13. The Ojisary gang spoiled my day

Sitting comfortably on the thick branch of a Conservatory oak, I yawned sleepily. The leaves of the trees rustled in the spring breeze. Miroki Fal said they sounded like the waves of the sea. He’d been to Seventia a few years ago and had once even boarded a frigate to see, from up close, a sowna—a huge sea creature that covered itself in ice.

There was a serene burst of laughter, and I looked down at the group of nail-pinchers sitting on the grass a little way off. There was Miroki, as well as Shudi and some other companion. A moment ago, they had been talking about energies and some conservation formula. Then they had begun to discuss poetry. And in the end, tired of listening to them, I had taken refuge in my tree with the newspaper I bought and brought to Miroki Fal every day.

Since the end of the winter, my life with the Nail-pincher had subtly changed. In the mornings, I continued to go to the Conservatory, but as soon as I had cleaned the plate that Rux gave me, I said to him “Ayo, Rux!” and I evaporated at once. Rux never reproached me for it: after all, neither Miroki nor the house gave much work, and rather than having me overwhelm him with questions, he preferred that I go elsewhere to let off steam. I still spent every morning going back and forth between the Nail-pincher and Lesabeth with messages, flowers, jewellery, and other gifts. As a matter of fact, although she never spoke to me like a sajit, the blond elf was now more friendly with Miroki… She even seemed to be willing to fall in love with him. And as one could expect, Miroki was euphoric and did not skimp on the gifts. More than once I was tempted to steal one of those gifts, but I knew that would have been foolish and foolhardy. It was much less foolhardy to reach into the pockets of the posh people in the Grand Gallery or on the Esplanade, for they were so crowded and so careless! At first, I was afraid of getting caught, but as time went by, I honed my claws and said to myself: bah, those people have money, and I’m going to stay put and starve? To hell with the flies! On the lucky days when I was really making money, I would invite Manras and Dil to eat for free as the Patron Saint I was.

I looked down again, and seeing that the group of magicians were moving, I quickly pretended to be asleep. If Miroki forgot me and left, I would have a good excuse to slip away. Like, “Mr. Fal, I fell asleep in the oak tree, and when I woke up, you weren’t there…” A great excuse.

“Draen!”

Well, so much for my idea. I opened one eye, yawned, stretched, and climbed down from the oak with my newspaper. Miroki was already walking away with Shudi to go home. He said goodbye to Shudi at a crossroads and walked on with a straight and dignified stride: he had even grown a little beard this winter. As soon as he was alone I trotted up to him.

“Mr. Fal! Is it true that you sent my portrait to Griada?”

I had heard it from Shudi that morning. Miroki nodded.

“Yes. It’s true. I gave it to a friend for his birthday.”

“Ah, well. And how far is Griada?”

“Hmm. A few days by coach.”

His laconic answers told me that he was distracted and that, if I kept asking him questions, he would eventually send me chasing the clouds.

“How many days?” I asked.

“Mmph. Four. It depends,” he said.

“Oh.” He quickened his pace, but I didn’t fall behind or stay silent. “And in a moon, you’ll be traveling there to see your family, right?”

Miroki glanced at me and nodded.

“But you’re coming back, right?”

Miroki shrugged.

“I don’t know. This is my last year of school. But I’m not leaving without first asking for Lesabeth’s hand.”

He added his last words in a thoughtful whisper, and before he could think of sending some rose to the young elf, I said:

“Ah, how nice. Say, do you remember when I asked the professor about the ferilompard? He told me he’d see if he could find anything. He hasn’t answered yet?”

Miroki raised his eyes to the sky and walked up the stoop of the red mansion while replying:

“He hasn’t. Look, kid, that joke’s not funny anymore. The professor knows you’re making fun of him. There are no such things as ferilompards. And now leave me alone, I have some important letters to write.”

He disappeared through the door, and I stood in the doorway, shocked. What did he mean, there were no such things as ferilompards? That was impossible. Nonsense, slugboneries. Maybe the word was in Caeldric, and it was said in a different way in Drionsan. I shook my head in disbelief and crossed the threshold at a run.

“But, sir, it was not a joke!” I assured him.

Miroki Fal was already climbing the stairs, and he did not answer. A few seconds later, the door to his office was heard to close.

“Spirits,” I sighed.

I looked at Rux, who was sitting at the kitchen table preparing the meal. It smelled good, but… I had lost my appetite after the whole ferilompard thing. So I said:

“Ayo, Rux!”

I turned around and quickly left the house. I went down the streets of the Harp, turned into Imperial Avenue, and crossed the whole of Atuerzo, passing by the Central Court. Everything was crowded, and I arrived at the Esplanade, zigzagging between dresses, carriages, and coats. At the foot of the huge stoop that surrounded the Capitol, I saw Draen the Swift. His leg was bandaged with a dirty piece of cloth, and he held out his cap with the looks of a miserable, beaten child, murmuring plaintive pleas. I smiled and approached him.

“Hey, Swift! How’s the fishing?”

“Bad, bad,” he sighed. “With this Mortuary Spirit face I have, well, even the devotees don’t feel sorry for me.”

Suddenly, he frowned and looked at me.

“You! Speaking to me again?”

I arched an eyebrow, puzzled.

“What do you mean, again?”

“Get out of here!” he said. “Hook it!”

I looked at him even more disconcerted.

“But… what did I do to you?”

Draen stood before me, looking furious.

“What you did? Associating with murderous blood, that’s what you’ve done. That kid you hang out with, Manras… Don’t tell me you don’t know who he is. You know who his brother is?”

I blinked and nodded in amazement.

“I do.”

“Of course you do! You’re part of the same gang. An Ojisary,” he spat. “Say it’s not true and I’ll break your face, namesake.”

I dared not say anything, not after such a threat. I shook my head.

“But Manras is not like Warok. He’s a good shyur. I—”

“Like hell he’s a good shyur! If I see him, I’ll give him a face as ugly as mine, you understand? Revenge is something that is taken seriously in the Cats, shyur. Two of my friends have disappeared. Warok and his gang took them away, and sure enough, you know where they are.” He looked at me, his eyes full of venom. “Then you’d better run for it if I see ya at night in the Cats. You understand me?”

I glared at him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but if you touch even a single hair on Manras or Dil, you’ll see what I do…” I stepped back as I saw him make a move towards me and yelled, “I’ll rip your bones out!”

And I ran away. Swift’s words had troubled me. Mostly because, well, even though I didn’t really consider the redheaded elf a friend—he was a bit bossy and unreliable—I’d still put him in the good Cat category, he’d even taught me a few beggar and pickpocket tricks, and frankly, I hadn’t expected such an outburst. Friends of his had disappeared, he’d said? Well… Who knows what the Ojisaries had done to them. But what did Manras, Dil, and I have to do with anything?

I climbed up the Manticore Fountain, jumped to settle myself between the creature’s legs, and cupped my hands. I drank, wetted my face, and playfully ran my hand under the spray, thinking of those Ojisaries. Manras and Dil had not spoken of Warok since that winter day. In fact, they never talked about him or what they did when they got home. I, on the other hand, used to tell them about Miroki Fal’s daily miseries and his good and bad fortunes with the beautiful Lesabeth. And, until then, I had thought that they probably just had nothing to tell. But maybe I was wrong.

So I decided to ask them if they knew anything about these two friends of Swift’s, and I set out to find them. I asked several newspaper criers I knew; I asked the baker in Hale Street if he had seen my companions passing by, and he replied:

“And how should I know, son! More people pass here than loaves of bread.”

I pouted, and spending the three nails I had, I bought myself a bun and devoured it while I continued to search for Manras and Dil. I went to all our sales strategic points, and nothing, not a trace. Had they fallen ill?

I was passing through the Evening Park when I saw a head of hair as red as the evening sun, and I jumped, surprised.

“Sla!” I cried.

Slaryn, Yerris’ Black Dagger friend, was sitting on a bench, alone. I hadn’t seen her since the beginning of winter, since the day she’d passed through the Den to greet Rolg.

She looked up at me with emerald eyes, and a glint in them shocked me. I approached, hesitating.

“Sla? Are you okay?”

The dark elf nodded and sat up straighter as she inhaled.

“Yes. Long time no see, shyur. How’s the damn life going?”

“Ragingly well,” I replied cheerfully before sitting down on the bench. “And you?”

Sla shrugged.

“It could be worse.”

I waited, thinking she would specify, but as she said nothing else, I asked:

“How’s your mother?”

I noticed her slight flinch. Slaryn took a long breath.

“Don’t tell me you don’t know. The flies caught her again, this time for assaulting and insulting an officer. They sentenced her to eight moons. That’s my mother all over,” she sighed.

I looked at her, eyes wide. I swallowed.

“Gee… I didn’t know. When did she—?”

“At the end of winter,” she grumbled. “Just a little after Yerris returned.”

I was startled.

“What? Yerris is in the city? And he didn’t tell me?”

Slaryn blew out a long breath, and I sensed a hint of exasperation in her eyes.

“Don’t tell me you don’t know that either. Yerris came back to Estergat alone. Apparently, he stole money from Alvon and Alvon sent him away. And… now he’s with the Ojisaries.”

Her face closed. She slammed her fist into the bench.

“Korther thinks he’s a traitor. But I know that’s not true. There’s something fishy going on. Yerris would have come to see me otherwise. And he would have come see you, too. And Rolg. But he didn’t, and you know why? Because they’re holding him prisoner. I’m positive.”

I bit my cheek in shock. Yerris, prisoner of the Black Hawk, Warok, and his kind? My gaze wandered to a pigeon that was walking on the path near the bench. I shook my head.

“But why did they lock him up?” I asked. “Because he didn’t steal the documents?”

Slaryn turned abruptly to me.

“What documents?”

I turned pale. Oh, dammit.

“Uh… I dunno, I mean… maybe, if they took him, it’s because they want to use him as a thief.”

Slaryn’s eyebrows were furrowed.

“I don’t think so. Yerris is not a good thief. He has other qualities. But as a Black Dagger, he’s not very good. Things are what they are, shyur,” she grinned, seeing that I was looking at her, slightly indignant.

“But he’s a good Cat,” I said. “And, if it’s true that the Black Hawk and Warok have him locked up, I swear by the spirits that I’ll get him out.”

Sla looked at me, her eyes squinting.

“Warok? Who’s Warok?”

I winced, my heroic momentum suddenly interrupted.

“Well… an Ojisary.”

“Mothers of the Light,” Slaryn muttered. “How do you know that guy?”

I breathed in, stirred, and made a vague gesture.

“Just saw him, you know, in the street. He’s a real hoodlum. If it’s true he did something to Yerris, he’ll pay for it. Bad guys always end up paying. I heard it from a priest. Tell me, Sla. Why don’t you come to the Den if your mother is at Carnation?”

The dark elf looked pensive.

“Oh… I have a gang,” she explained. She ran a hand through her red hair, as if to snap out of her thoughts, and leapt to her feet. “Well, I’ve got to go, I’ve got some business to take care of. Give the old man my regards. I’ll try to stop by sometime, okay?” She sketched a smile, and as in the old days, tugged at my cap and threw: “Ayo, shyur!”

And she left the Evening Park with a quick step. I saw her red hair disappear, and as I curled up on the bench, I clutched my knees, feeling more and more worried. First, there were those two friends of Swift’s who had been kidnapped. And then I learned that Yerris had been gone for almost two moons already… And everything was because of the Ojisaries. But who were the Ojisaries really? Who was the Black Hawk?

I knew two people who might be able to answer these questions. I looked around, among the statues, the fountains, the trees, and the walkers in the park, and at last, I grumbled:

“Where on earth are my cronies?”