Vignette: the Path They Walk

Maintaining a pace of about twenty feet trailing behind her husband and lord, brandishing the black Scepter which her entire marriage is based on just as easily as it could be broken by, Lady Ronwen Kels-Cairo keeps a steady eye on the crowd before her, flanked by servants of her estate. She doesn’t pay attention to what her husband, Marxos, is saying to the Foremen as they all walk the walls, inspecting just about every inch of the mechanical shield which faithfully guards Skeyer from the oceanic pressure above their heads. Marxos praises each and every wall worker they pass as if they were the very saviors of every Conarian in the city, offering forth fresh fruit conjured in the palm of his hand from the tip of his wand.

Ronwen couldn’t care less about the pathetic attempts of her husband to show face to the public, to keep them enamored with their lord and not turned and spurred by the arrival of their new guests. Her feet sting from all of the walking up and down the wall, blisters beginning to form against the soles of her shoes and her heels after several hours of this, not having been asked to speak a single word, not having been spoken to once today by anybody. What deep green innocence she once had in her eyes has long since faded to annoyance ever since marriage.

The obnoxious snort of her husband is what does it. She tugs tightly at the waves of brown hair draping against her shoulders, finally asserting her voice. “We’re leaving.” She turns and pivots, and starts walking in the opposite direction down a catwalk, back in the direction of her estate. The two attendants turn in a panic, following behind.

“Lady Cairo,” one hurries aside her, rushing words to rationalize. “We’re not supposed to leave until Lord Cairo is done with his inspection.”

Lady Cairo refuses to slow her pace. “I need to sit and rest. Tell Lord Cairo I will wait for him to be finished.” She paces along faster. One attendant whispers to the other, and peels back towards the Lord and the Foremen to report, while the other follows a safe distance behind Ronwen. She prays with each step that they don’t try to stop her or slow her down.

Her prayers carry her all the way to the outcropping overlooking the caves the Prophet once roamed to mark Skeyer on a map. She gives up trying to find a comfy place to sit and takes off her shoes, sitting down on the flattest boulder she can find. She rubs the sores on her feet and closes her eyes, desperately trying to think of something else. She tries to imagine the tunnels herself- twisting, dark, riddled with debris, littered with old vessels travelers had taken here before. She tries to sift through all of the shapes of vessels and tries to figure out which one once belonged to the Prophet- whichever one had the holy power to free her from her depressing marriage arrangement.

She looks backwards at the walls, craning her head back to follow them all the way up to the apex high over all of the rest of Skeyer. Between several layers of metal and industrial parts, she tried to make out the darkness of the Abyss beyond it, attempting to imagine what impossibly incredible force could come crashing down on her at any given moment. Nobody dared question the role it played in their lives, whether the common person understood the importance of every individual section of the wall.

Her head eventually cranes all the way around and comes back down the slope, spotting the Ekonian camp in the distance. She thinks of the strange faces and outfits she sees among them, but envies the charming bracelets they wear on their wrists, waving hands as if weaving Essence from thin air. She wonders what it would be like if she paid Terryn another visit and asked to be given such magic items and taught to use Essence in their ways, damning any dream of bearing children for the dreadful Lord Cairo of her own free will. She was quite fond of the Ekonians, quite fond of Terryn especially- believers in freedoms to Essence and oneself. But Ronwen shuddered at the thought of not being able to have kids for Marxos- of being divorced, of losing the privileges of being a married noblewoman she had always dreamed of as a girl.

“Knew you couldn’t have gone far.” The heavy voice of Jonah scoffs behind her, heavy Foreman boots clunking up to her. He straightens his suit, tries to slick back a head of gray hair, to look any more presentable he can in the presence of nobility. He’s only a few years older than her, and yet she still feels in the presence of an elder- uncertain of it being due to the wisdom he holds or the conservatism he lives by. He drives his hands in his pockets and stands a few respectful feet behind Ronwen. “Didn’t mean to disturb you, Lady Cairo- Lord Cairo asked me to check on you and find out where you ran off to.”

“How thoughtful,” she groans, turning her head away.

Jonah affords himself a quiet chuckle. “He’s only looking out for you like any other husband would. I’m sure he regrets having to drag you around for all of these dull politics.” He waits patiently for some affirmation from Ronwen and gets none, diverting his gaze off to the Ekonian camp where she’s looking towards to muster up another conversation. “I can’t quite put my finger on those Eko.”

“What is there to place, Mr. Jonah?” Ronwen leans back, still refusing to look straight at him. “You don’t give them a fair chance, sir. They are just as courteous as they are intelligent. The wall workers are happier than ever, no? It really doesn’t make much sense to me why anybody has to go hungry in Skeyer anymore when the Ekonians’ magic is so universal- so accessible.”

Jonah merely shrugs. “Couldn’t say. I mean no disrespect when I say this, but I’m not especially fond of others throwing my fish all out of line when they’re all nice and steady together. Just doesn’t feel right to be treating them all like Prophets just because they came the way He did, bringing the same sorts of promises with him. All seem like a bunch of copycats to me. Doesn’t sit right at all.”

“Either way,” she sighs, rolling her head. “It looks like they’re here to stay for the time being. If they can tell us of what lies beyond the Abyss, then perhaps we better listen. We have no other choice but to trust them, to let them be, at least for the time being.” He nods in understanding. “Nothing terrible has come from them being here so far, I suppose. But when you’ve worked on the wall all these years, you can’t take any chances. I can’t feel safe in my home unless I know that there’s a backup for my backup.”

“People are people, Jonah- not machines."

He only shakes his head and turns to walk away. “Lord Cairo should be expecting you.” Ronwen looks down the cave as she puts her shoes back on, pauses, then follows Jonah back.