Aidan nodded thanks to the men who had stepped aside, but they only averted their eyes. The two mages joined the group, but there seemed to be a bubble of space around them that no one else would penetrate.
What's wrong with these people? Aidan thought.
And then he remembered. This was the first time he had been around ordinary humans since the fair all those months ago. Then, he had been a fatherless peasant, more likely to be kicked out of the way than to have a path made for him. Now though, he was a King's mage, capable of slaying or saving any of these people with a single word.
Eventually, as the road got closer to the city, the mash of people became closer and moved slower, except for around the two boys. Eventually, the people stopped moving altogether. Aidan was about to stop, but Timothy kept walking forward, his back straight and head held high. The other people on the road continued to move out of their way, some moving entire wagons off the road to let the young sorcerers pass. Aidan and Timothy passed every type of person possible, from street urchins to the only person who didn’t step out of their way, a fat man in a carriage holding a governor's scepter.
At long last they came to the gates of the city, where fifteen soldiers stood at attention. Five were armed with swords, five with pikes, and five with crossbows. Those with swords were having a heated conversation with the owner of a wagon stacked with at least three dozen cages, each housing a chicken.
"I know the rules, I can take up to fifty chickens into the city at once!" The man shouted.
"Not if they're sick chickens. The last thing we need is for you to give every fowl in this city a deadly disease. Now make yourself scarce, there are others who need to pass into the city,” the lead swordsman responded, hand on his pommel. He then turned to the boys, his hand never leaving his sword.
"King's mages. I doubt you would be so bold as to skip line if you weren't legitimate, but I still need proof that you are who you say you are. I've seen more than one street urchin try to sell staffs in this city."
Timothy smiled. "Ingo."
A flame sprung from the top of his staff and landed in his hand, dancing to an unknown song.
The soldier nodded and turned his hard gaze on Aidan. Out of the corner of his eyes, the young mage saw the first man dejectedly guiding his donkey and chicken-wagon out of the road, and Aidan couldn't help but feel pity for him.
He raised his obsidian staff towards the wagon. The chickens were indeed sick, fatally so. Their feathers were falling out and their eyes sunken. They would be dead within a week, and were already too diseased to eat.
"Saneo."
A blue light washed from the staff over the cages. As it fell on each bird, they began to stand, their eyes bright and alert. Aidan felt drained and tired, but the joy on the man's face made his act worthwhile.
The lead soldier smiled. "It's been a long time since I've seen a sorcerer that does anything useful with his magic. Welcome to Argentah, boys."
Argentah was just as busy as the road leading to it. A cobbled street ran through the entire city until it connected to the road on the other side. Every square foot of this street was packed with people, from the men selling bits of food at stalls to the shirtless children running underfoot. The wagons coming from one side to another weren't helping to decrease the chaos. One seemed to be broken down ahead, and was stopping the entire flow of traffic from the gates.
"We need an inn," Aidan said, feeling more and more nervous. Here, the people still refrained from bumping into them and gave them a certain degree of respect, but their bubble of safety had all but disappeared.
"What about that one?" Timothy asked, pointing to a two story building with windows facing the road.
Aidan cringed inwardly. The tavern could be considered shady at the best. The timbers were falling apart and the roof sagged one way. The sign above the door read "The Bloody Dagger."
They had no other choice though, they needed a room where they could watch the gates for Aaliyah.
Aidan sighed and walked to the door, hesitating for just a moment before stepping inside, Timothy right behind him.
The tavern was boisterous and loud, just as Aidan's mother had described them. Rough looking men sat around, and sometimes on, the round tables scattered throughout the room. Many of them were armed, and most were drunk to some degree. No one seemed to notice the sour odor that penetrated most of the room.
Aidan and Timothy pushed their way past some men who were having a drinking contest and came to the counter, where a potbellied old bartender was sliding filled mugs to his guests.
"I assume you sorcerers expect the best lodgings, free of charge?" he asked, his face unchanging. He was a fearsome sight, several inches taller than Aidan, with a huge scar stretching from his forehead around his eye and ending at his chin. His hand rested on the pommel of a short sword, the handle worn from use.