Chronicles of Aira - BROKEN CHAINS

Chapter I

Scrappy

She was but a small shadow amidst shadows in the alley. Her face gaunt, the eyes staring intently across the stone paved road where a fat homely woman stood behind a counter, apron greasy and sweaty, with a big bronze cleaver going up and down, chopping away sloppily at the day's cut of meat. Her mouth would have filled with water had she any left to do so.

Scrappy's stomach tried to press her foot forward but she managed to stay put. The street was too crowded with the sandaled feet of the free people of Lassania followed by their bare feet slaves, it was impossible to remain unseen. Not only that, but the Vigiles were being especially cruel with their punishments were she to be caught - she heard that Timam had lost his pinky trying to steal an apple and Longpisser had been taken as a slave. And if even that had not been enough to dissuade the little starving thief, two mangy dogs stood next to the counter gnawing away at whatever fell from the careless working above.

Would that I could just up and take it like one of them blackens. The Vigiles always took it all, whatever and whenever they wanted. It was not a thing that they needed to do - only true free lassanians could join their ranks - but they could and did so, that she knew. I guess today is goin' to be pigeon, if I'm lucky. The thought was meant to bring comfort, but it seemed only to stifle the sounds of the city so her belly could protest louder. The little girl turned her back and went on her way.

It was a scalding day, the hottest yet in the year by the sweat and smells of the people going by and the eversmoke that hung like clouds atop the city managed to kill whatever little green was there to be found in the depths of the Grayland Wastes, at the heart of the empire. Everybody sweated miserably under Magath's Smog, fanning without pause and using little pieces of cloth to dab the sweat off their faces. Those who had the means to stay inside or under the blessed shade of an awning did just so, drinking cold drinks and cooled wine, complaining away, mouth's full, while slave servants fanned them with long ararura leaves, bronze collars worn tight around their throats. The rich paid the scrappy thing passing them no mind. Scrappy liked the warmth though, suffocating as it was, she had no sandals and the cold was awfully harsh on bare feet. The baking sun coming through the haze above also meant that it was summer, people were more careless in the summer, easier to steal.

That she was still learning though and hadn't yet the nimble fingers of Nimblefingers, nor the quick step of Quickstep, nor even the smooth talking of Shitmouth. And, even if she had any of those things, she had yet to gain permission from The Lady; she wasn't going to undermine the only person who seemed to accept her, one of the few that looked like her as well, of darker skin and gray eyes. So she pressed on, looking down and quiet-like.

Scrappy was getting closer to the river, the ground turned a little bit cooler with each step. She circled the Old Marketplace not daring to pass through the guard-ridden streets, even more so considering that old fruiter Eecabod had almost caught her when she was trying to pilfer two ripe mamelons. By the turn of Tanner's Way with its strong leather smells, she could already see the simple little plaza where the pigeon traps were tucked away, at the base of the big ulunda tree, one of the few types of trees that dared to grow under the smog.

The little plaza was the best place to catch birds, she knew, for no one went out of their way to get to the old forgotten square. Buildings were erected atop its entrance without much care and the only way to access it was by getting your feet wet and clambering on the river bank. It was as safe a place as any orphan could hope for: no one around, under the meager shade of a bountiful tree. You could even eat the bittersweet ulunda fruit if you were brave enough to climb and could either swim or wait in the shade for the pigeon's to get caught.

She rushed, stepping and grabbing at the familiar rocks, mounting the old parapet and running to see the trap she had made earlier, like Nico had taught her, but was met only with what was left of it: broken twigs and slashed ropes scattered on the ground.