Tale of 2 Cities: On fire
Everything they ever assumed about the other city is wrong.
In Part 1, Lilian tries to discourage her lover, Jem from crossing the bridge to the mythical twin counterpart of their own city, Alinakard. No one has ever returned from the eastern bank, but the first person to do so will be granted one request of their choice. In Part 2, Lilian betrays Jem, meets Kinley and sees her evening salon disrupted by the arrival of Jem’s father, Magnate Diamous.
“It’s a pleasure to see you, Magnate,” Lilian replied. Her heart thundered in her ears and she felt sick, but the smile never wavered from her face. If she was going to die tonight, it would damn well be on her feet with dignity. “Would you care for some wine?”
Diamous gave her a lazy smile. “Why not? We can do so out here, on your balcony. It’s a particularly fine inferno tonight.”
He raised two fingers and a small, mousy man in a black coat bustled forward with a corked bottle and three glasses. A soldier followed, with one chair, and Diamous took his seat as easily as if he were at court, leaving Liliam and Kinley standing in front of him like berated children.
“Here, Miss.”
Lilian automatically took the proffered wine glass, noting Kinley’s wrinkled lip as he waved away the drink. The city guard was a studied contrast to the Magnate, with his black clothes and unshaven chin. Diamous had chosen a soft blue waistcoat on a navy silk shirt, with matching breeches and brown boots. He had long hair - much longer than Jem’s - which twisted in dark curls down his back, emphasising his high cheekbones. The man looked like he was trapped in his thirties, instead of his sixties.
Diamous winked at her as she finished her appraisal and Lilian covered her confusion with a gulp of wine. Inside, the soldiers were softly marshalling her guests out the door. Soon, there would be no witnesses left. The thought sent a jolt of adrenaline through her body and with it, enough courage to speak.
“I don’t understand why you are here, Magnate,” she said carefully. “Keeper Kinley (who snorted at the formal title), told me of a disappearance at your estate but I have no involvement with it.”
Diamous smiled. “Oh, I know you don’t Lilian. In the same way, I know you are my daughter’s lover and Kinley here was once a Padfoot Tracker. You are the one thing Jem might come back for and he is the one person who can keep both of you alive across the bridge. The fact you are acquainted is…fortunate. Perhaps even fated. I will give you enough time to change your shoes to something more sturdy before you depart.”
Lilian licked her dry lips. “I don’t know what you are talking about.” Next to her, Kinley snorted. “More to the point, what makes you think she’s gone across,” he drawled. “She coulda got a boat or horse an’ ran away.”
Magnate Diamous leaned back in his chair as comfortable as a man at the massage parlour.
“Oh, she went there,” he said softly. “It calls to everyone in our family, but most of us learn to ignore it - or run mad. If I had more sense, I would’ve hung her in chains until the fever passed.” He narrowed his gaze on Lilian and she saw the flames from the riverside reflecting in his eyes. “There is an old proverb in my line which says lovers rush in where angels fear to tread and surpass calamities that demons tremble to witness. I hope - for your sake - it is true.”
“An’ if we turn you down?” Kinley challenged him. Diamous did not even twitch, keeping his gaze on Lilian.
“Then I will tie weights to your ankles and toss you in the river.”
*
A mere thirty minutes later, Lilian stood at the gates of the bridge in boots and a borrowed greatcoat, which contrasted badly with her pink, silk dress. Kinley was fiddling with the padlocks, looking more surly by the minute.
“We need supplies,” he argued to Diamous who shrugged. “You should be back within a few hours or not at all,” he replied. “Find my daughter and bring her home. You will be rewarded.” Lilian heard a soft, high-pitched giggle and realised it had come from her mouth. A few hours? Really?
With a clang, the gates swung open and Kinley gestured at her to cross. Dream-like, she did so, stepping over the iron strip that marked the limits of her known world.
“C’mon,” Kinley huffed, tugging at her arm. “Keep going.”
“Why?” she asked dully. “They won’t follow us. We can wait until they are gone and walk back.”
“‘Cause they are pointin’ arrows at us, Pearl. We come back with your lass or not at all.”
She kept walking. The heat increased and the one time she glanced back at Alinakard, the city was lost in a misty haze.
“Soon be there.”
“You’re not helping, Keeper Kinley.”
“Call me Ross. Seems stupid to stick to the formalities, since we’re walking into fire.”
“Since you brought the Magnate to my door, you can keep calling me Pearl Lilian.”
“Huh. As you wish.”
After that, they walked in silence.
*
The other end of the bridge looked exactly the same as Alinakard’s except the boundary line was made of copper and there were no gates. Ahead of them stood blackened and charred buildings with smoke clogging the air. Kinley pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket and put it over his nose and mouth. Eyes watering, Lilian did the same with her coat sleeve. In lock-step time, they stepped over the brass strip. As she landed on the cobblestones, a bright light shined into her eyes and she squeezed them shut.
When she opened them again, she realised it was daylight and automatically shaded her face with her hand. Ahead of them, lay a gorgeous city built in marble and bustling with people of every race and century. Besides her, Kinley was shaking his head, wide-eyed.
“I don’t understand,” he whispered to her. “It was just past midnight on our side.”
“Magic,” she guessed. “It has to be.”
They walked down the main street, each side cluttered with shop signs whilst the stores themselves huddled under the colonnades out of the sun. Hustlers called out to them, street dogs ran past them and Finley slapped the hand of cut-purse who strayed too close. No one commented on their odd clothes or treated them any differently than the other shoppers.
“This is strange,” he commented, coming to a halt at the crossroads, marked by a large marble sculpture of a woman, with water pouring from her urn into a bowl on the floor.
“I know,” she agreed. “I expected something much worse than this.”
“Well, let’s get your lover-girl and get out. Where would she go?”
Lilian revolved in a slow circle. Shops, trees, more people…what was that at the far end of the street? An outdoor temple? Some kind of marketplace?
“Jem would be curious about that,” she said, pointing.
Kinley groaned. “Of course, she would. It’s a bloody fight court.”
I'm enjoying this. 😉