The city walls of Ramos glittered in the weak sun that sifted through the afternoon’s coat of clouds. Five times as tall as Gabrielle, the walls were covered in murals of shattered glass. While the Kaerents, short-tempered after three weeks of traveling, proffered papers and argued with the guards at the gate, Gabrielle stared hungrily at the vibrant scenes. To her left was a depiction of the Rose and the Moon, though it took her a moment to pair the embracing couple with the story every child knows.
The mural was both breathtaking and heartbreaking. The Moon, pictured as a slender man with long hair and pale skin glowing somewhere between gold and silver, held the Rose tight against his chest, even though blood fell from the slender thorn-cut slashes on his skin. The Rose, with vibrant red hair and a green dress that wilted to brown at the bottom, leaned into him, one of her legs already crumbling into dust. Around them, splinters of white-gold glass formed the starburst tears of the purple night sky mourning the first and final embrace of the unlucky lovers.
The mural on the right was calmer, evoking serenity and nostalgia rather than melancholy. Though the glass shards were just as sharp, softer hues of blue and green painted an idyllic river scene with graceful herons and swaying reeds. A swirl of darker blue was either the lazy current or a coy river spirit, and two children in a boat fished with clumsily bound rods. Though Gabrielle had never been fishing, she could almost hear the lapping of the river against the muddy shore and feel the sun tickling her scalp as she floated downriver…
Somebody clapped, and Gabrielle blinked herself back into the world. The Kaerents were coming back towards the wagon while the guards cranked open the old gate. One of the Kaerents clapped again and shouted something Gabrielle didn’t quite catch- but soon the girls were scrambling out of the wagon and it became clear they were expected to walk.
Gabrielle had never seen the capital before, though of course she had marveled at the glasswork that came from the Isle of Aira, the twin city of Ramos with its famous cathedral that lanced at the sky from about a mile offshore. Her heart hurt as she recalled the round iridescent jars Mother Hall collected, with their butterfly patterns and rounded lead lids. One day, Mother Hall had said, they would travel together to Aira so Gabrielle could commission her own spirit-lantern or storm rod, and Gabrielle had always feared that day, because it would have meant Mother Hall thought she was no longer an apprentice, but a Candlemaiden ready to set off on her own.
That day would never come now. The thought scared Gabrielle, because it shouldn’t have been true. She could still return to Mother Hall after this wretched schooling, and they could still come to Ramos and Aira. It wouldn’t be her first time seeing the cities, but Gabrielle would still find it overwhelming and wondrous.
In her bag, the mice chittered, and Gabrielle felt a tear bud up in her eye. The thought scared her because it was true. Somehow she knew she’d never see Mother Hall again, that she’d never be let back into her old life. Whoever she was, whoever she was going to be- it was all different now, and she couldn’t change it back.
***
The Kaerents first led the girls through snaking streets of the city at a wearying pace. Gabrielle barely had time to admire the houses, which were the inverse of her villages’ in that the walls were plain colors while window and door frames were decorated, or to study the people’s clothing, which, like the houses, was a bit the same and a bit bewildering.
But the city was hilly, and after a while of walking up steep streets, the Kaerents stopped to argue with each other and point in various directions. Passersby gave the girls and their gesticulating guardians a wide berth, though they weren’t afraid to openly stare. Spinning in place, Gabrielle returned the favor, her eyes wide wide wide to soak in all of the city.
The houses were all snug up against each other, each doorframe a riot of color that mirrored the whole of the street. Magenta leaned against azure, which pushed against orange, which clashed with the deep green of its neighbor. The rooftops were staggered, some jutting above others, some coming forward over porches that shaded gossiping women and lazy cats judging those that walked by. Children ran down the streets, tailed at times by high-flying kites, laughing and shouting and darting between tsk-ing parents who carried baskets at their hips.
Every street was like that, a microcosm of brilliant colors and colorful people, each its own world and overwhelming, until sudden alleys revealed the city sprawled beneath you, nothing but red rooftops and the endless blue of sea and sky.
They kept walking, and the city changed, houses turning into white-faced shops and streets filling with more and more people. Gabrielle was startled to see other Kaerents walking around in the mercantile areas, welcomed by the shopkeepers and speaking passable, if rather arrhythmic, Erillen. She was more startled when an old man with sea-green eyes handed her a piece of bread with a nod of his head and a whispered Candlemaiden, before walking off. Not particularly hungry, Gabrielle ripped off a tiny piece and offered the rest of it to the girls next to her, who tore into it at once.
Though Gabrielle was used to wandering walks, the cobblestones took their toll on feet used to springy dirt and mulchy forest floors. By the time the Kaerents had led them down to the waterside and the sunny afternoon had given way to an evening fog, Gabrielle wanted nothing more than to soak her feet in warm water, or perhaps to numb the pain away in the icy sea. Even with their shoes, the other girls felt much the same, and the Kaerents leading them looked ready to collapse as well. Almost everyone shuffled immediately into the inn they had arrived at, not minding its worn plain exterior or the pungent smell of fish that clung to the warehouses around it. A few girls, like Gabrielle, stayed outside, unprepared to forfeit the cool sea-breeze for the cramped quarters inside.
Frowning, Gabrielle stared out to the edge of the bay at the dark smudge she knew to be Aira. She had caught only glimpses of its high white cliffs from the city and wished she could see it without the haze of evening fog. Perhaps it was just the general mystique of the island, but it tugged at her. Gabrielle felt she should visit it, that perhaps someone or something was waiting for her there.
She also felt as if someone was watching her.
Slowly, careful not to jostle the dozing mice inside, Gabrielle picked up her bag from the ground and slid the straps over her shoulders. Whatever was staring at her didn’t feel like an ill-disposed spirit, but there was no harm in an overabundance of caution. With a sedate pace, Gabrielle set out to walk along the docks.
The fog was thick enough to make travel without a light unwise, but the docks were neither empty nor quiet. The sea sloshing at the wood of the piers and the occasional burst of wing-flutter filled the night with fog-muffled sounds. On her walk, Gabrielle saw several sailors gathered around a lantern, one of whom nodded at her as she passed, and a few children younger than her scampering around with stubby candles. All of them looked somewhat warily at the snaking will-o-wisp Gabrielle had summoned to light her way, and Gabrielle felt as always somewhat uneasy in her display of power. She would have just lit candle from her pack, but she hadn’t wanted to wake the mice. Besides, with the Kaerents crawling through their city, Gabrielle felt that display of Erillen power was in order.
A strange man- Talvic, Gabrielle supposed, judging by his ghostly pale skin and white-blond hair- walked by Gabrielle without a light at all, his eyes not even drawn to the ghostly light squirming in front of her. Gabrielle turned to look at him more closely, but only caught a glimpse of his long robes before he disappeared again into the fog.
When Gabrielle reached a far pier, she slid off her pack and sat down with her legs over the edge, a few feet above the restless ocean that sucked at the rocky shore. She still felt she was being watched, but the only company she had on the lonely pier was a pair of birds perched on its end posts and the mice deep asleep amongst her clothing and candles.
Gabrielle sighed, her breath ragged and shuddering. Perhaps she was imagining the weight of interested eyes against her skin, translating her general unease into a sensation more ominous, but it truly felt as if she were not alone, unable to grieve in peace.