The Great Healing Hall of House Jorasco was the largest to be found in Breland, and Sivis Tower was a nexus for communication across Khorvaire.
If the dragonmarked houses held power to rival nations, then the district of Dragon Towers was where they maintained their embassies and consulates.
The services of the dragonmarked were expensive, and the people who thronged the streets were not the peasants and beggars found on the lower level. Here aristocrats rubbed shoulders with knights and merchant princes. The street was a tapestry of colorful silk, and the air filled with the scents of rare perfumes and the exotic spices of the Ghallanda vendors.
Pierce had an intuitive understanding of combat. A shifting shadow, the glint of a blade, the smell of fire—he would know how to respond to such things. But he had no guidelines for the sorrow of a friend. It was not the first time he had seen pain or anger. He himself still felt the loss of each comrade who had fallen in the war—a hollow emptiness when he envisioned the faces of Jholeg or Jani. But no one had ever taught him what to do with these feelings or how to address the sorrow of another.
The black anvil indicates that the smith has been trained and licensed by a Cannith guild and that his work will meet the standards set by the house. But he is not an heir of the blood and could be of no use to us.”
“You have no place here,” Dravot said. His voice was as cold as his expression. “You have been declared excoriate, and have no rights to the name of this house. You are to have no dealings with this house or its heirs, and you are not to present yourself at enclaves of the house. Failure to comply with the dictates of the house will be … dealt with.” His hand dropped to one of his wands.
“Dragonshards are magically active minerals. Common Eberron dragonshards store and focus magical energy. These form the basis of many of the conveniences we take for granted, such as the everbright lantern. Sky shards fall from the Ring of Siberys. These amplify the natural powers of a dragonmark. Sivis message stones, Jorasco altars of healing … these all rely on sky shards.”
When human settlers first came to Khorvaire, they found the remains of a great goblin empire—a civilization shattered long ago and left to ruin. Hobgoblins and bugbears lurked in the mountains and harsh lands, while goblins remained in the ruins of their ancient cities.
But the humans of Sarlona were determined to claim this new land as their own. When Malleon the Reaver landed on the shores of the Dagger River, he enslaved the local goblins and forced them to work on his fortress city—a city that would be destroyed in the War of the Mark. Six hundred years later, King Galifar began work on the new city of Sharn, and he promised freedom to all goblins who would serve him as soldiers and laborers.
The hobgoblins ruled Khorvaire long before humanity had arrived, and a charismatic warlord was determined to use the fall of Galifar as a stepping stone for the future of his people. He managed to win the loyalty of many of the other mercenary chieftains, and at a critical point in the war the soldiers turned on both sides and laid claim to the territory they were supposed to be protecting, proclaiming the new nation of Darguun.
Between the squalor of High Walls and Malleon’s Gate, the cold militant atmosphere of Daggerwatch, the pretentious luxury of Dalan’s Refuge, and the relentless good cheer of Den’iyas, Daine had seen more diversity than he had in years, but nothing prepared him for Hareth’s Folly. Set halfway down the great tower of Dura, the Folly was a bizarre assortment of spires and small towers. Every building was completely different. Architectural styles, building materials, color schemes … nothing matched. A traditional Brelish tower of stone and mortar stood next to a gnarled spire of Aerenal densewood, which appeared to have been carved from the trunk of a single massive tree. A squat keep of red brick dominated a square covered with glittering silver sand. The sky was just as chaotic. The upper levels of the towers were connected by a tangle of bridges, a labyrinth of wood, stone, and rope. Flying creatures were darting in and around the towers.
His grandfather had spoken of the last conjunction with Dolurrh, the Realm of the Dead, and how the soldiers that fell in battle simply refused to die. While these conjunctions were rare and temporary, there were places in the world where the touch of the outer planes was always felt. Sharn was one of these. The bond to the plane of Syrania enhanced the powers of flight, and this supported the spells that prevented the vast towers from falling.
“The War of the Mark established the twelve dragonmarked houses that exist today. Supposedly, the houses came together to put an end to aberrant marks—to prevent crossbreeding and to destroy those already tainted by the darkness.”
“We can’t go back there,” Hugal said. “The land can’t support life. We know that. But it is still our homeland. It is our past—and perhaps our path to the future. There is power in Cyre. You’ve seen the wonders and horrors that lie beyond the mist. What if we can harness that power? How could anyone stand against us then?”
Daine considered. Eventually he said, “I will never forgive Wroann for her role in starting the war. I don’t know if I can ever look at a Brelish soldier and see anything but an enemy. But Cyre always stood for peace and for wisdom. We fought to preserve our nation, not out of a desire for conquest or revenge. If we turn against that now … then we will be the ones who truly destroy Cyre.”
“A pleasure,” Kasslak said, dipping his hooded head. “Rhazala, you may stay, but please close the door.” He walked over to a desk set against the northern wall and idly shifted a few sheets of parchment while he talked. “Sharn was built by the hands of the goblins, and Malleon’s Gate has been their home for centuries. The goblins have long been mistreated by humanity and its cousins, but nonetheless, a balance had been struck. That changed with the rise of Darguun, as the larger and more powerful goblinoids emerged from their mountain fortresses to spread across the land. The Darguuls have their own traditions, and over the last few decades the balance of power has been lost.”
“What was it?” Daine said, slowly getting to his feat and examining his sword. “Part of the sewer system, I think,” Lei said. “I told you it was fascinating. A living system for dissolving and disposing of the garbage that gets sent down here.”