Chapter 158. Lì Shān

"LAND HO!"

The shout cut through Adom's sleep like a blade through silk.

He stirred in his hammock, the familiar sway of the ship beneath him giving way to something different—a subtle change in the rhythm that his body registered before his mind caught up.

The air had changed too. Where before it had carried nothing but salt and open ocean, now there was something else. Something with an undertone that made the hair on his arms stand up.

Magic. Dense enough to taste.

He rolled out of the hammock and made his way topside, squinting against the morning light. The deck was buzzing with activity, crew members pointing and chattering in excited voices.

"Would you look at that," one of the sailors was saying. "Never gets old, seeing it for the first time."

Adom reached the rail where Sam, Karion, and Damus stood looking out at the horizon. What he saw there made him understand the sailor's comment.

The land rising from the sea ahead of them looked like someone had taken a mountain range and decided that gravity was more of a suggestion than a law. Peaks floated in mid-air, connected by bridges of what appeared to be crystallized light. Waterfalls cascaded from nowhere, their sources lost in clouds that glowed with soft, internal luminescence. And threading between it all, tiny figures moved through the air with impossible grace.

"These guys are so different from us," Sam said, his voice carrying a note of awe.

Karion was practically vibrating with excitement. "They're cool! Look at that—they fly on swords. Literal swords. Why are we still flying with nothing or on brooms?"

"Because brooms work," Damus said without taking his eyes off the approaching coastline. "They're reliable, efficient, and they don't require you to balance on a sharp piece of metal."

"That's lame." Karion waved dismissively. "I'm going to enchant my mace to fly on it. Imagine the intimidation factor."

"Imagine the medical bills," Damus replied dryly. "Brooms have centuries of safety enchantments built into them. Weight distribution, stability charms, emergency landing protocols—"

"Boring safety features for boring people."

"Practical safety features for people who want to keep their internal organs internal."

"You sound like my grandfather. 'Oh Karion, don't climb the dragon statue, you might fall.' 'Oh Karion, don't weave fire spells indoors, you might burn down the house.'"

"Did you burn down the house?"

"That's not the point."

"It sounds like exactly the point."

"Look, all I'm saying is that if I'm going to fly through the air, I want to do it with style. A mace is stylish. A broom is what my grandmother uses to clean the kitchen."

Damus, Adom, and Sam all turned to look at Karion.

"What?"

"Aren't you a Dimitri?" Adom asked.

"Yeah?" Karion looked confused. "Why?"

"Like, one of the noblest of noble families in the empire?" Sam added.

Karion's chest puffed up slightly, though he tried to look casual about it. "I mean, we manage."

"Your grandmother cleans the kitchen herself?" Damus asked slowly. "With a broom?"

"Oh, that." Karion waved a hand. "She used to be a commoner. Grandfather met her in some tiny village when he was traveling incognito to avoid an arranged marriage. Love at first sight, apparently. She was hanging laundry and told him to move because he was blocking her clothesline." His expression softened just a bit. "He proposed three days later. Caused the biggest scandal in House Dimitri history until then."

"And she still cleans?" Sam asked.

"Says idle hands are the devil's playground. Refuses to let the servants touch her personal quarters." Karion shrugged. "Grandfather never tried to change her. Says it's part of why he fell in love with her in the first place. Anyway, point is, brooms are lame."

Damus raised an eyebrow. "So you want to abandon centuries of proven flight technology because your grandmother uses a broom to clean?"

"When you put it like that, it sounds stupid."

"It sounds stupid when you put it any way."

"Look, she's also never intimidated anyone in her life with that broom."

"I met your grandmother. She's terrifying."

"That's different. That's just personality. I'm talking about visual impact."

Adom found himself grinning as he listened to them argue.

Zuni, perched on his shoulder, made a small sound that might have been amusement. They do this often?

"Every chance they get," Adom murmured.

"Besides," Karion was continuing, "imagine the psychological warfare potential. Enemy sees you coming, thinks 'oh no, it's a guy with a sword, I can handle that.' Then you land and pull out a mace instead. Boom. Instant confusion."

"Or," Damus said patiently, "they think 'look, an idiot balancing on a weapon' and shoot you down before you get close enough for psychological warfare to matter."

"Details."

"Important details."

"You're just jealous because House Lightbringer is too dignified for creative flight solutions."

"House Lightbringer is too intelligent for creative flight solutions."

"Same thing."

"Not even remotely the same thing."

The ship was drawing closer to shore now, and Adom could make out more details of the floating city ahead. Lì Shān, according to the captain. A major trade hub for this part of the elven territories, and their first stop on the way to Silvandros. Where Morgana had been seen last.

"So what do you think?" Sam asked, nodding toward the approaching docks. "Ready to see how the other half lives?"

Adom watched a group of elven traders glide past on what appeared to be crystalline platforms, their robes flowing in defiance of any wind he could feel. "Should be interesting."

The gangplank hit the dock with a solid thunk, and Adom shouldered his pack as they prepared to disembark. Captain Henris stood near the rail, checking his manifest one final time.

"Captain," Adom said, extending his hand. "Thank you for the passage. Smooth sailing."

"My pleasure, Law," Henris replied, using the name from Adom's adventurer credentials. The Phoenix Guild badge had gotten them aboard without questions, which was exactly how these things were supposed to work. Guild affiliations were confidential by design—no real names, no personal details, just proof that you were legitimate enough to book passage and pay your bills.

The captain pocketed the gold coins Adom handed him, then gestured toward the bustling dock. "Few things you'll want to know before you head into Lì Shān. Currency here is jade, not gold. See that pavilion over there with the green banners? That's where you exchange. Fair rates, no funny business."

"Appreciated," Adom said.

"Also," Henris continued, lowering his voice slightly, "you might want to consider picking up some local robes. Nothing fancy, just something to blend in better. Elves notice foreign clothing, and trust me, you don't want to stand out more than you already will."

Karion looked down at his traveling clothes. "What's wrong with what we're wearing?"

"Nothing wrong with it. It just screams 'Sundarian tourists' to anyone with eyes." Henris scratched his beard. "Speaking of which, be careful around the young masters from the grand families. And the mage school students. They get... touchy about perceived slights."

"Touchy how?" Damus asked.

"Like, they'll slap you in the face for looking at them wrong, touchy."

Sam blinked. "I heard stories about that, but I always thought they were exaggerations."

"Wish they were. Saw a kid get backhanded last month because he didn't bow deep enough when some young lord walked past." Henris shook his head. "Elves can be quite emotional when their pride's involved."

"Emotional enough to start fights in public?" Adom asked.

"Emotional enough to start fights anywhere. The authorities usually side with whoever has the fancier robes, so just... keep your heads down and don't make eye contact unless you're buying something."

Karion snorted. "Sounds delightful."

"It's not so bad once you know the rules. Just remember—bow when in doubt, speak softly, and if someone starts getting aggressive, apologize immediately and walk away." Henris clapped Adom on the shoulder. "Safe travels, Law. Hope you find what you're looking for."

They made their way down the gangplank onto the dock, their boots clicking against polished stone that seemed to shimmer with its own inner light. The air was thick with the scent of incense and something floral that Adom couldn't identify.

Around them, elven dock workers moved with efficient grace, their robes flowing as they directed cargo and passengers. Most barely glanced at the new arrivals, but Adom caught a few curious looks directed their way.

"Well," Sam said, adjusting his pack straps, "when in Lì Shān..."

"Let's go find those robes," Damus finished.

The exchange pavilion was exactly where Captain Henris had said it would be, marked by green banners that fluttered in a breeze that seemed to carry hints of jasmine and something metallic. The woman behind the jade-inlaid counter looked up as they approached, her dark eyes curious but friendly.

She was different from the elves Adom was used to seeing back in Sundar. Her features were more angular, with high cheekbones and almond-shaped eyes that seemed to hold depths of ancient knowledge. Her black hair was pulled back in an elaborate knot secured with what appeared to be carved jade pins, and her robes were a deep emerald that brought out the subtle golden undertones in her skin.

"Welcome to Lì Shān," she said in accented Common, her voice carrying the musical quality that seemed universal among elves. "First time in Qínglóng?"

"Yes," Adom replied, pulling out his coin purse. "We're looking to exchange Sundarian gold for local currency."

"Ah, travelers from the western continent." She smiled, revealing teeth that were perfectly white. "The exchange rate today is quite favorable. Fifteen jade pieces per imperial gold."

It had taken them four days to reach this point, and Adom was still feeling the effects of the journey. Three different ships, each smaller and more cramped than the last, plus two portal jumps that had left his stomach somewhere back in the previous timezone. Qínglóng was a long way from Sundar, far enough that the very air felt different here.

The elf—her nameplate read 'Míng Yuè'—counted out their jade pieces with practiced efficiency. The currency itself was beautiful, each piece carved with intricate patterns that seemed to shift when you looked at them directly.

"Might I suggest the Flowing Silk establishment for clothing?" she asked as she handed over their exchanged currency. "Master Lǐ has the finest selection of robes for foreign visitors. Tell him Míng Yuè sent you, and he'll treat you fairly."

"Thank you," Adom said, pocketing the jade. "Any other advice for first-time visitors?"

"Keep your voices low in the market district, bow to anyone in mage robes, and avoid the tea houses after sunset unless you're looking for trouble." Her smile turned slightly mischievous. "Also, the street food near the third tier is excellent, but don't let them talk you into the 'special spice blend' unless you enjoy feeling like your tongue is on fire for three days."

They thanked her and made their way through the dock district toward the market.

The streets were paved with the same shimmering stone as the docks, and everywhere Adom looked, he saw signs of a culture that had seamlessly blended magic into daily life. Street lamps that glowed without flame, fountains that defied gravity by flowing upward, and vendors selling everything from crystallized lightning to what appeared to be bottled moonbeams.

"This place is incredible," Sam said, nearly walking into a lamppost because he was too busy staring at a shop window displaying floating scrolls.

"Focus," Damus said, though he was doing his own share of gawking. "We need those robes before we start looking like complete tourists."

"Too late for that," Karion muttered, dodging around a group of elven children who were playing some sort of sword game.

The Flowing Silk establishment turned out to be exactly what they needed. The shop was three stories tall, with robes hanging from enchanted displays that rotated slowly to show off the intricate embroidery. Master Lǐ himself was a elderly elf with silver-streaked hair and hands that moved like water as he gestured toward different sections of his inventory.

"Ah, human visitors from the west," he said, looking them up and down. "Míng Yuè sent you, yes? Good, good. Let me guess. You need something that won't mark you as complete outsiders, but nothing too elaborate. Simple scholar robes, perhaps? Or traveling merchant style?"

Adom looked around the shop, taking in the organized chaos of silk and cotton in every color imaginable. "Whatever you think would help us blend in."

"Practical choice," Master Lǐ nodded approvingly. "Come, come. Let us find you something appropriate for walking among civilized beings."

Karion was already fingering a deep blue robe with silver threading. "How much for this one?"

"For a mage of your standing? Quite reasonable," Master Lǐ replied without missing a beat.

Sam looked up from examining a display of jade buttons. "How did you know we were mages?"

Master Lǐ smiled, the expression crinkling the corners of his eyes. "Oh, my young friend, I have been in this business for five hundred years. You learn to read the signs."

"What signs?" Damus asked, genuinely curious.

"Well, for starters, you all wear enchanted spectacles that allow you to read our script. Most tourists struggle with the writing, but you four have been reading every sign and label without hesitation." He gestured toward Sam's glasses. "Those particular enchantments have a very subtle blue shimmer when they activate. Barely noticeable, but I notice everything."

Adom became aware of Zuni shifting on his shoulder. He'd made an artifact for the quillick to take the form of a small squirrel for this trip, complete with bushy tail and twitching whiskers. To most observers, he would appear to be a perfectly normal familiar.

"Also," Master Lǐ continued, moving to a rack of earth-toned robes, "your friend there carries himself like nobility but examines prices like a merchant. Your tall friend has the posture of someone trained in formal magic combat. And you," he looked directly at Adom, "have the bearing of someone accustomed to leadership, but you defer to the group's decisions. Classic adventuring party dynamics."

"Impressive," Adom said.

"Plus, your little squirrel friend there is far too interested in the flame-resistant fabrics for a normal animal," Master Lǐ added with a knowing glance at Zuni. "Shapeshifting artifacts are great yet so easy to detect."

Zuni chittered indignantly, which only made the old elf chuckle.

"Do not worry, little one. Your secret is safe. Now then," he clapped his hands together, "let us get you properly attired. I suggest earth tones for you three, and perhaps something in deep green for the young lord. Nothing too flashy, but well-made enough that you won't be mistaken for beggars."

"How can you tell I'm--" Karion started.

Master Lǐ just smiled.

Damus opened his mouth to ask something, caught the old elf's expression, and thought better of it.

Sam looked between his companions and the shopkeeper, then decided some questions were better left unasked.

"Right then," Master Lǐ said, seemingly pleased with their sudden understanding. "Let us get you properly clothed before you accidentally offend someone important with your foreign attire."

The elf led them up a narrow staircase to the fitting area, where mirrors lined the walls and silk samples hung in cascading waterfalls of color. The robes he'd selected were laid out on a low table—rich fabrics that caught the light and seemed to shimmer with their own inner glow.

"The cut is traditional," Master Lǐ explained as they examined the garments. "Wide sleeves for freedom of movement, but not so wide as to mark you as ceremonial scholars. The belt placement will indicate your social standing without being presumptuous."

Adom lifted his robe—deep charcoal silk with subtle silver threading along the seams. It was heavier than he'd expected, the fabric substantial between his fingers. "This is beautiful work."

"Five hundred years of practice," Master Lǐ said simply. "The young lord's green will complement his coloring nicely, and—"

From downstairs came the sound of the shop door banging open, followed by voices that carried clearly through the wooden floors.

"Master Lǐ! MASTER LǏ! Where are you, old man?"

The tailor's expression shifted almost imperceptibly. "If you'll excuse me for just a moment. Please, try on the robes. I'll return shortly."

His footsteps were measured as he descended the stairs.

"We know you're here, Lǐ!" another voice called out, sharper than the first. "Don't make us wait!"

The four friends exchanged glances. Sam was already holding up his earth-brown robe, examining the intricate knotwork that secured the collar.

"Should we...?" Karion began quietly.

"He can handle himself," Adom said, though he moved closer to the top of the stairs. "Let's see what we're working with."

The robes transformed them.

Where moments before they'd been obviously foreign travelers, now they looked like they belonged—not quite locals, but at least civilized visitors. The silk moved like water, the colors muted but rich.

"These feel expensive," Damus said, adjusting the green robe's wide sleeves. The fabric fell in perfect folds, the cut emphasizing his natural bearing.

"They probably are," Sam replied, running his hands down the smooth silk of his brown robes. "Worth it though. I actually feel respectable."

Karion was admiring himself in the bronze mirror, turning to catch how the blue fabric caught the light. "Naia would love these. All that craftsmanship and detail work."

"Still on about that?" Sam asked, glancing up from adjusting his belt.

"It's been years, Karion," Damus said mildly. "She's made her position pretty clear."

Adom nodded. "I respect her for sticking to her boundaries. And I respect you for not being a pest about it."

"I'm not giving up," Karion said, but without any real heat. "I just... admire her persistence in saying no."

"That's one way to put it," Sam muttered.

Karion's expression shifted, a sly look creeping across his face. "Wait a minute. Speaking of persistence..." He turned to Adom. "What about you and that girl from the farm? The wind elementalist with the green eyes?"

The other two perked up immediately.

"Oh, right!" Sam snapped his fingers. "What was her name again?"

"There wasn't a girl," Adom said quickly.

"Cyrel," Sam said triumphantly. "That was it. Cyrel."

Damus just smiled, which somehow made it worse.

His friends had been convinced for months that he and Cyrel were secretly dating.

They weren't.

There had never been any romantic feelings between them—she was the witch's daughter, and Adom had no desire to get entangled in that particular web. But he couldn't exactly explain that his frequent visits to the farm were because of the dryads, or that his trips to the weird stuff shop were to check on Mr. Biggins, who happened to be a dragon. So he'd learned to let his friends draw their own conclusions.

"It was a misunderstanding," Adom said.

"How's it a misunderstanding when you found every excuse to visit that weird stuff store?" Karion pressed. "And somehow you always needed to stop by the farm afterward."

"You were there every other day for weeks," Sam added.

"I had business there."

"Right," Karion said. "Business. With Cyrel."

"Not with Cyrel."

"Then why did you always ask if she was working when you went to the shop?" Damus asked mildly.

Adom opened his mouth, then closed it.

Sam was grinning now. "It's just funny because you're always so serious about everything. We never thought we'd see you get all... careful around anyone."

"I wasn't being careful."

"You definitely were," Karion said. "At least you tried, though. Unlike some people." He shot a meaningful look at Damus.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Adom asked, grateful for the redirect.

"Damus has never even talked to a girl he liked," Sam said. "Mr. Perfect over here."

Damus shrugged. "I'm seeing someone, actually."

The room went dead silent.

"What?" Karion's voice cracked slightly.

"Since when?" Sam demanded.

"You're what now?" Adom stared at his friend.

Before Damus could answer, a voice boomed from downstairs: "YOU DARE!"

The sharp crack of a slap echoed through the building.