Seven Cities - Chapter 2

[Disclaimer: rough draft and there may be some inconsistencies with the first chapter. had to edit some things and might have missed some so good luck rip]

Chapter 2 – Kitty 

The village was bustling. The streets were lined with small stalls occupied by farmers selling their goods, travelers selling unpronounceable concoctions said to heal every ailment, kids arguing over their wooden toys. Quaint. The hustle and bustle of this small town was nothing like the big cities, and yet market day was everything to these people. Silver City was home to many of these small woodland settlements. Far from the smoking ports where logs and ores were shipped across the clouds, these towns were isolated from the rest of the timeclock-ruled world.

Maybe that’s why Rhys had decided to stick close to this town, because there was something that made them important, despite their complete lack of impact on the outside city states. The little things mattered to these people. It was almost possible to forget how bad the rest of the world was in a place like this. So long as one avoided the capitol and its export ports, this particular city-state was a quiet, peaceful territory.

As Rhys’s boots shuffled over the cobble, the merchants she passed raised their heads to observe the strange figure from the hills who they seldom saw. The kids whispered and scampered out of her way. Her drab clothes were a contrast to the green, blue, and yellow flowers and foliage that lined the windowsills of the main street houses. Her weather-beaten face was not unlike the farmers and hunters, but the little tattoo below her right ear marked her as foreign, and someone to be regarded with suspicion. Her oilskin coat, despite the warm weather, was another oddity.

Her lonely life in the hills didn’t help her reclusive reputation.

None of that mattered, one friend was enough. She wasn’t complaining. The basket of herbs, some dried, some fresh, were a gift for Kitty, the only person alive she’d call a friend. She should be sitting outside the Lilac’s Den, a little restaurant on the south edge of town. For the past couple years, that’d been their meeting place.

The people staring didn’t bother her much. She’d learned over the years to avoid conflict and deflect attention as much as possible. The latter being difficult to do in a small town.

“Morning!” Said a voice behind her. Rhys started and turned quickly to face the-

Threat.

No, just a random guy. She sighed.

“Oh, sorry. Didn’t mean to startle. I noticed your herbs, do you trade them?” The man appeared to be a gatherer or merchant and pointed to her basket.

“No, these are for my friend. A gift.” Rhys answered. Talking to someone besides the dog was strange after months up in the hills.

“That’s kind of you, but I’m quite interested in those there.” He reached out and pointed towards the parsley in her basket. Rhys in turn took a half step backwards. “It’s hard to find that around here. I’d buy some from you if you could bring it to town every week.”

“Um…” Who was this guy? Did he not get the message? “I’m not in town much, so it wouldn’t work.”

“I’d make it worth your while. Maybe consider it? I’ll pay you twenty for a dug up plant.”

“Can’t eat silver.” Rhys took another step back, looking to break the conversation. “I’m good, thanks.”

“I’d up the offer to thirty.” The parsley man matched her steps.

Threat.

“I said I’m good, thanks.” Her voice was a little sharper this time, but not sharp enough to offend. She could still retract those words or redirect them if he reacted poorly.

“Rhys!” Called a voice behind her. She glanced back, still keeping an eye on the man on front of her. Coming up behind her was a short dark-haired woman who appeared half Rhys’s age. She was only a couple years younger, if that. Kitty.

“Hey, I’ve been waiting for you for a half hour, so I came looking. Who’s this?” She gestured to the merchant, who smiled. Rhys did not.

“I was offering to buy so-”

“I’m sure that’s very nice.” Kitty interrupted. She slipped her arm through Rhys’s, smiling cheerily. “But my friend and I have an important meeting, maybe we’ll come back later.” With that she turned, Rhys in tow, and marched away, her black curls bouncing behind her.

When they’d escaped the merchant Rhys tried to remove her arm, but Kitty wasn’t letting her go.

“You kinda have to be just a little rude to those guys to get them to leave you alone.” Kitty said, her green cotton skirt swishing as she walked. Her little black buttoned up boots that peaked out from under the skirt were freshly polished.

“I could have told him off myself.” Rhys said, her arm still trapped. She held the basket in her opposite hand. “They do that every time I come to town.”

“How often are you usually down here?” Kitty released Rhys’s hand as they reached the steps of the restaurant. She sat down at a table outside Rhys noticed some dirt staining Kitty’s flowy white blouse. Maybe she should have brushed off her duster after pulling it from its box in the root cellar.

“Maybe once a month.” She walked up the steps and sat down at a table on the covered deck. Flowers in hanging pots decorated the perimeter of the platform. She set her basket on the table. “I got these for you.” She pushed it towards Kitty who sat down opposite her.

“Aw thank you!” Kitty smiled and looked through the basket. “And you found my rosemary. That’s so hard to get ahold of.”

“There’s a lot of it up in those hills. It grows in a few sandy spots.” A breeze blew through the street and gently pulled strands of hair from Rhys’s braids and shook a few petals from their flowers. It was a beautiful day.

“So how’ve you been doing?” Kitty asked, glancing over the menu.

“Fine,” Rhys said, her tone nonchalant. There were many different meanings to her favorite word, Fine. But Kitty knew all of them.

“Good! I’ve been too busy to even think these days. Lots of business.” Kitty set the menu down and took a sip of lemonade through the copper straw.

Rhys raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“What do you mean?” Kitty asked, fidgeting with her straw.

“You’ve got that look, you ain’t telling me something.”

“I mean…I hate to ask.” Kitty leaned against the back of her chair, rocking it back on its back two legs. Rhys fidgeted, eyeing the precariously balanced chair.

“What about?”

“It’s…it’s about Providence.”

Threat.

Kitty promised she didn’t have to talk about this. Her heartrate quickened, pounding in her head like a hammer against stone in a quarry. Like a pickaxe in a filthy mine pit. She could taste the iron and clay just thinking of it and it made her throat feel like sandpaper.

“Rhys?” Kitty reached out and touched her weatherbeaten hand. Rhys recoiled as if she’d been bit by a rattlesnake. She’d been staring blankly at Kitty for longer than she realized.

“I think I’m gonna go home. I forgot to feed the dog.” She stood up, her oilskin coat swishing around her body, wrapping her up in a dark, comforting warmth.

“Wait! Rhys...see…that’s why I didn’t want to ask. But we need your help, if you could just listen for a moment...”

“I told you not to ask me about all that.” Rhys flinched and the hair on her arms stood on end as the boiler from the kitchen hissed and wheezed, powering the turning spits over the coal fires.

“Rhys…” Kitty stood up very slowly, and reached out her hand. “It’s ok. I…could you just listen? It’s important.”

“The ferry leaves soon, you’d better get going.” She turned and paused as she faced several pairs of questioning eyes from the other customers, who’d just gotten an earful. She felt a lump rise up in her throat as she fixed her eyes on the floor and cleared the three steps from the deck to the stone sidewalk.

Kitty watched her leave and to Rhys’s relief, didn’t follow.

Her boots kicked up the dust as she jogged back up the hill towards her home. They finally began to crunch sticks and earth rather than the dust the wagon wheels left behind as she entered the treeline and continued up the path.

It’s providence you’re here, child. We’ve never had anyone this capable protecting our city.

Now the voice wouldn’t leave. It was Kitty’s fault, she should have known better. Her feelings were probably hurt. Didn’t matter. She’d send her a letter and apologize later. She’d just have to find someone to write it for her.

Rhys paused for a moment for breath. It’d been a long time since she’d run this far. “Gods, I don’t need this. I need to go home…” Her teeth clenched, she looked around for a landmark that’d tell her the distance. She scratched her right palm with her opposite hand. Everything felt like pins and needles.

There redwood tree. About a mile.

She took off again, settling into a comfortable jog that would have been easier to maintain if it wasn’t mostly uphill. Her boots were tight. Her socks itched. She could feel every stray hair brush her cheek and hear every scrunch the odd patch of rocks made against the sole of her boots. It sounded louder than a steam wagon in these silent woods.

Turning the corner to her cottage she slowed to a walk. It began to feel like maybe, whatever was chasing her wasn’t behind her anymore. Her breathing under control, she listened for the comforting sound of the birds and the wind in the trees.

Everything was quiet. Her heart began to pound again. Maybe they’d just been spooked by her huffing and puffing up the hill?

She stepped into her clearing and at first, saw nothing out of the ordinary. But it was silent. No bleating of goats. The dog was nowhere to be seen. Her pens were open and the livestock were out of sight.

Threat.

“Dog!” She shouted, commanding over the silence. A barking came from inside the house and she saw Ringo jump up and peer out of the window. She hadn’t locked him inside. She wished she had her rifle.

Moving slowly towards her door, she noticed that sitting on a stump in the front yard was a small box, about the size of a little tin jewlery box. But it was wrought iron and rusted. With every breath echoing in her ears, Rhys made her way back to the center of the yard. She could feel that old familiar cloud descending over her mind. She reached out and carefully flipped open the lid. Inside was a musty yellow powder, and the scent of it immediately sent an electric shiver down her spine.

That smells like a hard day’s work.

Click.

She slammed the lid down with such force that it spread the contents all over the stump. Something was burning. The smell of sulfur hissed from somewhere, as she whirled to find the fuse, it stopped. For a brief moment, there was dead silence.

Then, a blast of fire engulfed the cottage in an instant, the shockwave sending the walls and beams and new glass windows in every direction. Rhys was launched into the brush where she covered her head, her whole body ringing from the shock of the blast. It felt like she’d been ripped apart, and she wasn’t quite sure if she still had all of her limbs still attached. She could still smell the powder despite the dynamite stench. The blue sky had changed color to black and red, was it smoke? The back of her eyelids? Her head was still ringing.

“Mine no. 98 collapsed today, we lost a lot of good workers. But this kid made it out. She’s a little off though, that dam of hers was a wild one.”

“Sounds like a good candidate for the program, go fetch her and get her up to the camp with the other cadets.”

“Get up off the floor you skinny pit-rat.”

Rhys choked as air ripped into her lungs. Her eyes opened and she rolled onto her chest, her hands digging into the soil as ash and debris pelted her back. She lurched to her feet and without looking back broke into a stumbling run, which picked up speed as she bolted back down the hill.

Maybe Kitty hadn’t left yet. The ferry was her only escape.