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Chapter 9: Waking Dreams

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T.M. 114

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To the east of Ryven, further inland and deeper in the human inhabited lands, the sun rose to shine on the city of Moire. The three sets of city gates opened to travelers at first light, and the city burst into the noisy bustle of daily business.

Kayame stomped down the back stairs of the Gryphon, muttering incoherently and not caring for once if anyone heard her. Tarai hurried after her sister, looking around nervously for anyone who might appear due to Kayame's noise. Upon reaching the alleyway, the older girl waited only long enough for Tarai to arrive, then took her hand and strode into the heart of the city.

"No money at all," she ranted as they went. "Not one aed." Tarai silently nodded, her usual response when Kayame paused during a tirade. They ended faster when uninterrupted. "And with our luck, we're going to run-in with one of the clans." Kayame tossed her head angrily, her dark eyes flashing. "Just let them get in my way..."

"Kay, don't think about it," Tarai pleaded. "They're too much bigger than you. Besides, we need to find some firstmeal."

Sighing, Kayame fell silent, but Tarai knew from the stiff way her sister walked that she was still furious. Not wanting to provoke her, the short-haired girl silently followed her sister, trying to think of something for them to do.

Kayamé watched the city's denizens carefully as she and Tarai passed them in their wanderings through the streets. City guards rarely paid attention to them since they never did anything, but if one was in a foul mood then street urchins made for the easiest targets to vent anger on. Farmers, merchants and guildsmen weren't a problem, provided the girls stayed out of their way. Visiting nobles (scum of the earth was more like it, in Kayamé's book) with business at the castle were the most troublesome, with their arrogant attitudes and escorts; the best thing to do when a nobleman's train approached on its way to the north part of the city was to duck into an alley until it left.

Such was the visible, honest populous of the city—sometimes problematic, but Kayamé could live with them. It was the disreputable citizens she kept an eye out for, the inhabitants of the second, hidden city that lived in the shadows decent people avoided: pickpockets, gangs, bounty-hunters and their prey, and anyone with an eye out for free labor or pretty faces. These co-inhabitants of her world made for a rather long list, and she had taken to mentally classifying everyone she saw into the categories of Benign, Suspicious, and Dangerous. As of yet, no one had defied her filing system.

She continued labeling the people around her as she and Tarai turned onto a small market street. It was quieter there, with fewer people and a more relaxed atmosphere. Rather than shout their wares in the crude manner of most merchants, these tradesmen simply waited for their customers to arrive, confident in the demand for their wares.

Looking around, Kayamé's paused in her mental note to avoid one of the men browsing too casually farther up the street when a particularly tiny stall caught her attention. Though she had traveled the street a hundred times before, she couldn't remember ever seeing it occupied. Situated in front of an average sized residence for the middle-to-poor-class part of town, the stall covered the left part of the house's face. A table rested directly in front of the cloth awning; on its surface a small display held all kinds of intricate glass jewelry, the delicate creations glinting in the sunlight.

Behind the table, half in and half out of the awning's shadow, sat a smiling, wrinkled vhenta — the undercity term for an old man. The expression on his face gave Kayamé the impression that he had all the time in the world, and not a care to bother him. She peered at him, unsure of whether or not to trust his looks and think of him as Benign. He certainly appeared harmless, with his mop of messy white hair, bushy eyebrows, and old but well-worn clothes. There was nothing about him that Kayamé could find herself second-guessing.

Curious, she approached the stall. There was something… different about both shop and owner, something that she wanted to see more of. The old man glanced up as the girls neared the table, and his face lit up with pleasure.

"Good morrow, young ladies. Might I be of assistance? A necklace, perhaps, or a bracelet? Hand made by the lady and I."

Tarai smiled shyly at him but didn't reply, choosing instead to stand on tiptoe and examine the man's wares. Kayamé wasn't surprised, since Tarai rarely said anything to anyone, preferring to let her sister deal with human contact. Which she should probably do, she remembered, and turned to address the man.

"They're very pretty. How do you make them?"

"Ah, but that's a secret!" His eyes shone with good humor, laughing at some private joke Kayamé didn't understand. "The two of us can't let how it's done be known, else we wouldn't afford firstmeal!" He chuckled for a moment, then stopped when Tarai stomach growled loudly, his thick eyebrows drawing together in concern. "Have you ladies eaten yet?"

Knowing that she couldn't get away with a lie after Tarai's stomach-rumble, Kayamé reluctantly shook her head. "Not today."

"Well, we can't have that, can we?" He rose and picked up the display with what Kayamé thought was surprising ease given his age and short, slender frame beneath his clothes. "Would you join us for firstmeal? It should be ready soon."

The girls stared at him with nearly identical expressions of surprise and disbelief. No one had ever offered them something without an expectation of something in return. Nor had Kayamé ever heard an offer made with such obvious kindness or concern.

She hesitated, eyeing him doubtfully, but Tarai tugged on her hand. "I know it should feel like we're going to get holked, Kay," Tarai whispered in her ear. "But... I can't see anything in him but Benign."

At Tarai's assurance Kayamé relented. Tarai relied on intuition at least as much as observation, but she had never been wrong before about a person Kayamé couldn't classify satisfactorily. Kayamé privately held the opinion that Tarai was smarter than she was, if the girl would only be willing to speak her mind more. If Tarai thought him trustworthy, there was no reason not to believe her.

The old man left the booth, ushering the girls inside the house. Kayamé forced herself to relax as the entered the small front room. Still, she couldn't help but examine her surroundings out of habit. The scuffed wood floor attested to many visitors over years since the house had been built, and a darker, polished wood covered the walls. To her left she saw a closed door; to the right were two coat hooks in the wall and a staff standing in the corner.

The old man set the jewelry display on the floor beside the staff, directly beneath a window to the right of the door. "Two guests for firstmeal, Emmaline!"

A counter blocked most of Kayamé's view of the room beyond, but she still heard the clear, ringing laughter that came from there in response. A moment later an old woman appeared in the gap between the counter and wall, beaming. Everything about her, from her brown eyes, white hair and dimpled cheeks to her short, plump figure and pale yellow dress made Kayamé think of the kindly mother she sometimes wished she and Tarai had.

"Come in, darlings, it's almost ready."

She beckoned all three into the room, sat them down at the small, square wooden table near the far wall, and bustled back to her cooking. Tarai was facing Kayamé, with her back to the kitchen, but she had twisted in her seat to goggle at the wall of bookshelves to her right. Tarai had always envied the literate, but had never imagined that people owned more than a few books, let alone a half-wall of full shelves.

However, even books lost their allure when Emmaline placed a bowl of steaming hot cereal at all four places. The girls stared at each other across the table for a moment, then followed their hosts' example and ate heartily. Kayamé looked around as she ate, trying to use distraction to keep from gorging. To her right, beyond the edge of the kitchen and dining area, she saw a small work area where the glass jewelry had to be made. A set of shelves displayed an array of small statues and figurines, all made from clear or colored glass.

"Do you like them?" At the old man's question, she realized she had been staring. However, his tone dispelled any fears she had of his displeasure at her interest, and she didn't hesitate to meet his gaze.

"They're very nice, vhenta. Did you make them all?"

The man didn't even react to the term — whether he understood it or not, Kayamé couldn't tell. "Call me Ghenn, young one. Yes, those are my work — my usual business, in fact. The jewelry is more a hobby." He smiled at her, a genuine smile rather than the usual revealing of teeth or lip-tightening Kayamé was accustomed to seeing. She smiled back, but her unanswered questions still remained.

"Ghenn, then." She took another bite of food, savoring the taste as she arranged her thoughts. "Why did you invite us in? Do you usually have strangers eat firstmeal with you?"

The couple exchanged glances and Ghenn chuckled lightly. "No, child, but we do not ignore the needs of others."

"But why help us?" Kayamé persisted. "What do you want from us?"

"While I wish I could say this kindness comes entirely from generosity," Ghenn replied, leaning back in his chair, "I do have a request to make of you." Kayamé bristled, but he raised his hand in a placating gesture. "Please, do not be offended. Perhaps a better term would be business proposition."

"What?"

"My work is highly prized and sought after, you see. But I cannot do two things at once, and would like the help of you and your — sister's, I believe — help."

"Doing what?" Kayamé demanded.

"I've been looking for someone to sell my jewelry for me for some time now, unsuccessfully. You ladies would take my place outside, allowing me to focus on my craft."

"Ghenn," Emmaline interjected, then continued in a language Kayamé had never heard before. The smooth, melodious rhythm of the words sounded foreign but beautiful, and Tarai also seemed fascinated by the strange language. Ghenn listened attentively to his wife's question, then nodded.

"Yes, I am certain." He returned his attention to Kayamé and continued: "In return for this service, Emmaline and I will care for and educate you."

"To read? To write?" Tarai cried, her eyes shining with excitement She blushed and ducked her head when the others glanced at her in surprise, since she hadn't spoken in the couple's presence before and Kayamé hadn't expected her to for a while yet.

Ghenn chuckled at her reaction. "Yes, little one. That and more."

Kayamé hesitated, unbelieving that such an opportunity would ever occur. She had lost her faith in kindness some time ago. "Why are you doing this?"

"It is… difficult to explain," he said after a short pause. "Perhaps at a later time it might be easier, but I must ask for your trust until then. When Kayamé still eyed him doubtfully, he added, "I promise, with the Creator as my witness, that we wish only to help you."

Kayamé's eyes widened. To call on the Creator as witness was the greatest oath a man could make on the continent. There were even stories of oath breakers meeting death under suspicious circumstances, though she was skeptical of such things. Regardless, for Ghenn to say what he had lowered her reasons to distrust him exponentially. Looking into his kind brown eyes, Kayamé could find only complete sincerity.

"I'll keep you to that, old ones, and the Creator kill you if you break it, but—" her eyes darted to Tarai, who nodded her agreement — "we accept your offer, for now."

"Wonderful!" Emmaline declared. "What are you names, darlings, and how old are you?"

"I'm Kayamé, and this Tarai. I think I'm nine, and that Tarai's two years younger."

There was a short silence, and then: "Now what, vhe—Ghenn?"

"Oh, you may call me Vhenta if you wish, Kayamé. I believe its meaning is close to "elder one", and I'm certainly that."

"Close," Kayamé acceded. "You know the street talk?"

"A small amount, overheard throughout this long life. Emmaline, my piece for Cont Nemesii still needs work. You know what you are doing today?"

"Yes, of course. Well, you may call me whatever you like," Emmaline continued. "As for what we do now, the first thing is to finish firstmeal. Then we girls will leave Ghenn to his work, and you can learn how to sell his jewelry by watching me. Most customers come this time of day, before it gets too hot. After that, we'll have to see. Where will the joy of life come from if everything is known in advance?"

The two girls smiled at her bright, cheerful sincerity, and finished firstmeal with their newly acquired patrons.

After the meal, they followed Emmaline and spent the morning learning the shopkeeper's trade. She showed them the current inventory, how to interpret the tags bearing their individual price markings, and how to properly address a customer. The first few customers they watched in silence, but by mid-morning she encouraged them to participate in the sales.

Kayamé learned that she had an eye for finding a piece that the customer thought worth buying, and after a customer tried to claim that Emmaline short-changed him, they discovered that Tarai had an uncanny knack for numbers in her head. It was a good thing, too, because Kayamé had never had enough money to spend to learn more than simple money exchanges. Emmaline had been delighted; apparently numbers was one of the things she planned to teach them.

Of course, Tarai shrank from the conflict of the man's bitter denials and accusations of lying, but Kayamé let took up the slack with a will. To call Tarai a liar was tantamount to a crime: sometimes truth was all you had on the streets, even if to survive you sometimes ommited infromation or let people form their own conclusions from what truth you gae. Tarai would never speak a flat-out, contradictory lie. With this in mind, though unsaid, Kayamé defended her sister through a wave of cold fury, small fists clenched and words appropriately scathing. She had interacted with adults all her short life, and was unafraid of verbally attacking a man who had lost any respect she might have briefly entertained.

After the indignant customer left with his purchase, Tarai shyly returned to the subject of numbers. Kayamé declined to become involved in the conversation, preferring instead to watch the jewelry. She let Tarai follow Emmaline's lead at her own pace, progressing through a discussion of increasingly complicated mathematics. For a few minutes Kayamé half-listened out of habit, but quickly realised that she could not so easily follow those paths. It confirmed many of Kayamé's long-held suspicions that her sister had a naturally high intelligence, but neither the confidence nor opportunity to show it. On one hand she was glad to see Tarai truly enthusiastic about something, but on the other she couldn't fully squash a small thread of jealousy. She had longed so badly to leave the world of the streets and power and fear, protecting Tarai as best she could in the meanwhile — and her Tarai was, already seeming to have surpassed her on that road. Besides, she was the older one, the "experienced" one; it was a little embarrassing to see her little sister, two years younger than herself, be so much better at anything.

And not only that, but she was being taught by a woman they barely knew. The thought wouldn't be ignored — two old people for all intents and purposes rescuing her and her sister from and endless cycle of hunger, cold, and bitterness, for reasons undisclosed. For a girl who both hated and suspected withheld information, the position was aggravating. Still, she trusted Tarai — and Tarai trusted Emmaline.

"Pardon, madam shopkeeper," a man addressed Emmaline, jolting Kayamé back to reality, "but do you have any earrings at this time?"

Emmaline glanced at Kayamé and giving her an encouraging nod, and she took a deep breath. At least she could still sell the wares herself; Tarai had emphatically declined to try, and Kayamé was glad to know she still held a role of her own. She wasn't bad at it, eithher; Emmaline rarely had to intervene.

"Good day, sir," she greeted him, grateful that she sat on a stool Emmaline had brought outside for that purpose. It was bad enough to ask for a shopkeeper's dignity among customers at least two or three times her age, without the table reaching to her chin. "We have several styles of earrings right now, if you care to look here."

She gestured to the proper section of the display, and the intricate dance of negotiation began. She held up the pairs one at a time, choosing her next one by his reaction to the current set. Soon enough he settled on a set of two small half-spheres, colored pale blue by some art Kayamé couldn't even imagine. With his decision, Kayamé handed him over to Tarai and Emmaline, and returned to paying partial attention.

This routine of learning, daydreaming, and selling continued for the rest of the morning, until Kayamé heard the distant toll of bells. Since the two great bells in the tower rang out only at the opening of the city gates at dawn, their closing at dusk and the sun's zenith, she realized with a start that it was midday. Emmaline heard them as well, and ushered the girls inside.

"We always close the shop at midday," she explained as she set down the display. "We have no need of the extra revenue — money," she clarified at the girls' confusion. "I see we shall have to increase your vocabulary, as well. The streets are hardly a place to learn much."

Not much by their standards, Kayamé thought. But then, there was little time for anything but survival. Not the best environment for acquiring polite and complicated speech patters or arithmetic, but it taught some very clear lessons about the world. Lessons like: Adapt or be crushed. Improvise and overcome, or die. Learn how the hierarchy of the world hidden in alleys and populated by the invisible residents of the city worked, or die at the hands of these fellow citizens.

Nothing to learn, indeed.

Despite Kayamé's cynicism, Tarai was engrossed by Emmaline's willingness to answer questions, even through preparation of the midday meal. Emmaline laughed at each question, but always kindly, and never tired of giving a thorough answer. Kayamé found the opportunity to as a few question herself, but she was more interested in another meal where she could eat as much as she wanted. Their question and answer session continued through lunch, with Ghenn joining them. He appeared as thrilled as his wife by the girls' eagerness to learn, and occasionally expanded a few of Emmaline's answers to make it even more complete. Even the occasional silences of eating were filled with a sense of thoughtfulness.

Ghenn returned to his work after midday, but Emmaline kept the girls at the table.

"Now, we have some choices to make," she began. "If you like you can simply walk out the door and come back tomorrow for firstmeal. We want to help you, not command you, and I won't insist on teaching you if you don't want to learn. If you're tired you could take a nap or spend some time outside, but I can also start teaching you the alphabet proper."

"Please!" Tarai begged, eyes shining. There was a desperate longing in her voice, and Kayamé realized she had never truly known how deep Tarai's desire to be literate extended. She tried to keep up her indifferent expression, but her own excitement broke through. Not even momma could write more than her name, and read more than a few words. This... was the first step in escaping momma's world, the world she despised but could break free from. As the sheer enormity of what the couple was offering truly sunk in, Kayamé decided that any risk she and Tarai could be taking was outweighed be the opportunity.

Emmaline disappeared behind the closed door in the front room, returning with an armful of paper, quills and ink. She carefully wrote two words on a piece of paper and placed it between them, and gave them their own writing supplies.

"We'll start with the practical, and work our way up to the whole alphabet. After you learn the basics, I can teach you by copywork, which will improve both your memory retention and your handwriting. Legible handwriting is very important for a business, especially with numbers. Now, the /t/ sound in Tarai's name is represented by a straight line across and another beneath it..."

A new life; one without hunger, and education and opportunities momma or the bullying street gangs could only imagine... Kayamé looked over at Tarai, painstakingly dragging her quill pen across the paper in an attempt to copy Emmaline's example.

"Maybe it is all a dream," she whispered too quietly for anyone else to hear as she bent over her paper. "But if it is... let me sleep forever."

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Well, it's a semi-abrupt change in the lives of Kayamé and Tarai, but a good one. Non-angst! Next chapter will return to our favorite blondes (not ditzes, thankfully). And to clarify, an Aed is a copper coin, the smallest unit of currency used in the present time.

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Reviewer Thanks:

Babymar-mar: Glad you like it, and your guesses are right.

Girls of Darkness: I'm glad you like the characterizations in this fic; I'm trying to keep them accurate. Familial relations are Kain and Jadeite, Makoto and Zoisite, and Rei and Ami.

Fire Lady: Sorry you're having so much trouble with the names, but you're not alone. The name conversions have been added to the beginning of the first chapter, to help you keep them straight.

Secrets: Names are fascinating, and Iris should be showing up again soon.

Ele: More for you, Ele-chan! Thanks for everything.

Chiri-chan: Tamora Pierce? Really?

Novaleigh617: Thank you so much for all of your reviews, Nova-chan. I'm trying to catch the typos, but there's so many of them, darn things. The boys do tease Dyani, I'm sure, just… :cough: they haven't in any of the scenes yet. Right. And the end of chapter 6 was bad; I need to revise it. Yin's accent was supposed to seem uncultured, but what can you do? Bandits were responsible for the attack on the village, btw. And I think I edited the Saidi typo, at least. Thanks again for all the encouragement!

Merry Faerie: Take your time, Merry-san. You'll definitely read faster than I write regardless. Thanks!

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You people are all wonderful. Please keep making me aware of typos, plotholes, etc., and I'll try to keep the story moving. See you next time!

Ocianne

8/04

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