Lilith was by a stream.
She had knelt on the bank, where the stones were smooth and the water ran clear over them. She washed her hands. Rubbed her fingers one by one, removing the dry earth that had accumulated under her nails. Then she wet her face. The cold water made her close her eyes for a moment.
Her stomach growled.
She ignored it. Kept washing. The water washed away the dirt, but not the fatigue. That remained, weighing on her shoulders, on her eyelids.
People entering the village passed by her. Loaded down. Full of barrels they transported on wheelbarrows or on their own backs. They sweated under the sun. They didn't look at her.
She saw a fish pass by.
Small. Silvery. It swam against the current, moving its tail with effort.
She wished to take it. Her fingers closed instinctively. But there were too many people. Too many eyes that could see her. A woman kneeling by the stream didn't draw attention. A woman kneeling by the stream pulling a fish out of the water with her bare hand, yes.
She refrained from catching it.
The fish kept swimming. Disappeared upstream.
---
She ventured into the small town.
Her horse followed her docilely, the reins loose in her hand, hooves softly striking the earthen path. The houses were made of adobe and wood. The roofs, of red tiles. There were mainly shops and warehouses, all with doors wide open.
To the warehouses, they carried the barrels she had seen before. On the barrels, an inscription: olive oil.
Lilith observed for a moment. Then kept walking.
At the first stall, they sold rings.
They were small, placed on a cloth of black velvet. Each with a stone. Lapis lazuli. Quartz. Rhodochrosite. The stones gleamed under the afternoon sun.
Lilith stopped. Took one.
She turned it between her fingers. The stone was purple, with white veins crossing its surface like small lightning bolts.
"That one is amethyst," said the vendor.
An older woman, with wrinkled hands and a kind smile, watched her from behind the stall.
"It's pretty," Lilith replied. "How much do you want for it?"
"Two silver coins."
Lilith nodded. Left the ring in its place on the velvet.
"I'll get them."
The vendor tilted her head, curious.
"Where do they come from?" Lilith asked, pointing at the rings.
"They're made in the capital."
"I see." Lilith scanned the street with her gaze. "Everything seems to come from there."
The vendor shrugged.
"By the way," Lilith said. "Is it a problem if I ask the name of this town?"
The woman laughed softly.
"No, it's no problem. It's called El Alerce."
"A strange name. Is it from another region?"
"Yes. From the south. The first settlers were from there. They named it after their land."
"Ah." Lilith nodded. "And how does one get to the capital from here?"
"Are you an immigrant?" The vendor examined her with new eyes. "Just follow this same road you came from. All roads lead to the capital."
Lilith smiled slightly.
"That simplifies everything. It was good talking to you."
"Ok?"
Lilith walked away.
---
"Two coins," she thought. "It shouldn't be difficult."
She kept observing her surroundings. The shops. The warehouses. People coming and going. She remembered her conversation with the vendor.
"Immigrant..."
The word resonated in her head.
"How can you call someone from your own kingdom an immigrant?" she murmured to herself. "Creating borders within your own country. Those from the capital are crazy."
The horse snorted, as if in agreement.
She stopped in front of a building.
A very old man was up on a ladder. Very high up. His hands trembled as he tried to reach a box of nails that had been left on a ledge of the roof. He stretched his arm. Didn't reach. Leaned a little more. Still no.
Lilith looked at the box.
She made a gesture with her hand, barely perceptible.
The nails slid a few centimeters. The box fell directly into the old man's hand.
He stared at his hand. Then the box. Then his hand again. Not understanding what had happened.
He looked down.
He saw Lilith watching him.
"Hey!" he shouted. "Who are you?"
"I'm Lilith," she replied. "Just an immigrant trying to make a living."
The old man began to climb down the ladder. His movements were slow, but determined.
"Women can't help with construction," he said when he reached the ground. "They go to the taverns or the fields."
Lilith looked at him for a moment. Then turned away.
"Stupid old man," she murmured, barely audible.
---
She walked toward the tavern.
She was tired. Her feet hurt. Her stomach still growled. The sun was beginning to descend, lengthening the shadows of the houses.
She spoke to her indifferent horse.
"How frustrating. We circle the same hundred meters of street. I hope I have luck here."
She pushed open the tavern door.
Inside, the atmosphere was cool. Dark. It smelled of old wood and spilled wine. It was half empty. Only two men at a table, playing cards. An older woman sweeping a corner.
Lilith sat at the bar.
The bartender approached. He dried his hands on a dirty rag.
"What would you like to order?"
"Truth be told..." Lilith hesitated. "I have nothing. In fact, I'm a bit desperate for work."
The bartender leaned his elbows on the bar. Watched her carefully.
"What do you know how to do?"
"I know how to clean tables."
He burst out laughing.
"Anyone can do that."
"I know how to ride a horse. And talk."
The bartender ran his fingers through his hair. Thought for a moment.
"Look," he said finally. "My sister has a shipment to bring into the establishment. It's a lot. If you help her, I'll give you lunch. Does that sound good?"
Lilith nodded.
"That sounds good."
"Good. Follow me."
The bartender came out from behind the bar. Walked toward a back door. Lilith got up and followed him.
The horse, outside, waited.