18. Cats and mice

I was awakened by repeated taps on my shoulder.

“Hey, kid!”

I opened my eyes and saw the face of a woman with a broom in her hands. She was patting me with it to wake me up.

“This is private property. Get out quickly.”

She didn’t say it in a bad tone, and her expression didn’t look angry, so I nodded without hurrying too much, got up with a yawn, and stretched.

“Quickly, I said!” she exclaimed.

“Yes, ma’am,” I answered.

I walked away to the ladder that descended into a corridor, and under the watchful eye of the woman, I left and began to sing:

Oh fine bird, at first light

you announced your arrival.

The sun is up! The sun is up!

The day is born and you were singing.

The dawn awoke and you were flying

from flower to flower.

Oh, heavenly songster!

I spent the whole morning walking. I could not find Slaryn, so I went to the Black Quarter with its labyrinthine hovels, and then I crossed the Black Bridge and for the first time entered Menshaldra, the city of the boatmen. I discovered a new world full of barges, ropes, and the smell of fish. I shuffled along, watching strong men carrying huge loads to the barges, and I saw a child my age shouting at the top of his lungs to say something to his father at the other end of the boat. About noon, I bought myself a meal in a tavern in the harbour, and after listening to some old sailor’s exaggerated stories of some monster he had slain in his youth, I crossed the Valiant Bridge back to the main bank of Menshaldra, and my eyes fell upon the distant forest of the Crypt. The prospect of entering it gave me wings, and I took off at a run, cutting across the fields, crossing the White Way, and reaching the edge in half an hour. I inspected the trunks with caution.

Hadn’t Yal said that the forest was the property of the Fal? Since I had saved his life, Miroki could not complain if I entered his territory. Especially since, in practice, a forest could only be the territory of those who occupied it, like foxes, squirrels, insects, and… maybe red nadres. I shrugged. I had lived in more dangerous forests than this.

So I went in without further hesitation, and tried not to lose my sense of direction, for from the Peak, I could tell that the Crypt was no small wood. First, I climbed the hill to the top of the Ravines, and beyond the last trunks, I could see the Rock of Estergat, the river, and just below, the mine buildings, and the quarry. I turned my back on it all and went deeper into the forest.

The trees were not the same as those in the valley: they were smaller, but also bulkier and gnarlier. The truth is that the forest delighted me. I found a trunk several meters wide, and I could not resist the temptation to climb it. I found myself face to face with a black squirrel and smiled happily at him with all my teeth. I saw him disappear, quick as a flash.

“Ayo, ayo!” I said.

I continued to climb a large branch, and then I lay there, huddled in the heart of the tree, and took a refreshing nap such as I had not taken for a long time. When I woke up, the sound of birds, insects, and leaves was so familiar that I thought I was back in the valley. Except that I was not in the valley, but in the Crypt, only a few miles from the capital of Arkolda.

I didn’t know what time it was, and as I thought about it, I realized that before, only a year ago, I had never given a thought to what time I was living. To tell the truth, I didn’t care much about it now either, but with the temples ringing the bells every half hour, it was hard not to give it some importance.

I got down from the tree, and instead of going back, I continued to explore. I recognized some of the plants which my master had taught me, but most of them were unknown to me. I came to a flowery clearing and spent the last hours of the day doing what I had done all my life: climbing nearby trees, eating some known insect, carving the head of a lynx on a stick I had collected, and occasionally looking up and watching the clouds go by. At one point, I thought I recognized the smiling, cadaverous skull of my master, and I stared at it until the cloud changed into a kind of mushroom.

I spent the night in the big tree where I had napped. It was there that I had seen the first squirrel in the forest, and it was there that I felt most secure. I thought a great deal that night, and as I could not sleep, I climbed to the top of the tree and looked at the stars. I could see them very clearly in the midst of the great black veil.

“Elassar,” I whispered. “Did you really want me to see this? Estergat is wonderful, but…”

But it was also full of dangers, I added inwardly. My nakrus master wanted me to make friends that had two legs and two hands, and I had not failed to do so. However, now that I knew the sajit world, I felt so attached to it that I could not see myself leaving Estergat even if a ferilompard bone was placed in my hands. If leaving my master had been very hard, it would now be very difficult for me to have to part with Yal, my friends, and this happy whirlwind that was Estergat.

“You knew,” I said, my eyes looking up at the stars. “You knew you were sending me away for a long time, and you didn’t tell me.”

I breathed in and thought that, deep down, I had always known. Except that a year ago I was just a kid, and now I was almost eleven, I had learned to reason, and most importantly, I had learned to change my destiny and find what I wanted. And I didn’t want to leave my friends behind. Manras and Dil deserved more.

With this assurance in mind, I returned to the heart of the tree, slept like a lebrine bear and, at dawn, headed for Estergat with a new carved stick in hand and a conqueror’s gait.

I went straight to the Labyrinth. I crossed the Moon Bridge, drank water in the adjoining square, and went on up to the Cat Quarter. I came to the dead end of the Ojisaries, holding my staff and with the bearing of that Mad Magician Hero of whom Miroki Fal had spoken more than once. I wrapped myself in harmonic shadows and pushed open the door through which I had seen Manras and Dil enter the other day. It was locked. I smashed the window with my staff, and despite my silence spell, the shattering was, to my taste, quite loud. I did not worry. I crept inside and whispered:

“Manras! Dil!”

I cast a harmonic light spell and… found myself facing the unfamiliar face of a short, dark-haired human who looked at me with dazed, blinking eyes. There was no one else in the room.

“Blasthell,” I let out.

I made my light as dazzling as possible, leapt onto the windowsill, and ran out of there like a wild hare. I heard a scream behind me, but by the time the Ojisaries heard what had happened, I was long gone.

I stopped once outside the Cats, near the Wild Garden. Then, catching my breath, I walked along the bank of the river. Another failure, I thought. But it could have been worse. Much worse.

I laughed.

The Ojisaries were beginning to have good reasons to want to tear my bones out. And I was going to give them plenty more, I thought decisively. Maybe I couldn’t get Yerris out of the well, but I was going to teach those sons of bad mothers that no one could get up the Survivor’s nose.

However, I needed reinforcements. I thought I knew where to find them. About noon, after buying myself a not exactly cheap meal in a tavern in Riskel, I passed through the Esplanade, took an eagle-eye look around, and seeing no one of interest, I returned to the Cat Quarter, to Wool Square. There, I saw a bunch of gwaks around my age sitting in a corner, and I approached them. I guessed their half-curious, half-wary faces. I stuck my stick in the ground and said:

“Ayo.” Some answered me with a brief, inquisitive nod. I resumed, “I’m looking for Swift. Do you know him?”

One of them, with black curly hair, stood up slowly.

“The name sounds familiar. Why are you looking for him?”

“I want to talk to him. Don’t you know where I can find him?” The gwak shook his head, and after an intense hesitation, I said, “If you help me, I’ll give you a goldy.”

The boy’s eyes shone more with suspicion than lust. He replied with a haughty expression:

“I ain’t one to sell people for goldies.”

“What? But who’s talking about selling?” I exasperated. “I just want to talk with him.”

The boy shook his head, turned his back on me, and sat down again with his companions. I sighed under their looks that explicitly said: get out. I got the hell out. Sometimes, it wasn’t easy to communicate with the other gwaks. Either they hugged you and taught you a thousand things, or they ignored you and were suspicious. I realized that talking about goldies had not been a very clever tactic on my part. We gwaks may have been scoundrels, thieves, profiteers, and rogues, but we had dignity, and none of us could be bribed just like that.

Well, as my nakrus master used to say, it was impossible to never make mistakes. But, as he also said, that was no reason to accumulate them. And yet, I would do just the opposite in the valley…

I was walking down an alley, deep in thought, when I caught a red shadow out of the corner of my eye, passing by the end of the passageway, and I jumped, startled.

“Sla!” I cried.

I started to run, turned the corner and braked suddenly when I saw the figure in the red cape walking away. It was a cloak, not hair. Disappointed, I shuffled my feet and the stick, tracing a zigzagging path through the muddy passage. I was just leaving the neighborhood, following the Timid River as it cascaded down to the Estergat River, when I saw a gang of four youths appear. They were heading straight for me. I recognized Swift, and, not sure whether to be pleased to see him or frightened by such an intimidating approach, I stopped and waited for him and his three companions to join me.

“Ayo,” he said.

“Ayo,” I replied.

The red-haired elf crossed his arms and looked me up and down.

“I was told you were looking for me. What’s the matter, namesake? You want to settle the score or come clean?”

“Neither,” I replied. “I just want to know if you’ve heard from your friends who’ve gone missing.”

Swift looked at me darkly.

“Don’t be a scoundrel. You know what happened to them. They killed them. It’s clear.”

“I don’t know what happened to them,” I growled. “And I want to know. The Ojisaries are devils. This morning, I broke a window at their place,” I informed him. “And tonight I’m gonna make them madder. If you want to help me… that would be good.”

In his eyes, I saw surprise, disbelief, and then a glimmer of respect mixed with mockery.

“You’re a fool if you think I’m gonna get into Ojisary territory for revenge,” he said finally. “I’m not going to risk my life to get some dead bodies. Understand me, shyur, in the Cats, there are kittens like us and lions like that gang, or Frashluc’s. And now, Sharpy, if you were planning to set a trap for me so the Ojisaries would get me too, you’ve failed miserably.”

I looked at him, bewildered and deeply hurt.

“Blasthell, but what are you saying?” I exclaimed. “I don’t set no traps, you hear me? I’m honest.”

My namesake made an apologetic face.

“Maybe you’re right. But you’re gonna give me your goldy anyway, shyur. For the trouble.”

I took a breath and made another mistake: I gave him the coin too quickly. This, no doubt, made it clear that I had more. Instead of taking the coin, he grabbed my wrist and with his other hand struck me on the arm which held the stick. He disarmed me, one of his companions took all the money from my pocket, and I protested:

“That’s not fair, namesake. I’m a good gwak,” I assured with impotent rage.

Swift retrieved all the money and, without letting go of my wrist, he said quietly:

“So am I, shyur. And brothers do favors for each other. I’ve crossed half the Cats to see you. And you reward me for it. It’s only fair.”

He took a ten-nail coin and put it in the palm of my hand.

“So you don’t get discouraged,” he said. “A word of advice: give up on the Ojisaries, whether you’re with them or against them, it’s all the same. I say that as a friend. Ayo, namesake.”

He put his hand in his pocket, as if counting the coins by touch, stepped back, turned around, and left with obvious satisfaction, followed by his companions. And on top of that, he took my stick with him.

“Bloody scoundrel…” I muttered.

The only thing they had left me, besides the rhombus silver coin, was the sharpened stone. I caught the curious glance of a passer-by, who must have been watching the whole thing, and I glared at him as if to say “Whatcha lookin’ at?”, and I returned to the heart of the Cat Quarter. This time, I really didn’t know what to do. Continue to pester the Ojisaries? They would eventually catch me. But if only I could find out where they had taken Manras and Dil… Warok had said he was going to make them work harder. But work like what and where?

I entered the dead end, hid behind a pile of baskets, and pondered. I remembered the words of my nakrus master: courage and bravery. And a mixture of excitement and terror came over me little by little as my resolution grew stronger.

* * *

I crouched behind a barrel, shrouded in harmonic shadows. A man was standing guard in the dead end. Clearly, after my visits, they were on guard. I looked up at the terraces, but saw no one. Which didn’t mean anything.

My plan was simple and already half accomplished. First, I had torn a piece of paper from an old abandoned newspaper, sat down on a terrace in the Cats with a small pile of coal, and for the first time in my life, I had written a letter. Well, more like a sentence. And I hoped it would be understandable, because I hadn’t dared to come back to the Den to get my Alitard book and compare the signs. My sentence read: «Deliver the Black Cat at Wool Square or I’ll tell the Black Daggers everything.» Which may have, in fact, turned out to be something closer to, “Give Black Cat to Wool Square or talk black daggers”. Or maybe something worse. That’s why, just in case, I had drawn a black cat, a sheep with lots of wool, a mouth, and a black dagger. It was much more understandable.

In reality, my plan could be a fiasco. Especially if, upon reading the sentence, the Ojisaries thought: and what the hell is this brat going to tell the Black Daggers? But it would be even worse if they said: what the hell are these scribbles?

The Ojisaries could also appear in the Wool Square without the Black Cat. That was most likely. But, then, if only one came, maybe I could talk with him, convince him to tell me… I don’t know, something. At least that Yerris and my newspaper comrades were okay.

As the lookout turned his back to me and chewed his smograss leaf, I very quietly put the piece of paper on the barrel. I picked up a pebble from the ground and placed it on top. I only hoped that it would not rain during the night. I turned around and went to sleep in the Wool Square. I was not the only gwak to settle there, though I was one of the few who did so alone. I lay down as comfortably as I could on my earthen bed and fell deeply asleep.

I woke up when someone crushed my ribs with his boot and shone a light in my face.

“It’s him.”

I recognized the voice. It was Warok’s. Something cold touched my throat, and I swallowed as I realized what it was.

“If you make a sound, I’ll bleed you,” Warok warned me in a whisper.

He made me stand up and did not move his dagger away for a moment. I said nothing. I was too scared. How in the world could the Ojisaries dare to threaten me in the Wool Square, in the midst of so many gwaks? I must say that I hadn’t even imagined such a cruel possibility. And I felt a little stupid.

I could see the eyes of the gwaks on us. They pretended to be asleep, but I could feel that they were not all asleep. Warok pulled me away from the wall against which I had been lying and forced me to jerk forward across the square. Three others accompanied us. Two went in front, and one behind. They had not skimped on the escort this time. I looked for an escape route. And I saw none the whole way.

We reached the dead end without a word. Warok took me into the same room where he had taken me two days before. One of the hooded men who had accompanied Warok, the shorter one, took something out of his pocket, while a newcomer, also wearing a mask, lit a lantern and said:

“Hold on a sec.”

He brought the lantern so close that I shut my eyes, and feeling the blade of the dagger press more firmly against my neck, I gave a terrified groan.

“That’s enough, Warok,” growled the one with the lantern. “Let go of him.”

There was a silence, and the voice of the lantern bearer turned cold as he repeated:

“Let go of him.”

Warok hissed in my ear:

“I’ll settle accounts with you later.”

And he let go of me. I stood still for a few seconds, and then I backed away from the five figures and hit the wall. In my mind, I saw the green ink on Warok’s shirt, the mortic discharge, the broken window, and the message I had left, and I thought, Spirits, with all the tricks I had played on them, how could there be any chance that those lunatics would let me live? Seeing my time coming, my survival instinct drove away my dignity, and I cowered on the floor, wanting to tell them that way that I was only a child, that I was no threat, that they would please have mercy on me.

“Get up,” growled the man with the lantern.

I stood up, my eyes flooded with tears.

“Do you know the kap of the Black Daggers?” the Ojisary asked.

I swallowed my tears and stammered:

“Yes, sir.”

“Korther, isn’t it? You people call him Korther.”

“Yes, sir,” I repeated.

“What did you tell Korther about us?” the Ojisary inquired.

I shook my head.

“Nothing, sir. I swear. I haven’t seen him for weeks. I’ve only seen him three times in all. I hardly know him. I don’t know nothing. I left the message because I wanted to know if Yerris was okay…” I sobbed.

There was silence. And one of the other two commented:

“He’s a Black Dagger. Perhaps it would be less risky to ransom him.”

The one with the lantern snorted.

“Ransom? You’re kidding yourself, Lof, if you think Korther’s going to pay a dime for a brat who risks his life to save a traitor to his brotherhood.” He paused, and despite the light still blinding me a little, I thought I saw a glint in his dark eyes. He raised an arm and placed something in Lof’s hand. “Take him away and don’t let me see him again. Don’t worry, kid. You ain’t gonna die.”

“Then we’ll have to ask the alchemist to make one more dose a day, I suppose,” Lof commented, clearing his throat.

“And he’ll make a lot more if I ask him to,” the one with the lantern replied. “Take him away, I said.”

He left the lantern with the other Ojisary, turned and walked out. After a brief silence, Lof stepped forward, and I began to tremble even more.

“Swallow this,” he ordered me. “Swallow.”

I swallowed without chewing. Immediately, Lof went to search me and found that my pockets were completely empty except for a ten nail coin and my sharpened stone. He took off my boots and examined them as if he were looking for something.

“Where is the magara you used against Warok?” he asked at last.

I was feeling a strange effect come over me, and it took me a while to figure out what Lof meant with his question. They thought I had used a magara to knock Warok unconscious when I escaped last time.

I stammered and lied:

“It broke. I threw it away.”

They believed me, I think. But the glare in Warok’s eyes was no less criminal for all that. A deep torpor came over me, and I staggered, stuttering:

“Spirits, what are you guys going to do to me?”

I fell heavily to the ground, feeling as if the world was turning into a black whirlpool that was dragging me far, far away. The last thing I heard was Warok’s neutral voice saying:

“I’ll take him to the well.”