast." It was a term to demean the barbarism of the people, claiming them as less than human.

As Earwen looked around, she did not see beast-like men. She saw what she saw everywhere else. Families and friends, soldiers and criminals. These people were no different from the elves. It had been hundreds of years since the rift between the two races had been created. How could someone hold a grudge for so long?

The sound of great wings overhead brought her out of her musings, and she ducked instinctively.

The gryphons were the most impressive animal residents. Greater than two horses in height with a wingspan of seven men, they were a sight to behold. Constant scouts flew out over the well-defined borders of the kingdom. However, the most skilled riders were not soldiers at all but the Athlons, as they had been dubbed. Earwen's company had arrived just in time to witness the Cadmus Circuits, the sport of Taiman. It was notorious for the lives lost each year. Earwen wasn't sure how or why it was so dangerous; all she knew was everyone in the city was waiting in anticipation for the season to start. She had tried asking a few different citizens about the game or about the city, but most of the time the answers were short and cold—if she got any at all.

Suddenly she was jostled by a woman and a young girl. The woman glanced at Earwen, not bothering to apologize, and berated her child for fussing. Earwen tried not to be annoyed.

"Why are these people so unfriendly?" she thought, even though she knew the answer. She gazed at the booths on her right. A jewelry stand caught her eye, and she approached the counter. The shop lady smiled and flourished with her hands over the exquisite pieces.

"These stones all come from the city's mines," she explained, picking up a ruby-encrusted pendant. "This one would go wonderfully with your hair."

Earwen took the pendant and studied it.

The woman was already picking up another piece. "Or perhaps emeralds to match your eyes?"

She held up a golden pendant shaped like a talon, emeralds nestled in its clutches.

Earwen looked at this piece with piqued interest, and the shopkeeper smiled, pleased.

"Shall I wrap it up for you?"

Earwen shook her head. "I am afraid I would have little use for it. But thank you. You are the friendliest person I have met so far."

The woman took in the elf woman's traveling garb and bow and arrows. Earwen had decided to begin carrying them since everyone in Taiman seemed to be armed at all times.

"You are one of the visitors from Celeblas, are you not?" the woman inquired.

Earwen nodded.

"I am sorry the people are not more kind. Few of them even remember the reason for the rift between us and the elves. But the grudge is deep seated in their upbringing. They forget how well we fought together in the time before the gifts."

Earwen cocked her head to one side. "Before the gifts?"

The old woman laughed. "They do not teach history well anymore, I am afraid. I taught myself many things in the library."

Earwen leaned forward. "You have been in the Great Library?"

"Of course, child. But it is closed to the people now. It has been for many years."

Earwen frowned. "Why would they do such a thing?"

The woman shrugged her stooped shoulders. "I don't know. It was open to everyone at one time, and everyone learned much. But then very suddenly King Alistair said that the people could no longer be trusted with the countless writings in the library. Some say something was destroyed by a careless reader; others say something was stolen. No one knows for sure, and now it is closed."

"Surely the king and the elders still go in?" Earwen asked.

The old woman shook her head. "I don't know."

Earwen looked thoughtful, and the woman smiled.

"Well, since you have no use for my trinkets—"

"I meant no offense. They are lovely, but—" Earwen interrupted.

"You have a warrior's air," the woman said, and Earwen felt herself swell with pride at the compliment. "I believe you should visit Feredir. He will likely have something more fitting to your station."

Earwen cocked her head to one side in question. "Feredir?"

The woman nodded and gestured across the street. "Over there. The blacksmith's shop. Tell him Agatha sent you his way."

Earwen turned and spotted the store. She smiled and dipped her head in respect. "Thank you very much."

Agatha nodded and waved a weathered hand at her. "You're welcome, dearie. Now off with you. I suspect you'll find the blacksmith a better diversion than this old woman."

Earwen gave her a funny look, not understanding, and crossed the street. She entered the modest building, the only advertisement a dark cast-iron sign that proclaimed the owner's trade.