The train passed through the City of Eran, a beautiful place north of the Sandra River, where the desert met with the Taegan Valley. Its walls were tall in order to keep the djann away – although it was rare now to see the djann this far north, especially with the military on full alert.
Eran was a city where one could enter from the desert – dry and harsh – and leave to the rich grasslands of the great valley. Though Christel and Hazel did stop here, they did not stay long – only granting enough time to gather supplies for the weeks of planning to come. They were heading straight for the capital itself – the great city of Taelliwey. Here kings reigned as gods and the wealthy prospered in their schemes, unknowing of the ones who perished in poverty – Christel among them.
He had never repressed the memories of his childhood, but instead he wore them like armour – although there were always some things that people wanted to leave out. Christel remembered being cold, and staring up at the full moon, with sand running through his toes. He remembered the sun, burning him every day until his skin had turned into leather. Cold nights, scorching days, alone, he had longed for comfort. He was among dozens of others who did not have the luxury of a home – as for why that was, he couldn’t say.
What he remembered the most from his early days was the hunger, and he could recall the pain he felt when his stomach crawled inside of him and screamed out to be fed. He had tried begging, and every day he would walk into the City of Eden and beg the older ones for food. After a while he realised that it was the ones who had the most that gave the least.
Then there was a day – burned into his eyes as if it were still happening – when he passed a noble lady in her carriage. The lady was beautiful, she had golden hair and fair skin, and her carriage was an entire room on wheels. Christel had fixated his eyes on everything about her, but mostly upon a platter of sweet cakes that he had spotted inside – he was so desperate for food.
And so, with grit in his face and scars on his bare feet, Christel fell on his knees and he begged, and begged, and begged. The lady noticed him, and she stared a little too long as she caught his eye. She knew what he wanted but when he saw the expression on her face, he knew that she was just like the others. She was supposed to give him something, but instead, whatever her reasons, she pulled the purple curtains on the carriage and in an instant she was gone. The anger that Christel felt… he could have killed a man, or ten, if only he were capable. But somehow, in his hunger driven fury, Christel was overcome by a new desire – revenge. It was on that dirty street that Christel Saan vowed that he would take back from them the things that he deserved, and he would get his revenge. It worked too, and today Christel had more riches than he would ever need, all stashed away on his secret island – although deep down he lacked for any true joy. And, for all that he had taken they had still taken more. There were people he had loved who were now forever gone, and so their deaths needed to be avenged. It was a thief’s curse to steal in order to live and to die as a consequence of stealing, and it was a curse that Christel intended to escape from, but not just yet.
Christel glanced up, as if awakening from a dream, and he realised that he was on the train again – Hazel was facing him. Looking at her, she seemed concerned, like she was watching someone having a nightmare.
“You okay?” she asked him.
Christel smiled, “Yeah, I’m fine.” The memory was gone in a few moments, and then a new one was created as Hazel’s face lit up.
“Look!” she said as she glanced out the window. Before them, and over the grassy hills, arose the great City of Taelliwey. Its majestic high walls towered into the glimmering sky and its firm golden buildings stretched on into the distance. To the east of the city was a canvas of blue, where the sea met the sky and was parted only by the gathering of storm clouds on the horizon. Christel could smell the ocean from here. “My mother brought me here once when I was younger,” Hazel told him. “The sun had not even set before I stole a man’s coin purse and he chased me all the way out of the city. I never came back.”
Christel laughed, “In my younger days my friends and I would steal fruit from a merchant just outside Eden. When we had our fill, we’d return the scraps to him as a thank-you for his generosity.”
And Hazel giggled, it was a silly, childish laugh, but it was cute. She then glanced up as the train blew its whistle and then slowed into the station.
The station at Taelliwey was a remarkable place and a potential gold mine for the common thief. Men strode asunder going this way and that in their coats and expensive shoes. Taelliwey was the centre of new fashion for all of Noveria above the Moroak desert, and there was a colourful display of neckties and cravats for the older style men, while some men carried canes under ludicrously top hats of all shapes and sizes.
The women were no different, and together their dresses accumulated a sea of colours and textures as they waltzed around laced in jewellery. Taelliwey was indeed a city for the wealthy and the important. It was, politically, the centre of Noveria, and as Christel climbed the steps onto the main streets he was struck by the powerful view of the royal palace in the centre of the city.
Christel knew that there was much to do, and he needed to get his head around it all. He still couldn’t believe he was going to do this, let alone with a stranger. To start off they needed a place to plan and prepare, and Christel knew just where to go.
Christel Saan owned an old workshop – used for money laundering, of course – that was now run by some of Taelliwey’s lesser citizens. They saw him from time to time, when he came into the city on ‘business’. His workers made boat parts mostly, and the occasional replacement for any of Noveria’s steam trains, as well as other things. The entire building inside smelled of hot steam and sweat and grease. The hanging lights near the vents in the ceiling flickered as drills screamed and sparks were set free.
Hazel looked around timidly and cringed at every loud noise and bright light that occurred. Does he really expect us to plan a heist here? He must know that it requires some concentration. And then Hazel was ambushed. She jumped off her feet, startled, as a skinny man in a welding mask intercepted their path. The man lifted the iron mask – his skin was black from the soot so that his teeth and eyes glowed. His face almost looked vertical, his chin was covered in messy un-kept facial hair, and he had this crazy smile and a look in his eye.
“Oh, sorry lass,” his voice was soft but high and shaky. “Pretty thing like you shouldn’t be wondering around…” the man stopped as he sighted Christel – his white eyes widened and his greasy shirt fluttered as a gust of wind invaded the workshop. “Christel,” he cried, “how very nice to see you. As you can see I’ve been keeping the place in order, although I didn’t think I’d see you so soon.”
“Devin, it’s good to know you’re still well.” He smiled as he looked to his new partner. “Hazel, this is Devin Shepherd – the most genius man I know.”
“And the most genius man you’ll ever meet,” Devin added. “I used to be the official inventor in the kings palace, you know. Marvellous things I created, that is, until the king cut my funding.” His expression died so suddenly.
“Why did he do that?” Hazel asked.
“I sent plans of a new invention of mine – I called it the automobile – to a team of manufacturers in Surra.”
“Why is that bad?”
“Because, well, apparently my calculations were a little off, and when they fitted the engines with the energy required, the entire thing blew up.”
“That’s terrible,” she exclaimed.
“The good part,” Christel joined in, “is that Devin – having been fired – works with me now, and we’ve made a hell of a lot of money together.”
“Yes, yes, that is after I barely escaped the death penalty.”
Christel rolled his eyes. “You know I wasn’t going to let anything happen to you. I thought you trusted me.”
“Well, trust needs to be earned, not bought.” Devin led the two through the workshop. “And I thought you were supposed to be lying low after that whole business with the Ariana job. You are a wanted man you know, or have you forgotten? You have no idea how many posters I pull down every day with your face of them.”
“Yea, well I missed you too.” Christel retorted. “And besides, those posters look nothing like me.”
They reached a poorly kept office at the end of the workshop, and Christel took the lead. He moved past a splintery wooden desk and stood directly in front of the bookshelf behind it. He then selected one of the books and tilted it forward, and the entire shelf snapped free of the wall, allowing for Christel to slide it aside and reveal the entrance to a hidden room.
Christel was the first to go inside, and when Hazel followed she found a collection of planning boards, maps, a model of every city, and everything else she’d think to need for the planning of a heist.
“The best part is,” Christel mentioned, “the entire thing’s soundproof.”
Hazel was now officially impressed.
ns 172.70.135.99da2
