The Belly of the Beast

Rain loved her name. It rained often in Meeran and she was often in it, running here and there throughout the city. She had become accustomed to being called things other than her given name of course. Most of the time they were expletives or broad assumptions like ‘little boy’. It wasn’t common to see a young female Lithegar messenger in the city, and her outward appearance didn’t help her any. She was small for her age. At eighteen she had the youthful build of an adolescent, half the height of most men her age but less delicate than most women. Her rosy cheeks were well hidden by the soot that plagued the corners of the poor districts in Meeran; but that only made her golden eyes stand out all the more. The combination of her stature and unmistakable eye color had kept her in the illegal messenger profession for longer than she should have been.

Most children who were used for running messages and light illegal parcels around the city aged out by at least sixteen. They became easier to spot and a bit less compliant as puberty set in. Often, they moved on to more commendable jobs that had in-roads to apprenticeships. That, or they fell deep into lives of crime, chewed up by Meeran and spat into the ground at early ages. Rain had found she’d become a commodity. She was asked for, time and time again, as her speed and timeliness were spread by word of mouth. She’d thought about moving on hundreds of times, but the money was better than a starting position in some tavern and the running kept her alert and agile. A life in Meeran’s slums wasn’t for just anyone.

“It isn’t really for anyone at all really…”she whispered to herself as she laid in her small cot. She’d found a small abandoned house in the deeper parts of the slums, close to a few of the whorehouses. The main floor was occasionally occupied by drunks and tweakers, but she’d nestled herself into a second floor room where no one seemed to venture. On more than one occasion she’d had herself a little fun by scaring off a crowd of belligerent men by pretending to be a ghost. That’d sent them screaming into the night, and her rolling on the floor in stitches.

Her black cotton cap was still on from the job she’d just finished. Feeling the tension it put on her scalp, Rain pushed a thumb beneath the front lip and peeled it off her head. Her shoulder-length silvery hair tumbled out in a static mess, falling in different directions and partially covering her face. She stared at the strands for a moment. Between her eyes and her hair, the colors had always been a mystery to her. She’d been sold into slavery at a young age by men she didn’t recognize. She didn’t remember her parents or anyone that she could recall that specifically cared for her. Meeran wasn’t her first home though. She’d been sold into a traveling merchant family as easy labor. They figured after she could walk she’d be able to carry her weight from city to city selling vegetables and meats. She’d bounced around Imperianum quite a bit before the family had a stroke of horrible luck. At some point, they’d been traveling towards Tavaline and a set of bandits had approached them demanding their wares, wagon, and money. At the time, it had felt like hundreds of men had descended on the wagon, as she’d been so small. That made little sense however, as most bandit groups were light in number so they could conceal themselves better.

Most people would give up their earthly possessions in haste to avoid deadly retribution. However, Palun, the patriarch of the merchant family, was a prideful man. His defiance quickly caused the tension to escalate. Their only daughter, a girl almost twice Rain’s age, took her hand and they ran. They ran as far as they could until they were lost among the hills. Eventually, they found their way to Meeran and its beautiful and seductive outer shell. A tourists’ dream, it was a wondrous city on the water filled with architecture old and new. Artists and bards painted and sung of its colors, and scholars touted its importance as a focal point in history. It had been a major port of yore - an exporter of the first books and written history. Some of the very first known scrolls were still held in the Gilded Library in the eastern district. An area of stark contrast to the direct center of Meeran, the true belly of the beast. At first, the two had lived quite lavishly, as Contralia had some coin hidden in her inner dress pockets. But as any youth, she had no plan to rejuvenate the sum and so the stockpile ran dry quickly. Out of desperation they fell deep into the underworld of Meeran, running messenger jobs across the city. Their dresses were replaced by brown trousers and white linen shirts with suspenders. Rarely were the shirts actually white, but the leader of the messenger children, Hox, liked his kids to look halfway presentable if they were to make deliveries in the more posh districts. It worked for a time, the jobs, but Contralia couldn’t hide her growth spurt long and at sixteen she was kicked out of the job. Without a path forward she fell into despair and joined a small noble's home as a maid to keep them afloat. The girl would leave with the sun going down and return home upon its rise. They worked this way for a number of years. One morning, Contralia didn’t come home. Since then, Rain had been on her own.

Rain blew the hair in front of her face out of the way, the memories of her life so far with it. No reason to dwindle on her past, when there was the present to contend with. Get too comfortable and she may just find out what happened to Contralia. Something she decided wasn’t worth the trouble it’d likely bring. Before she fell by the way of self pity, Rain decided she’d bury her thoughts in an extra job for the night. Pulling out a small basket from beneath the bed she unwrapped a loaf of bread she’d purchased with the last errand’s earnings. Filling her belly she felt her kirring, her energy, burst forth in her chest and muscles. No fuel in the tank, no fuel in her abilities. It was a simple reality, like everything else she’d come to understand. No work, no food. No food, no work. Neither meant death, or worse. Running around the city also gave her a sense of freedom. It was false freedom, but it felt good nonetheless.

Jumping up, Rain stretched a bit pulling in deep breaths, a few of her muscles tight. Quickly, her kirring flushed out the pain and she was as lithe as she had been before the previous job. Her ability was still a mystery to her, about as much as her hair and eye color. Silver hair was as uncommon as it got. Most in Meeran sported raven or deep browns. She’d heard a passerby once speak of the highborns of Vassak with silver hair and golden eyes, but it passed through her like every other rumor she tripped over in the city. Murmurs were nothing but poison, waiting to suck the souls out of the hopeful. Best to stay realistic and deal with what was right in front of you. The slums of Meeran would dispose of a daydreamer as quickly as a Jakal could dispose of a pile of stones at a construction site.

Rain headed quickly downstairs, taking a drunken man by surprise. As he fell back, Rain tapped her kirring and quickly stabilized him. With a small smile, she left him wide eyed and staggering as she walked out into the Braxus night. She had decided long ago she preferred the red-soaked Braxus winter nights over the clear Aurus summer. The red showed the city for what it really was. It wasn't the picturesque marriage destination tourists loved. No, the streets flowed red. Death didn’t happen in the light of the posh districts, but it hovered over the slums like a mist.

A line of men hung outside the whorehouse, waiting their turns to enter. A few turned as she exited her dilapidated building, but quickly looked away as she caught their eyes. Shame. That lived here too. However, it had a time limit. Death and despair were constants, Pime the God of death made sure of it. Shame came in with the tide of new tourists and out with them when they departed. If you lived here with shame, he found you all the sooner.

As Rain traversed the back alleys, droplets began to fall from the sky above. Her namesake came to welcome her into the night. It rippled down the sides of canopies, tents, and other fixtures, cascading down onto the cobblestone roadway. By the time Rain reached the building she’d been headed for, the storm had opened into its full power, muffling her footsteps and drenching her head to toe. With the Braxus upon them, the rain was a bitter cold. Meeran didn’t get heavy snow like Tavaline or Port Jaha, but chilled air filled the city from the southern port to the northern governor’s manor. As she crossed the threshold of the dark and desolate building with no front door, she quickly pulled off her cap to wring it out. No one here had ever seen her hair, and she’d like to keep it that way. Her eyes and skill made her a prize enough. If she were somehow connected to some highborn in the west, she’d make a pretty ransom for anyone, no matter how long she’d worked for Hoz and his associates.

Stuffing her hair back into her cap, Rain walked through the building to a set of stairs in the rear. The front was a pawn shop by day. A reseller mostly, of trinkets and oddities stolen off the wealthy and unfortunate. The true operation was found beneath, in a large cellar dwelling. As she made her way down sets of stone steps she found the familiar torch light followed by the sounds of children. Turning a final corner, Rain entered a large low ceilinged room; the base of operations for the children-run messenger service. Kids milled about, wall to wall. Younger ones who were more green sat with instructors, learning the city, it’s people, and ways in and out of more guarded establishments. Older ones drank ale in corners and either kept to themselves or pored over written assignments on their next jobs. Rain passed through the room, intentionally not speaking to anyone. She knew some stared at her. She was the most prolific messenger of them all, often used as an example during indoctrination. A little celebrity amongst heathens. The gods had no weight down here.

Headed to a back room beyond the initial foyer, she opened the door to find Hoz sitting with his back to her. He was clearly in a deep discussion with his two associates, Irina and Klept. Irina ran the more delicate jobs of actual message running, while Klept ran the package jobs. It was widely known amongst the kids that Klept had a penchant for asking his subordinates to steal from those involved in the job, which occasionally ended in a beating if they got caught in the act. Most kids tried to end up on Irina’s taskforce. Both teams reported to Hoz, who handled the money and connections. The spindly man turned as Rain entered the room, sensing her presence. He exuded greed. The sin practically poured from every pore on his body. From his greasy black hair to his tiny beady eyes, all the way down to his dusty brown vest and shiny loafers, the man was a user through and through. Rain knew very little about him, but she liked to imagine he was a failed salesman of some kind.

“Ah! Rain, my dear. Back so soon? I assumed you’d want the night off after running four jobs today,” Hoz leaned forward over his desk of strewn papers, his hands propping him up like an interrogator. The man trusted no one but himself. Not even Irina, who seemed to find a soft spot in him on occasion.

“I was restless. Figured I’d drop into a job if I can’t sleep.”

“Very good! We love the tenacity, of course. I don’t have any package requests tonight I’m afraid, so everything is likely on the lower pay scale…”he said as he flipped through paperwork on his right. “Give me just...ah...hmm…” Hoz was a talker, but not the best at keeping things together.

“I have the list, pet.” Irina said as she sauntered round the table. The woman was pretty in the conventional sense. She’d likely be gorgeous if she’d found a way to escape the gravity of the slums. This was definitely an upgrade from the whorehouses though, by Rain’s judgment. She was slender but curvy at the hips. She preferred dresses that were on the form fitting side, so she could show off her angles. She wore a large brimmed hat, something that was more common on a farmhand, but on her made her look imposing. “Four of these are already being run, but there are two that just came in half an hour ago.” She said as she scanned the log in her hands. “Here, take the port request. It should be simple enough. I have the letter over on the couch.” Irina glided back to the plush couch she’d been sitting on. Beyond Hoz’s front desk was a small lounge area warmed by a small fireplace where the three of them often commiserated. She returned with a small envelope with a very rich red seal on it.

“A royal message? Why would they go through us?” Rain questioned.

“Honestly dear, I don’t care.” Irina responded with indifference. “All I know is, whenever a royal letter comes through here, the pay is higher, so we do it without question. It should be an easy job. There is a fishing merchant cleared for passage up the Skeema and into Vanavallar. We are to get this to him by sunrise before he departs. Do you want the job or not?”

Rain nodded and took the letter, stuffing it into her pants. “I’ll need an overcoat, it’s pouring out tonight - started as I got here. Don’t want a letter this important getting wet.” Hoz nodded absentmindedly. He’d already moved on from her, looking through other paperwork. Irina was already seated back on the couch, drinking a dark liquor from a pretty glass. Rain turned and pulled one of only a few long trench coats from the wall near the door. She’d need to return this after the job.

She left the cellar a few moments later, the chatter of children dulling behind her as she reached the top. It was time to come alive. Rain smiled wide as she exited the building, the crashing water enveloping her into the night. Tapping her waist to reassure herself of the letter’s positioning, Rain kick started her kirring and took off west down the cobblestone street. Her body swelled with energy, the tips of her extremities tingled with static as she dashed along the road. She was able to react quickly to people moving about as they in turn reacted slowly to her blur. It was the best feeling in the world, as it felt like a totally separate one. The slums didn’t exist here. It was all static and energy, washed out even further in the storm. Rain made quick work of the slums.

The southern port was tricky. They didn’t allow just anyone onto the docks, especially those from the ‘Center District’. They’d know she'd have no money to spend on imports, and no way to charter a boat. Rain had a trick here, as speed wouldn’t help her as she paced the docks looking for the letter’s recipient. As she crossed the few main roads and passed the cozier storefronts, Rain took off her cap. It was night still, so the roads were mostly empty, but night patrol would surely see her. Silver hair like hers would never be caught in the slums. And so, she coasted right through the night patrol and the port’s entry checkpoint. She even flashed a smile over to a few of the guards, her golden eyes refracting moonlight. Those who looked at her waved silently in return.

As she entered the port she immediately saw the fishing boat. It seemed there weren’t too many fishermen in at the moment. Likely off selling their wares before the winter took hold. Easy money this would be, indeed. Rain strolled across the road, closing the gap to the marina entrance. As she did, she noticed an oddity before her. The air seemed to thicken and coalesce in a way. The sight shocked her so she almost fell back. As she looked on, the red air darkened before her taking solid form. Where there had been nothing now stood a woman. She was of average build, with a black bodysuit and long blonde hair. Her face was hidden by a tie-on hood. Two slick daggers hung in her hands at her sides.

“I’ll need that letter child,” she said with a voice of subtle annoyance. She sheathed one dagger behind her and held out her hand to accept it.

She couldn’t botch the job. She’d hung onto this gig for as long as she had because of her reliability. Slacking on speed and accuracy were occasional issues amongst the children, but not finishing a job was unheard of. She’d be beaten, kicked out of the group, or worse. So many questions swirled in her mind. Who was this woman? How did she know she even had the letter? How’d she know it would be moved when Rain decided to take the job? What was in the letter? None of this mattered now, as she needed to deal with what was in front of her. Distractions killed.

“I’m sorry ma’am, I was instructed to deliver this. You are unfortunately not who I was instructed to deliver it to.” Rain tried to sound as unassuming as possible. She heightened her voice to make herself younger and weaker. She realized her hair was still out, shimmering in the night, but she hoped this was to her benefit.

“Little girl, it doesn’t matter who it’s for, it’s going to have to come with me. You can either hand it to me, or I can take it off your body. It’s no matter to me which it is.”

Behind Rain, she heard the checkpoint guards approaching. They must’ve seen the new person and come to check who it was. The woman turned her head to look at the small group of them. Rain took this distraction and acted. Shedding her childlike demeanor she tapped her kirring and slid behind the woman in black. Her eye on the sheathed dagger, Rain reached out to grab it and found nothing but air. The woman had evaporated into smoke. A moment later, she was back but facing Rain. She punched the girl square in the face and Rain fell to the floor, her back against a ramp up to the dock. A dagger appeared in the woman’s left hand ready to strike. The angle she was now in on the floor made running an impossible maneuver, the cobblestones were now slick and she was pinned. Rain used her ability to think quickly and pulled in as much air as she could.

Her anxiety and fear sped up the spinning of oxygen and she quickly overflowed with kirring, a feeling of static building inside of her. This time, she felt something instinctive happen, but Rain wasn’t entirely sure what she was doing. She redirected all of her energy away from her muscles and her brain and pushed it...out. Her entire body felt like it was on the verge of erupting from the inside out. The energy felt like more than static, it felt like pure electricity. It exploded out of her like a blue bubble-like aura, throwing the woman away from her like a rag doll. Electric lines, white hot with charge, licked the ground, cracking it. Tendrils spidered in the air as it traveled through raindrops, producing thunderclaps that rolled in different directions. The woman was launched through the air and landed about thirty yards away. As air crackled with energy the woman’s hood and cloak singed from points of contact. Rain took this as a moment to get up and run, but she found her energy stores depleted. Quickly, she breathed deeply and found she wasn’t able to pull in as much as before, her stores more limited. She was wearing out. She’d need sleep and food soon. Jumping up she took a quick look and saw the woman still on the ground and tapped her kirring to run.

As she made it halfway down the road towards the boat, Rain felt something cold and heavy plunge into her back as she ran. Her body fell forward and she hit the cobblestone roadway with a thud, her hands barely bracing the impact. As she scooted around in pain, she sensed the woman approach in her dark cloudy mist. It felt like a heaviness, like a dense humidity. As the woman’s solid form took shape, she saw her eyes for the first time. Deep blue. The woman looked terrified, but quickly washed it away in cool resolve. She spoke softly as she bent down and stared at Rain intently.

“The Primes have arrived, I see. Our work must be taking hold.” The woman sneered to the side as if she was speaking to another unseen person.

None of what this woman said made sense to her. All she could focus on was the beating of her heart and the pounding of the rain. She didn’t even notice the woman pull the letter out from her waistband. A moment later and the mystery woman was gone - mist in the wind. As the dock guards began to surround her, Rain could only imagine this was how it was meant to be. She’d overstayed her welcome in the city that was never hers. Meeran had finally chewed her up too. At least she got to leave this plane with her namesake holding her as her golden eyes, which would forever remain a mystery, closed and Pime took her like all the rest.