No More Than Pen and Ink

The city of edge. the farthest outpost of civilization out from the hub. Sintra was the only nation of any power in the known world anymore. Edge was the farthest recognized outpost of Sintra out from that center of power. Nobody really knew what was beyond Edge though occasionally people came out from beyond, and if they did, they often settled in Edge or sometimes worked their way closer to the hub, but no one closer than Edge cared about anything farther out. It was just barbaric out there as far as they were concerned. They told tales of tribal warfare, cannibalistic peoples and sun-worshipers that happened past Edge. While those things might happen in some far remote part of the world, the cities a ways from the edge had taken their cue from Sintran ideals. They strove to be civilized, for the most part. Some of them trying their hardest to catch the attention of the inner cities, if they could do that they would have more power in the outer area. It was hard to imagine anything different happening to the cities. They wanted to be like the shining light that was Sintra, they wanted the power, the glory. . . and some of them even worshiped the people from the hub as deities. Most of the villages payed allegiance to one of the inner lords, claiming them as defenders and suppliers, and almost all of them sent tribute in the form of materials or mages in to the center. The lords were glad to take the tribute, but never lifted a hand to defend their cities. Every once in a while one of the lords would decide to take a tour of his holdings past the edge, but usually they didn’t care. It was not like there was much worth doing. The only interference from the inner part of the country into the outer, beyond the edge, was that of the academies, who would hunt down anyone powerful in magic, they would search everywhere, within their holdings, sometimes straying beyond the holdings of their lords, traveling to the farther. And they all hunted past edge. Anyone out there was fair game fro any of the great house academies, if you were found and tried and had enough power, that is if you were not killed, you would be accepted into the service of one of the lords and you would have it good. But the training was hard, torturous and difficult.

All of these things Underfoot had learned from Farstrider. He apparently knew more about the world beyond the edge than anyone else from Sintra. The hub cared little about the outside world., but he thought that it was worth some effort. he told them stories of places beyond the edge, they were charming stories for the most part, tales of every day life lived in adverse situations. Apparently he was trying to get people from the inside to travel out and help those less fortunate than them. But his mission was somewhat undermined by the fact that he was carrying goods, crafts, art, and works of engineering that did not rely on magic in to the hub, while it may be that these would be of good service in proving that the inhabitants of beyond the edge were not barbarian savages as they were thought, it also made him quite a pile of gold. Particularly the machinery. There apparently was quite the market on mechanical toys. They were a novelty in the magic-soaked environment around the hub. And therefor valuable. He had taken one of the little toys out and showed it to Underfoot while lightfinger held the reigns. It had been a little wind up bird, with a little key in its back, he had taken it, turned it a few times and placed it in her had, the little brass bird had painted wings that showed vibrant green, blue and red feathers. After sitting in her hand for a moment, just as she was leaning forward to examine the contraption more closely the bird had gave a startlingly realistic chirp, cocked its head and looked up at her. She had almost dropped the creature in her startlement, but just managed to keep it in her hand. She was very happy about that, for it began strutting about, tickling her fingers with its little clawed feet, it flapped its wings a few times and seemed like it was trying to fly, bt it could not, because it was too heavy, being made as it was out of copper, bronze and other heavy metals. After a moment it froze as it was, still sitting in her hand, frozen midway in motion. She stared at it sadly, as if somehow that would make it begin moving again. Farstrider went to wind it again. She shook her head. Even after he had showed her the creature moving again to the trun of the little wheels in its body she could not bring back that feeling of beauty. The brief semblance of life had been amusing, but after it had passed away it was gone. For a moment the brilliant bright bird had been alive in her had, humming with life, dancing, it had been alive in her eyes, and when it stopped she felt it die. She could not, would not continue to put herself through that merely for the sake of perceived beauty. It was marvelous, perfect, beautiful even, but it was too painful to keep doing. It hurt her every time.

Her thoughts were on the vibrant bird when the city of Edge itself finally came into view. The walls rose sternly out of the surrounding countryside. Reaching up towards the clouds with granite gray slabs. The outside of the wall was unadorned, no carvings, no pictures, just plain grey rock. But as they came closer she saw that the towers jutted out of the walls, breaking the monotony of the wall with strength and hight. As they came closer the walls began to tower over the travelers in their little cart, Underfoot crouched low, curling in on herself in the back of the wagon, brining her knees up to her chest and trying to make herself as small as possible. As they entered the shadow of the wall she closed her eyes. It was too much, imagining something that much bigger than herself was nothing, she could do it without being threatened because until now she had not been able to fully comprehend it. But now, faced with the massive reality of the wall her mind was struck again. It was hard to wrap her mind around the reality of such height.

She heard the sound of other people around them. They weren’t the only people coming through the gate. For a moment her curiosity got the better of her and she opened her eyes, taking a look around, they were in a short line of people waiting before the gate. Ahead she could see the city guards checking the carts and asking for information on everyone that entered the city. They seemed laid back, they did not seem particularly concerned about the travelers entering the city, they merely made a cursory check of the carts coming in and waved them on.

When at last it was Farstrider’s turn to be inspected he pulled a rolled up parchment out from somewhere under the bench. On it was a seal and fancy writing. The guard glanced at it, looked up at the man and waved him on with a grunt and the words. “Go on in.”

After they had gone only a little way Littlefinger asked the man to stop the cart. “Here is where we part ways,” he said. “We need to find our own way now. I wish you luck in your endeavors.” He climbed down, touching the brim of his hat and bowing respectfully.

Farstrider nodded. “Luck to you as well my friends,” he said, waving.

Underfoot made to start climbing down, but the old man grabbed her and wrapped his arms around her. She tried to squirm out of his arms, but he was too strong. Then the old man released her. Giving her a strange look. “Relax Chipmouse, it was only a hug, I wasn’t trying to hurt you.”

She looked a little awkward. So that was what a hug was? She wasn’t sure she liked it very much. But she looked up at him. He was trying to be nice. She tried to relax a little. Her voice started hesitantly. “. . . can we try that again?” She asked.

The old man gave her a sad look, his eyes told her that he hurt for her. He thought it was sad that someone could live for so long without ever being hugged. He was more gentle this time, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close. She felt a warm splash on her shoulder and realized that Farstrider had let a tear fall. “I’m so sorry that your life has been so bad.” Farstrider said. “I’m sorry, and I hope that it will get better.” He pulled back and looked her in the eye, his eyes were thick with tears. He wiped them with one hand. And kissed her on one cheek and climbed back up onto the bench and started to drive off.

She really didn’t know what to think now. She had been able to accept the hug this time. And it had been nice to be held, protected, safe. She trusted Farstrider, but it was completely outside of anything she had ever experienced. Someone cared for her. She touched her cheek where the kiss had been placed. She looked after him and stood watching the cart get smaller. “What is this?” she asked herself, watching the cart go. She would probably never see that man ever again, but she would remember him. But it was sad that she would probably never see him again.

“Come on Chipmouse.” Lightfinger called. “We need to find someplace to stay the night.”

By ‘we need to’ he meant that he would leave her out of the way, standing on the corner of one of the city streets while he wandered off to find something. She found herself kicking her feet on a short stone wall next to a statue of some great leader in a square not far from the gate they had come through. Lots of people passed through the square. She amused herself by watching the people come and go. there were other children running about, some of them with parents, others unattended like herself. No-one really paid her any attention where she was, they just went about their business and let her do her thing.

It was almost dark by the time Lightfinger returned to get her, “Come little one.” He said, he seemed rather content with himself and had a bag slung over his shoulder. He whistled as he led her through the night-dark streets. They traveled through several darkened alleys until they came to a somewhat run-down warehouse. Lightfinger bowed slightly and gestured for Underfoot to follow him. He ducked low underneath a crumbling fence that looked like it had not been maintained in years. He then led her closer to the building and in through a hole, low to the ground that had been caused by the collapse of part of the wall.

Underfoot looked around. “This is where we are going to live?” She asked.

Lightfinger nodded, tossing her a blanket.

“You didn’t find anywhere nicer we could stay?” She asked.

“When you don’t have any money, you make do with what you can.” He snapped. “Be glad I found these blankets.” He said. “And that I’m sharing.” He paused for a moment and his tone changed, becoming softer. “After we manage to find some better work we’ll see about getting a better place to stay.”

“Okay.” She said, not really thinking to question where he had got the blanket, or what other things he might have in the bag. And how easy it had been for him to find someplace to stay that was not occupied by other vagrants. She snuggled in to the blanket, it was warmer than she was used to. But it was a strange place, full of strange noises. It was hard for her to get to sleep that night, she didn’t have the exhaustion of excitement and the full day of work to draw on when falling asleep, she lay there awake, listening to Lightfinger sleeping. Her mind began to turn, starting to process everything that had happened.

In the process of doing that she fell asleep, slipping from imagination to dream. In her dream she was running from something in the depths of the darkened warehouse.

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This entry was posted on Saturday, August 29th, 2009 at 8:50 am and is filed under Stories, Uncategorized, Without A Name. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.