Free City of Dreams and Nightmare by Ian Whates Page A

through!” mingled with those of the traders hawking their wares.
    And the smells; oh, the smells. The richness of freshly roasted coffee assailed his nostrils one moment, the pungency of exotic spices the next. There was the ripe smell of animal dung to one side, the sweetness of ripened fruit to the other, as he strolled beside barrows laden with melons and brightly coloured citrus. He took time to wander through one of the fish halls, its oddly tilted floor damp with melted ice – tilted so that melt-water, blood, gore and scales could be readily washed away at the day’s end. The tang of the sea and of fish flesh was everywhere.
    He remained vigilant, however, despite the distracting environment; conscious of how close he was to the City Below, which now lay immediately beneath his feet. Recent experience had shown him all too clearly what to expect from those who lived there.
    Having sated his curiosity, Tylus eventually made his way to the designated stairwell. The market represented, in effect, the ground level of Thaiburley, flowing out beyond its walls and spreading into the meadow beyond; although even this was a deceptively simplistic assertion, since the city was built against and indeed into a great buttress of rock, a veritable mountain that both supported and helped shape the City of Dreams. The stairwell that Tylus now took was accessed via an arched doorway on the inside of the city’s walls. As he approached, a mother emerged, shooing two scrawny children before her. There seemed a furtiveness about them, though perhaps not. Perhaps the young Kite Guard’s perceptions were merely coloured by his knowledge of where they had come from and where he was about to go.
    The stairs began immediately beyond the archway, descending in a long curve, the way lit by a series of flickering torches. Almost at once there was a noticeable change in the texture of the passageway, as the stairs carried him beneath the city walls and into the very rock they were built upon. He passed nobody else on the descent and, used to stepping from one floor to another within the city itself, was unprepared for the experience of an enclosed passageway. It felt as if he was making his lonely way into the depths of some mythical hell.
    Was it his imagination, or could he smell something unpleasant as well? Was this what hell smelt like?
    His relief when the tunnel ended was considerable. It had only lasted for a couple of minutes, but discomfort had made it seem far longer. The stairs now clung to a rock face in order to reach the floor of a vast cavern, and he caught the first view of his destination. A panorama of human habitation stretched before him – far more than he had ever envisaged. In its way, the view was quite awe-inspiring. One thing, unfortunately, had not changed with his emergence from the passageway: the smell. With growing horror, Tylus realised that the City Below stank.
    He knew the way to the nearest Watch station, having checked the route before setting out. Nevertheless, Tylus soon discovered that seeing something on a schematic and being physically in the place were two entirely different things. He half hoped the relevant duty officer might have arranged an escort to guide him, since he’d contacted them about his arrival and wasn’t that much later than anticipated, but apparently not. The only people immediately by the stairway were a group of street-nicks who eyed him with smirks on their faces and whispered comments behind shielding hands.
    He did his best to look assured and imposing as he strode past them.
    Now, if memory served him right, the quickest way to the station was straight ahead, and then to turn right. He just hoped he could remember where to turn. A broad avenue led away from the steps. To his left stretched a long, low building, empty pallets stacked casually outside half-open doors; a warehouse by the look of it. A scrawny dog stretched out beside the pallets, watching him without raising