Broken But Unburnt

Chapter 15 - Calliope

Chapter 15: Calliope

City of Jeryl, Capital of Kingdom of Delos

Lillibet the Sahira was even stranger in the light of day.

Her skin wasn't just porcelain. It was nearly transparent. Her keen eyes were a shade of purple that Calliope hadn't even known was biologically possible. Her blonde hair was thin and wispy but framed her face beautifully and her placid smile had a calming effect so genuine that Calliope had wondered, on more than one occasion, if the woman were casting some sort of spell on her. But Sahira weren't witches. They couldn't cast spells. Or so Lillibet said.

She had answered Calliope's questions kindly enough but had not offered any information of her own in furtherance of the conversation. Instead, she sat within the confines of her modest carriage, hands folded upon her lap, watching Calliope in the unsettling way of a woman who wasn't used to being around those without magic. Or maybe Calliope did have magic. She wasn't even sure anymore.

Calliope looked down at her gloved fingers and gave them a wiggle. No sparks. She hadn't been able to call them ever since she had left with Lillibet. There was something strange about that but she couldn't quite figure out what.

The carriage lurched forward and men began shouting from outside it. Lillibet didn't move. The only indication that she had noticed anything at all were the corners of that ever-present smile tilting slightly downward. It was enough to send Calliope scrambling over the velvet cushions to push aside the drapes and peer outside.

They were riding up to a gate now. A broad, stone construction with iron bars that made Calliope's blood run cold. Men were guarding it, as she would have expected. But in the meadow beside the gates, tents were constructed as far as the eye could see. The scent of smoke and metal tinged the air and the scraping of boots on gravel could be heard from the road. Soldiers in the emerald green of the Delosian army littered the field, sparring or talking, half of them drinking. There were hundreds of them.

Calliope pushed away from the window and sat back in her seat.

"It is beginning," Lillibet said simply as if that were some sort of explanation.

"You didn't even look," Calliope remarked, eying the Sahira carefully.

"One does not need to look in order to see."

Calliope muttered something about that making no sense at all and avoided glancing back out of the uncovered window as their carriage rolled through the gates.

The streets were busy but not in the way that Calliope expected. Gabriel had told her about the Delosian capital many times. He had lived here for years himself, before he had joined the Ysuelt and became one of them. He had told her tales of the overcrowded marketplaces where shoeless children leapt over barrels and ran through stalls. He had spoken of the women who hung their laundry on crisscrossing ropes which hung high above the street and created a brilliant tapestry for the passersby beneath. She had fallen asleep at night picturing men coming out of taverns, slapping each other on the back and laughing with their big, booming voices, dogs and other pets being chased away from evening meals, children playing games of make believe oblivious to the wonders of the brilliant city around them. But not this.

Not a cold, heavy fog void of any life that hadn't donned a Delosian uniform. Not piles of newly crafted, hastily made swords and dented armor. Not shuttered windows and closed doors, mud splashing the sides of the carriage, and only frayed, tattered linens whipping in the breeze.

"Buraee yahaan hai," Calliope whispered against the flowing drapes.

"It may very well be, dear Calliope," Lillibet warned, placing a warm hand on Calliope's arm and offering a sad smile. "I'm afraid our dear capital is not what it used to be. Things have changed."