The Two Sided Locket -1- The City

 
       The ground around the path would have been a startling emerald green to anyone who had not grown up alongside it. The grass, which looked as if painted or fertilized with pigment carpeted the rolling hills free of any more than the odd tree or weathered fence. The only break in the pure, natural greenness was brown mud of the road, but it too seemed to hold an extraordinary saturation of colour. Perhaps that was a result of the rain which had also soaked the rural road, and in turn, her boots. 

       The girl was wearing black pants and a button-down shirt she had rolled up at the sleeves. The patterned shirt was too big for her, but she didn’t mind: unlike someone her age in the City, she cared little about her appearance. The only decorative piece she carried was a large silver locket, hanging loosely around her neck by a long chain, but even that was tucked under her shirt. Every so often, she drew the piece out and touched it, held it, tried in vain to pry it open, or attempted to deduce some mystical answer from its pattern of engravings and jewels.  Only someone in the City would have known that the piece was a traditional item of the elite classes, and Alethea had spent her entire life living in a small, completely self-sufficient settlement far removed from “civilization.”

       But this road would lead directly into the city that was so foreign to her. Her journey had lasted perhaps a day at most, and though the walking was slow, the City was not far. Alethea had left early that morning, and it did not take long to get to her destination. The grey skyline was drawing closer as she walked, though there was no one along the road. Of course, Alethea thought nothing of it; there was never anyone on the road. 

       She reached behind her back and slid her shoulder bag in front of her – not ceasing the unending rhythm of walking as she pulled out a watch so old nothing remained of its leather straps. Checking the time and nodding in approval, she quickened her pace slightly and looked toward the City.

                                                          • • •

       Only an hour later, she had crossed through the City’s limits and was walking down one of the narrow cobbled streets heavily overshadowed by tall, looming buildings. What had looked like a haze of grey earlier was now worn, dark cobbled streets and buildings painted in muted saturated tones. On the whole it looked oppressive and gave the illusion of constant greyness. In Alethea’s mind, it looked as if someone had decided to suck the life out of the settlement, and so it seemed to her. While she was used to a tight-knit community where everyone knew everyone else, so far she had seen no one at all. Having no idea where to begin, Alethea wandered through the mazes of streets and alleyways until she happened upon a large, open square. There, her doubts were somewhat amended: for the buzz of conversation and energy of human life began to emanate even from the cobbled stones she stood on.

       For a moment, Alethea wondered what use this discovery would have to her, although it had already lifted her spirits: it had been a day since she left Oyes, her native home. It wouldn’t have taken that long to travel, but she had needed to leave – she had been forced to. This, though, was behind her now, and it would be best if she forgot it. 

       Her present realisations caught her as she was trying to wrench herself from thoughts of comfort and home: she needed money. Just because she had never been to this City did not mean she was completely clueless to how it operated; she knew she needed money, and all she had now was barely thirty lire. The fact was, she needed money now, if she was going to find what she came for. 

       Alethea wove through the crowds, trying to get a sense of the area while blending in, but soon she spotted a small stall in the corner of the square displaying jewellery. Deciding the person there might be able to help her with finding something out about the mysterious locket she casually made her way over to the stall. There, under the shadows of the awning, Alethea caught a glance of a small, rather plump woman.

       “Is there someone here?” she asked, rapping on the wood of the stall’s counter, since the woman had disappeared from sight.

       “Eh... I’m coming, I’m coming, calm yourself down...” said a voice emerging from the tented area behind the flimsy structure. Finally – and with much effort – the woman settled herself in front of Alethea. “What can I do for ya, love.”

       “I got a piece here, and I wanted to know if you could tell me about it?”

       “A piece of what?” Obviously, this woman was not too sharp, and her choice of endearment did not suit her gruff, sloppy demeanour. 

       “Of jewellery...” Alethea amended, confused by the woman’s lack of interest in her ware. Stranger to Alethea because she had lived in a place where you worked for years at what you did, working towards knowing everything and anything about your occupation. She did not have a concept of what peddling was, or know how to distinguish fair commerce from a black market. 

       “I see then,” the woman replied with scepticism – for what, Alethea did not know – and paused. “Well I don’t have myself any magical eyes, darlin I need to see wot it is you’re talking about.” She leaned on the wooden counter as it sagged a bit and examined her nails as Alethea replied. 

       “I’m not sure what it’s made of...” Alethea reached around her neck and pulled the locket’s long chain over her head, holding the large oval piece in her hand, “but I think it might be silver...”

       The woman did not seem endeared or affected by Alethea’s input, and snatched the piece out of her hand as soon as it came into view. She held it up to the sunlight for a moment, using a chipped eyepiece to take a closer look at the blue gems embedded in the design. After a careful examination, the woman turned back to Alethea, waiting impatiently in front of her. 

       “Really can’t tell you too much about this one,” she said, taking another look at it from the palm of her hand, “One of those mass-produced trinkets, I’d reckon. Probably worthless...” the woman turned the piece over in her hand, the contrast of polished silver and dirty fingernails exaggerated in the dim light, “Pretty, though. I tell you wot: you let me take this off your ‘ands and I’ll give you... say... ten lire for it.”

       Alethea considered this for a minute. Though this woman seemed far from an expert, she had more to say about the piece than she. If it had been mass-produced, if it really had no value... what was the point of her chasing after a lost cause? She needed money, and she needed it now; if she wanted to last any longer in the City she would need a place to stay and food to eat... For a fleeting moment, the idea of returning to Oyes captured her attention, but logic and reason overruled the whimsical nostalgia, since Alethea knew she could not go back. 

       “Thirty.”

       “We barterin’ now, eh?” the woman chuckled and leaned against the stall again, causing the wood to buckle, “I’ll give you fifteen.”

       “I’m not taking anything less than thirty,” Alethea said, utterly serious and trying to disguise her shock that the woman would suggest otherwise. “I’m the one selling it.”

       “If you’re gonna be like that then, I don’t have a place for it. Your loss...” she set the locket on the counter as her large figure made a move to disappear back into the shadows. 

       “Wait!”

       The vendor smiled, “Back on the table then?”

       “What about twenty? Can you give me that? I really need this...”

       Another chuckle, “Honey, I’ll give you seventeen, and that’s my fin-” her gaze travelled beyond Alethea to something in the square. The vendor’s face drained of colour. 

       “What is it?” Alethea asked uncertainly. She attempted to turn around and see what was happening behind her, but the woman shoved the locket into her hand with such force she had to take a step backward. 

       “I told you it’s a useless trinket, love. Better’ve listened to me before...ten was a fair price,” the plump woman said absentmindedly without taking her eyes off the square. Alethea turned to see what was going on but almost fell when the stall’s awning collapsed nearly on top of her, and it became nothing more than a closed-off shack. Soon she would learn that things happened quickly - like this - in the City. 

       Incredulously, she turned around to find the source of the strange behaviour, only to see the mingling crowds; nothing out of the ordinary, as far as she knew. Everyone was milling around as they were before, continuing daily business.

       Alethea turned back to face the stall, and seeing no hope there, walked aimlessly through the crowd to the central statue, being carefully to stay completely out of the way of anyone getting to a destination, - which, incidentally, appeared to be everyone. She looked up at the statue, which was an obelisk-shaped block of stone sitting on the back of an elephant and engraved with unreadable designs. The decoration had been placed on a stepped pedestal, on which Alethea sat down. 

       She held her head in her hands and tried to remain positive. After all, this was the City of opportunity, of wealth, or health and happiness! But at the moment the City looked like a desolate, lifeless grey mountain, in which she had been trapped with no tools of survival. For the first time her thoughts drifted toward how she would spend tonight. 

       Something tugged her out of the vicious cycle of self-doubt: recognition. It was not winning an award, but a young man who sat down near her and nodded in recognition. For the first time, someone had noticed she existed. It was a nice thought. 

       “New here?” he asked. 

       “Pardon?” Alethea replied automatically. Was he... talking to her?

       “I was talking to you,” he added as if he read her last thought, “you let it show on your face.”

       Instinctively, Alethea put a hand to her cheek to test if maybe some kind of heat radiation was making her so predictable. “I wasn’t aware of that.”

       “Clearly.”

       “Excuse me?”

       “If you were aware of it you wouldn’t let it happen, so clearly you didn’t know. Plus you’re new to the City.”

       “Am I?” she arched an eyebrow. 

       “Clearly,” he smirked. 

       “Why bother asking the question, then?”

       “What question?” 

       “About if I was new here. Why bother if you knew the answer?” she demanded

       “The same reason you said ‘excuse me,’” he said. 

       “Would you care to enlighten me into your intuitive wisdom?” she hoped that this time she was clearly showing on her face that this was not amusing. 

       “Instinct,” he stated, “The way your parents brought you up. I was always taught to create conversation, and you were taught to be polite.”

       “You assume a lot about me when you don’t even know my name.”

       “True. Care to enlighten me?” he smiled. 

       “Why should I?” she asked.

       “Why shouldn’t you?”

       “Oh, because I’m in a new, foreign city and have no idea who you are,” she gestured with the hand closest to him as she talked. 

       “So you admit it, then?”

       “Admit what?” she snapped.

       “That you’re new,” he amended. 

       “I thought that was clearly obvious.”

       “Partially.”

       “What does that mean? You were just assuming?” 

       “It means I know you’re foreign because you don’t look like you live here, but you don’t talk like any of the other farmers I’ve met.”

       She scoffed, “And how many farmers have you met?”

       “A fair amount.”

       “Well that’s stupendous. I guess you’re the farmer-meeting champion, then.”

       “I guess I am. Cedric Rowe, the farmer-meeting champion. Has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

       “Pretty cliché, don’t you think?” she remarked. 

       “What, being the farmer-meeting champion?”

       “Never mind,” she sighed.

       “You never told me your name,” he added after a pause. 

       “Once again, why should I?”

       “Because I told you mine.”

       “What does that have to do with anything?”

       “You were taught to be polite by your parents – don’t even try to refuse it – and what is more rude than refusing to tell a fine young gentleman such as myself your name after I’ve introduced myself.”

       “You didn’t introduce yourself. You gave yourself the farmer-meeting title,” she said sarcastically. 

       “Well then pardon me. I guess we’ll just have to start over, won’t we?”

       “I guess so.”

       “I’m not sure we’ve met,” he said, extending his right arm to shake her hand, “I’m Cedric Rowe.”

       “Alethea Pachis,” she replied, taking his hand, “pleased to make your acquaintance.”

       “Ah, so you come from the east.” 

       “Does my name really give that much away?” she asked, exasperated.

       “Just the last name,” he smiled. 

       She was caught off guard by an odd sensation in her head. Almost like a headache, but sharper, and less painful. It was like something was telling her something... like an untapped primordial instinct. 

       “So why are you here?”

       Alethea prepared to reply before she felt a sudden wave of something crash into her body, buffeting it against an invisible surface like a gut-wrenching rip current making her feel sick and dizzy, while she knew she wasn’t moving at all. Pulse after pulse of energy pushed against her mind and body enough that she could not breathe. Enough that it took all her energy to try and concentrate enough to repel whatever this energy was. Enough that her vision blurred and her head spun. Enough that slowly and then at once, her body slumped and her vision ceased to function. 

       And then she was on the cobbles, feeling the weight of the impact, and feeling the grit of the street on her skin as the world spun and left her with only the smell of the gutters.