9. You may find slugboneheads among nail-pinchers and gwaks

The next day, I arrived at the Red Mansion before eight o’clock and had to wait in the living room until half past eight before the Nail-pincher was ready for class. He greeted me with a smile, held out his bag with his notes and other belongings, and said:

“Don’t leave my side.”

I did not. The Conservatory was really close to his house, and we only had to walk a few minutes before we reached the main door. This one was huge.

“It looks like the mouth of a monster,” I blurted out.

Miroki Fal glanced at me, his eyebrows arched, but he did not answer, he greeted the janitor, and we entered the wizard school. There, we walked longer, and we passed through many staircases and corridors, coming across people from time to time. Sometimes, the Nail-pincher waved, other times he did not. Finally, he greeted another elf with brown hair who was waiting at a door.

“Good morning, my friend!” he said to him in a pompous tone. “I am not late, I hope?”

“Quite late, but so is our teacher, as usual,” his friend replied, smiling. His eyes landed on me. “Is that your new assistant? What a look! Where did you find him? In a hospice?”

“Not at all, his cousin brought him to me. And, for the moment, I am satisfied with him,” Miroki Fal assured.

“A human,” his friend observed. “And with copper skin, at that.”

“Shudi,” the young nobleman snorted, “what have you got against humans and coppers?”

Shudi shrugged, tauntingly, and at that moment, the door opened, and there appeared the one who, without a doubt, must have been the teacher. He was a human. But he wasn’t copper-skinned: he was blond, tall, thin, and quite young.

“Hello, Professor,” the two elves greeted.

As they were about to enter, I gave the bag to the Nail-pincher and asked him in a low voice:

“Hey, mister, what’s a hospice?”

Miroki Fal looked at me in amazement.

“A hospice, you ask? It’s a place where children without families live. Still, not knowing that at your age… Are you sure you’re ten, kid?”

I shrugged; he handed me a piece of paper and said:

“Here, it’s a message. Go to the Endarsic Library at gate fifty-six and give it to Miss Lesabeth. She’s a lady elf with curly blonde hair and blue eyes, you can’t go wrong: she’s one of a kind. As soon as you give it to her, you come back here and wait, understand?”

I nodded silently and watched the classroom door close with a mixture of disappointment and curiosity; disappointment because the Nail-pincher was not going to give me the morning off, and curiosity because I had an entire castle to explore.

Fifty-six, I thought as I walked away down the hall. I was not likely to forget the number, for more than once I had heard my Master swear by the fifty-six phalanges of his hands and feet. And, fortunately, the numbers were still written as my master had taught them to me, so, I imagined that I would have no trouble finding the door. I was wrong. This place reminded me of the Labyrinth. It was not muddy, but otherwise, it was much the same.

I wandered for some time through the deserted stone corridors until I found number twenty. From there I came to number twenty-nine and went straight to two hundred and three. I stopped dead in my tracks, bewildered.

“What’s up with this place?” I said.

I turned around. And I found myself facing a young half-elven wizard who was passing by. He had one green eye and the other black. As he was about to pass by without barely glancing at me, I called out to him:

“Sir! Where is the fifty-sixth door?”

The wizard slowed down, but he didn’t stop, and I had to walk beside him as he replied:

“It’s on the other side of the Conservatory, in another wing. Are you looking for someone?”

“Yes,” I said. “Miss Lesabeth. The Nail-pin—er—I mean, Mr. Fal asked me to give her a message.”

This time, the young magician stopped, and his different colored eyes troubled me as I met them.

“Lesabeth?” I saw him make an amused pout. “Well then… You’re Miroki Fal’s messenger? Interesting. May I take a look?” he said, reaching a casual hand towards the letter.

I frowned, backing away, but he snatched the paper from my hand.

“Hey!” I protested.

“Hands off!” the wizard growled, pushing the letter out of my hands. “I just want to take a look at it. I’m Jarey Edans, a friend of his.”

He unfolded the paper, read it, and I saw a smile light up his face. A smile that did not please me.

“Hey, give me that back,” I said. I took the paper, but he did not let go, and I glared at him. “Let it go!”

He finally did and growled at me:

“Speak to me with more respect, brat!”

He gave me a slap on the neck, and I ran off. At the end of the hall, I turned around and said:

“Slugbonehead!”

I turned the corner and ran out of sight. Surely this Jarey Edans did not understand the insult. Only my master nakrus used it against vultures or lynxes that came too close to the cave.

When I found the Endarsic Library and entered, the first thing I saw was the clock hanging in the entrance. It showed twenty to eleven. I bit my tongue, and looking at the tables and books, I went forward and…

“Kid, where are you going?” A small man with binoculars stopped me with his hand. “This is the Endarsic Library, you can’t just walk in. What are you doing here?”

I explained that I had to deliver a message and added in a plaintive tone:

“I got lost in the hallways. It’s very complicated, and the numbers are not in order, and…”

“I know,” the little man sympathized with a smile. “It’s not easy for newcomers, nor for the seniors sometimes, believe me. I’m sorry to tell you that Miss Lesabeth is no longer here, she left just a few minutes ago. I heard her and her friends say that they were going out to the park outside. If you hurry, you may catch up to them.”

I thanked him and ran down the corridor he pointed out. I went down all the stairs I could and finally came to the bottom floor. I went out the main door with some relief, but I barely had time to catch my breath because, at that moment, I saw the blonde elf with a group of girls. She was walking away into the park that surrounded the Conservatory. I rushed forward before she could slipped away from me and shouted:

“Miss Lesabeth! Miss Lesabeth!” I saw her turn around, and her identity thus confirmed, I ran to her and held out the message, explaining, “Miroki Fal gave me a message for you.”

Lesabeth pouted and glanced at her friends before taking the message. She unfolded it and blushed a little. And as her friends tried to read over her shoulder, she abruptly folded the message and snorted.

“Nonsense,” she said. And without further ado, she tore the message into four pieces, threw it away, turned her back on me, and went off with her friends.

“What did he say, what did he say?” one asked.

“Bah, nothing, as usual, a poem full of pretty nonsense,” Lesabeth answered.

I watched her walk away, my eyes wide with indignation. Two hours wandering the halls of this wizard jungle, and for what? To see that witch throw away my message?

“Witch,” I muttered.

And I stooped to pick up the four pieces of the torn message. I put it back together on the grass and tried to read it. It took me a long time to decipher the first two lines, but when I did, I was amazed. It said, ‘Oh beautiful soul for whom I long, for you my heart loves and raves.’

“Pretty nonsense,” she had said? It sounded like a love song! And the blonde elf was treating such warm verses like this? I couldn’t understand such absurdity.

“Draen!” a voice suddenly cried behind me. “When I told you to wait, I thought you were going to stay in the hallway, not outside. Well, it doesn’t matter. Did you give Lesabeth the message?”

I stood up and discreetly slipped the pieces of paper into my shirt before turning around and answering:

“Yes, yes, sir, I gave it to her.”

The Nail-pincher was accompanied by his friend, Shudi. At my answer, he looked pleased and hesitated.

“And what did she say?”

I winced and swallowed a little.

“Uh… Well… she was like, ‘oh goodness’.”

“Oh goodness?” Miroki Fal gasped.

“Yes, that’s what she said: oh goodness,” I said, clearing my throat.

The two elves smiled at my expression, and Miroki Fal rejoiced:

“See, Shudi? I’m making progress.”

The dark elf rolled his eyes, and I followed them home as they talked about whatever show was being put on at The Emerald that night. Miroki had invited his friend to eat at his house, and Rux let me carry the plates and food to them, making me promise not to drop anything first. Back in the kitchen, I took advantage of a moment when Rux was away to throw the four pieces of the message into the fire. And, as I passed, I touched the burning metal plate with the finger of my right hand to see what would happen. Nothing: I withdrew it, and the hand was still intact. I only felt the raw burning energy fade away as soon as I broke contact. I smiled. My master nakrus was definitely an expert magara maker.

“Hey, kid,” Rux said to me as he came back to the kitchen. “Mr. Fal wants to talk to you.”

I entered the living room; sitting casually in one of the armchairs, Miroki Fal said to me:

“Second errand, kid. Go buy a jar of blue ink at Rochinel’s Shop, it’s in the Grand Gallery, do you know where it is?”

“Yes, sir,” I said, “the newspapers there sell like hotcakes.”

“All right, then, go ahead with that paper and tell the clerk to put the ink on my account. Hurry up!”

I went out, ran down the street and arrived at Rochinel’s Shop, panting.

“S-Sir,” I panted to the redhead behind his counter. “I want a jar of green ink.”

I put down Miroki Fal’s paper, took the jar and… stopped at the door.

“Ah, no, wait, it wasn’t green ink, it was…” I pondered. “Damn, was it red? Black?”

I couldn’t remember.

“We’ve got a lot of colors, lad,” the shopkeeper said with a clearing of his throat. “You’d better go and ask and come back when you’re sure.”

“Right,” I agreed. “Be right back!”

And forgetting to return the green ink pot, I ran off again up the street. When I told him about my memory lapse, Miroki Fal looked at me with an exasperated expression.

“I said, blue.”

“Blue!” I exclaimed. “Of course!”

And I ran back to the shop. I had almost reached the Great Gallery when a cart nearly ran me over, I leapt sideways in a panic, fell to the ground, and the pot flew out of my hands. At that moment, I heard the sound of breaking glass and a roar.

“By all the spirits and devils and everything in between!”

Coincidentally, the young man who had just screamed was none other than Warok, the Ojisary who worked for the Black Hawk. His face and shirt were stained with green ink because the jar had crashed into the wall behind him. I let out a loud laugh, the dark elf saw me, and scrambling to my feet, I ran into the Gallery. I stormed into the shop.

“Blue ink!” I said, out of breath, to the shopkeeper. “Blue,” I repeated, catching my breath.

“And I suppose Mr. Fal wanted the other jar too?” he asked, handing me the pot of blue ink.

Ahem… I nodded silently and said:

“Thank you, sir. Ayo.”

And I left, taking the other exit from the Great Gallery, in case Warok had a vindictive mind. The problem was that in addition to having a vindictive spirit, Warok could also use his brain. The damned man was waiting for me outside. Without warning, he grabbed me by the arm, and I shouted:

“It was an accident! It was an accident!”

He looked daggers at me.

“You’re going to pay for this, you little brat. You tell me,” he said, shaking me. Fortunately, this time I had put the ink pot in my pocket, or I would surely have dropped it again. “Do you know where the Black Cat is?”

I shook my head.

“I don’t.”

“You lie,” Warok growled.

“He’s gone with his mentor; I don’t know anything, I swear. You’re hurting me,” I informed him with all the dignity I could muster.

Warok glared at me.

“I know exactly where you live, you know? And your life is worth less than a grain of sand. You’ll pay me for the ink. And you’ll pay a lot more if you lie.” He let go of me roughly. “Hook it.”

I walked away massaging my arm, my eyes brimming with tears. To think that this was only my first day in the service of the Red Mansion’s Nail-pincher…