Of all the portal halls they went through in the last candle, this last one was the simplest, or rather the most primitive. It had the form of a large-ish octagonal room with a tall, windowed ceiling and simple wooden walls. There was barely any sky visible and so several torches stuck on long stakes in the corners of the room were the only light source - apart from the eventor, which produced an eerie, blue-purple glow. The rather rickety portal was embedded directly into the stone floor and permanently set for the capital city; its design clearly suggesting that it was quite old, perhaps even from before the Portal Boom times. There was a single door on one of the walls and on the opposite side an open double door led to a spacious balcony. Dark silhouette of the urban landscape, barely visible through the opening, hinted that the entire portal chamber is way up high, perhaps even as high as the third or fourth floor. An extensive rope and pulley system coupled to two wooden cranes installed directly on the balcony likely allowed for easy transport of the merchandise from the ground level. There were two workers near the portal ring, guarding a hand drawn cart filled to the brim with crates similar to those the aberrants saw in Usterl.

The travellers were not greeted officially in Tevros, as the flagman apparently didn't consider this service to be a part of his duties. He just scoffed and then nodded towards the smaller of the two doors. Both aberrants had nothing better to do, so they just went through. Anh did so with a considerably less enthusiastic approach than before. The rude welcome was one thing but when he saw that behind the door there was just a spiral staircase, his mood deflated even further. It didn't help that the kin in his head currently held a competition on who could provide the most compelling proof that this entire escapade wasn't really worth the effort.

The staircase was very narrow, which would force the tanai to telekinetically lift his faithful chest and carry it all the way down. For near-enough half a triskol he considered allowing the crane crew to lower it using their platform, but that would mean being separated from it and, to his horror, allowing others to take care of it.

With a pained sigh he concentrated for a bit, reaching for his craft, and practically dragged the luggage downstairs. The chest on the other hand knew better when to keep quiet, and didn't squeak even once. The trip downstairs turned out to be rather long and unpleasant, confirming his suspicion that the tower was several stories high, but when both Anh and his luggage finally reached the bottom, it turned out that even more unpleasant things awaited.

The staircase exited into a customs room, furnished with a large desk with a chair and some simple shelves holding several heaps of papers. There was also a wooden barrier, resting on timber trestles, which served the purpose of, as the name would suggest, barring anyone from exiting the room. Two guardsmen in patched uniforms, of hard to identify colour, were leaning against the wall on either side of the obstacle. They were armed with pistols and iron-shod clubs and looked so thoroughly bored that they very nearly could also be classified as pieces of furniture.

Behind the desk sat a corpulent man, dressed in well tailored and clean clothes, which nevertheless already sported large patches of sweat. He had a greying beard and an untidy moustache, and wore a brass-rimmed monocle, which nearly fell off when he saw the aberrants enter. His moustache lifted up, evidently because he smiled. Then his gaze landed on the chest and his mood significantly improved, which was punctuated by his facial hair rising even higher, which in the end looked quite grotesque.

-”Greetings, citizens, to the port of Tevros.” - he announced in a loud, booming voice. His speech was slightly slurred - “Please present your travel papers and prepare for customs control.”

Anh threw Beorg a long, questioning look.

-”I honestly hope you have this covered.”- muttered the tanai, noticing the lustful gaze of the customs official directed straight at his wheeled kit -”Nobody is going to rummage through my luggage.”

In lieu of responding, Beorg approached the desk, opening his travel satchel. He hesitated for a moment - the satchel was fit to bursting with tightly packed scrolls - then he pulled one of the documents contained therein and unceremoniously presented it to the clerk.

-”I have an iron letter signed by the Honourable Greogor Andros, the mayor of Tevros." - he said, taking care to pronounce the words slowly and correctly - "This document grants the bearer an explicit permission to let three persons with their luggage and servants or slaves through this very portal without incident and with exemption from intrusion."

The man blinked a few times, and looked at the nord with a hurt expression on his face.

-"This includes customs checks.” - added Beorg, almost as an afterthought.

The clerk's face sagged, which made his moustache return to its initial position. He corrected the monocle, straightened the document and then studied it for quite a long time, mostly concentrating on the wax seal at the bottom of the parchment. Then he sighed, returned the papers and once again looked longingly at Anh’s luggage, which made a quiet squeak. 

-”You may pass.” - he said in a defeated tone and gestured at one of the guards, who proceeded to lift the barrier which up until now prevented the aberrants from exiting the customs. Without any further troubles they soon found themselves outside, breathing what Anh was hoping to be a fresh seaside breeze, but in reality was a near-lethal concoction of nostril-assailing smells of civilization.

The portal tower was located right on the edge of the marketplace. It wasn't entirely dark yet but the day was ending rapidly. In the last sad remnants of the natural light all they could see were brown, rectangular silhouettes of houses, only dimly lit with a few dozen basket torches. It was hot, so hot in fact that even Anh, who was used to the daily scorch characteristic of the Averam desert, deemed it nearly unbearable. The Bivos had only just set, and all the heat of the day was only now beginning to radiate away. 

Despite the late candle, quite a few people were still outside. Unlike almost everywhere else, the daily activities in the northwestern parts of Sorres tended to start in earnest only when the worst of the midday scorch was already past. The ‘day’ ended well past midnight as well, and so, the marketplace still bustled with activity. There were quite a few stalls, containing a large variety of merchandise, mostly fish, but also pottery, weapons, crafts and spices. The merchants were shouting, urging the customers to come over and look, their guards were looking for thieves, buyers were buying, sellers were selling, slaves were slaving away. Hordes of, apparently unattended, children were running all around the place, participating in several extremely loud games.

-”So. We are here." - said And, sniffing loudly. Part of his brain attempted to identify the types of fish on offer only by their smell - "Now what?”

-”There is a carriage waiting for us near the western gate.”- replied Beorg -”We better start now, as we have a long way to go. We should reach the dig site within three or so candles."

As they were pushing through the crowds, Greoo made the journey much more bearable by making educated guesses about the people they passed by, followed by a deeply sarcastic riposte by Tow. Whilst, on a certain level, the exchanges were fairly amusing, the fact that Tevros was home to so many different taxons of hoomin didn't slip Anhs' attention. Practically every shade of skin, hair colour and cheekbone height was represented, alongside a myriad of accents and spoken dialects.

-"Very colourful indeed." - muttered the hexergist to himself, regretting that his inkwells and clean sheets were stashed in the chest and not directly accessible at a moment's notice. A diagram representing the distribution of hoomin subdivision in Tevros would have to wait.