Gorgoroth (Haladras #2)

SEVENTEEN

Rolander scarcely ever left the castle or its grounds. He never felt like he belonged in the boundless city living under the shadow of Castle Ahlderon. His own home planet of Haladras was so different. The glittering city possessed as many buildings as Haladras possessed inhabitants, if not more. And of the quantity of in habitants in the city-there seemed to be no end. He wasn't used to being around so many people. He wasn't used to so many people seeing his missing appendage. Above all, he'd never ventured into the city alone.

Unlike how most people treated him since losing his hand, Jonobar expressed confidence in Rolander. That confidence bolstered Rolander now as moved closer to the city below.

Despite the warm weather, Rolander wore his jacket. Not because he felt cold, though. So he could hide his arm within its folds.

Soon he would have a new hand. Just two days before, the new curriculum from Strybrn had arrived. Since then, Rolander had done little else but study it. He took all his meals in his bedchamber-sometimes never touching the food-and slept only when his eyes refused to stay open any longer. Even now he would be studying and working had he not promised to grant Professor Jonobar's request. Part of him wished he'd not agreed to help his tutor smuggle the contraband into the castle. Even if it was only tea leaves, they were illegal. How could he dissappoin his tutor-the man who gave him real hope of regaining his hand?

Rolander quickened his pace, not wanting to be out longer than necessary. He'd left the castle with permission from Krom, under the pretense that he wished to purchase a birthday gift for Skylar's mother. Inside, he smarted at the thought of this lie. Mostly because he felt like he ought to get her a present. What would he buy for here? He didn't have any ideas, or time. He would have to think of something later. Most of all because Krom might ask what he bought for her.

He shook his head, trying to clear it of such uncomfortable thoughts.

The old stone road, worn smooth by a century of travel, led him down the hill atop where the mighty castle-fortress sat. His mind wandered back to those days of antiquity, before the empire even knew of other planets, before man could travel across the universe, before man could build a mechanical hand. Still, no man had accomplished the later. He would be the first. He and Jonobar-together.

These thoughts of the old world turned his mind toward Haladras. His faraway home-planet always felt too archaic for his liking. The harsh climate brought out the survival instinct in people, rather than the instinct to build and create. He didn't belong on Haladras. He didn't truly belonged on this planet, either. Not outside the castle anyway, away from his mechanics...and Jonobar.

Soon the city engulfed him, and his anxiety heightened. Tall shining buildings rose on either side of him, like walls of mirrors hemming in the stream of activity on the main road. Rolander carefully weaved his way through the bustling side street, as numberless transports raced by from either direction. At times, Rolander felt as if the crowd were carrying him against his will, like a log caught in a river's current. He felt, too, that he could drown in that crowd, trampled underfoot and never noticed-never missed.

Eventually, he pushed his way through the crowd and turned down one of side streets. This one, though crowded, was not an arterial route. Fewer people clogged the way, and he found it easier to breathe. So, he went on, slowly navigating his way from one street to the next, until he came to the old industrial district of the city.

Once he saw it, Rolander wished to return to the crowded streets he'd just come from. Here, though the streets didn't teem with life, the little life it did have reeked of coarseness and poverty. After passing several men who didn't look fit to be trusted, he felt grateful that he had come during the light of day. Every person he passed-he could feel their eyes trained on him. He sped up his pace.