Christopher Kite moved through the crowds with the practiced ease that came with his profession. He was able to weave his way through the crowds of farmers in their overalls, merchants in their flashy finery, and the people from the outlying lands dressed in their town clothes; he was able to move through all these varying costumes in a long black cloak with an equally menacing cowl covering his face unnoticed.
But, even in the tiny provincial town of Parley's End, the sight of a thief practicing his trade wasn't unusual. As long as the thief in question had his guild card on him (and Kite did, it was tucked into a pocket of his tunic, high on the chest near his heart), then the best any citizen could do was to fill out the appropriate forms and wait for reimbursement from the city.
Kite's guild card was no protection against what he had planned for today, however. He had his sights set higher than the coin purses and leather wallets of the bumpkins around him.
In the center of town was a large, imposing cathedral; and Kite was trying to work his way towards this in such a way that no one could say that he was definitely heading towards it.
Once near the cathedral, however, his resolve broke, and he picked up his pace, his hard leather boots ringing on the cobblestones underfoot. He was making too much noise, a violation of the code that could easily cause him to lose his guild card, but he didn't care. The heavy oaken doors were ten feet away, and there was no one looking his way yet.
A light rain was falling, little more than an annoyance right now, but the low black clouds promised that this was but a prelude to the main event.
As soon as he put his hands on the ornate door handles, the sky gave a great crack, and the rain came down in force. The rain went from gentle pattering to feeling as though someone was upending a massive bucket over Kite's head. All around, merchants were folding up their tents, and their customers were scattering to the four winds, some covering their heads with newsprint that were offering little protection from the torrential rains. It would only be a matter of time until someone noticed the thief, working furiously at the heavy doors of the cathedral, and then Kite would be cast into the Mines. Kite didn't have the constitution for such backbreaking work. He'd have to work fast.
He'd just worked the lock open when he felt more than heard a deep rumbling sound, and he turned his head slowly towards the source of the sound.
A wall of water was working its way down the main thoroughfare, a great roaring Leviathan destroying everything in its path. As Kite watched, a man in overalls was picked up by the swirling waters. He struggled briefly, but the waters jerked and tossed him around in the tempest before dashing his head against a lamppost. The water around him darkened to a foaming red for a moment, and then he was swept out of sight.
Kite took all this in the space of a breath, and then he was climbing.
He leapt straight up, his hands automatically finding purchase in the rough-hewn stone of the cathedral, and he scrabbled up it as quickly as he could. The water had already passed below Kite, continuing its horrible tour of the town, and yet it was still rising, the water lapping at his ankles as he rose further and further into the suddenly pitch-dark day.
Kite hazarded a glance downward, and saw that the water had risen above the level of the pub, washing all of the drunks to their final watering hole, and still it was rising. Kite guessed that he was probably three stories above the cobblestones below, and still the water rose.
And then he was at the top of the cathedral, clinging to the spire, staring down at the waterlogged interior of the church through a small skylight. With a strange sort of detachment, Kite saw that a basket of apples was floating just underneath the skylight, and a few stray apples were bobbing out of the opening towards him. He considered for a moment reaching out and eating one of the apples (the condemned man's last meal, he thought), and then a large swell rose out of the water and knocked Kite from his perch.
When Kite awoke, he was laying face down on a hard wooden surface. He could feel splinters working their way into the skin of his face, his cowl laying a few feet from him. He sat up in a panic, immediately reaching for it. This was another card-revoking offense, being seen in public without some sort of mask. Once it was safely reattached, however, he looked around him.
That's odd, he thought. He remembered bits and pieces of the town before the flood, and dimly, the cathedral. But none of these were in sight. True, after the ferocity of the storm, he had expected this. But instead of a wreckage-strewn field, he was at a train station.
Before he could even begin to process this information, a man in a conductor's uniform stepped off the train and extended his hand in greeting. "Mr. Kite?" the man asked.
Kite felt his heart drop, and automatically checked to make sure his cowl was fastened. The conductor noticed this and smiled. "Don't worry, lad. I'm not here to take your card. Quite the opposite, in fact. You see, we've been expecting you."
Kite relaxed, but only slightly. His eyes were still thin slits behind his mask, and in his most quietly menacing voice, he said, "Who has been expecting me?"
The conductor had been standing with his hands clasped below his waist in a display of deference, but now he gestured grandly towards the train with one hand. "Why, the people who wait at the next station."
Kite looked at the train with an appraising eye. The engine of the locomotive was painted a bright bottle-green, and it was studded with what looked like jewelry. The cars were likewise painted, yet they seemed to be less extravagant, their only hint at gaudiness a gold trim along the edges of the cars. And yet, as he looked closer, he saw that the trim wasn't gold paint, as he'd assumed, but actual gold. He could tell just from the exterior that the inside would be similarly lavish. Perhaps while inside, he could lift enough to make up for his dismal showing at the cathedral.
He looked back at the conductor, whose smile broadened until his entire face looked in imminent danger of cracking in half. "Don't worry, Mr. Kite. All will be explained at the next station. In the meantime, why don't you come aboard and relax? Or better yet, familiarize yourself with our extensive collection of rare coins."
Kite looked at the man, not quite believing that he had just been given him license to rob this railroad blind, and yet the knowing smile on the conductor's face led him to believe that this was exactly what had just happened.
"Coins, you say?" Kite asked.
The conductor grinned even broader, although Kite would have been hard put to explain how he accomplished this. "Aye," he said, "and real silverware, with ivory dishes. Come aboard, lad. You can leave with all you can carry, just to listen to what they have to say."
Kite nodded, then stood up, taking a few moments to dust his cloak off and smooth out the wrinkles until he felt presentable, and then asked, "When do we leave?"
The conductor nodded, then said, "As soon as you're aboard, sir."
2 comments:
I like it! I wonder at his inner dialogue a bit- what he makes of the flood and its ridiculous rise. Also- examine your costume you've given him. A cowl- fine; a long black cloak and heavy leather boots that ring loud on cobblestones- what the fuck is a thief going to do with those?
The filling out of forms to be reimbursed is a nice bureaucratic turn, and gives us a broad view of his world without talking too much- nice.
I really liked this. The only thing I would say is that some of your words seem a bit repetitive and maybe a comma could have found a home in there somewhere-I think it was when he could see rather than hear, or something to that effect. Baseline, I liked it a bunch. He did die, right? Or is there more story to come about the "next stop"?
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