Kyteline, Chapter One: Part Two

The Headmaster bit back a witty retort, instead just pulling her eyes from the symbol. It was a small circle with the name LaStell in the center. A small falcon stood on the top of the crest and a sword gleamed below it. Kimber leaned back and folded her arms, a smug smile flitting across her lips.

“You see that, Ma'am? That's the LaStell crest. You can't do anything to me, not while I'm the heir.”

The headmaster sighed heavily and stood, pacing the room beyond her desk. Kimber watched her closely, wondering what she would say next.

“I just don't know how to deal with you,” she said softly, not looking at Kimber.

“Look at it this way, Ma'am. You see this scar on my face? It's the reason kids whisper about me. I know you don't like thinking about it, but that's the reason,” Kimber paused for an effect. “There are certain things in this world that need to be respected. I'm one of them. So is everyone else in this goddamn city, in the Second District as well as the First. I refuse to let kids call me names and I absolutely will not stand for the humiliation of the kids across that fence. I react by punching. Is that really so bad if Chakal deserved it? Not to mention, it helps me keep my reputation. If kids in this school won't respect me, then at least they can fear me enough to not piss me off. It might not be a good reputation, but it's the only one I can muster.”

The Headmaster began to speak, “I just want you to start thinking before you act. Is it really necessary to hit the other kids? When they go home with black eyes, I'm the one the parents blame.”

“That's your problem not mine,” Kimber replied with a shrug.

“Its both of our problem and-”

Kimber cut her off, chuckling, “No. Ma'am, it's not. Even if it was, do you really think there is anything you could do to make me stop? My parents need me to be respected in order to keep up their social standing. My becoming disrespected would place them at a disadvantage. Oh, I'd like to know what would happen to you if they found out it was your fault.”

The last sentence made the Headmaster stop pacing. “Is that a threat?”

“It might be. Or it it might not. It depends on what you do now.”

One look at the Headmaster said Kimber had successfully convinced her. The woman stood silent for a few moments before returning to her seat.

“As I said, I grow weary of these games,” the Headmaster said, pushing Kimber's hand away from her desk.

“These games are for your benefit,” Kimber grinned as she pocketed her wrist into her coat.

“I hardly think hitting your classmates is upholding your families social standing, Kimber,” the principal went on as Kimber rolled her eyes. “But you are a LaStell. And that means I cannot touch you, as far as expulsion goes.”

Kimber smiled to herself and started to get up from the chair. “I guess we're done here.”

“Not quite. You say everyone needs respect? Well, so does Chakal. You will be apologizing in front of the class next week.” the principal added.

“That is hardly a punishment, Ma'am,” Kimber said as she waltzed out the door and almost ran into her Pa.

Kimber's smile disappeared. Her eyes jumped to the rug, where she could stare at the yarn rather than the disapproving look on his face. The Headmaster came out from her room and shook his hand. They exchanged a quick greeting before having a short and concise discussion of the matter at hand. Her Pa approved the punishment and thanked the Headmaster before leading Kimber out of the school. The ride home consisted of a heavy silence between them that wasn't so unlike their usual relationship. She tried to look at him as least she could, instead focusing on the city outside the carriage.

The buildings in the First District were short and stout and beautifully decorated, most of them whites or pale greens and blues. Several homes were larger and grander than others. The grander the home, the richer the family. The streets were cobblestone and the people on them appeared just as majestic as the houses. The women wore loads of makeup and jewelry and most donned bonnets and skirts of bright, vivacious colors. Young children walked along beside their parents, always quiet and watching the world happen around them, instead of with them.

Kimber risked a glance at her Pa and found him dozing off, his gray top hat pulled over his forehead. The tails on his gray suit were bunched between him and the seat, and Kimber hoped it wouldn't wrinkle too badly. His skin was tan and it contrasted well with the simple leather necklace that he wore. He was a tall man, with a small gut and large arms. Kimber thought he looked strange, as if his body features were out of proportion to one another.

The carriage pulled through a set of tall wrought iron gates. A small hill lay past them, upon which stood an imposing manor. It was a massive building, more like a miniature castle than a house. White marble columns decorated the front of the building, which faced the sunrise and the rest of the city. Behind the house rose the city wall. The hill sloped down in front of the manor, ending at the fence, and the entire grassy hill was geometrically cut. Past the fence, the houses of the six lesser ruling families could be seen encompassing the pool that took up a good sixth of the Ruling District. Past those were the houses of the First District. As they drove up the hill, Kimber could see farther, across the city to where the schools were, the jailhouses, and the Massive Second District, with its cramped and dirty housing.

The driveway was covered in rocks, with dust billowing in a cloud behind the carriage as the horses trotted to the opposite side of the manor where the front door was. Facing the glass doors was a maze of hedges, and to the right of the manor sat the large flower garden that her Ma adored. Sometimes the older woman would sit outside in the tulips for hours, perfectly content letting herself daydream.

Kimber stared up at the house, wishing it was colorful rather than sterile and white. For a moment, she stole herself and imagined the shutters a bright orange and the walls of the house a light beige. She pretended that the door frame was purple and that the gravel on the driveway was black instead of dull brown. Kimber imagined that she wore a long silk dress, a bright orange that matched the shutters. She added a low neckline and did her hair so that it was up in a neatly braided bun. She wondered if that was the kind of daydreaming that her Ma did amongst the flowers.

Kimber jumped out of the carriage. When her feet hit the ground the manor returned to its dull intense white. The silk dress was replaced by her bland school uniform and her hair returned to her shoulders. She sighed with displeasure.

One of the glass doors slid wide and was held open by the butler, Mr. Drewer, who wore a black suit like her Pa's. Kimber rushed up the polished white stairs before her Pa had a chance to exit the carriage. Flying through the door, she rushed past the maids on the ground floor and headed upstairs to her room. Once there, she closed the door lightly and lay her back against it. She hated being around her Pa. It was stifling and it always made her feel more alone than she was.

She pulled a paper from the pocket on her blouse. Unfolding it, her eyes took in her most recent sketch of the rumored City of Beggars. Kimber smiled to herself for her craftsmanship, because the way she had handled the pencil sketching this time was far more superb than all the others. Then again, she always thought the latest one was better than the all the rest. She moved herself to the foot of her bed. Sitting cross legged on the hardwood floor, Kimber pulled open the mahogany chest in front of her. Inside, she found the pile of extra blankets, but below those she found her stash of drawings.

There lay a stack of papers, of sketches she had created of the City of Beggars. Each one was different; where each was a slightly abstracted version of the one before it. Kimber had no idea what the real City of Beggars looked like, or whether there truly was one. These sketches were only what she wondered. Perhaps the people wore rags or steal from the manors and wear regal clothing. Maybe they eat bugs found in the catacombs or the sewers or maybe they actually had a place to cook. It could be a small city in one of the massive sewer pipes, or it could be a series of caverns filled to the brim with people. Kimber knew that Kyteline was built over the remnants of the old Kyteline, so the City of Beggars would most likely be hidden in there somewhere.

All she knew were the rumors.

The rumors were of the City of Beggars, the City Beneath the City, Lower Kyteline. Some people thought it was a hoard of gypsies, others preferred to think it was all those who had ever been banished from Kyteline. Kimber thought it must be both. The rumors confused her, and though she was clever for her age, she never really knew what to think when it came to the fabled City of Beggars. She longed to see it for herself, instead of always wondering and always hypothesizing. A lot of people also said that NOVA came from the City of Beggars. There were those that thought she was the leader of the City and those who thought the City a fable so that NOVA could seem more important than she actually was. Kimber didn't know what to think.

A knock sounded and Kimber stuffed the sketches and the journal away. Her parents did not believe in imagination. In school, they were taught geography and how to read, but not how to draw or write or dance or anything of the kind. Some people in Kyteline had talent, like the painters in the market, but most stuck to simple book knowledge. Because of this, Kimber had to keep her obsession with the City of Beggars hidden from her parents. She knew lying was terrible but she didn't feel guilty. She loved her sketches and the curiosity that the rumors drew from her. She cared more about keeping her wonder than keeping her honesty. The chest closed tightly just as her Pa walked through the door.

She did not meet his eyes.

“Look at me,” he said sternly.

She dragged her eyes from the hardwood planks to his face. His gaze sent little chills down her neck. Her hairs grew rigid and her teeth gritted together. Kimber kept looking at him, now refusing to look away. She would not be upstaged by her own Pa. She would not give him the satisfaction of seeing the humility that she felt. Hitting that boy had seemed like a good idea at the time, but when she was facing her Pa after the fact, she realized how hot-headed she had been. All she could do was try to suppress the blush creeping under her cheeks.

“What are we going to do with you?” he asked as a rhetorical question.

Kimber took the liberty of answering for him. “Punish me. Or at least try.”

“But it won't work. We both know that,” he said, anger filling his words.

“Then don't try.”

“That's not an option, Kimber,” he said as a matter of fact.

“I know,” she whispered, still staring him in the eye. She hated the look of disapproval that waited just beneath his dark blue irises. Kimber wondered what emotion he saw behind hers. There was a plethora to choose from. She hoped he saw her stubbornness rather than her humility, or worse, her loneliness. At least her stubbornness was strong, even if not in the most positive way.

She sensed his next words before he said them.

“I'll talk to your mother. We'll decide what to do,” he said before breaking eye contact and walking out of the room.

Kimber swore once he was out of earshot. Her Ma was worse than her Pa. When her Pa got angry, he showed it through his facial features and his tone of voice. When her Ma got angry, she showed it through her hands. There was more strength in them than Kimber would have ever thought. Sometimes she wondered whether her Ma had been hit when she was a child, but Kimber never dwelt on that thought for long. It wasn't her place to wonder about her Ma's past. Of course, Kimber never cared where her place was or wasn't in society. But her Ma's past was one place she never wanted to venture into.

Rising to her feet, she softly closed the door.