The harlot left him early, no doubt shortly after sunrise, though without a window, Cor couldn’t be sure. She left with no promises and no expectations and it had been quite an education for him. He slept awhile longer, dozing in and out of sleep for some time, but he eventually roused himself and washed a bit in the basin, which he then sat outside the room for one of the inn’s employees to refill. He double checked the chest and his purse to be sure the woman hadn’t robbed him and then went downstairs into the main room. As promised, the innkeeper had the kitchen make him a warm breakfast of eggs and pork.
After eating, Cor sauntered outside into the warm morning air; it was late summer, and Roka seemed, as a general rule, to get much hotter than what Cor was used to in Aquis. The large buildings and concentration of people did not help the heat, and activity already bustled in Worh’s streets as persons of all professions went about another day’s business.
Cor headed directly for the armor smith, who was more than happy to speak with him today. In fact, the smith apologized for not being more accommodating; he had another engagement for which he simply could not have been late. Somehow, Cor thought the weight of his purse was responsible for the apology, but he accepted it nonetheless. Cor explained that he did not plan on wearing the armor long, and he did not have time to await the making of custom fit pieces. As such, he purchased what the smith had available, namely a scale hauberk and armguards and a set of mismatched plate legguards. He considered purchasing a basinet, but decided that the large helm would likely draw attention, which was the opposite of his intent.
Before leaving the smithy, he asked what the smith knew about hiring a guide to go into the mountains. The smith explained that it wasn’t his business, but he knew it was somewhat common; the Spine was known to be extremely dangerous for many reasons. Regardless, Cor should seek a man named Kamar in one of the taverns near the docks. While he no longer ventured into the mountains himself, doubtless he could find Cor a willing mountaineer. Cor thanked the smith and left.
Cor asked no one for directions to the docks; he knew the bay was on the southern side of the city, so it was only a matter of time before he found the docks. He took careful note of the path he took, so as to make certain he could find his way back, and slowly made his way through the city. As he continued deeper into the city, the buildings were significantly older and taller, having apparently been rebuilt on top of themselves. He passed through another gated wall, much older than the outer wall he had entered yesterday. The older buildings and walls were made mostly out of limestone, as opposed to the granite blocks used in the newer areas. The business districts gave way to affluent homes, which eventually turned to less than affluent homes. After passing through a second gated wall, he found himself surrounded by warehouses and other holding facilities used by merchants, and as he expected, it was only a short walk from here to the docks.
The docks of Worh looked much like the docks he had seen in other Western cities, though on a substantially grander scale. A forty foot wide boardwalk, made of poplar and elm, curved its way in a slight crescent for as far as he could see, and twenty foot wide wooden piers jutted into the harbor, each at least one hundred feet in length. Vessels of all kinds from the Shining West and the continent of Tigol were moored at these piers, many of their crews involved in the loading or unloading of cargo. The sounds of seagulls, raucous laughter, barked orders and the occasional whip filled the air, and sailors roamed about everywhere, some involved in ship’s business of some sort or another. Many concentrated on their own business and merry making.
Cor counted multiple taverns off of the boardwalk; there had to have been at least half a dozen in plain view, not to mention any others hidden in the streets or back alleys. One of these he chose at random and entered, finding himself in a dark room with a large bar and a number of small round tables. The entire establishment had an extremely seedy air about it, and Cor had the distinct impression that he did not want to stay too long lest he invite trouble. The barkeep, whom would only talk to Cor after he bought a drink, knew Kamar, but said he was not here. He suggested that Cor continue checking the taverns, and he would find Kamar eventually.
Cor found every tavern in the area to be basically alike, and he searched three more before he finally found the man he sought. It seemed Kamar drank constantly, and his method of choosing today’s drinking establishment was relative to which ones he owed money. The bartender of this particular tavern pointed Cor to a man who was short in stature, but solidly built despite the constant influx of alcohol. His hair was light brown, almost to the point of blond, and his skin was tanned brown by the sun and elements. He sat on the far side of the room, his head laying flat on the tabletop, drool seeping from his open mouth.
Cor could only rouse the man with the help of the bartender and a cold bucket of water. This woke Kamar in quite a fury, hurling curses, insults and threats at Cor with every breath, ignoring the fact that he couldn’t even stand on his own. Cor easily calmed Kamar’s ire with promises of more drink, but it was only after his second round that he would allow Cor to tell him why Cor sought him.
“Aye, ye’re a fool,” Kamar told him between gulps. “Why in Garod’s name would ye want to go to the Spine?”
“I understand you used to go there often,” Cor answered.
“Aye, used to. Not now. People die up there, between monsters, animals, Loszians and just dangerous mountains,” Kamar said, again burying himself in his mug.
“I’m not asking you to go,” Cor explained. “I just need a mountaineer to guide me into the mountains. I know nothing of climbing.”
“Ye’re looking for some great treasure no doubt,” Kamar stared at him, somewhat bleary eyed. Cor’s hood covered his face well in the gloom of the tavern. “Where exactly in the Spine ye needs to go?”
“I’m not sure, but I’ll know when I get there,” Cor answered, a spittle ridden laugh erupting from Kamar. “Just tell me who I should talk to. I’ll pay well.”
“Ye’re needing a madman like yerself, methinks. Tell me what it is ye seek. I say nothing else until ye do,” Kamar said, and Cor recognized the ultimatum. He stared back at the man and took a long breath.
“I’m looking for a building,” Cor explained, “Perhaps two hundred miles to the northeast from Worh, somewhere in the mountains, is a strange place made of steel and glass. It is ancient, surely dating back before any of the history we know. The inside has marble floors, statues and items of all sorts that come from before our time.”
“So it is treasure ye seek,” Kamar said, deep in his cup.
“Not exactly, not treasure of gold and jewels at least,” answered Cor.
“There is only one man who can take you where you want to go. He’s actually been to the place you seek,” Kamar said. He seemed instantly sober, and his odd accent and inflections were gone.
“What’s his name and where do I find him?” Cor asked.
“He’s me.”