Cagmar is much more alive at this hour; trolls crowd everywhere. While they come in an assortment of heights, shades, and sizes, they all dwarf me. Several give me strange looks as I hurry to keep up with Unach. Others pay me little mind, which means other humans must be here, else my presence would be more novel. When Unach takes a sharp turn, I bump into a dark-gray-skinned woman, who spits, “Clumsy louse,” at me before continuing on her way.
The next corridor has a floor made of wooden slats on metal girders, and it brightens as we walk through it. It takes me a beat to realize that the light comes from the sun itself; the wall to my left suddenly opens up, revealing the steep cliffside of the canyon. It’s covered with various loops and trellises, and hanging from them streams vegetation in all the colors of the rainbow. Vines, climbers, flowers—so many flowers, many the color of the strange disk Unach gave me to eat the night before. The smell consumes me, earthy and floral and lovely. Trolls hang from short bridges and trellises, watering, pollinating, or harvesting the plants. I’m utterly enthralled. My steps slow as I take in the impressive garden, grasping a handrail that separates it from the main path.
A strike from a shoulder sends me to the floor. The shock of the landing radiates up my tailbone. I look up to see a large troll looming over me. He is broad and gray skinned, with beefy arms folded across his chest. His jaw and chin are the widest I’ve seen yet, accented with large bone studs. His tusks are narrow and sharp, almost like fangs.
“Never seen food before, human?” He sneers at me. He stands aside from the flow of traffic. Did he go out of his way to collide with me? “If you think you’ll get away with stealing it, you’re a fool.”
I grab the handrail and pull myself up. “N-Not at all. I’m already provided for.” I bow my head and try to move around him, but he sidesteps and blocks my path. A buzz of fear creeps up my spine.
He leans close. His hot breath smells of fish when he speaks. “You’d do better providing for the monsters below.”
I gape and glance past the handrail. If I wanted to, I could jump past the lip of the opening and fall into that endless darkness. How long would it take for me to hit?
“Move it, Grodd.”
A sigh escapes me. Unach’s voice has never sounded so sweet.
Grodd turns and glares at Unach over his shoulder. He has several inches on her . . . and more of those turquoise beads, I notice. “What business is it of yours?” His tone is hard, but not entirely disrespectful. Meanwhile, several passing trolls duck their heads away, as though wanting to be unnoticed. I wonder at their deference.
“Council business,” she answers flatly.
A smirk pulls on Grodd’s lips. He turns his back to me, and I use the opportunity to slip into the corridor and loop around to Unach. He must see the lack of mirth on her face, for his smirk fades. “You jest.”
She gives him a cold look without answering, then starts down the corridor again, and this time I stick to her heels like a pup. I glance over my shoulder once, to see Grodd watching me, his mouth pulled into a frown, his eyes dark.
Once we reach a quiet set of stairs, I ask, “Who was that?”
“A self-important Montra. Stay away from him.” She descends, leaving no room for follow-up.
We walk for a while, always descending, passing all sorts of doors and rooms and atriums I want to know about. But Unach is a woman on a mission, and she does not give a tour, except to announce the south dock when we arrive. It opens just as the gardens did, but the mouth is much wider, the sun dimmer, and there are no guardrails. One other troll occupies the dock, a shorter troll—still a head taller than myself—thickly built and girded about with both animal skins and leather straps covered in various knives. His skin is bright as a blade of spring grass in the morning sun.
“What in the dark pits is this?” he asks when I follow Unach in.
“Council orders,” she says blandly. She sounds tired and immediately goes to an open chest full of cords, ropes, and straps. “She’s hunting with us.” She points a thumb at the troll and introduces him as Troff.
Troff lets out a belly laugh that echoes through the dock, but when Unach doesn’t join in, it piddles out to nothing. “You’re serious.” He studies me, his gaze narrow, skeptical. I’ve always been tall, especially for a woman, but under that gaze I feel a slip of a thing. A child.
“Yep. Don’t ask me why.” Unach pulls out a clump of straps and holds them toward me, as though measuring me. “Unless you want to explain?”