I was so excited and full of energy, I couldn't help but run across the bridge where our house was. I had never been this excited in my life! Never having being out of the village, the excitement of seeing the world outside was the most amazing adventure I could ever have. Nothing ever happened in the Farmlands. The Gasset kid almost drowning was the biggest news for a long time, people were still talking about it a year later.
The Farmlands were part of the capital's outlying lands providing food for everyone. It was a land of meadows, streams and small, sparse forests at the edge. Men and women worked on meadows carpeted with plants bearing vegetables and fruits of every kind surrounded by houses. Across the other side of the river were the cows and fowls and pigs and goats. A place of fresh air where we didn't need tanks strapped to our back and masks on our faces, like the ones they said were used in the capital. But it also meant that we didn't have much technology, so we had to do most things by hand. It also meant that meat we provided were very valuable.
The slaughterhouse was built at the end of the village across the bridge away from the stench of death. It was a good set-up since there were no fancy clockwork to take out the farm waste and the stench in the middle of the village.
Chaim, my father, told me that the village didn't have a proper butcher when he first came. Old Klatos had been the one doing the butchering and sickness had been frequent in those days. Father had just come from the capital then, so when he pointed out their lack of planning with the animals caused the sickness, they quickly gave him control of the whole animal husbandry. The sicknesses had not returned since.
Changed, I looked at my pack and the set of knives, hooks and ropes my father gave me to use in the presentation. He even made the leather case himself. I touched it with fondness and put it back in the pack.
For a moment, I stood in the room and closed my eyes, trying to remember all that I would be leaving behind for the next twelve days. Hovering around my room was the noise of children and birds I hardly ever noticed. The smell of stale blood from the old clothes and tools I brought home clashed against the lavender I always hung in my room. I should do something about that when I return.
I opened my eyes. The quilts and curtains were years old, but they were still in good condition. Under one of the legs of my bed was a folded hide to keep it from shaking and waking me up when it moved. I never quite got around to telling my father about it, but then again, it wasn't something I should concern him about. There were a few feathers here and there on the bed, which I never quite got around to figuring out if they came from the mattress or from the pillows. My closet, once holding a handful of dresses in a riot of shirts and trousers, now only had one old dress that I had already outgrown and kept on forgetting to give to little Leata.
"Evna! It's almost time. Where are you?"
I smiled and stuck my head out the window at Carinne, her golden curls as bright as the smile on her face. As much as I hate to admit it, I often felt jealous of my best friend. As the seamstress' daughter, she was taught what every woman should know and do it better than the rest of us. She was beautiful and charming, and beside her, I felt like a shadow, especially when the men are concerned. To add to her credit, she knew what I felt without me telling her and always, she tried pulling me in when others were forgetting I was there. She even promised that she would never take a suitor's offer so long as I never had one. Knowing that I was jealous of her made me feel all the more evil.
"Just finished an errand for my father. I'm coming down. Where's your pack?"
"Rener carried it for me. He's a nice guy, but he wouldn't even talk to you." Carinne shook her head. "Now, are you coming or not?"
I quickly took my pack and rushed out, almost passing my father who was suddenly there. I was about to give him a hug when he waved me away.
"I'm bloody, Evna. That one hug will be enough for twelve days. Now, I think I heard Carinne outside. You should go. I still have to go back and finish the job you couldn't."
Looking at him, I knew it was more than him being bloody and work that needed doing. The right side of his face had a trail of a tear cutting through some of the blood that splattered on his face. I couldn't help but give a weak laugh as I blew him a kiss. It seemed as if my father wasn't the stone we always thought him to be. When it came to sentimentality, Chaim was a dam waiting to burst.
Carinne and I walked toward the caravan side by side at the edge of the village near the large iron gates. It was the only clockwork in the village that was more complicated than an actual clock. It opened and closed by itself, its clockwork hidden under a large stone slab. It stood in stark contrast to our houses made of wood and dried leaves. The only one who could touch it was the sole Defender given to us from the captial. He was old, but he knew enough to let in and out those who needed to pass through.
From the stories we heard from those who had been to the capital, we knew we would be in awe. They said that different interesting clockwork were so common, people didn't even notice them anymore. They spoke of self-moving carriages more common than the pack horses in the Farmlands and of clocks and gears that ran every part of the capital. The villagers talked about buildings stacked higher than ten houses. Arenas as large as the orange orchard. It was a place of wonder and awe. A place my father never talked about though we had always suspected he came from there.
The caravan was seven large covered carts in length. One for the food and supplies for the journey, one for our packs and five for all of us. The caravan drivers were all from the capital, and I could see that they were not mere drivers by the way they held themselves, their eyes always seeing but never looking. There was a chatter among the others whether the men were Reapers, but I was sure these men weren't. Reapers didn't need to wear weapons around them to signal they were deadly like these men. For that matter, the stories said that you never knew you were with a Reaper until you died--and even then, you didn't know who killed you. Besides, why would the capital send their best men to a bunch of backward people from the Farmlands? It just wouldn't make sense for them to spend that much.
Old Klatos was at the head of the caravan surrounded by other sixteen-year-olds. Off to the side were the parents seeing their children off. I spotted Carinne's parents waving at her and I caught her attention. She waved back at her parents as I put my pack in one of the carts before we headed off to where everyone gathered. After waiting a few moments, Old Klatos cleared his voice and called the names in his list.
The list was long. There were thirty of us to be presented, about five more than in the few years past. The village was growing, but every year the excitement never wavered. We were all like little children chattering about like five-year-olds seeing their first plants grow.
Old Klatos cleared his throat at the end of the list and smiled at us. "This is what you've been preparing for all your life. Show the capital that the Farmlands has not been idle. We are a productive people. Masters of our craft. Maybe this year, one of us will be chosen to work in the capital. Is that person here?"
We gave different words of assent, but our voices joined together in a untied unintelligible shout of confirmation. We were all eager to know what lay beyond the Farmlands. What the capital was like. No one but the best ever worked there and not once were people in the Farmlands chosen. Well, not yet, we hoped.
As amazing as the opportunity to work in the capital was, I made a promise to my father. I would be back. Knowing that I was good enough to be chosen was enough. I didn't need anything more than what I had now.
Carinne and I stayed together in the third cart among faces that were excited, anxious and everything in between. They all faced their parents waving and shouting their goodbyes as the carts rolled off. I didn't. I left my father crying on his own alone in the house. Knowing him, he would rather it that way. And as for me, as sad as I was, I knew it wasn't goodbye. There was no reason for me to cry, which made me realize how much more a soft shell my father was. But a few parents did cry seeing their children go.
And it seemed as if I wasn't the only one who didn't say farewell to anyone. Across me, Daevi sat quietly fiddling with a small clockwork in his hands. It was unfinished and I couldn't quite make out what it was. His father was a metal worker and they didn't work on things like clockwork, but I was certain that what he was holding was a clockwork of sorts. When I looked at him, he looked somewhere else as if entirely unconcerned with everything going on. We all knew that he was not the most vocal of people by nature, but it was only natural to say farewell to your family. The only excuse I could think of was that they weren't there. Like my father.
I wanted to ask him about it, but before I could, Carinne sighed and leaned over to me whispering. "If he isn't so creepy, he would be very handsome."
He? I caught Carinne's eyes and she darted them quickly at Daevi. I had to admit he was good looking even if he was brooding. His hair gleamed under the sun and his face was sober. His blue eyes locked onto the small clockwork in his hands not speaking to anyone as he often did and no one seemed to talk to him either. I was never the one to approach people and I'm quite sure he wouldn't talk to me either.
But this was the boy who saved a drowning kid. Someone like that was not creepy.