Worlds Burn

Rats and Ropewalkers

"You never get tired of the view." Cyril said. Eris nodded in agreement.
The city of Rael stretched in front of them, whitewashed buildings bathed in the crimson light of the setting sun. From their perch on the rooftops, Eris could imagine that she owned it all.
If only.
Cyril took a swig from his flask of ale. For a young man he was fond of drink, and Eris had never seen him without the flask at his side.
"It was a sunset like this one when I first came to the city," he remarked as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Eris had heard the story before, but she didn't mind hearing it again. "I'd never seen houses with flat roofs before. Houses made of white stone instead of wood and straw. And the ropes, running from roof to roof like a fisherman's net cast over the entire city." Eris nodded, gazing out at the distance. Cyril might not know it, but he was quite a poet. She could see exactly what he meant: from above, it really did seem as though the ropes were a giant net cast over the city, and the houses were hundreds of white fish.

Eris relished the time they spent every afternoon at dusk. She was the second best Ropewalker in the city, but Cyril was the head of every operation, the brain behind every one of her missions. Even so, when he found out how much she detested their underground meetings, Cyril had graciously agreed to hand out her missions on the rooftops where she was more comfortable, despite not being a Ropewalker himself. The meetings had become regular events every day at dusk, and over time, Eris liked to think that they had become friends.

It was hard to imagine that the young man drinking ale beside her was at the center of the largest and most powerful network of communication and transport in Rael, let alone the planner of hundreds of organized thefts, murders, and black-market dealerships. It was impossible not to underestimate Cyril. He was only two years her elder at eighteen years of age, with the whiskery beginnings of a beard like peach fuzz on his chin, but he had done so much to the Raeli network since his arrival at the city. That had only been three years ago. 

Before Cyril, the crime networks and the communication networks had been numerous and chaotic, making it hard to tell which was which. Within months of his arrival the boy had united the underground and the rooftop networks, hiring Rats and Ropewalkers alike. Within a year, Cyril's hands were in every branch of the Raeli network, from the Ropewalker messenger system to the underground black market of the Rats. Today, he was the most powerful Nobody in Rael. He could kill anyone he liked, could drain gold right out of the King's treasuries...but preferred to stay in the shadows, where no one knew his name. Eris could only wonder as to how he'd managed to gain so much power.

Perhaps it was all because of his Gift, Eris thought. Like herself, Cyril was gifted with luck, which had to help. At appearance, it seemed that he only used his Gift at the gambling table, but then again, Eris had learned long ago that with Cyril, things were rarely as they appeared.
"Not a net," Eris spoke at last. Cyril raised an eyebrow. "The ropes, I mean. Not a net, but a spiderweb." And Cyril, the spider.
Cyril chuckled. The last rays of sunlight caught his downy hair and made the brown strands gold.

Their relaxed conversation died with the sun. As the sky darkened, Cyril reached beside him and pulled up a leather satchel. Eris sat up straighter and took it from him. She opened the clasp and peered inside to find a letter, stamped with a red seal.
"Just a message today?" she asked, uncertain of whether she was relieved or disappointed. The seal, at least, suggested that it was of government importance, probably for a rich man. It was certainly more than a simple Middling letter.
"I wouldn't give you a job if it wasn't important," Cyril said with a crooked smile.
"But if it was really important, you would give it to Lilibeth," Eris countered. Lilibeth was the best Ropewalker Cyril had, with a Gift to rival his.
"Lilibeth is occupied," Cyril admitted. Eris wondered, not for the first time, if he was more fond of her than he let on. Lilibeth was pretty for someone of her trade, slender as a reed and fair-haired. Most Ropewalkers were dark-haired like Eris. "This is for the Treasurer," Cyril continued. "The client wants it delivered by midnight. It's worth using more than your usual Luck." Eris's vest was folded neatly under the letter; she stood and put it on over her black tunic.

The vest, of course, meant nothing. The embroidered badge on the chest, a golden sun on a field of green, supposedly indicated that Eris was an honorable Ropewalker, a messenger instead of a thief or assassin. As it was, Eris was all three. Shedding her identity was as easy as shedding the vest. It had been another of Cyril's ideas, to maintain the Middlings' trust.

As night fell, the first of the Ropewalkers began to rise, breaking the still horizon as they leapt from roof to roof, gliding across the surface of the spiderweb. The Ropewalkers who moved at night were most likely criminal. Many would be thieves, spies, or hired killers. Some worked alone, but many were in different branches of Cyril's network.

Eris slung the satchel over her shoulder and pulled up her hood. The short cloak barely covered her shoulders and didn't provide warmth, but it was better than one that would billow and interfere with her running. Cyril stood too.
"Good luck," was all he said.
"I have plenty," Eris returned dryly, and stepped off of the roof.

The moment her foot touched the tightrope, Eris felt her Gift pounding through her veins. The ground was far below, but she didn't care. She wouldn't fall.
Eris began to run.
She knew the rope networks like the back of her hand; she knew the poorer sections of the city where there were fewer ropes and fewer Walkers, and the richer neighborhoods, where the houses towered above the others and had ropes tethered to the roofs on all sides. Many Ropewalkers got reckless, conserving their Luck and running the ropes while using less and less of their Gift. Those were usually the ones that were found the next day, their bodies broken on the cobblestones below.

Eris played it safe. On longer trips she had to be more careful; using too much Luck could do more harm than good. Eris couldn't run easily from rope to rope if she was exhausted and drained.

She followed her mental map through the city, leaping from roof to rope to roof again. Every so often there was another Ropewalker, cloaked like her, but Eris never spoke to them, and never once encountered one on the same rope. Eris had never liked how sociable the Rats were. Ropewalkers rarely talked to each other during a mission, especially not one at night. Rats liked to squabble in their tunnels whenever they met each other. Cyril knew how talkative they were; another reason why messengers like Eris were better for more covert operations.

She caught her breath as her foot slipped for the second time halfway down a rope. For a fraction of a second Eris wavered, then resumed her jog, one foot in front of the other. Luck wasn't everything. Even with her Gift it was possible to trip and go tumbling to her death. All she could do was decrease the likelihood of that happening, but one day that might not be enough. It was especially hard on moonless nights, when it was hard to see her own feet. Those were the times when Eris wished she had the Gift of Sight, though that was rare to anyone but the Rats. Gifted Rats could navigate their tunnels and underground homes in pitch black without so much as a match to help them.

That was another way in which Ropewalkers and Rats differed; Rats without gifts could still live their lives with their families, but with candles and lanterns to light their way. Ungifted Ropewalkers stood no chance of maneuvering the ropes, and as a result, they would have to leave for a life in the tunnels or on the Middling streets. Perhaps that was why Ropewalkers were increasingly scarce, while the underground was overcrowded and bustling.

Eris was nearing the Treasurer's neighborhood, in the wealthier ring surrounding the king's palace. There were more illuminated windows here; the rich could afford to stay up late, discussing politics and money and other things Eris couldn't imagine. She landed on a rooftop and vaulted forward, knowing there would be another rope beneath her feet.
There wasn't.

Eris pitched forward but found a handhold just in time and staggered back, shocked. Her heart was pounding in her throat; perhaps it was just her Luck that had saved her. She caught her breath and peered over the side of the roof.
There had been three ropes connecting this house and the next, and all three were cut, hanging from the tether down the wall. Ice seemed to engulf her insides; Eris couldn't breathe.

Go back. She turned, took a step. Then hesitated.
A noise, from below. Eris froze.
Then she ducked, falling flat on her stomache as an arrow whistled over her head and fell a few houses away. Eris stared after it, heart in her throat. If she didn't have her Luck....

Escaping by the ropes now was dangerous; she'd have to stand, and then she was an easy target for the bow and arrow. She had no idea who her attackers were, and whether or not they had other weapons, but she would be safer in the shadows beneath the houses. Where were other Ropewalkers when she needed them? There were none nearby to be seen. She could hear her heartbeat pounding in her chest. Her attackers were being unusually quiet, perhaps thinking that she had leapt to another roof. Eris lay flat and held her breath, using up a quarter of her remaining Luck.
Then she rolled over the side of the roof into empty air.

The ground yawned up to meet her and punched the breath out of her lungs. Eris hit it hard but jackknifed to her feet and began to run, ignoring her throbbing ribs. She heard her pursuers behind her, disconcertingly silent but for their footsteps. Eris made a right, then a left, already hopelessly lost in the maze of identical houses of identical whitewashed sandstone. She didn't know the streets very well when she wasn't looking at them from above; they were much more intimidating from below. Fear gave her some additional speed as Eris squeezed between two buildings and into an alley. She pinned herself to the wall, every breath like a knife in her ribs, and waited.
No one appeared.

Eris exhaled. As the adrenaline wore off, her ribs began to hurt more. She put a hand to her side and winced, wondering if she had cracked something. She regretted not using more for her fall, now that it seemed that she had shaken off her pursuers.
This was something Cyril would like to hear about. Eris leaned against a pile of crates and finished regaining her breath. Somehow she'd have to find a way back on the roofs, and then a way back to Cyril. Her attackers had been easy to evade, but they were still worth reporting.
First she had to go deeper into the alley. Eris turned.
Lilibeth's eyes stared back at her.

Eris stopped breathing. She staggered back, terror rising in her throat like bile. Lilibeth's blue eyes were lifeless and dull. She was hanging upside down, her long yellow hair swaying, her arms outstretched so that her fingertips almost touched the ground. Where her clothes didn't cover, her skin was black and blue like a giant bruise.
Eris's gaze moved upwards. A rope had been bound around one foot, the other end fastened around the tethering hook at the roof where the tightrope would normally be secured.

The best Ropewalker in the city.
Eris, second best.
She was next.

Now she could hear footsteps, approaching the mouth of the alleyway. Panic spiked through her like lightning, forcing her to tear her eyes away from Lilibeth's horrifying corpse. She dove behind the stack of crates, a pathetic excuse for a hiding place.
But not when she had her remaining luck.
Eris summoned the last of her energy and felt her consciousness drain away. As the darkness engulfed her, she heard the sound of approaching feet getting closer and closer, slow and deliberate, before they came to a stop in front of the boxes.
I'm next.

A/N: What did you think? :) Please take just a few seconds to tell me in the comments, I would appreciate it so much. This is my first story on this site so I'm kind of nervous. 

(Originally published on my Quotev account)