The buildings were all made of stone, stretching between two and four stories tall. The packed dirt paths they’d been following had been left behind in favor of meticulously maintained stone paths. While there was little in the way of plant life, thanks to the high altitude and bitter cold weather that likely plagued the city all year round, Temit was still picturesque with exquisite works of art everywhere he looked.
Fountains burbled from nearly every corner, with water spouting from carved stone statues of mermaids, dragons, and human figures engaged in one form of celebration or another. Murals covered walls in rich color, depicting more scenes of celebration.
And woven through all of it were the colors black and purple—the colors of the Dead God. His symbol was everywhere. The fractured crystal appeared in every work of art, carved into every wooden door, and inset into the stonework on buildings. The Dead God was everywhere and part of everything still.
Considering the starkness of the country he’d seen so far, Caelan had expected something a little more like the villages with their rough simplicity and general lawless feel. Where eyes followed them whenever they entered a rustic village, now no one paid them the slightest bit of attention.
If anything, there was an almost festive feel to the air of Temit. The people on the street were richly dressed and lively, engaged in happy conversation and shouting greetings to familiar faces at every turn. Shops were lit up bright against the encroaching evening darkness and intricately wrought-iron lanterns were popping on to glow a warm yellow light as they rode down one of the main streets.
“There are no cars,” Caelan said suddenly as the realization hit him. It had been so long since he’d even seen one that he hadn’t even thought of it at first. Since leaving their own behind, he’d caught only glimpses of a few trucks as they traveled across Zastrad, but now that they were in a major city, it was stunning to find zero cars anywhere.
People here were largely on foot, but there were bicycles as well as lots of horses, particularly those drawing carriages. There was only a scattering of motorized scooters. Even those ran silently, indicating they were electric rather than gas powered.
“No cars or trucks in Temit or in Mrtyu as far as I know,” Vale volunteered. “They wouldn’t be able to get them up the road to Mrtyu anyway. Everything that goes up is taken via horse-drawn carriage or the cable tram, but even that has a weight limit and can only run when the winds aren’t too high.”
“Why not in Temit? Can’t they get trucks up here?” Drayce inquired.
Vale shook her head. “Shipments come in from the coastal towns via truck, but the roads through the city are too narrow for them. They have a special shipping area just outside the walls for unloading and loading the trucks. From there, everything is divided up and brought into the city via wagon. Nothing larger than a motorized scooter is allowed within Temit.”
“Where’s the road to Mrtyu?” Rayne demanded.
Their guide’s smile slipped a little, but she pushed on as she pointed toward the northwest. “Other side of town. We’ll find a suitable hotel in that direction.”
Eno slowed his horse and nudged it closer to Caelan when a man in a deep red suit and black top hat staggered out of a building, smelling heavily of alcohol and laughing loudly. He stumbled into Caelan’s horse, causing it to sidestep and toss its head, but Caelan quickly got him under control. The man just gave him a lopsided grin and continued down the street as if nothing had happened.
“Is there a festival going on right now? A holiday?” Eno grumbled. There were a surprising number of people on the streets as they neared what had to be the dinner hour. Shouldn’t everyone be heading home or at home already following a long day of work? Yet, they all seemed to be happy meandering along the street, popping in to the bars, restaurants, and shops as if the hour wasn’t late at all.
“Nope. This is just Temit,” Vale said with a shrug.
Drayce twisted in his saddle to look back at the woman. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Temit is nothing like the places you’ve seen so far. That’s a sort of wild, cutthroat celebration of the Dead God. They like to honor him by killing each other.”
“And they don’t worship death in Temit?”
“Nah, they do, but Temit is more about living life right up to the edge of death. To live so full that the Dead God will choose you because you appreciated his world so completely. Here, life is a nonstop party. It’s about experiencing everything you can before the Dead God claims you. Every night, people fill the streets to eat, drink, do drugs, and fuck. Live life to its fullest. And in the morning, they all stumble into the churches and offer all those experiences up to the Dead God. If they live, they go out and do it all over again. If they don’t, the Dead God must be happy.”