Thanks everybody who reviewed ^_^ I guess you talked me into seeing where I can take this. *chuckles* I beg one small indulgence on your part...I decided I'd rather Caldina's family sell clocks instead of bolts of cloth. Why? Er...there's an analogy in this chapter that I liked too much, and I couldn't do it without the clock thing. So please put up with me.
Arigato all!
-Lily
Steps of the Dance
Chapter 2
Not two days after the death of Jezedra, and scarcely twelve hours after she had been buried in the family plot, there came a knocking upon the door of Feshahd's clock shop. The new father set his fussy infant daughter down in her bassinet in the tiny apartment behind the store itself and hurried to the door. Officially, all business was closed for a while, until Feshahd got the hang of his daughter's rather erratic sleeping habits. The midwife had given him a special formula for the child, since she would be...unable to partake of her mother's milk. He tried not to think about that, knowing that if he were to indulge himself in grief, he would surely be trapped within a downward spiral of pain and anguish. He had too much to live for now, and Jezedra would never thank him if he neglected Caldina simply to mourn her. There would be time later; for now, not a night passed that he did not cry himself to sleep.
Feshahd fumbled with the key-ring for a moment before locating the tiny brass key. He inserted it into the lock and turned, pulling the door open to reveal a figure long unseen.
"A-Ashul!" He stammered, shocked to see his elder brother home again after faring off to the unknown land of Fahren. His sibling looked much like him, actually. They were both tall, and relatively slim, though Ashul was slightly broader of shoulder and waist, and much more muscular than his craftsman brother. They stood the same height, wore their dark brown hair in similar tussled styles, and possessed large brown eyes. But where Feshahd exuded an air of patience and gentle understanding, Ashul seemed more violent somehow, his eyes like chips of muddy ice.
"Brother." Ashul's smile somehow didn't quite reach past his lips. His voice reflected none of its seeming warmth. "I heard of your loss, all the way in distant Fahren. My most sincere sympathies."
"M-my thanks, elder brother." Feshahd stammered, unable to understand why he had a sudden urge to hide the baby. He and Ashul had never been particularly close. There had been rumors that the oldest sibling had coveted the wife of the younger. It was true that both men had courted Jezedra, though the beauty had always been Feshahd's, from the very beginning.
"I heard that Jezedra died in childbirth." Ashul continued, somehow utterly oblivious to the blatant pain warring on his younger brother's features. "Such a pity. She was always rather delicate though, I suppose." He tilted his head slightly to one side. "Did the child survive, perchance?"
"Y-yes, she did." Feshahd mentally smacked himself for stuttering like an idiot. "Jezedra desired that she be named Caldina. It was her last wish."
"Caldina..." Ashul mulled that over for a moment, his swarthy face twisted in thought. "That was her sister's name, was it not? That brat that died from that fever when we were all children?"
Feshahd nodded, no longer trusting his voice to bear him. His family and Jezedra's had long been business associates, and the children of both had been close friends during their younger years. Before they had struck adolescence, a particularly virulent strain of typhoid fever had struck the Capitol City of Chizeta. The death toll had risen into the hundred thousands before a vaccine had been invented. Seventy percent of the casualties had been the elderly, the infirm, or children. The original Caldina had been one such loss. Jezedra had always been close to her sister, and mourned her death for months afterwards, scarcely coming from her room except to relieve herself.
"Might I see my niece, or would that be too much to ask?" There was a faintly sardonic tone in Ashul's voice now, as though he was mocking his brother somehow.
"Surely." Feshahd nodded and turned his back on Ashul, pocketing his keys as he went. A tiny voice in the back of his mind whispered that perhaps he ought to check his inventory after his unwelcome guest had left. After all, his elder brother had always had rather sticky fingers.
Caldina was fussing again. She waved her tiny fists in the air as though angered by her tiny body's limited mobility. Her blue eyes moved constantly, inspecting the embroidery on her baby blanket, flicking over the tiled ceiling and widening as her father's footsteps came closer. They went bright as sapphires as he leaned over the bassinet and scooped her up into his arms. Caldina giggled and waved her arms and legs around even harder, trying somehow to show the excitement her as yet unformed mind was feeling. Feshahd bounced her gently, smiling as she made a tiny squealing sound in delight.
Ashul leaned over the infant in his brother's arms, realizing how very much like her mother she looked, even now. Her hair had dried to form tiny ringlets of pale pink, which stood out against the dusky skin with almost shocking contrast. Her almond shaped eyes sparkled the bright blue of the sea on a clear day. He reached out a finger for her to clasp, and she wrapped her tiny hand around it with surprising strength for a child barely two days old. It seemed she had managed to avoid inheriting her mother's delicacy, at least.
"A beautiful child," He said at last, after reclaiming possession of his finger. "How, pray tell, do you intend to take care of her and run your business as well?"
"I'll manage," Feshahd said somewhat defensively, cradling his daughter closer to his chest. "I'm sure I can find someone willing to watch her for what little I can pay."
"I could always bring her with me to Fahren," Ashul offered. "After all, that is a land of plenty, where she can grow up with room to run, instead of on these shabby streets. So many accidents seem to befall children these days...crushed beneath the wheels of a wagon, catch their death from some rat borne plague or another, or even recruited by some of those shrial dealers. Nobody sells drugs so well as an innocent."
"Why do I not believe that you have her best interests at heart?" Feshahd asked, his voice harsh now. Caldina stirred in his arms, picking up on the bad vibes between the brothers. "Thank you, but no thank you. We will manage quite well on our own, my daughter and I."
"Suit yourself brother." Ashul shrugged and left the apartment, heading back for the shop. "Suit yourself. I have business here for a few days, then I shall return to Fahren. I suggest you think over my offer, at least. One never knows where Lady Death will strike next, after all."
With that veiled barb, he shut the door of the clock shop behind him, causing the little bells above the door to tinkle with discordant music. Feshahd clutched his daughter close, glaring darkly past the portal. Something very odd had just happened, and he hadn't the slightest clue what it could have been. Caldina whimpered faintly, chubby fingers curling against her father's shirt. He looked down at the infant and forced a reassuring smile. Whatever should happen, his brother would have no claims on the girl. Something warned him against it, and he was never one to ignore a hunch.
~
Named for an aunt she would never see, by a mother she would never know, the girl Caldina Feshahdsdaughter lived out her early years in the streets of the lower middle class merchants quarters. She was a bright, lively child, with an intense enthusiasm for any new activity. She made friends easily with all the other children in her neighborhood, and never seemed any lesser than they for having only one parent. She spent her days playing with the brood of the washerwoman who lived on the corner of her street, under the watchful eye of said matron. Besides herself, there were three other youngsters. Fashiri, who, at a stocky seven years old, was the eldest of the foursome dictated the games they played, and what trouble they got into. His twin sister, Delia, was ying to his yang, a thoughtful, quiet soul, even at such a young age. They were both dark haired and green eyed, and looked little like their younger sibling, Siratan. The five year old boy bore sandy hair and blue eyes that spoke of his mother's dalliance with a foreigner...perhaps a traveler from Autozam.
While left to themselves, the four of them generally stayed clear of any large messes. Though for a short while the laundry sent to the twins' mother went home dyed eye-watering colors. No one ever actually came out and blamed the children, who had long ago perfected the art of appearing innocent, but there were some suspicions.
To be perfectly truthful, Caldina preferred to spend her free time with her father in his workshop. In her eyes, he was the most wonderful father in all of Chizeta, as well as the most talented clockmaker ever. She never tired of sitting for hours on end, watching as he tinkered with his creations. His long, slender fingers (which she seemed to have inherited) worked with endless patience at the gears and mechanisms that caused the timepieces to tick.
"Life is a lot like the workings of a clock, Caldina," He was fond of saying, "Each little gear you see effects every other gear, even if they only touch each other for a fraction of a moment. That contact sets off a chain reaction that makes everything work together as a whole. In life, the people you meet will shape who you become, and the way you see your world. No matter if you only chance upon a person for an instant, they can still change your entire outlook."
The whole theory was a little too profound for a four year old to grasp, but she'd nod and smile anyway, because her father was always right. He taught her what he knew of math, science, and philosophy, and saw to it that she learned to read and write. Someday the shop would fall to her, and she would need to know how to upkeep the accounts. She was his life, his soul, and so much like her mother in spirit that it sometimes hurt. But Feshahd refused to let his wife's sacrifice be for nothing; he wanted to be a good father, and tried to raise Caldina as he and Jezedra had always dreamt of rearing a child.
For now, she was the darling of the shop. Customers came calling, and never failed to leave without patting the beaming cherub on the head. Even at four, with her face and limbs still rounded by baby fat, there were glimmerings of an almost unearthly beauty about the girl.
"You'd better watch this one, Feshahd," One patron often joked, "If you don't keep her under close wraps, you'll end up beating suitors off with a stick!"
"Nuh uh!" Caldina would retort indignantly. "I'm my Daddy's girl!" To which both men would laugh, and Feshahd would package up the customer's purchases and shoo the man out of the shop, warning him to keep his son well away.
It was well after closing hours, during the slightly chilly fall months, when it became apparent that Caldina was anything but a normal child. She had perched herself upon the counter and was thumping her heels against the glass showcase, listening to the tinkling noises of the bells sewn onto her slippers as they jingled. She tapped out an impromptu rhythm, her finger drumming to the beat she created, her head nodding in time as she hummed a nameless tune under her breath.
"That's very good, Dina love." Feshahd chuckled as he came out of his workshop with a completed timepiece. "You're talented."
"Fashiri and Delia like ta dance ta my music." Caldina said brightly, increasing the tempo. "I had to help Siratan dance doh, 'cuz he kept tripping ovah 'is own two feets."
"Help him?" The craftsman raised an eyebrow as he carefully set the clock down atop a shelf. The emphasis she'd put on the word hadn't escaped his notice. "What do you mean?" Preoccupied with his daughter, he didn't seem to notice that the shelf was slightly overbalanced. One end began to tip precariously towards the ground, threatening to spill weeks of hard labor into a mess of cogs and gears.
"Like this!" Caldina exclaimed, jumping off the counter in a jangle of bells. She flung one hand up and pointed almost imperiously towards the sliding shelf, tapping out a fast pace with her left foot all the while. Something that shimmered just on the edge of human sight seemed to hang in the air, exploding from her hands and coming up to freeze the tumbling clocks where they fell.
Feshahd stared at his daughter in shock. Noone in either his family or Jezedra's had ever show any inclinations towards Mage power. But here was his Caldina, stopping gravity in its tracks.
"Daaaddyyyy!" She whined. "It's haard! Fix it or they'll fall!"
Slapped out of his stunned state by her warning, he hurriedly righted the shelf and carefully situated the clocks once more, being careful to watch the balance. It seemed that while she could affect them, he was free to maneuver without interfering with her spell. Feshahd turned back to his daughter, gazing down at her with an unreadable expression.
"It's hard ta do 'dat wit sumthin' dat's not alive," Caldina said gravely. "But you spend so much care wit your clocks, dey're almost alive anyway!"
Feshahd knelt and hooked his hands under her arms, lifting her into the air and setting her back on the countertop. All the while he had yet to speak a word.
"Daddy?" She ventured finally. "Are you mad at me? Did I do somethin' wrong?"
"N-no, no Caldina, love, you didn't do anything wrong." He assured her hastily. "I'm just surprised. Where did you learn that?!"
"Mommy taught me." She answered him, smiling.
Feshahd paled, looking as though someone had taken a sucker punch at his gut. His throat worked as he swallowed hard, lungs laboring to breath past the sudden vice like grip around his chest.
"Your mother?"
Caldina nodded, her smile wistful now. "I see her in my dreams, sumtimes. She's so beautiful, Daddy. She always looks so sad...I think she misses you," Not noticing the sudden bright shine of moisture in her father's eyes, she went right on ahead, "She told me dat I was special, and I could do things...dif'rent things. She says I'm im-por-tant, and one day I'll do really im-por-tant stuff." Caldina looked up and found that tears were running unheeded down Feshahd's cheeks. She reached up and wiped them away with one tiny hand, suddenly reminded of earlier tears, some far away memory she struggled to place, and could not.
"She does miss you." The girl said softly. "An' she loves us both very much. She's an angel now, you know."
"Your mother was always an angel." He replied just as quietly, drawing her into a tight hug. Whatever this talent was, and wherever she had acquired the instruction to wield it so proficiently, it opened up whole new worlds for Caldina. Mages were few and far between, and generally became much more influential than any common citizen could dream of being, no matter how lowly the Mage had been at birth.
Eventually, the sounds of the pot bubbling over in the kitchen came to them, and Feshahd realized that the dinner he'd left on the stove was more than likely getting a little overdone. He lifted Caldina back down to the ground and took her hand, leading her back into the apartment. It didn't matter what abilities she had, for now, she was just a child. He had several friends with contacts in the Mage circle, and perhaps he could arrange for one of them to assess his daughter's abilities. There was a word for one who had the ability to manipulate living objects, and even those that bordered on sentience...he just couldn't remember what it was at that moment.
It doesn't matter, He thought to himself as Caldina set out their plates and went up onto tip toes to reach the drawers containing eating utensils. We have all the time in the world.
~
Somewhere in the lower levels of the city's slums, a rat scurried through the intricate web of interconnecting pipes and plumbing that made up the sewer system. Its breathing was raspy, and open sores seeped clear, viscous fluid into the trickle of water beneath its paws. Every step became a little more faltering as the grimy little creature struggled to draw breath into its diseased lungs. The rodent collapsed to its stomach, sides heaving with increasingly shallower pants. With a resigned squeak, it gave up its tenuous hold on life, and slumped into the unnatural stillness of death, rotting away in the sewers.
And the most deadly plague in Chizetan history began its journey through the waterways.
