Droplets of sapphire

1-

The alley was full of a chilly liquid blackness. The crumbling stone of the buildings on either side leaned inward, dark and cold pressing in from both sides like a coffin.

Like a sleeping bear, it should have been left to itself - that was only right. It was the nature of this alley - people didn’t stop there. One may pass through, but only furtively, with a glance over the shoulder, the crushing blackness making the chest constrict, the imagination running rampant, the slightest scurry of a rat bringing the onset of a guttural gasp.

That was what made the presence of a figure, huddled against the wall, even more disturbing. Were it daytime, one would see an old man so malnourished his heart could be seen beating through his chest, its unsteady, frenzied rhythm a window to the desperation within. His beard was wispy like that of a youth, his eyes crusted with sleep. The shirt he wore was held together with matted dirt as much as with tied scraps of thread. And then he would look up, with eyes of piercing sea-green and you would realise with a pang of sorrow that he couldn’t be a day older than twenty-five.

The man was shivering loudly, his teeth chattering so fiercely they seemed to be in danger of shattering. He was huddled against the wall, drawing great rasping breaths into his chest, trying desperately to create the smallest pocket of warmth. A skinny rat scampered past him, and he made a wild grasp after it, catching only air in its wake. The animal disappeared through a crack in the wall. Koal stared after it, utter hopelessness and disappointment etched on to his face. In that single second the light seemed leave his eyes, his stomach feeling bitterly empty as the tiny spark of hope was dashed, leaving loneliness and a desolation once more.

Great wracking sobs began to shake his huddled form. His shoulders heaved and his eyes pushed out warm tears, each one leaving a separate clean, cleansing track. It almost felt as if those fleeting warm droplets were tiny spirits, each trying desperately to offer a tiny bit of warmth, each leaving his body with a tiny fraction of his pain. But they were after all mere drops out of the ocean within.

He felt a painful whisper like the memory of a kiss as a flake of snow came to rest on his exposed shoulder. A small part of him found it funny that it didn’t even melt.

2-

For the past few hours, oblivious to the suffering just below her, a girl had been lying on the flat of the roof, her tiny legs hanging over the edge of the alley, swinging to the happy song in her head. Roofs were peculiar places, she often thought. Like the clouds or the tippity-tops of trees, roofs fascinated her. They were so peaceful. It was one of life’s great pleasures for the girl without a name.

The moon was her friend tonight. She had been staring contentedly at it so long that even when she closed her eyes she could still see it, like a shadow on the inside of her eyelids, and this made her smile. She blinked quickly to make it dance beside the real thing, and a bubbling laugh escaped her lips. It felt like she could keep a piece of it. A gust of frigid wind blew in from the east and she snuggled contentedly into the rabbit skin coat she had made for herself. She felt a snowflake graze her check, and decided that it was probably high time to leave. She waved goodbye cheerily to the moon and was just about to stand to leave as the sound of the grief-stricken sobs drifted up from the alley below. Curiously, she flipped over onto her front and hung her head over the edge of the building. She peered into the darkness below, seeing nothing. She lay and listened, and as the sobs continued to sound, her heart began to crack. She squeezed her eyes shut to the painful memories as the sound rang so harmoniously with her own not so distant past. She took a breath to steady herself, and slowly reached into the lining of her homemade cloak. She brushed over the broken pocket watch, her sleeping friend the mouse, and a piece of bright ribbon, caressing each precious item. Finally, in the depths of the cloak, her hands closed on something smooth and flat. The girl without a name smiled at the beauty she knew lay within. The sad man would like this. She closed her eyes, listening again to the sound of the sobs. They were quieting now, and she edged slowly to the left, until they were directly underneath her. With a cheeky smile, she dropped the little book down into the black.

3-

A dull thud sounded next to him, frightening the newly settled snow from the cobbled street and shooting a small puff of it back into the night air. Koal lifted his head. His crusted eyes blinked. A book. Curious, he unhooked one hand that had been curled around his thorax, wrapping numb fingers around its warm leather cover. It was beautiful. Only newly blemished by the wet snow, the buttery soft cow-skin was hand stitched and carefully bound to the thick white pages within. A crest was embossed on the cover. Instantaneously, parts of Koal’s colourful past crept into his head unwanted and unsought for. The Manley family crest. Most powerful family in the country, second only to the king’s own. Celeste and Yorrik, entrenched in the workings of the government and unkind to outsiders, were the heads of the family. He had met their son Martin at a ball early that year, before the fi-. Koal squeezed his eyes shut at the memories threatened to suffocate him. The past. Unchangeable, unfathomable… unreasonable to dwell on. Koal quickly turned back to the book and opened the first page.

Dear Celeste,

You looked so beautiful tonight. Would you be so kind as to meet me for tea on the morrow? I’ve missed seeing your pretty face.

-Yorrik

Koal smiled, flicking through more pages. The book was half full, each page displaying a note carefully glued. They told a story of a young man growing in love becoming more comfortable writing about it. Some pages contained short notes, requests for meetings, dance cards or simply a pressed flower with a date written carefully underneath. Others were deeply personal, and these had been folded and unfolded many times, so that the creases were deep and prominent. He drew in a ragged, resigned breath, knowing his next move would be just as painful as it was necessary. Shuffling out of the alley, he started towards the White Mainland Hotel, the most expensive and extravagant place to stay in the city.

4-

The hotel was massive. Reaching several storeys above the other buildings, great marble columns shaped to look like tree trunks created the façade, yellow lamp light flooding out from ten double doors. Women swanned about wearing ivory in a sea of pearls, trails of velvet with a golden bracelets and earrings studded with rubies, and blue pleated satin covered with peacock feathers. Gloved hands draped over gentlemen’s arms and couples strolled languorously up the marble stairs. Koal, in his torn and bloodied trousers, tottered anxiously towards the building.

A footman at the base of the stairs visibly stiffened as the sight, his nose pinching and air whistling out in a long sigh. He coughed, saying nothing. Koal stopped politely.

“I need to see someone in the Manley party. I found something that belongs to Lady Celeste…”

The footman’s eyes bore into Koal’s head, a predatory animal standing watch over his territory. Koal trailed off, and instead produced the book from his pocket, showing the stately gatekeeper his ticket in in the form of the Manley crest.

Without warning or sound of alarm, a bundle of green chiffon raced towards the pair as unconcerned and exuberant as a tidal wave. The young lady squeaked excitedly, plucking the book from Koal’s hand.

“Oh it can’t be! They’ve been looking everywhere for this,” she gasped, her eyes wide.

Underneath the carefully painted face, she was surprisingly young. Tiny flowers cascaded down a fiery waterfall of red hair and scattered down the folds of her rich skirt in a shower of purple confetti. Blue butterflies perched on the modest neckline and fluttered in the breeze of her brisk entry. Amongst these, sown into every inch of fabric, droplets of sapphire created a stupefying display of casual wealth. Yet she looked as innocent as a flower bud covered in morning dew, Koal thought, and she had a kindness in the way she was looking at him. He smiled back, the expression feeling odd on his face.

A young gentleman followed her at a more decorous pace. “Whatever are you doing Lacey?” he inquired, an inquisitive lilt masked beneath the exasperated voice. He blinked in shock as he saw the book clutched tightly to her chest, its Manley crest peaking from underneath her delicate fingers.

“We thought it was lost forever did we not? Your parents will certainly approve of me when I bring them back this! Oh this is the break we’ve been looking for isn’t it. Oh what a lovely man you are,’ she said, turning back to Koal. The chill of the night was biting into his feet and he shuffled uncomfortably, trying not to let physical annoyances ruin a moment with this beautiful creature. Lacey looked down and gasped.

“You don’t have any shoes on!” she pointed out flatly, “Oh you gave this back even though you could have sold it to one of those stupid collectors. Oh you must get something in return. Martin you don’t happen to have any money on you? I never carry any.”

The gentleman shook his head, laying a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sure he doesn’t want any sort of reward Lacey-“ he stopped at the look on her face, obviously used to placating his fiery bride. She turned, and her face melted back into a smile as she gently pulled a ring from her pinkie finger. Matching her dress, a large sapphire droplet was perched on a silver band, encrusted with countless more glittering blue gems and finished with a halo of diamonds. She dropped it into his palm. Koal stared, his head totally blank, feeling like he had lost all ability to speak. His heart jumped like a fish out of water. Before he could utter any thanks, she was chattering to him again.

“Now, provided you don’t want to wear it, which really it wouldn’t suit you, any pawn broker worth his salt won’t give you what its really worth. But I don’t expect they will pay less than 20,000 for it.” She said this with such cool and expressionless efficiency, it almost sounded like pocket change. Likely to her it was.

“Fair trade for the book?” She looked at him expectantly. Martin was glancing towards the hotel, obviously bored with the exchange.

Koal was exhausted and this felt so much like a dream that his only reply was, “thank you milady.” He slipped the gift on to his thumb. Lacey nodded matter-of-factly and began chattering away to Martin as they ascended the stairs, the book still clutched to her chest. Koal began shuffling back to his alley. Tomorrow, he would wait on the roof, patiently and gratefully awaiting his first meeting with the girl with no name: the girl he had come to know over the months as his cheery neighbour with the beautiful singing voice. He would give her the ring, in exchange for something warm to wear. It had been her who had found the book after all.