North & South

by K T Munson

  “Let’s go.” Celia said and started off towards the bridges.

  “Where?” Rauf asked as Narana hurried to catch up.

  “To the metalworker’s district of course,” Celia said and pressed on.

  “You’re going the wrong way,” Rauf said and Celia stopped.

  “Oh,” she said uncomfortably, “Then lead.”

  “I thought you wanted to find the man in the mask,” Rauf said.

  She put her hands on her hips and retorted, “The man can wait until after that thing is removed.”

  Again he seemed to search her face for something before nodding. “Alright.”

  He turned north and started along the river with confidence, as though he knew the streets intimately. Celia and Narana hurried after his lengthy steps, both of them having to move their feet double time. Narana had time to grow and would likely become taller than Celia. She was not all that short but she was petite and had grown weak in her time as a pleasure slave.

  When they arrived, there was a short line of men waiting outside for their turn. They were singing and laughing as they congratulated those that exited. There was a man singing a song that was clearly recently invented. It was along the lines of a man who didn’t want to be celibate but around women who sell a bit. Now he was free of the iron ring around his member, and now we could find a fair lady to enter.

  Narana giggled at the lyrics as they waited. Celia kept stealing glances towards Rauf, trying to read his expression. It was not surprising that still she could not read even a single one. The man was like a statue. Celia guessed it was from years and years of practice. For a moment Celia had the sudden urge to push him off the chair he was on.

  She barely suppressed that urge only because he stood up. She realized it was his turn and her breath caught in her chest. Rauf was going to be truly free but would he still want her? Celia had never considered the idea that he might not want her. A kiss was hardly a commitment. She shook her head to remove that thought and spotted the abandoned ale.

  Celia licked her lips nervously and then reached over picked up the tankard of ale and drained the glass. The men sitting around were laughing and pointing at her as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. She grinned from ear to ear as she called for a song she knew. She started to sing with the music and dragged Narana to her feet. They locked arms and started to spin as others stomped their feet.

  Narana was laughing as other women joined her and those who could not dance stomped their feet and clapped their hands to the fast beat. Others sang with her but she could hardly hear them over her own voice. They changed directions and Celia lifted up the edge of her skirt to reduce the hindrance it caused. When it was done they were laughing with wild abandon and she stumbled light headed and dizzy.

  Another song started immediately and a man kept the fast rhythm going. She held Narana’s hand but the girl laughed and went back into the fray. Celia staggered to the outside of the circle and found Rauf. She waved to him and tried very hard to pay attention to her feet, even though they were so far away from her head. She had not partaken in such strong ale before and already it was making it a little hard to concentrate.

  She stopped in front of him and looked up at him drunkenly. “Did you like my song?”

  “You’ve been drinking,” Rauf said and she almost could make out the disapproval.

  “Just one,” Celia said holding up her hand which displayed two fingers and she studied at it for a moment before willing the other one down and showing it again. “One.”

  “I left you for ten minutes,” he said with a frown.

  “Ha! You frowned,” she said with a giggle before putting a hand on his chest. “You are such an unreadable mountain.”

  “What does that mean exactly?” He asked.

  “That I cannot read any of your expressions,” Celia said stabbing a finger into his chest. “You are very hard to read. I have no idea what you are thinking or wanting and your chest is really hard.”

  “Like a mountain?” He asked.

  “Yes! I think you were trying to be funny on purpose,” she laughed because it was very humorous.

  “Celia,” he said and she stopped laughing instantly.

  “That is the first time you have ever said my name,” Celia said and she scrunched her face up to keep from crying.

  Before he could respond the dancing spilled over and one of the crowd members bumped into her. She tumbled forward but Rauf caught her and lifted her up out of the way. The man gained his footing and turned around to apologize before locking eyes on Rauf. He quickly said he was sorry under Rauf’s glare as he skirted around and going far away from them. Celia peeked down and her feet were dangling as he held her up by under her arms. She swung them once to be sure.

  Celia reached out and put her hands on his face while she wrinkled her nose. “You shouldn’t glare like that.”

  “You have never been afraid of me,” Rauf alleged still holding her so they were at eye level.

  “I am not afraid of my mountain,” Celia said putting her hands on his shoulders and bounced. “Lift me up.”

  He lifted her up just as she asked and she put her arms up as though she were flying. She threw her arms out and tipped her head back as she closed her eyes. She really liked that ale; it made her feel so free and unhindered. After a moment she bought her arms down and looked at Rauf.

  He slowly started to lower her to the ground. When her feet touched she was a little sad it was over. When he released her, Narana came dancing over and threw her arms around Celia. They danced a happy little dance in a circle before the girl started to drag her away.

  “Come dance with me and sing!” Narana said and she was already light of foot.

  Celia took a step away when she felt Rauf’s hand around her wrist. She paused caught between Narana and Rauf as she glanced back. His eyes were dark, even in the fading evening sun, and they were deep. He leaned down and she went up on her toes to meet him. She closed her eyes as he kissed her, the softest brush of lips. He was claiming her in front of everyone and she had accepted. She smiled up at him when he released her and she continued to do so as Narana spun them into the crowd.

  Chapter 34

  Otto Deckard

  Deckard watched as the last of the panels were attached by the two boys. They were only a few years older than Evanora but either they had shown no academic capabilities or been unable to pay. Tiam was a place of learning and if an individual was capable they were invested in. However, others were better suited for manual labor and the mechanical side. It was not uncommon for them to take side jobs to cover expenses while they were still apprentices.

  Deckard usually performed the work himself but Evanora had been right. The complexity of the work and the size, was beyond his capabilities. It would take him far too long to complete it based on the scale alone. They had taken the last of the panels and the final constructed pieces across the river to the area beyond. The area they chose was an unpopulated part of the river with very little there but dust and plateaus that were too high.

  It was rocky as well but beyond the dangers of the sands. Even so he would catch the boys glancing nervously around as though the sand sharks would, at any moment, come up from the ground and gobble them whole. It was almost amusing watching them jump sometimes and then see if anyone was paying attention. Deckard was careful not to react but he did chuckle once or twice.

  As the afternoon sun started overhead, they retreated to the tent. The boys talked to each other as Deckard looked over the last of the materials. They snacked on the lunch Marisol had packed and drank water that tasted refreshing. He tried to remain calm externally while excitement bounced around wildly within him. All his dreams and hopes were going to become reality in a few more hours.

  After a little over an hour the sun’s heat subsided and they left the cover of the small tent and returned to work. What would have taken Deckard months had taken the two boys under his supervision three days. It a
mazed him their robust capabilities and ability to continue without many breaks. Ah, the wonder of youth, he had all but forgotten.

  By early evening they attached the last piece and poured water into the steam engine. The boy with the brown hair, freckles, and arms and shoulders like a bull’s, heaved at the crank. On the third pull it came to life and sputtered once before the blade began to spin. The boy backed away and all three of them threw their hands up as the blade picked up momentum and sand flew up into the air.

  Deckard secured the leather hat Evanora had made for him and a pair of goggles. His long graying hair stuck out every which way from underneath it. The boys continued to back up but Deckard was moving forward. He slowly eased himself into the seat he had crafted with the single stick that operated the entire thing. He pressed the stick down and the blade began to spin faster.

  After a moment the flying machine began to live true to its name. The blades made a whop-whop-whop sound as it evened out to a continuous hum. Slowly it rose, higher and higher, and Deckard looked down to see how far. The boys were celebrating and dancing around as he rose as high as a building. He swallowed down a bubble of fear; his heart almost hurt from the excitement. He returned the stick to halfway in between all the way forward and the dead center position. The craft shuddered again and started to descend. When it was all the way down he reached up and flicked the machine off.

  The blades spun slower and slower until they stopped. Deckard carefully exited the carriage of the flying machine and stepped out onto the gravel. As he pushed the goggles onto the top of his head, he had one of those ridiculous grins on his face. The boys came running up to him smiling and the boys hugged him excitedly. He knew they were just eager to be getting paid now that Deckard’s work was done, but that didn’t matter.

  “Let’s take it back to the dock and store it,” Deckard said as he picked up the pole with a white cloth on it and walked it to the edge of the river.

  The boys got the trolley under it, the first item that Deckard had designed after his flying machine; that exact flying machine had actually flown. He turned back to help the boys load the machine but it was already half loaded. His mind raced and his hands shook; he could feel his blood and hear it bounce around his skull. He’d done it this time though—this machine worked.

  “It was humming,” one of the boys said enthusiastically. “I’ve never heard anything quite like it.”

  “It was like a very loud boat propeller,” the other boy said as he cranked the pulley system.

  “Oi,” the other one said loudly, “I never heard one like that.”

  “It is from the blades,” Deckard informed them as he walked back towards them. “They are beating the air into submission. Water suppresses the sound of the ferry’s propeller and its blades make a different sound because of their shape. I’ll dismantle the tent.”

  Deckard slowly got to his task and repacked the tent with slow deliberate movements. He had made history, with a simple wish to make the world better, and history would have his name. Deckard finished as the boys slowly moved the trolley to the boat. When the important cargo was loaded Deckard entered behind, nearly tripping on the ferry’s loading area.

  The ferry was quickly across The Knife and Deckard could hardly keep himself from running. He wanted to quickly secure the flying machine and return to his daughter. She had to be the first he told, the first to know history would be made on this day. It was very difficult to watch as his invention was stored in the building he had rented for his private use.

  They covered it and drained the water so that the new water would be fresh after every use. He had estimated it could fly continuously for nearly half an hour. Not quite long enough to make the trip from North to South but an impressive start. The evening was casting its long shadows by the time he paid the ferryman and his two helpers.

  It was difficult not to skip and call out into the night what he had done. He felt young and invigorated. Instead, he kept a steady hurried pace towards home. His heart was protesting, it had always been weak, but his head wouldn’t listen. This day was no day to be bothered by a bad heart, but by the time he reached his street he was breathing heavily.

  That is why it took him a few moments to notice the two guards posted outside his house. Deckard felt the hair stand up on his arms and the back of his neck. Something was clearly wrong as he caught his breath and calmly walked towards them. In the fading light it took them a moment to notice him.

  “What is going on?” Deckard demanded as he came to stand in front of them.

  They glanced at each other and the older one said, “Phineas Trive and members of Tiam’s council have been waiting for you.”

  Deckard’s frown deepened as he pushed past them to go through the first gate. A second city guard opened the inner gate as he entered. It was difficult not to glare at the guard, showing his clear displeasure. Instead he nodded curtly and continued into the courtyard. A small table had been drug down from the dining area. Five men and two women were seated at it as Marisol stood by and watched.

  “Where is my daughter?” Deckard demanded immediately, causing silence to fall.

  “Otto!” Phineas boomed as he stood and held his arms open, “We began eating without you since you took so long to return.”

  Phineas was taking a jab by using his intimate name. Deckard was what everyone else called him but Deckard knew that was the least of his concerns. “Why are there city guards at my house?” Deckard inquired, trying to keep his voice level.

  “It was deemed necessary,” Councilwoman Franil said and turned her dark eyes on him. “To understand the gravity of the situation.”

  “What situation?” Deckard strode closer to him.

  “Your attempt to destroy Tiam’s commerce,” Phineas informed him as he took a greedy swallow of wine. “You and your flying machine.”

  “What do you mean?” Deckard didn’t understand.

  What in the world where they talking about? He wondered.

  “Tiam was built as a place of commerce before it was a place of learning,” Councilman Gralvis informed him. “Your flying machine will circumvent the use of The Knife. Our main means of trade.”

  “It would be unwise to allow you to continue,” Councilwoman Franil explained. “The council is placing you under house arrest until a decision is made.”

  “I thought this was a place of learning, not tyranny!” Deckard yelled, and then took a deep breath to calm himself. “Where is my daughter?” He repeated.

  “In her room, she rudely declined our invitation to dinner,” Phineas said sweeping a hand across the table.

  Deckard looked at them in disbelief before his temper snapped, “According to the city code 435 of the section under Council Operations, entering a person’s property without proper notification to its owner results in a fine and possible removal or suspension for abuse of Council power. I know my rights.” Then he yelled at them, “Get out of my house!”

  “No reason to be so rude, I understand where your daughter learned her manners.” Phineas said with a pout as he stood and the council members with him. “We will return to discuss the matter of your flying machine later.”

  “You are private person and not a member of the council,” Deckard said as they went by. “Phineas, you will never step foot on my property so long as it is mine.”

  Phineas stopped and leaned his great bulk towards him as he whispered, “You should have taken my offer.”

  Deckard clenched his fists before he said, “I’ll bill you for the food.”

  When they were gone the guard remained, like a rigid reminder. Deckard turned around as Marisol threw her arms around him. She began to cry and he couldn’t move from shock. Marisol had never cried in front of him before.

  “What are we going to do?” Marisol asked clearly distressed.

  “I’ll think of something,” Deckard said and they walked up the stairs together.

  They found Evanora in her room pacing around. When th
ey opened the door she picked up a book and held it as though she was going to throw it. When she saw it was them she dropped it and came running to throw her arms around his waist.

  Deckard let Marisol go and inspected his daughter’s face, “Did they hurt you?”

  “Only my pride,” Evanora said with a lopsided grin before glancing out the door. “Have they gone?”

  “Yes,” Deckard said but had to add, “For now.”

  “Did you finish it?” Evanora asked hopefully.

  “I did,” Deckard said with a smile that was no longer as hopeful, “and it worked.”

  “Good,” Evanora said, “We may need it to leave.”

  “Leave?” Deckard asked confused.

  “Ostapor has fallen and armies march south to reclaim it,” Evanora informed him.

  Apparently there was more going on in the world than the house arrest of one old inventor.

  Chapter 35

  Hadrian

  The day was turning dark and Hadrian watched as the lines of sun stretched across the floor. It would not be long until Eswan would be at their gates and they did not have the manpower to protect all three sides. For every slave that escaped that could fight, four more came that could not. Had it been Sylon or another inexperience army marching to their gates they could have held them.

  Hadrian feared that they could not overcome two armies when one was as experienced as Eswan. A militant country like Eswan would have weapons and were trained for battle. Everyone had heard stories of Eswan and what they did to train their soldiers. Sylon was marching as well; they wanted what was left of the bloodied city and whatever else Eswan would give them of Ostapor.

  There came a knock on the door that drew Hadrian from his thoughts, “Enter.”

  A man pushed into the room and said, “We have a hostage from Lorian, she surrendered herself at the gate.”

  Hadrian stood as Vica entered the room. She was dressed in some of the finest clothes and she wore the seal of the Citadel. Hadrian paused as he stood; of all the people he had not expected her. It was a relief that she had survived, but she should have stayed away. He could not let her burn with the city. “Give me the key,” Hadrian said walking towards her with this hand extended out. “Then leave us.”