Loren squinted up at the dizzyingly bright sky, shading his eyes with one hand. Seagulls were circling high above, so high that their shrieks could hardly be heard, then all of a sudden the whole flock seemed to reach the same decision at once and abruptly their flight got a new determination.
A glance after them showed what was so interesting: a large fishing boat was emerging from behind a little point. That was where all the gulls and terns and kittiwakes were now homing in, in the hopes of an easy meal. Loren smiled to himself.
"You look happy."
"I am happy," Loren said simply and turned to look at Arjan. He was rewarded by a little grin and heroically resisted the urge to grab that long black ponytail that was swaying lazily right and left, in rhythm with Arjan's leisurely steps.
They had now spent over four weeks in Saygorr, alternately lazing and exploring, and Loren could already claim to have a pretty good idea of the city's layout in his head. Of course they'd started with the Fifth and made sure Loren knew the area surrounding Karos' apartment, but had soon expanded their range.
They'd made numerous more or less systematic trips down to each one of the Levels below, spending there whole days and marveling at the differences between them. It was amazing how just one long flight of steps could mean such a change in the atmosphere.
There was the First Level, the lowest and largest of them all, with its picturesque seafront boulevards and posh hotels, brightly illuminated theaters and restaurants. It also boasted the Casino, a fascinating building that was clearly trying to imitate a traditional Baldániy palace and in fact succeeded rather well. One evening Loren and Arjan had armed themselves with some packed snacks, not forgetting a sketchbook, and parked for an entire evening in an inconspicuous spot right outside the Casino to gape at the display of wealthy boredom that walked past them in a steady stream and disappeared inside.
They had explored the busy shopping streets and financial quarters on the Second Level. They'd snooped around the numerous handicraft workshops on the Third and then continued upwards, not omitting a single Level. They had even ventured all the way up to the Seventh, the poorest, seediest part of the city, inhabited by those who couldn't possibly afford any kind of a dwelling lower down. The people living there had only two choices: to make the grueling trek down and up the mountainside every day to reach their jobs, provided that they had one, or else try to scrape together a living on the Seventh, where the only luxury was the stupendous scenery.
Yes, by now Loren could say that he knew his way around Saygorr with some confidence. He'd also learned that even though they were on the southern coast of the Princedom of Baldón, there were very few people in Saygorr who didn't speak any Revnashi. Arjan's assurances had been correct: even though the Baldániy were famous for taking great pride in the princedom's long history and distinctive language, this was a place where nobody who wanted to make a living could afford not to speak the Revnashi.
Lots of Revnashi had settled in to live in the city, even greater numbers of wealthy visitors frequented the place, and they wanted service in their own language. Initially Loren had been worried about maybe having to learn Baldániy, but now he could heave a sigh of relief – although, to be quite honest, the sound of it had begun to intrigue him. Both Arjan and his father, as Revnashi as anyone could be, had a passable command of the language, and many of their friends spoke it between themselves even though they could switch into Revnashi at the drop of a hat.
And of course it would've been nice to be able to decipher the writing, he thought, looking at a gate they were passing by. Attached to it was a name plate, engraved with the ornamental, florid Baldániy – the name of the house, perhaps, or of the family?
They were strolling along a sandy path that was sloping steadily down, very gradually and yet discernibly towards the South End. Here the main road, running through the entire city like a carefully folded ribbon, descended towards the bend where it made a complete U-turn and began to run northwards once more, to the Fourth Level.
This was a part of the city they hadn't been to before, because there were no shops or cafes or other sights around here. This was a residential area, its streets lined with houses bigger and smaller, each surrounded by a carefully tended garden inside a neat fence.
Loren observed once again that height was a typical feature in Saygorr: every square inch of usable land was precious. Land was available in strictly limited quantities, unless one wanted to attack sheer rock or thin air, and was therefore used sparingly. Even though the plots weren't big, especially here in the wealthier area a garden seemed to be a definite must, so the houses had to be small in footprint and the required spaciousness was achieved by building upwards. Every single house had at least two stories, some also had a high basement, and little turrets and towers were a popular addition.
"They're charming," he said to Arjan, who had stopped and was opening the sketchbook he'd been carrying.
"Mm-hmm," Arjan agreed absently.
Loren shrugged. An assessing glance at his friend told him Arjan was going to be stuck on the spot for at least the next ten minutes, so he walked slowly further down the street, careful to remain within sight. Oh, he was confident that he'd find his way back even without his friend, but it was so much more fun to explore together. Particularly here, where Arjan by his own admission hadn't been very many times in his life, so they both could expect to discover something new.
The houses were indeed charming, and a big part of their charm were all those dainty colors, Loren decided. Pastel yellows and blues, baby-pinks and pale lilac, gentle greens and grays with just a breath of lavender... They were like blossoms, or rather bouquets, with contrast-colored trimmings and delicate woodwork or carved stone everywhere to catch the eye.
Fascinated, he strolled from one house to the next, marveling at each one. They looked so alien to him, used as he was to the much more rugged and substantial style of his home county. His eye was accustomed to massive logs and graphite-dark stone, buildings that looked like they had grown out of the ground, just like the big trees of the famous black woods of Beltrionas that provided the backdrop.
This was the seaside, too, he thought, so it was strange that the sea and its eternal winds hadn't beaten the vegetation and houses into submission. Along their journey he'd learned to tell from the lopsided trees and the landscape in general when they were approaching the coast, but Saygorr was in a class of its own. Exposed as it was to the sea, somehow the mountain around it formed this sheltered pocket where bushes could blossom. Such as the enormous roses Loren could see ahead, in a garden that right then caught his eye.
Intrigued, he went closer to the house and only stopped at the black wrought-iron gate, fingers curling around its vertical bars. The house was old, that much he could see, and looked surprisingly large. It was surrounded entirely by a handsome iron fence, and on the street side the garden consisted of some small conifers that had obviously been cut into shape sometimes and then neglected badly. Behind the house, however, the garden was an entirely different matter. It was a riot of overgrown rose bushes in full bloom, as if competing with each other. There were white roses, yellow roses, dark crimson roses, roses that matched the muted pink walls of the house...
Loren tried to peer deeper into the garden but failed. It was so forlorn, forgotten, and as he raised his face to take another look at the house itself, he felt a shiver. Its windows looked like sad eyes to him, dim and empty like the eyes of an old person living in distant dreams. He sighed, frowning, and leaned against the gate, then yelped when it let out a quiet squeak and began to swing open.
"Hey, what're you doing?"
"Nothing," Loren replied, glancing defensively over his shoulder at Arjan, who was walking briskly towards him. "I was just leaning against this gate but it wasn't locked."
"Looks deserted," Arjan observed. "Pity, it's a lovely house. Ooh, and what a garden!"
"Any idea whose house this is?" Loren asked, backing into the street and pulling the gate shut with him. Deserted or not, it felt like trespassing to stand inside the gate, no matter how he'd have wanted to take a closer look at the garden.
"No," Arjan said, eyebrows crunching. "Funny... can't remember ever seeing this one before. But then, I haven't really been around this part of the town too many times. Come!"
"Are you crazy?" Loren's eyes grew wide as Arjan simply stepped past him and pushed the gate open. "It's private property!"
"So what? It doesn't look like anyone's living here," Arjan shot back, shoes crunching on the gravel path. "And if there is someone after all, we'll apologize, I'll say that I wanted to look at the lovely flowers and you'll say that you didn't do nothing, you're just following this crazy artist around!"
"You're an idiot," Loren grumbled under his breath but followed his friend around the corner anyway.
As soon as he set foot there, he realized something: for some reason the house had in a way been built 'turned around'. On the street side it looked relatively uninteresting, perhaps even a little forbidding because no entrance could be readily seen. Its true face was only revealed when one walked around it. Over here, facing the sea and the precipice, was the 'parade side' with a welcoming main entrance next to a surprisingly large patio. Here it was also amply clear that the house was definitely deserted: the door was barred and fallen leaves almost covered the walk and the patio.
"Wow," Arjan said perhaps for the fifth or sixth time, hands on hips. "This is beautiful! I can't understand why nobody's living here, though."
"I think I might have an idea," Loren mused aloud, eyes measuring the house. "You've told me that the rich people don't bother coming this high up, right? That they want to stay closer to all the amusements?"
"Yes, but what's that got to do with anything?"
"It looks a lot bigger than the other houses around here, so I bet it's not exactly cheap. Who'd want to have such a big house up here, and who could afford it?"
"You do have a point there."
Loren waded through the garden debris on the patio and peered in through the tall windows, shading his eyes with both hands to get a better view. He saw a large open space – a ballroom, perhaps – and on its one side a curving, graceful staircase rising up to the second floor. Under the staircase loomed something that might have been a baby grand piano covered with a large cloth.
"Oh boy," sighed Arjan who had joined his friend at the window. "It's beautiful on the inside, too."
"Such a pity," Loren said and took a step back. "Hey, just in case someone comes by, maybe we ought to look a little less like we're about to burgle the place. You wanted to see the garden, right?"
When they ventured deeper into the garden run riot, they found that the iron fence encircled the whole plot, and with good reason, too: the garden was right on the outer edge of the rock platform that formed the Fifth Level. There were a few paths entwined among the bushes and trees, and the boys even found something that had been a small arbor, almost next to the dizzying fall that loomed right outside the sturdy fence.
Loren couldn't resist the temptation, he just had to kneel on the rock beside the fence and peek down over the roofs of the Fourth Level.
"What?" He glanced over his shoulder at Arjan, who was laughing under his breath.
"You're hopeless."
"Huh?" Loren frowned.
"I keep telling you, but you still have no idea how goddamn sexy you are." Arjan slapped his bottom and sat down as well. "On all fours there, just like that..."
Loren flushed red. "Don't."
"There's nobody here," Arjan argued and scuttled closer, legs sliding around Loren on both sides, arms snaking to hug his waist. "Really, if there's one outdoors place in Saygorr right now where we definitely won't be disturbed, it's this!"
Arjan's lips and tongue on his throat were terribly distracting, Loren thought. Besides, the place was deserted all right, and he couldn't help thinking back to the few times when they'd actually done something like this in the open, outside, not confined within the safety of four walls and a roof. The open sky and the wind on bare skin, even the prickling of raindrops, had turned him on something fierce. And yet...
"Let's go into the arbor," he panted when Arjan's fingers found their way to the waistband of his trousers.
"No way," Arjan snorted nibbling on Loren's lower lip. "It's bound to be half full of dry leaves and stuff. You don't want those anywhere sensitive, do you?"
Loren threw his head back and gasped, listening to Arjan's hand that squeezed him through the underwear. He couldn't help bucking up to the touch and Arjan laughed.
"Why the hell didn't you take your painting stuff along?" Loren growled plaintively, working on the string that tied Arjan's hair back. It came loose and the black cascade tumbled free, sliding between his fingers as he combed them through it.
Arjan raised a flushed face and arched an eyebrow, lips very red.
"What's wrong with my sketching?" he asked distractedly.
"I much prefer linseed oil to a pencil," Loren managed to deadpan. Arjan stared at him for a moment, then broke into laughter.
"Godssakes, Loren, how I love you!"
"Because I like your cock much more than a pencil?" Loren pushed himself away and pulled off his trousers and underwear in one swift motion. "Not that I ever tried a pencil, anyway... damnit, Arjan, I want you inside me!"
"Even without linseed oil?" Arjan gasped when Loren pushed him on his back and opened his trousers. Loren grinned to him, lips glistening.
"Don't get too artistic with me, I'm just a rough country boy," he growled and set about providing some alternative lubrication.
