Free Chronicles of Gilderam: Book One: Sunset by Kevin Kelleher

We won’t be moored here through the night.”
    “My things?”
    “I don’t expect anyone should want to sail on with us after last night.”
    “My Lady!” Levwit sprang around Shazahd to face her. “With your permission, it would be my greatest pleasure to continue aboard your magnificent vessel for as long as you’ll allow it.”
    “You wish to carry on with us?”
    “Of course! You see, I’m a wanderer. I live to travel. And I’m also a bit of an admirer of airships. This ship is a marvel of modern engineering, and I’m completely in love with it. Also,” the marquis produced a tiny piece of paper from a pocket, “the ticket here says I get dropped off in Potholos.” He smiled broadly, and Shazahd couldn’t help but smile back.
     
     
    By the time Shazahd, Galif and Pawl made it to street level, foot traffic was at its height. Owein had brought Fulo, Gor’m and Cavada to escort them. Levwit Balkenthron, the Marquis of Pwij, had insisted on coming along too.
    Erand served as the commercial hub for the surrounding agricultural community, which mixed incongruously with city residents and foreign visitors. Perfumed lords and bejeweled ladies strode shoulder to shoulder with dirt-covered farmhands wearing the drab tunics of peasantry. Landowners and laborers shared the road with equanimity.
    “Gor’m – now there’s a charming name,” said Levwit to the gigantic bodyguard. “Tell me, is it short for something?” Gor’m snorted, and the sound was like a tiny earthquake. “Dear me! I bet you have a lovely singing voice.” The brute eyed him sideways.
    “Don’t be offended by his silence,” said Fulo. “He doesn’t talk much.”
    “Does he sing?”
    Fulo chuckled, then laughed full out. “You know, in all our years together, I can’t say I’ve ever heard him sing. Gorahem prefers to express himself in other ways. Usually with a sword. Or club. Or rock.”
    “Ah. The strong, silent, murderous type, I see.”
    “Are you guys noticing something?” Owein asked as he shouldered past another person squeezing to get by him.
    “It’s a bit crowded, eh?” said Fulo, blatantly elbowing someone out of his way.
    “Not just that. We’re headed this way, but everyone else seems to be headed that way.”
    The others saw it, too. They were going upstream. The entire population of Erand seemed to be moving in one direction only.
    “Excuse me,” said Owein to a passerby. “But do you know where everyone is going?”
    The two stopped amid the throng, and the stranger cocked an eyebrow at him. Judging by his expensive clothes and clean hands, Owein guessed he was a merchant.
    “You’re not from around here, are you?” said the merchant.
    “Just passing through.”
    “Well, word has gotten out that Councilor Thalius was killed in the night during a hijacking gone wrong. You know, Imperial Councilor Thalius?”
    Owein looked back to the group. They were still moving. Shazahd was easy to spot, being taller than the others and leading the pack in a bright white dress and hat. She stood out like a beacon against the dark, earthy colors of Erand.
    “Yeah, I know. So what?”
    “So what? So the Empress is going to declare war on Divar. He was the only councilor to oppose it. We’re heading to the Cathedral of Geithoron to hear the announcement.”
    “What announcement?”
    “My, you really aren’t from around here, are you? The Church is about to excommunicate the entire country. You better hurry – you won’t want to miss the show!” And the merchant vanished into the crowd, leaving Owein standing like a rock in a turbulent sea of bodies.
    “ Excommunicate …” he echoed to himself, then ran to catch up with the others. “Shazahd!” he called out, pushing his way past the denizens. “Shazahd! We may have to cut this trip a little short.”
    “Short? Why?”
    “Nonsense,” said Pawl. “We’re already here.” He indicated the storefront.
    Owein rejoined them just as they were about to