and her footing was less sure. Dunsany only hoped that Win could provide a suitable bed at the palace for her.
They followed Win along narrow streets hemmed in by tall buildings. There was a face at every window and doorway they passed. Most turned away at the first glance though, expressions of disappointment on their features, as though they had expected the strangers to be more exotic, maybe even creatures of a different race. Dunsany understood and shared their disappointment. Here they were on a previously uncharted island and the people around him could have been his fellow countrymen. The buildings that towered above them looked as though they could have been built from Turnitia stone. When they had planned the voyage, he and Kelos has been full of visions of fearsome new lands, peopled by strange beasts and promising exotic treasures. But what they had found was merely more of their own kind.
Dunsany had to concede, however, the fact that Morat rode on the back of a vast wave really was impressive.
It took a long time to move through the outer districts of the city, as Win insisted on stopping every few minutes to shake the hands of his subjects and inquire after their well-being. It seemed that he knew almost everyone they passed on a deep personal level.
"This you must taste," he said, stopping at a market stall and handing each of the crew a small pastry, before paying the trader.
"For the love of - " Ignacio exclaimed after taking a bite. "Well, I think that I may no longer have any taste buds."
"My eyes are watering." Dunsany said.
"Indeed, it is a little bit tart," said Father Maylan, finishing his pastry in two bites.
"Fantastic aren't they?" Win said. "Worth stopping for I think. Anyway, onwards."
Eventually the narrow streets turned into wide thoroughfares which started to descend in a series of terraces. Win led them through a district where the buildings were lower and larger than those near the docks, each displaying a lavish garden, through which rang the sounds of children playing and water trickling.
"This is the education district," Win said. "There are many specialisations. That building there, for example, is the Institute of Mechanised Puppetry. And over there we have the School of Salinity Studies."
"Sorry, but are you saying there's a place where you can go to learn how to measure the saltiness of things?" Dunsany said.
"Well, yes. Of course." Win said, as though it was the most natural thing in the world. "There's a school for pretty much every discipline."
They carried on downwards, negotiating flight after flight of precipitous stone steps. Dunsany noticed that in a dark alcove beneath each were candles burning in front of what appeared to be shrines. On closer inspection he found that in each shrine there was a carving depicting Kerberos; most often with the sun edging out of its shadow, sometimes with the added symbol of a ship sailing away from the planet.
"You wish to make an offering to the Allfather before we enter the palace?" Win said.
"No. It's just interesting to see that Kerberos holds religious significance for the people of Morat. It is the same on Twilight, although I'm sure that your church is much less dictatorial than our own."
They were leaving daylight behind now. Even though the sun was still a long way from setting, very few of its rays reached this deep into Morat. They had descended to the city's lowest levels and the streets here were lit with torches that gave off a curious fragrance as they burned, reminding Dunsany of the Allantian spice markets. Fewer people moved through this district, and those that did were attired in clothes which marked them out to be officials of some sort.
"Welcome to the palace of Morat," Win said.
"Palace?" Jacquinto said, looking about him. "Where?"
They had stopped in front of a dark wood door set into an unremarkable wall, which followed the curve of the street on either side and stretched high above them.
"After you, honoured guests," said Win, opening the door.
The palace was as modest on the inside as it was on the outside.
They entered a damp stone corridor, lined at regular intervals with more of the aromatic torches. The only concessions to luxury were the rugs that lined the floor, but even these were threadbare and black in places with ground-in dirt. As the crew crowded into the cramped space Win closed the door behind them and then shouldered his way through the group - apologising