Leviathans

The next morning, Rayne awoke with a knock at her door. She made a noise of discontent, and turned over. It was her day off. The damn storm must’ve made a mess of things, she thought. She sighed, pushing the covers off of herself and sliding her legs off of the bed. The hurried, impatient sound of knuckles striking wood came again. “One moment, please” she said loudly, standing up. She looked at herself in the mirror. Her hair was a complete mess.

She muttered to herself, grabbing the brush back off the counter. Having wavy hair was difficult. It was hard to get it to do what she wanted it to. Bristles snagged against knots, one hand pulling the brush as the other unearthed clothes and tossed them towards the bed. Another impatient knock. The sound of the doorknob rattling as someone tried to enter her room “Shut up, seriously” she breathed, her voice low. She got her clothes on as quickly as she could, very happy that her lock did as advertised.

Another mutter of exasperation as she nearly tripped over her boots while walking towards the now incessant sound of knocking and the occasional attempt to open a clearly locked door. Rayne tried, and failed, to keep the look of annoyance off her face as she opened it from the inside. She paused briefly to register that if not for her lock, the person on the other side of the door would’ve gotten an eyeful.

A young boy stood in front of her. He took a step back in quick surprise, as if he hadn’t expected the door to swing open. His short, brown hair was parted in two. His shirt was buttoned down the center, and tucked into his baggy pants. Everything he wore was just a little too big for him. The overly neat look, coupled with the size of his clothing served to make him ridiculous. Rayne stared. It was not her place to judge anyone fashion sense, but this was pushing it. Even by her standards.

“Yes?” she asked, and the boy placed his left palm on his right shoulder. A messenger, then. At least how he dressed wasn’t his fault. He quickly regained his composure from the surprise, and cleared his throat, before reaching for a piece of paper on the satchel that hung off of his opposite shoulder “Your name has been added to the task board.” he said, his voice squeaky. Rayne blinked, and slowly raised her hand to take the folded piece of paper he was handing to her. It felt heavy.

She opened it, and began to read. She noticed the wax seal of the Guild Masters’ on it. It seemed it was official. The boy cleared his throat again, still at attention. Rayne nodded her understanding, and the messenger went on his way. Rayne sighed. She wondered what it was they wanted her to do. She had been looking forward to spending the day doing absolutely nothing useful. She wasn’t wearing her gear and would need to change clothes again. A groan escaped her lips, hands brushing the hair out of her eyes.

She went back inside, and quickly got undressed. First, she pulled on thin, skin-tight pants that would help her maintain her temperature. Second came her work pants. Brown, they were patched very cleanly in a large number of places. Her eyes were drawn to the drawer. The stone’s light could be seen through the cloth it was wrapped in. The thought of the gem staying in her room, no matter how good she thought her lock was, scared her. She picked it up, and placed it on the dresser. I’ll take it with me. She decided. She pulled on her pants.

Rayne unbuttoned and stuck her hands into the multiple pockets to make sure they weren’t bunched up. It took her a minute or so. She muttered to herself, but took her time. Afterwards came the black, long sleeved undershirt. It made sure that if anything happened to the coils inside her coat, they would never come into direct contact with her skin.

She shuddered, having been burned by a stray coil herself. Next, a simple shirt with the Guild’s crest embossed over the heart. Now, her coat. She pulled it off the hook near her door, and slipped into the comfortable garment. She took a breath, and the scent of sand-swept leather filled her nostrils. The smell always left her feeling content. It reminded her of her work, and she loved it. Finally, her tool belt. It was mostly empty, after yesterday’s accident. Her heart dropped as she looped it around her waist and tightened the straps that surrounded her thighs. Can’t forget the replacement tools. She thought, tapping herself in the forehead with two fingers, as if to push in the information. The stone still glowed on the dresser, the mirror throwing its light across the room.

Her fingers closed around the gem, and carefully deposited it into the inside breast pocket of her coat, buttoning it tightly. Afterwards, she stepped outside of her room and closed the door. It took a moment of feeling the fibers of carpeting between her toes to realize she wasn’t wearing her boots. She turned back around. “Don’t trip me again, guys. Or I’ll get a new pair” she told them as she pulled them onto her feet.

Finally, she was ready to leave. Her hand pulled the door closed as she walked past the threshold. The sound of wood striking wood, and the click of a lock. Only the top four floors had the distinction of being carpeted. She didn’t really like the stuff. Fortunately, the carpeting did not extend to the inside of her room, she thought, as she started walking. She preferred the cool feeling of wood under her feet. Other doors set into the stone walls passed by. All of them had a small bronze nameplate, not all of which had names. She ignored them. Rayne had never really interacted with many of the other inhabitants of the tower beyond simple greetings.

Down two flights of steps. Slowly, one at a time. Rayne liked admiring the workmanship in the ornate wooden handrails, and the hanging metal lanterns. The tower was much busier today. People shuffled about. It seemed the storm was over as quickly as it had appeared. Lots of fixing to do. She thought to herself, the feeling of cool wood under her hand as people pushed past hurriedly. She increased her pace. Whatever it was that they needed her for, Rayne would have hell to pay if she was late.

One more flight of stairs, and the task board was visible in the center of the hall. A large wooden board, surrounded by an ornate metal border. The metal had a greenish tinge, but was still very shiny. Hundreds of holes from nails were set into it. Pieces of paper still hung from where they had been ripped off that morning. A small mob of about a half-dozen was standing around it, pushing and shoving each other to try and get the best jobs that were left. Rayne skirted its edges, eyeing what was left She uttered thanks under her breath that her job was named, and not one of the undoubtedly terrible ones left.

Someone from outside the mob pushed their way in, and nailed another request to the board. The group shifted, trying to see what it said. A small struggle broke out as two of the technomages argued loudly, shoving each other. Rayne took advantage of the distraction to push closer to the board, keeping an eye on the argument in case it turned violent. Another young boy came to nail a request against the board. The sharp knock of his hammer summoning those who were watching the developing argument.

Every morning, as part of their duties, the younger apprentices were to nail request papers to the task board. These papers always included a list of instructions to complete. Those around her kept some small distance. Some of the younger technomages were intimidated by her. Sometimes the requests nailed to the board included a name, or a set of illustrations. Rayne looked them over. Examining a transference cable near the city’s dump. Replacing a mana reservoir somewhere in the Chasm. Definitely terrible, she though, glad nobody would be able to take the piece of paper with her name on it.

Usually, anyone could take any task. However if it were named, it was a different story. She picked through the papers, looking them over. Only the bad ones were left. Examining a transference cable near the city’s dump. Replacing a mana reservoir somewhere in the chasm. Things like that. The mob threatened to gather around her again, she looked at them, and they gave her space again. Whatever the reason for them being scared of her, she took full advantage.

Eventually, she found the paper with her name on it. She groaned, and reread it’s contents, hoping that it would somehow magically transform into something else. An errand. To the city hall. She was to serve as a specialist witness for the trial of some vagrant who had damaged a section of the city’s circuitry. “Ugh” she said out loud, turning quickly towards the stairs, her annoyance turning into a flash of anger. She would need to leave now, and would have to listen to people argue whether or not what had happened was intentional. It was going to be incredibly boring. And it was going to last all day. She wondered which of the Masters had decided this particular job was hers. She swore under her breath. She had to be there in a half hour. Why not send one of the apprentices instead?

Not even the decency to wake me up earlier. Before I’d need to rush. She thought, taking the steps down three at a time. She pushed past people trying to come up the stairs, nearly knocking one or two over. I’m going to need to find time to get new tools, she considered, the small distraction enough to cause her to misstep. Rayne twisted, a shout of surprise escaping her lips as she crashed straight into someone else. Both of them went down, arms flailing. The papers the man had been carrying were strewn across the room. Rayne took a moment to orient herself. “Sorry, I’m sorry!” she began, and the man shrugged. He was annoyed. And for good reason, thought Rayne. “I’m sorry. Let me help you.” She said. She was late, but she couldn’t bring herself to make someone else’s life difficult because of her recklessness. She looked around. There were more papers than she had imagined. This was going to take a while. “Oh well.” She mumbled. “Not like I’ll be the first person to talk anyway. It’ll be fine.” So she hoped.

The man grimaced and gave a curt nod to acknowledge her offer of help, but thanked her and gave her a quick smile as her fingers found the paper. As she picked them up, she couldn’t help but read the pages. Her eyes skimmed the words. Not enough to fully understand, but enough to grasp the basics. They seemed to be referencing something she had never heard of before. Technomagical constructs, taller and wider than a man, sketched and described in detail. She bent down to grab the final page, and noticed something that looked suspiciously like the stone that had once been in the sphere. The one that Master Ethan had told her to hide.

She went ice cold, and swore she could feel it burning through her cloak. Runestone. She stared for a moment, before the man coughed politely, and extended a hand out at her. She looked up at him. Another moment. He raised an eyebrow. Rayne handed him the page wordlessly, and he went on his way, irrationally afraid of the possibility of the stone’s light being visible through the leather that encased her.

She stared at the man as he left, as if she could look into his mind. What in the hell was a runestone? Is that what the gem was? She would definitely have research to do later, she thought. Rayne suddenly remembered she was late. Her feet carried her quickly down the steps. She ran through the entrance hall. I’ll need to pick up tools later. The door was open up ahead, and she dashed through it. Her pace slowed as she reached the gate.

An incredible mass of people was outside. She groaned. The gates were open, but guards kept them from coming in more than a few at a time. Rayne walked up, and one of the guards motioned her through. The group was entirely composed of the poor. Their clothes had been patched in countless places, their faces dirty. Many had no shoes. Rayne’s eyes narrowed. The rich didn’t have to wait. Her nostrils flared at the thought. The people opened up a path for her as she advanced. There was a healthy respect in this city for technomages. Very few people were stupid, or desperate enough to inconvenience one, as she had once heard it expressed.

Once past the crowd, Things got easier. She sped up again, but didn’t want to run. It wouldn’t do to show up at a trial sweating and breathless. Besides, she thought to herself, I could do with a little time to myself. In truth, as much as she disliked parts of her city, Rayne had always liked walking through the streets. The people always seemed happier than she could believe. Smiles. Conversation. Friendship.

Children ran past her, dirt on their faces, shouting and whooping as they played some game she had never heard of. People carefully avoided the thick magical circuits that ran along the streets. They seemed to pulse a yellowish-blue. Though she knew that wasn’t exactly possible. Magic wasn’t really a physical thing. She shook her head. Not what she wanted to think about right now.

She walked through one of the residential districts. Rayne looked up at the sky. It was clear. The sun shone brightly, and wisps of clouds left their traces along the great blue. Her mind flashed back to the leviathan. The curve of its body. It looked like it was made out of stone. Impossible she thought, but it was what she had seen. She looked back around herself.

The brick-and-mortar buildings of the district were covered in hardened clay from a nearby river. The clay had been painted over in various bright colors, but they had faded with time. No one had bothered to repaint them. Dirt caked the walls, and occasional graffiti poked through the layers. The storm had left the place more subdued, and dirtier, than usual. The entire area was hazy, as if not all the dust had settled yet. She coughed, her hand coming up to the scarf around her face. It was very thin everywhere but the mouth and nose, where it was double padded to filter out the dust.

People walked past her, their loose fitting clothing serving to protect them from the heat, and the sun. The residential districts were always full, and this was one of the poorer ones. Ripped clothing, downcast eyes. A beggar grabbed at Rayne’s pants, shouting something unintelligible. She tore her leg away and quickened her steps. This was the fastest way to where she needed to be, but definitely not the safest. She was thankful her coat and shirt were both blade-proof. She gathered herself as she walked past gaunt-faced children and their stricken parents. The people in this part of the city never seemed to have enough of anything, and the sheer amount of them always amazed her.

That wasn’t the only thing that had always surprised Rayne, however. They spoke to each other, in the lilting accent she had come to associate with her language, with such passion and conviction. Their wild gestures causing their light colored clothing to move. Sometimes, they knocked over their own headwear. Visitors to the city always thought they were fighting, but Rayne knew better. “Hearts worn on sleeves” she whispered. The people had nothing to hide. She caught a glimpse of a figure. Clearly different from the others. A purple mask covered one side of their face. She looked away, her heart quickening. Haralam, she thought. The crowd seemed to ripple around the person, desperately trying to avoid attention. One of the Exarch’s private police force. She wondered what the leader of her city would’ve thought was so important that he needed to send out his “Keepers of the peace”.

Rayne remembered the same masks on those who surrounded the one woman she had seen branded. Now, however, it felt as if she was the one on trial. The masked man, or woman she couldn’t really tell, seemed to stare right at her before fading almost ghostlike into the press of bodies. Rayne’s mouth was dry. Her heart threatened to explode out of her chest. They couldn’t know.

A man to her left was selling juicy cactus fruits from the surrounding desert and she stopped to buy a piece, hoping the merchant didn’t notice her shaking hands. Thoughts of the leviathan leapt unbidden to her mind. And then thoughts of what would happen to her if she were found out. What was it that she could do? Leave? How? She shook her head. How was anybody supposed to find out, anyway? She had only told two people. Still…. Still… came the doubts, her brow furrowing as a frown touched her lips. The gem felt warm through the fabric of her coat. She took a bite of the slightly bitter fruit, the cool juices soothing her parched mouth. Rayne tried to still her hands.

She cut quickly through the rest of the district. The sights, the sounds, that had so entranced her just a few minutes before had suddenly become distractions. Rayne wanted to go do her job, and then leave. That’s all. As she walked, the number of people got smaller. Set into a stone wall separating this district from the center of the city was an ornate gate. Glass and metal coiled around each other to form beautiful swirling shapes around central panels of wood. Guards stood to either side and a line of people were leading to the entranceway. Their leather armor stood as a stark contrast to the beauty of the gate, their spears pointing up at the sky.

Rayne heard raised voices before she even reached the front of the line. It sounded like an argument between one of the guards and someone in line. She moved past the people, and two men were yelling at each other. The younger, clearly from the poorer district by the state of his clothes, was arguing that his brother was in the central district selling wares and needed help. The guard on the other hand refused to let him past, citing a regulation Rayne had never heard of. Honestly it was probably just made up to keep the poor out.

The younger man raised his voice higher, colorfully insulting the guard. The guard raised his hand, and struck the man across the face, knocking him to the ground with a sneer. He raised the butt of his spear and shoved it into the poor man’s chest, keeping him against the floor. The guard spit on him, telling him to be thankful he hadn’t lost his life for the insult. The man, cowed, pushed past the onlookers angrily, shoving Rayne to the side.

She looked at his fading back with a mixture of understanding and pity. Rayne rubbed her arms as she remembered the feel of wood striking her flesh. She moved towards the guard. He reached out to stop her, before seeing the coat she was wearing, and the symbol embossed on her chest. He immediately threw her a salute and opened the gate before ushering her through.

She heard the complaints at her skipping through the line addressed with harsh words and harsher action. She blinked quickly trying to block out the sound before the gate slammed back closed behind her. Rayne pulled her coat together and allowed herself to be comforted for a moment before she kept walking. The buildings around her were now strikingly different than the ones in the poor district. They were almost gleaming. It was like being in a small isle of cleanliness in the smog.

It was unnerving. The clothes on the people around her were of even higher quality than hers. Light, airy fabrics adorned their bodies. Gems and gold thread were inlaid into their cuffs. Their jewelry seemed to reflect too much light. Rayne looked down. She felt out of place here, much more so than in the poor district. She glanced upwards at the faces of people that bespoke wealth and status.

She saw, or imagined, disapproval and scorn. The stone beneath her feet was set out in intricate patterns, and she followed them with her eyes as her legs carried her forward. Occasionally, she would see someone clearly from the poor district walking past. Their heads as downcast as hers. Trying to avoid interaction, to meld with the background. One of them accidentally bumped into one of the rich. Rayne shrunk into herself as she heard his echoing cries of pain. None of them would touch her, she knew. Regardless of their status, none of them would dare to lay a hand on a technomage. Status did not keep you cool in the scorching heat. Runic technology did.

The buildings here were taller, but still squat. Most of them were made entirely of wood, as opposed to clay and sandstone. They looked polished and were painted in bright, almost gaudy, colors. Stone was used for the sturdy fences that surrounded almost every property. She walked past the guards that were spread haphazardly through the district, they nodded as she went by. They thought she didn’t notice their hands tightening on their spears. Despite all the technomages did for the city, they were sometimes viewed with superstitious mistrust.

Rayne kept close to the buildings whenever she could. Cutting through intersections only when she needed to, to stay out of the way of the camel-pulled carts and carriages that occasionally passed. She remembered sneaking through these streets at night as a child, stealing to eat. She remembered getting caught once or twice. She didn’t like thinking about her childhood. Or at least, not most of it.

She walked past a house she recognized. A man and a woman were sitting near a small fountain, speaking to each other in carefree tones. The man’s laugh crossed the distance between them as the woman said something to him. The laugh brought back memories of a warm smile and fresh fruit being handed to her. Of a good man. She stopped and stared. She cocked her head as she tried to decide whether to say anything or not. She sighed, and kept going. Coward came the thought, and she banished it.

Just a few more minutes, a few more side streets, and she approached the courthouse square. She paused for a moment, to make sure she was composed. It wouldn’t do to embarrass the rest of the guild. She straightened her coat to make sure the symbol on the fabric of her shirt was visible. The golden spark of her guild was splashed along her chest, and it lent weight to her presence. Rayne tapped the small magical generator that was in the lining on her right shoulder. It was small, but more than enough to operate the cooling and heating systems it was connected to. She pulled her gloves so they were tight against her hands, and pulled her coat over them. Finally she adjusted her belt, a sinking feeling filling her as she felt how light it was.

She didn’t look out of place in this district, but felt like she was. People glanced at her occasionally, but never for very long. She caught glimpses of other technomages in the plaza, moving from one job to the next. It was normal to see them here. Rayne felt, however, as if every glance was a challenge. As if every look was an attack. She forced her chin up, and her hands balled into fists at her side. The plaza opened up in front of her. The stones that made it up large enough across that it took four steps to get past one. A fountain, sustained by magic, sat at the center. She wondered whether the city would even be capable of existing where it did if not for runic technology. Probably not, she thought.

She began crossing quickly. And stopped. A group of people that shouldn’t have been there. The Haralam. Her heartbeat was loud in her ears. She could see them spreading out to the sides. Their masks weren’t on, but she knew it was them. It was betrayed by the easy loping gaits. By the near predatory gazes. By the way eyes darted from side to side, as if searching. She forced herself to stop thinking about the leviathan, and the brand. It was said the Haralam could read and control minds. So many of them she thought warily. People sat at benches, talking lightly. Servants cleaned the plaza, and salesmen kept food and drink flowing. Everything looked normal. She took in their positions. She saw the satchels at their waists. Flash bombs she thought. Rayne couldn’t stop herself from sliding her protective, auto-darkening goggles over her eyes. Finally, she took a deep breath. She couldn’t stand here forever.

That didn’t mean, however, that she would be able to stop from approaching slowly, almost stealthily. Her eyes jumped between all of those she was watching. They were behind her now. Her step quickened. She was within a stone’s throw of the courthouse. A tall, imposing structure made entirely of dull and heavy sandstone. Her feet had nearly carried her to the steps that led to the great wooden doors when one of them saw her. His gaze rested on her, and her heart rate began to slow. See? She chided herself nothing happened.

And then the man raised a finger to point at her, and shouted. As he did, he put on the purple half-mask that was a mark of his station. It covered the left side of his face, making him look almost demonic as whatever runic technology embedded into it started to glow in response to his touch. Straight lines spread out, breaking into ninety degree angles along the mask. Rayne was paralyzed. The man slowly approached, and Rayne struggled to move. She heaved and strained against the prison of her own body. Nononononono she chanted desperately in her mind. The mask came a flash of insight as he slowly padded towards her. Some people had stopped to watch, intrigued. Whatever was in the mask was doing this. She tried to turn her head, but her eyes were locked onto the sequence of colors coming from the mask’s eye.

Then, she felt something click inside of her. A wave of cold clarity swept throughout her body. She took a step back and the man walking towards her froze, incredulous. It appeared he was trying to process what had happened. He hesitated. Rayne Didn’t.

She turned, and bolted back towards the street, the Haralam closing in behind her.