What Birds See

[Kit Rowan]

Day 22nd, Season of Summer, 513 AV

"You, girl, you know Gemmei's Engravings? No? Madness must have taken Valerius, thinking to hire you. The people's market? You know that, surely?"

"Good, then. Her shop is near enough to there. Hand this note to Gemmei, and bring what she gives you back. I will expect it within a bell, or I will make certain that Valerius hears of your incompetence. What are you doing? Go!"

Go Kit did, dodging out through the side of the Nitrozian manner as she tucked the Nitrozian's note in her back pocket as she ran, dodging around a very startled slave as she escaped into the water-streets of Ravok, certain there would be more displeasure in store for her than a few harsh words if she did not please her employer's relative with utmost speed.

Mostly Kit had the fortune of commuting between the Nitrozian Plaza and the Nitrozian Estate, and though they were in two different districts Kit had already mapped out the routes that needed taking there in her head. Though they needed refining, they were rough, and they were fast. But Kit had never even tried to reach the Market District from the Estate before . . .

If Kit could climb like a Symenestra, she could have scaled walls like ladders, traveled across the town like a ghost. If she could scale a building with the slightest handhold, throw herself up gaps like some Inverted acrobat, might have nearly matched it. But Kit was none of these things; she was agile, she was quick on her feet and she could climb things most others couldn't. But not just anything; Kit needed to plan, needed a route, lined up of things she could climb and places she could go to make the trip shorter.

Now, though? She had no good route. Kit would have to figure everything out on the way.

[Kit Rowan]

Kit jogged at a pace slow enough that it began to grate fast. Her body hissed urgency, bur Kit knew that while her agility had returned with practice her stamina was now, at best, so-so. Too much speed too early would leave her too tired to do what she needed to reach the other end.

The Noble District was, thankfully, largely empty of traffic, full to the brim of persons who would much rather wait and stand dignified on a Ravosala as they traveled than walk. Unluckily, that meant that architects considered bridges here to be best used as set dressing. As rare set dressing. Kit needed to invent her own way across the canals if she wanted to escape the slow, plodding pace of the Ravosalas, and every chime wasted was a chime closer to failure.

She turned a corner and found what she was looking for; the buildings in the Noble District had an awful habit of being too tall to be cleared by a jump. They were simply built too tall! But luckily, the same wealth that drove their structures high also built elaborate textures into the side. Some, like what she was looking at now, could even be scaled.

This one had a low awning over its side, throwing dappled shade over a garden little bigger than Kit's room at the Tarsin House. Kit threw herself at it, her fingers catching hold of the edge. She closed her eyes, breathed in and out, pulled, heaving herself up and over onto the awning.

Now for the hard part.

They had carved an elaborate seeming of vines and leaves all the way up the side of their building. The texture was deep, and Kit was sure that she could climb it if only she knew where to look. But, she was not certain, and then she would fall . . . Kit swallowed hard and put one foot on top of a carved vine and grabbed hold of a flower. No point in debating.

Step by step she scaled the side of the building, wishing for further speed, feeling gravity try to pull her down as her hands got slippery with sweat. She saw herself falling over the edge, breaking her body against the ground, and the thrill of almost-death cut a long smile across her face. One step, two step, three step four . . .

The was at the top. Kit grabbed hold of the edge, easing herself a little further. Pulled herself up onto the roof on her belly, sending a pack of gulls perched atop the roof scattering with a sound like muted laughter. Kit's belly heaved with effort, sweat running down her face, but gods oh gods how good it made her feel.

Kit pushed herself from stomach to knees to feet and stared out over Ravok. The roofs went on and on until she could see the lake sparkling around her her, with only the ominous presence of Rhysol's dark temple there to pillage the horizon line. This, Kit thought, was a view reserved for birds and winged things. For a few ticks she allowed herself to savor it.

[Kit Rowan]

Once Kit was up, her progress sped considerably. Climbing? She could do it sure, but it was never quite her thing. Leaping, though? Yes. She vaulted from building to building, taking full advantage of the nearness of Ravokian architecture to make the jump from place to place while the Ravosalas and pedestrians quietly lumbered with their business on their crowded low roads.

The problem was the width of the canal between where the markets began and the noble started. It was too wide to simply jump across at any point. She had to pick it carefully.

Kit kept up her pace, vaulting from roof to roof, tucking her feet close to her body as she jumped so she could get just those few more feet. Her blood raged through her body in an angry cycle, and Kit felt every heartbeat, felt herself smiling broadly at the inescapable reminder that she was still alive, still alive and free in spite of this horrid city and everything it had tried to do to her.

There it was! They were rare enough in the noble district but Kit had kept count on where they were positioned. A thick, twine rope that bridged the gap between districts, holding one building on the other side in place along with a webwork array of other ropes. Kit made the final leap and hit the slanted roof on all fours, crawled on her hands and knees toward the rope and stood up, arms held out, so the wind blew easily through her hair.

Kit made the march across the rope with her hands held out to either side like wings, breathing evenly. The wind tried to push her off and send her tumbling into the waterways where the Ravosalas swam but she ignored its pull and kept on marching, swaying slightly as she walked, eyes turned forward always, never behind and never down.

And then she reached the other side, stepping over onto tiled roof and lower stories, where the ropes were laid out across the city. From here, Kit thought she could find her way to the market and back. She squinted at Syna and asked Ionu to grant her the keenness to make it in time.

[Kit Rowan]

Kit found the merchant's ringand slipped from a low roof, landing in a half-crouch before marching around the circle, sweat running down her back, her body complaining and complaining already. She had built her body into an athletic one all her life, but for only short bursts of activity, not extensive effort, and it showed in the way in the way her body sagged. Kit rubbed her hands over her face and cursed into her palms; she couldn't afford to fail. Not now! Not with so much left to lose!

She breathed in deep and held her palms in front of her face. They were shaking. Fear or exhaustion? She clenched them into fists and marched about the market district, determined to find Gemmei's name among the winging signposts and bustling crowds.

At last she did. She pushed her way through the door, causing a bell over her head to ring-ting-tin, high and flutey. The shop, if you could call it that, was little that a showroom. Elaborate blades hung on high places on the walls, each one beautifully engraved. There was a counter, empty now, and behind it there were several jeweled necklaces nailed to a wall. This was not, Kit thought, the look of place that people came to browse in. This, she thought, pulling the little note her 'client' had offered her, was a place where works wer commissioned.

Kit was considering swiping one of the sample jewelry when she heard a voice from deeper in the shop. "Just a moment!" She had drawn her hand back a safe distance from the wealth when a cheery, yellow-haired girl with a charming smile and a spring in her step came out the back. "Oh look at you," she said, and there was sympathy in her voice. "You must've run hard. Do you have the right shop?"

Kit stared. Sighed. She held out the piece of paper for the girl to take, and she did so. Ran her hand along the lines of its writing. "Oh. You're here on their behalf then? I'm Gemmei." She held out her hand for Kit to take. Kit bit her lip for a moment before taking it. "It's a pleasure to meet with you . . ."

"Shy," Kit lied again. By nowt, there was perhaps one person in the city who knew her true name. If most people knew her as Shy, did that just make her Shy? Would Kit fall away before time's slow assault, like when her slavers had tried to turn her into Red? If an illusion that no one say through was as good as real, did that make Shy real?

"Hello?" Gemmei snapped her fingers under Kit's eyes.

The diminutive girl blinked, shook her head, smiled. "I'm a courier for the Nitrozians." She pulled the little paper note out of her back pocket—Paper! Imagine!—And handed it to Gemmei.

The engraver picked it up, raised an eyebrow and pocketed the thing. "Their latest order, huh?" Her smile slashed wide open. "Oh yeah, I just got it done. Wait here a tick and I'll go get it for you." She turned around and marched into the back, leaving Kit fidgeting alone in the front room, eying her jewelry greedily. She shoved her hands into her pockets to keep them honest while time tick-tick-ticked on by. All things considered, she could take a donation to make up for the emotional strain of waiting. No, no . . . it'll be real obvious who'd nicked it. Leave it be.

"Here we go!" A muted voice from the back said, and then she was walking back out. There was a sheathed dagger in her hand. She drew it, and it shined, etched with elaborate letters up and down the end, so deep and so intricate the durability of the blade must have suffered for it. The hilt was dotted with gems and beautifully made. This was not a weapon; this was set dressing.

Why would it be important to get it back fast? It wouldn't. It wouldn't. This whole trip was a petching test. Only the Nitrozians would think to use something both this useless and expensive as a 'test!'

Gemmei frowned. "Something wrong with my work?" She asked, and there was warning in her voice.

Kit wiped the anger from her face and tried her best to smile. "Nah, not at all." She held out her hand. Gemmei slid the dagger back into its sheathe and put it in her palm, and Kit slid it into her belt where it could safely sit. "I'm sure they'll be real happy with it."

She seemed dubious. "Well, tell them I'd be happy to work for them again. It's not every day I get to go all out with my art on steel without worrying about its durability."

As she was adjusting her belt to hang a little tighter and firmer on her waist, Kit looked up and offered Gemmei a little smile. "I'll tell 'em just that. Thanks."

[Kit Rowan]

This was trouble. She was only halfway done and already Kit was tired, breathing hard. Her short wait in the engraving shop was little help in relieving the strain on her body. How much time had passed? She didn't know if she was ahead of schedule or behind. Part of her wanting nothing more than to toss a coin to the nearest Ravosala and them carry her leisurely back to the Estate. But the thought of leaving everything unfinished with the bit between her teeth and the struggle halfway finished left a sour taste in her mouth.

The Merchant's Ring had lower roofs, thankfully. Climbing up was as simple as finding a barrel and jumping to the ledge—or, at least, she tried. Her sweaty palms slipped on the edge, sent her falling back to the ground with a resounding thud Kit cursed, pushed herself up off the ground and let exhaustion take her for a moment. Then she wiped her hands off on her trousers, and—ignoring the scraps and bruises and little hurts in her body—climbed up to the top of the barrel. She jumped, grabbed the ledge and pulled herself up again.

She made her way across the webwork of rope tethers that kept the city afloat, crossing streets that would take an Ravosala chimes and pedestrians dozens of chimes in a matter of short ticks, until she was nearly there, so nearly there. Still, her body felt heavy. She let her foot fall a little too far to the right and very nearly toppled over the edge. Her legs snared the rope before she could fall all the way. Feeling weak and witless, Kit hung over a canal by a rope, ponytail dangling down below her where the dark waters of the canal waited. Kit swallowed, hard.

She took a Ravosala the rest of the way.

"I must say . . . your delivery was far more punctual than expected. You have proven yourself an asset . . . Shy, was it? Yes. I will see you properly recompensed. But in Rhysol's name, clean up. You look like you were dragged in off the streets by a hound."

[Abstract]

Grade Awarded!

Kit

Skills

~ Running - 1
~ Climbing - 2
~ Acrobatics - 2
~ Observation - 1

Lores

~ Ravok: Gemmei's Engravings
~ A Too-Rushed Delivery

Other

N/A

Notes

Lovely writing as always! I really enjoy your descriptions... and Kit's mentality.

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