Altdorf came on slowly as the day wore on, small hamlets giving way to outlying villages and towns until they reached the city proper. Even here where three story half timbered buildings rose to crowd the approach roads they were still more than a mile from the 'city' walls. Like many Imperial cities Altdorf had outgrown its original walls long ago, and then outgrown the 'new' walls which were themselves a century old. Little effort had been made to ring the city in modern times, instead block houses and low star walled forts had been built to control the roads and the river, they bristled with guns and the the bright red and white flags of Reikland. The traffic on the road steadily increased also, artisans carrying implements of their trade, farmers bringing crops and stock to market or returning home with empty wagons, processions of priests leading the faithful in pilgrimage to some shrine or other thronged the road. At one point a troop of Reiksgard Cavalry, resplendent in their shining armor and steel clad horses clattered by, lances held aloft. Although her clothing was by now travel stained, the leader dipped his lance slightly in salute as he passed Emmaline and Amal and she performed a slight curtsey in response. The river too was busy, ships both large and small maneuvered in and out from a series of piers and jetties bringing the vast wealth of the Talabec down river to Altdorf. Small groups of men in livery, customs officials, met each ship, making sure the Emperors taxes, and possibly a bribe or too were extracted from each captain no matter how mean and lowly.

The smell of the city grew steadily also, that peculiar mix of body odor, wood smoke, torch oil and garbage which cloaked every human city since the beginning of time. Emmaline experienced a strange sense of homecoming as they stepped onto the cobbled streets. Hawkers cried their wares from carts or shouted advertisements for local business, a crier bawled out the days news, drunken patrons staggered too and from taverns, all of which brought her back to the time of her apprenticeship a lifetime ago. Once she even saw a bright wizard, his beard crackling and smoldering, ride by but she made no attempt to engage him in any way. Better to avoid the notice of the Colleges of Magic, whose baroque spires peaked above the skyline to the west. There was a feeling of safety that came with the city, not so much because it was less dangerous physically, Altdorf was rife with pick pockets and thugs, but because of anonimity. With the possible exception of Marienburg, Altdorf was the most cosmopolitan city in the Empire. The languages of a dozen lands could be heard in its streets, and Amal would attract no more notice for being Araybian than a foul looking Norscan who stomped from a tavern muttering about the inferiority of Imperial ales. 

"Shall we find an inn?" Amal asked, looking around his face unreadable as he took in the bustling throng of the Empire's capital city. 

"Lets find a fence first," Emmaline suggested, "I know of one, if he hasn't been hanged yet."

The shop of Nobby Haraldson was where Emmaline remembered it, nestled in one of the run down tenement districts between the main city docks and the Colleges of Magic. It was a two story affair, with a stone lower story set slightly below street level and a timbered upper story which jutted out prodigiously over the streets surrounding it. The roof was done in slate rather than the cheaper wood shingles and shone with a gloss which legend had it was oil that Nobby poured on it to make it too slick for thieves to climb. The pair of adventurers stepped through the canvas flap that had been hung from the door frame to keep dust and insects out and into the interior of the store. It was a single large room with stairs at the back and a solid wooden counter behind which a squat powerful looking dwarf sat cradling a flagon of ale. His left arm was missing, having been taken off in some ancient battle, or accident or act of revenge, depending on which story Nobby was telling and having been replaced with a polished brass cap that covered the stump. Nobby opened his eyes to regard them with displeasure before he started upright.

"Emmy? As I live and breath is that really you?" he demanded. Emmaline grinned at the old dwarf, having disposed of her ill gotten goods here many times in the past. The clutter of weapons, second hand clothing, kitchenwares, art and other items which lined the shelves and tables of the place suggested that Nobby hadn't been having any trouble finding suppliers in her absence.

"I'm afraid so master Haraldson," she admitted as the dwarf stumped over to grin at her through broken teeth before shifting his gaze to Amal as well.

"And you are welcome to sir," Nobby said raising an interogative eyebrow at the thief.

"This is Amal, Amal this is Nobby Haraldson, a buyer of unwanted items," she introduced. Nobby snorted.

"By the look of them he knows a fence when he sees one," the dwarf rejoined and then narrowed his eyes.

"I heard you were lost at sea, so broken up was I about it that I completely forgot about those 'genuine dragon pearls' you sold me." Emmaline coughed into her hand, blushing slightly.

"I was lost at sea, shipwrecked in Araby, rather a long story," she admitted, glossing over the 'dragon pearl' incident as best she could for the moment.

"We are passing through, and I thought I'd look up an old friend and see if he had any interest in buying an item we came across," she admitted. Nobby pretended to appear hurt.

"And here I was thinking you had come for naught but the pleasure of my company," he declared ironically. Emmaline snickered and then reached into her improvised sack to produce the crown they had recovered from the barrow, setting it down on the counter top with a clink. Nobby twitched visibly as his gold lust pricked him.