A Fleeting Eternity - Chapter Fifteen

Ky looked at Aleth for a long moment, weighing her options. If she didn’t answer his questions, she would surely be put out of the carriage again, and he might not stop this time when she fell. And that would only be delaying the inevitable. She couldn’t jog another half day, and they both knew it. She huffed a sigh. “I’m from sector twelve.”

She couldn’t help but compare this abduction with her first one – even though it was hard to say which experience was worse. She had thought that she would give anything to leave the castle; but now that it was actually happening, she would rather have been left right where she was. She didn’t have the first idea how to get home from Lutalya, and her window to escape and go back to Father seemed to grow narrower with each passing moment.

If nothing else, it would have even been better if Tadaaki was in the carriage with her and Aleth was sitting up front. Tadaaki seemed to be closer to an ally than Aleth ever would be. And Rifkin was certainly the only reason she’d managed to make it through the first abduction as well as she did. She thought back to the first moment she met Rifkin.

Ky finished a training session with the horse she was working on gentling and step by step fought him to walk with her into the barn. She had already locked the chickens in their coop and secured the milk cow in her stall for the night. She walked into the dimming light of dark, heading towards the house, but stopped short as she saw a lone soldier on the path that curved towards her house. She looked at him curiously, wondering what he was doing so far from the city. Soldiers rarely came as far into the countryside as her township.

“You there, little girl,” he said, waving her over.

“Sir?” she answered, walking down the grassy knoll to meet him at the dirt road.

She suddenly realized how tall he was. She barely came up to his mid-chest. He was tall and lanky and had gray hair that nearly came to his shoulders, framing in a lean, angular face. He gestured at the house a few hundred meters behind her. “Do you live here?”

“Yes, sir.”

“With who else?”

“My father.”

“I want to speak with him.”

“Yes, sir.” She smiled kindly as she led him towards the house. She had a slight skip in her step, excitement bubbling up inside her at the appearance of a visitor. “Did you come from the city? How was your trip?”

“Yes,” he answered gruffly. “Fine.”

“I’m Ky!” she offered cheerily. “Well, Kylia. But most people call me Ky. What’s your name?”

“Uh… Rifkin,” he answered awkwardly, casting a sideward glance at her.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Rifkin!” she said, skipping up the few stairs that led up to the porch. The wood was aging and gave slightly as they walked across it, but she barely even noticed. The porch had been creaky since well before she was born. She pushed the front door open and walked inside. “Father! We have a visitor! His name is Mr. Rifkin, he came from the city, and he wants to talk to you.”

Father sat in his wheelchair in the kitchen. He looked up as she walked up with Rifkin in her wake, worrying his eyebrows as he silently evaluated the soldier. He wheeled away from their firepit and gestured at the chair in front of the bed in the corner. “Please, have a seat.”

“Thank you.” Rifkin cleared his throat uncomfortably, sitting on the edge of the chair as he set his traveling pack on the ground next to his feet. He awkwardly shifted his sword in an attempt to make the hilt stop jabbing into his side as he sat. “My name is Rifkin Valle. I am in this township on orders from King Makata, and I am in need of a place to stay tonight.”

“Of course…” Father hesitated a moment, frowning slightly.

“He can have my bed!” Ky announced. “I don’t mind. I can sleep on the floor!”

“Or he could sleep in the barn,” Father cut in quickly. “I believe we still have a cot out there, is that correct?”

“Yes, but—” Ky trailed off as she saw the warning look in Father’s eyes. “Yes, sir.”

“You are welcome to the cot, sir,” Father said, turning his attention back on Rifkin. “And you can join us for dinner as well, if you would like. We were just about to eat.”

“You should join us!” Ky said eagerly, turning her attention back on Rifkin. “Father makes the best food ever!”

“Uh… yes, thank you.” Rifkin cleared his throat again.

“Yay!” Ky bounced over to the kitchen, pulled plates from the shelf, and served up some of the eggs and ham that Father cooked.

“Let’s pray,” Father said. Rifkin flushed slightly and put his fork down, trying to swallow the mouthful of food he’d already shoveled into his mouth, without chewing it. Father quickly blessed the food, and then Ky eagerly tore into her plate of food, savoring the taste of the spices that Father had used. She really didn’t like cooking, and she wasn’t nearly as good at it as Father was.

As she got half way through her plate, the gnawing feeling had left her stomach, and she realized no one had said a word since the prayer. She looked at Rifkin curiously, wondering why he was so quiet as he ate. “Where’s your family, Mr. Rifkin?”

“What?” he asked, looking up from his plate, startled.

“Do you have any siblings?” Ky asked.

“Uh… yeah. I… have a brother.”

“Oh!” Ky said, delighted. “I always wanted a brother. I thought we could have a lot of fun if I did. Father says that brothers are mean when you’re little, and that he would have put a frog in my bed. But I like frogs. So, I think we could have caught the frogs together, and then had them as pets, and had frog races. Did you ever have any frog races with your brother?”

“No,” Rifkin said slowly, looking at her uncertainly.

“Did he ever put frogs in your bed?”

“Nope.”

“Did you ever put frogs in his bed?”

“No.” Rifkin smiled despite himself. “We were mean to each other, though.”

“But you had fun together?”

“Most of the time.” He sobered a bit. “A long time ago.”

“Is your brother a soldier too?”

“Yes.”

“That’s so cool!” Ky said. “I wanted to be a soldier when I was little.”

Rifkin smiled again, looking down at her. “Did you now?”

“Yeah, I did!” Ky said eagerly, encouraged that he responded with more than one word. She scooted closer to him. “I wanted to be in the calvary because I really like horses… but Father says that only boys can join the military. Is that true?”

“Yes,” Rifkin answered. “Little girls have no business playing war.”

“I’m not little. And girls can do whatever boys can do,” she shot back. “But it’s okay because I can still take care of our horse, and I’m really good at that. Did you see him?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“He’s a grumpy horse. You can look at him when you go out to the barn. He doesn’t like to be ridden, but I do it anyway.” Suddenly her attention was drawn to the sword on Rifkin’s hip. “Is that a real sword? Can I see it?”

“Kylia,” Father said sternly. “Leave the poor man alone so he can eat.”

“Apologies, sir,” Ky murmured. She stared at the ground in front of her and was silent for as long as she could bear, before the excitement drowned out the embarrassment. “But it is a real sword?”

It was almost embarrassing how naïve she had been. In retrospect, it should have been obvious that his appearance wasn’t a good thing. She should have been smart enough to realize that something bad would happen when a soldier appeared – understood that he was simply taking a census before the other soldiers came later in the week. But she didn’t. The next morning she’d been just as excited as she was when Rifkin first appeared.

“I assume there’s a more centralized part to your sector?” Rifkin asked after breakfast.

“Yes,” Father answered.

“I can show you where it is!” Ky said eagerly. “I have to go there today anyway to help Mr. Lian in the bakery.”

“I would appreciate that,” Rifkin answered, eyes on Father.

“Alright…” Father answered uncomfortably. “Ky, take Mr. Rifkin to see Myrond.”

“Okay!” Ky popped up from her seat.

“After,” Father said sharply. “You draw water for the kitchen.”

“Yes, sir,” Ky grumbled, deflating a bit as she walked to the kitchen and grabbed both empty buckets. She hurried to the door and pulled her boots on, not bothering to tie them, before she went clomping outside with the buckets.

She walked over to the pump that was half way between the house and the barn. She cleaned the spout and them quickly filled both buckets with water, and came tottering across the yard, careful not to spill either of them. Rifkin held the door open for her as she met him on the porch.

“Bye Father!” she said, setting the buckets in the kitchen.

“Be back before dark.”

“Yes, sir!” she hurried outside and met Rifkin in the yard just in front of the house. She smiled up at him and then walked onto the narrow path. It was packed dirt, barely wide enough for a single cart, and lined on either side by trees. Rifkin followed close behind.

“How old are you, Ky?” Rifkin asked.

“Twelve!”

“Twelve… and you can carry two buckets at the same time?”

“Yeah.” She scoffed. “That’s nothing. I can carry all kinds of things. I’m strong.”

She flexed her arm, holding it out for Rifkin to inspect her bicep. He nodded solemnly. “Wow. That’s impressive.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, nodding. She dropped her arms to her sides, tugging her over-sized button up shirt straight. The back was still partially tucked in, but the front tails had long since flown free from her trousers as she walked nonchalantly.

“Are all the little girls in your township that strong?”

Ky thought for a moment, then thoughtfully shook her head. “No, they’re not… most of them are much better at girl things than I am, though.”

“Girl things?”

“Yeah, you know, all the things that make boys want to marry you.” Ky shrugged. “They can cook, and are good at cleaning, and can sew beautiful things, and are good with kids.”

“And you’re not?”

“No… I always burn things,” Ky answered, frowning at the ground. “And spill things… and rip things… and little kids scare me.”

“Oh, I’m sure there’s things you’re good at too,” Rifkin said.

“There are!” She brightened instantly. “I’m good at riding horses, and building fences, and tending the garden, and blacksmithing, and reading.”

“You can read?” Rifkin asked incredulously.

“Yeah.” Ky shrugged. “But that’s easy.”

“I was nearly thirty before I learned,” Rifkin said. “And I’m still not very good.”

“You just have to practice,” Ky said encouragingly. “I’m sure you’d be very good at it if you try hard and practice lots.”

“Mm.” Rifkin was silent for a moment. “And who is this Myrond fellow you’re taking me to?”

“He’s the butcher,” Ky said, then smiled. “And Talia’s dad. I like Talia. She’s really nice. Mr. Myrond is nice, too. Sometimes he gives you candy if you read to him.”

“So, he can’t read?”

Ky was silent for a moment, sobering. “It’s not his fault. He just doesn’t have time to practice.”

“Of course not,” Rifkin answered. “Most people can’t read. It’s not shameful.”

“It’s not,” she agreed.

They rounded the last bend and the heart of the township came into view. She could see Mr. Lian’s bakery, where she was apprenticing, and right beside it, Mr. Drakan’s blacksmith shop, where she spent all of her free time. Across the street was Mr. Myrond’s butcher shop.

Ky walked up to the door and knocked, Rifkin still following close behind. She smiled broadly at Talia as her friend answered the door. “Hey Tal! Is Mr. Myrond here?”

“Yeah, he’s in the back…” Talia answered timidly, staring at Rifkin.

“This is Mr. Rifkin,” Ky said. “He’s really nice, don’t be scared. He wants to speak to Mr. Myrond. He’s here on business from the king!”

“Thank you, Ky,” Myrond said, suddenly appearing in the doorway. He gently pulled Talia backward and silently ordered her away from the door with a wave of his hand. “You should get over to Lian’s place now. He’s got something he wants you to work on.”

“You said your father was a merchant?” Aleth asked, tearing her out of her memory. She looked at him irritably, and tersely nodded. “Let’s talk about that.”