Eagles and Swans
Chapter 9: Foreshadowing
Ruthenia was not exactly welcomed in the alley the next day.
“Where’ve you been?” said Hyder, face lighting up at the sight of her descending from the sky.
“I don’t care where you’ve been, where’s the gun?” snarled Tante, shoving the two apart by the shoulders. “You can’t show up five days late and not’ve done the thing we asked!”
“Tante, don’t be mean,” said Hyder, eyes darting to her
“I don’t have the gun, Tante. And I haven’t done anything about it. What are you going to do?”
“You wanna know?” he snarled.
She squared her shoulders. “Try me,” she lashed back. “And see if I want to fix guns for you after that.”
“I won’t need you to fix them soon. We’ll just find some of our own. Reida thinks she’s seen some gun-toters around town. We’ll have some cornered soon enough.”
Ruthenia's eyes widened. “Who—who has she seen? What sort of people?”
“Wouldn't you like to know,” answered Tante, with a smirk that twisted her wrong. “You think I'd tell you, of all people?”
“Oh, did I mention?” Hyder piped up abruptly, clapping a hand on Ruthenia's shoulder. "We’ve got a prank ready for next month!”
Prepared up till then to spit a retort, she turned instead to Hyder and lost her scowl. “What sort?” she said.
“It’ll be huge,” he replied. “We’re targeting the palace next! We have to gather some barrels of cloth dye.”
“The palace?” Ruthenia gasped. “They have guards. And guess what, those guards have guns!”
“We just want to move up in the ranks,” he answered almost hungrily. “Pranks are fun and all, but we must draw blood someday. We must bite back.”
“Besides, Ruthenia, the risk isn’t nearly as great as you seem to think,” added Tante. “Hyder has discovered a useful new Thread talent.” He turned smartly to the Masker. “Show her.”
“Of course!” With a smile and a flourish of his hands, Hyder began to pull and twist Threads about himself, almost as if Weaving a cocoon. Ruthenia stood transfixed; even with her poor sense for Threads, she could feel the ether rippling.
Then Hyder was no longer there.
Ruthenia stared at the space before her. “That’s...that’s a new one,” she said, a smile tugging at her lips. “I’ve never seen anyone do that. That’s impressive.”
“Aw, thanks,” answered the air before her. The blur of a ghostly hand to her right dispelled the illusion to reveal that the brown-haired Masker had moved some ways to her right, and was beaming brightly at her.
“You know, you could really benefit from lessons,” she mused. “That’s no trivial level of skill you have.”
“Lessons? No thank you,” Hyder answered, though he seemed suddenly very flustered. “Speaking of lessons, don’t you think you should be heading off? Don't be late!” He looked upward, beyond the gutters, and she followed suit, but the sun was not within the bounds of the blue-white rectangle of sky overhead.
“I suppose you’re right,” she said, raising her umbrella horizontally. “It’s a pity, though. I’m sure you’d have no trouble learning to fly.”
Hyder shook his head. “Maybe, but Weaving doesn’t work like that,” he replied. “I haven’t a sense for the air. Pictures are what I’m good at.”
Ruthenia’s umbrella dropped from its place in the air. “That’s more than I’ll ever have,” she said, bending to pick it up.
Shadows In The Sea: there could be supernatural forces at work, say surveyors
Helika Morning Herald, 22nd July, 491.
More than a hundred abnormal occurrences have been reported in the Deeps in the past two weeks, and experts are only just beginning to comprehend the nature of the situation.
Lying thirty miles east of Astra, the region known as the Deeps has long been a subject of curiosity and fear among Astrans, being its nearest Loricoda relic site and the cause of many supernatural happenings in the past four centuries.
While such events are not unheard of in the region, the frequency of incidents has reached levels the likes of which Astra has never seen in its entire history.
Among the newly-reported events are the appearance of floating silver glitter, the excitement of fish to the surface, and the gathering of seabirds on coasts, damaging property and interfering with the conduction of business.
Experts of various fields are still investigating the issue. Journeys bound eastward have been cancelled temporarily in view of the growing risk, and suspension Threads are being reinforced across the nation. Those living in Threadborne buildings are advised to reinforce suspension as well.
Ruthenia was so busy brooding over the morning news that she did not notice she was on a straight course for Caela until she had almost stepped on the girl’s toes.
“Watch where you're going!” she exclaimed, swinging her palm in front of Ruthenia’s eyes.
She backed away with a jolt, lifting her eyes from the speckled grey floor. “Hey, sorry Caela,” she answered, the words eroding her daze.
“What has you so occupied?”
“The news about the Deeps.”
Caela smiled oddly. “The Deeps? I didn't know that that mattered to the likes of you, I'm impressed.”
Ruthenia’s mouth hung open. “Impressed? Of course I care about something that affects us our entire country!”
“I-I did not mean to offend,” the girl leapt to her own defence, clasping her hands together. “It is troubling news indeed. There are scientists operating on the seas without permit, trying to come to damning conclusions about the whole thing. The government has to take a stand.”
For a moment, Ruthenia began to wonder if they had even read the same news, before realising that they probably hadn't. “That's nonsense,” she burst out. “They should do what’s good for Astra.”
“Ruthenia,” said Caela with the sweetest smile, “It is wonderful that you care, but I don’t think you understand how politics work.”
It was five seconds of clenching her jaw before the words finally came. “I think you're the one who doesn't care!” Ruthenia spat.
Before the girl could reply, she had marched off into the western tower lift, fists balled. She flung herself into a tiny grey corner while the operator cranked the door shut. This was going to have repercussions, and she knew it. But the rage burned too hot for her to ponder them.
“And the death of the dragonfly,” said Mr. Caldero, the sunlight in the window warming to the colour of daffodils, “is what we refer to as foreshadowing. As we all know—having read the book in its entirety—Helika Laceld will later choose to die, in order to save the life of the young hero she has come to regard as her successor.”
“Has anyone really read the book in entirety?” Ruthenia repeated idly, drawing a hypothetical steam circuit layout on the ruled lines of her notebook. “Foreshadowing this foreshadowing that.”
“Helika does not know this yet—nor does the first-time reader—but the clues are laid out early, so what might have initially appeared surprising—” he pointed to the words “sacrifice” with a stick of chalk—”is rendered seemingly inevitable, in retrospect. The prescience of the environment is simply one of many tools by which the literary work is made cohesive, the temporally- and spatially-disparate plot elements bound together.”