23. Korther the Good

We were so comfortable in that tree that we slept like lebrine bears, and when I opened my eyes and saw the clear sky, I made sure that we still had time before noon, and then I closed my eyes and lazed around listening to the birds. For the first time in many wakings, I felt energized. This salbronix mine may not have affected us as much as normal sajits, but fighting against its energy weakened our strength anyway. There, on the other hand, lying in the shelter of the old tree, I felt a deep sense of well-being.

After a while, I pushed Manras’ feet gently and slipped out of our nest. I went down to the base of the tree and looked for lunch without going too far. I found an insect I recognized, and chewed it energetically, then I came across what seemed to me to be a lettuce, but just in case, I did not touch it. Eventually, I found three large snails, put them in my pocket and carried them back to the foot of the tree, where I began to sing:

Taran tran tran!

Blessed souls, wake up!

The sun is already up!

The sun is already uuuup!

With a few more shouts and exclamations, I encouraged them to come down from the tree and handed them each a snail.

“Enjoy!”

Wide-eyed, they both watched me eat my own snail, and Manras threw out a:

“Ew, I’m not eating that, Sharpy.”

I gave him a mocking look and said:

“Nail-pincher.” And with an emperor’s air, I turned to what seemed to me to be the northwest and walked forward, clamoring, “Let’s get back to the city, we’ve got an appointment with the Black Cat!”

When I glanced back a moment later, I could see that Manras and Dil were chewing their snail without looking disgusted. And I smiled broadly.

That day, the sky was blue and bright, and a warm breeze blew strands of hair before my eyes as we reached the edge of the forest. I blew my hair aside and cried out:

“Last one to the Moon Bridge is a slugbonehead!”

There was still a good trot to go, and though we started off fast, jibing each other, after a while we moderated our pace, but when we got between the houses on the White Path, we saw the bridge with its two slender towers, and we ran like mad. Almost all three of us arrived at the same time. “Almost,” because I got there first. I smiled at them, breathless.

“Aha! Sorry, shyurs!”

A baritone voice answered me:

“Out of the way, kids, coming through!”

We moved quickly away from the middle of the bridge and let an old man pass with a cart full of bags. One of them was half open, and I could see that it contained apples. I sighed and thought, if only there were apple trees in the Crypt.

We passed the guards who were watching the bridge without their giving us more than a passing glance, and we walked the rest of the way to the Evening Park along the river walk, stopping whenever we saw anything interesting, and glancing around apprehensively from time to time, as if we feared that suddenly some Ojisaries would attack us in broad daylight, armed with their crossbows and accompanied by their dogs. We arrived at the park safe and sound.

I did not know what time it was, and to find out, we went first to the little temple near the park. As we entered and passed through the room full of benches, the priest, a slender, young, bright-eyed human, looked at us with compassion on his face, and answered my question:

“It is almost noon. Hold on, my child,” he added. He was looking at me. “This morning a charitable lady came to bring me some used clothes. If you wait a little while, I may be able to give you something.”

The prospect of being late for the appointment bothered me, but who could refuse such a generous offer? I nodded, smiling.

“That’s very kind of you.”

The priest lit a candle, placed it before the Altar of the Ancestors, and made a devotional sign before walking away and disappearing through a small door. I looked at the candles with a pensive pout. One candle of those were probably worth more than ten nails… The priest reappeared almost at once, carrying in his hands a rather white shirt and an old cap with a hole in the peak. As I reached out my arms, ready to take my gift and give thanks, he held back.

“In return, don’t forget to say a prayer to the ancestors of the Temple of the Gracious. That’s what my temple is called.”

I smiled and solemnly raised my fist to my chest.

“No prob, I’ll say a prayer. Thank you, priest,” I added, as he handed me the shirt. I slipped it on and put on the cap, saying, “Bless the generosity of the priest of the Temple of the Gracious, and may his ancestors and those of the Gracious keep him long. Peace and virtue. Is this all right?” I inquired.

The priest laughed, amused.

“It’s all right. Go out and let the ancestors watch over this sacred place. And may they watch over you too, little ones. Remember that every soul, no matter how humble, is watched over by the spirits of our ancestors, as long as they show them respect.”

Manras and I nodded, and I caught the troubled look the priest gave Dil. I frowned. Surely this priest didn’t believe that “devil-eyes” like Dil could be evil creatures, did he? Boo. I’d rather not ask him. We quickly left the temple and returned to the Evening Park just as the bell of the Great Temple was ringing at noon. We sat down on a stone bench in the central square. The problem with the park was that it was so large that it was hard to know where Yerris expected to find us. And the good thing was that the Black Cat, precisely because he was jet black, would be easily noticed. We would see him from a distance. I was running a curious hand over my new shirt, noting that, though worn, it was of good quality, when Manras pulled me by the sleeve.

“Sharpy! That’s him, right?”

I looked up and saw him. He was not coming alone, he was accompanied by Slaryn, the Soothsayer, and the Mole. I smiled, and when I saw that they too had seen us, I did not bother to stand up and waved at them.

“Ayo, shyurs,” Sla and Yerris said at the same time as they joined us.

“Ayo, ayo!” I replied. And I rose at last, glad to see all four of them. “How did you manage to find each other?”

Yerris cleared his throat, and Slaryn smiled.

“Let’s just say that your escapade has given people in the Cats a lot to talk about. Yerris and I had agreed to meet at… a place, and as soon as I heard what happened, I went there and found the Black Cat waiting for the princess to rescue him.” The Black Cat rolled his eyes, and the dark elf confessed, “Actually, there wasn’t much I could do. Your companions have scattered all over the Labyrinth. The Soothsayer and the Mole were in the Wool Square.”

I grimaced and said:

“That place is not a good shelter.”

I remembered well that the Ojisaries had caught me there with extreme ease.

“No, it’s not a good shelter,” Sla conceded. “That’s why we found another one. Though Yerris isn’t too convinced.”

The semi-gnome put on an apologetic face.

“I’m just not particularly thrilled about taking refuge in the Labyrinth to escape from demons who live precisely in the Labyrinth.”

“Weren’t you the one who said the Labyrinth was a place full of wonders?” the Black Dagger girl scoffed.

“And it is. But not right now,” Yerris cleared his throat. And he gestured expansively. “It doesn’t matter, we don’t have anything better right now. The thing is, right now, the Ojisaries are the laughing stock of the Labyrinth, and they’re madder than a cat with water up to its neck. Have you heard from the Priest?” he asked.

I shook my head, darkening.

“No. I was thinking of going there now to check on him. Where’s that shelter?”

“Huh, huh,” the Soothsayer interjected with a small smile. “To find out where he is, you either have to be a soothsayer or someone has to show you the way.”

I cocked my head to one side, curious.

“That’s a good thing.”

“Yerris will show you,” Sla decided. “I have to go… negotiate.”

I looked at her with a puzzled face; Yerris and she exchanged a look, and I widened my eyes in amazement, thinking I understood.

“Negotiate with the Ojisaries? To free the alchemist?”

“No, no, no,” Slaryn laughed. “Negotiate with our kap. Be careful what you say,” she added in a whisper that the Mole, the Soothsayer, and my comrades no doubt heard.

I swallowed my words, and as I saw Slaryn take a step back as if to leave already, I cried out:

“I’m coming with you!”

Slaryn stopped short.

“What? No, shyur. You can’t… This is ridiculous. He barely knows you. You’re no help to me.”

“I’m not going there to negotiate,” I assured him. “He owes me twenty goldies, that’s all.”

And I intended to pay for Rogan’s care with those siatos, I added mentally. The two Black Daggers looked at me with even more surprised faces than the others.

“Twenty goldies,” Yerris muttered in disbelief. “Blasthell, what have you done, shyur?”

I shrugged.

“A thing.” I smiled as I saw them positively impressed and said, “So, can I go with you, Sla?”

Slaryn nodded thoughtfully, and Yerris cleared his throat.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t take care of snotty brats, shyur, I have things to do. As for leaving them alone in the shelter, I don’t think it’d be a good idea…”

“Eh, snotty brat, your mother! Who do you think you are?” Manras interrupted indignantly. “We don’t need you to take care of us. We’ll go and sell newspapers and earn our bread.”

I nodded, concerned.

“It runs, but don’t get away from the flies, and if there’s an Ojisary or any isturbag coming at you, you start screaming like scaluftards.”

“Natural,” the little dark elf replied.

It was safer, anyway, to wander around Riskel or Tarmil quarters than to go into the Labyrinth without a good band to protect yourself. I said goodbye to them after telling them we would meet on the Capitol steps at six o’clock; leaving Yerris, the Soothsayer, and the Mole, I left the park with Slaryn. We walked briskly up the streets of Tarmil, and we were already crossing the Avenue when I asked her:

“Are you going to ask Korther to help us?”

Slaryn walked with long strides. Probably out of caution, she had hidden her long red hair under a pretty orange veil.

“The problem is that with Korther, you don’t ‘ask’, you negotiate. When I went to see him the day before yesterday, he didn’t seem very willing to lift a finger to help us. He said he’d think about it…” She huffed sarcastically. “In any case, Korther is not one to act hastily. So it’s a good thing your friend got you guys out.”

“But without the alchemist, we won’t last more than two moons,” I reminded her.

Slaryn winced.

“We’ll figure it out. One way or another.”

I wanted to believe her, and we did not speak the rest of the way. So that we would not have to go through the Cat Quarter, Sla made us go around, through Atuerzo and down the Old Wall stairs, and landed almost directly in the street of the Hostel. She slipped into the dead end, and after glancing at me, knocked on the door in such a way that it sounded like a password. The door opened a little and the very pale face of a dark-haired, relatively young human appeared. I did not know him.

“Ayo, Aberyl,” Sla said.

“What about this one?” inquired the man named Aberyl.

“It’s a sari,” the dark elf replied calmly.

Without asking for any further explanation, Aberyl opened the door wide. We entered. The last time I had been there, I had hardly noticed the interior. This time, I could see it with more peace of mind. There was a table with chairs, an armchair, an unlit fireplace, and above it, a picture of a village street. Although Korther could not logically be short of money, this room was not luxurious, at least not like Miroki Fal’s room.

“Where is Korther?” Slaryn asked.

“He’ll be here soon,” Aberyl answered. He knocked a few times on the only inner door there was, sat down at the table, and continued to do what he had apparently been doing before we arrived: putting a small pile of grey powder into a flask.

“Do you know what satranin is?”

He was asking me, perhaps because I had come closer to the table out of curiosity to see what he was doing. I nodded.

“Yalet told me it was a sedative.”

Aberyl smiled without revealing his teeth.

“Hmm. A strong sedative that can put a person to sleep if they breathe it in close.”

I took a step back, cautious.

“Gosh. And you use it often?”

Aberyl shrugged, amused.

“Sometimes. For example, when you work at night, you make the landlord breathe it in, and you have the whole house to yourself for several hours.”

This impressed me, and I suddenly imagined how, running with that vial from Ojisary to Ojisary, I would leave them all asleep and manage to get the alchemist out of their territory and save all my companions… The scene, though most likely unrealistic, brought a vengeful smile to my face.

Suddenly, the inner door opened, and Korther appeared. The elfocan quickly examined me with his reptilian devil eyes before settling on Slaryn and sighing patiently.

“Hello, young people. What can I do for you?”

“You know damn well, Korther,” Sla said dryly. “My mother is going to wring your ears off when she gets out of the slammer and finds out you left her daughter locked up in a salbronix mine run by the Ojisaries. What will the other Black Dagger kaps say when they find out you’ve left your saris in the hands of criminals and done nothing? What will they say when they find out that you have done nothing to prevent them from being treated like guinea pigs, experimented on, and mutated? What will our confreres say when they hear that your saris came crawling back to the Ojisaries to ask for sokwata because you refused to help them?”

I was stunned. Each question was phrased with increasing irritation. Without appearing very surprised, Korther raised his hands soothingly.

“Calm down, dear. You won’t get anywhere by getting angry or blaming me for what the Ojisaries did to you. You’re right: as a kap, I’m compromising myself to help out the young people of the brotherhood. But I don’t compromise myself by helping reckless people who start spying on the Ojisaries to save a traitor. I explained that to you quite clearly last time.”

“Yerris is not a traitor!” Slaryn growled.

“He was. I’m not saying he was doing it with good grace. But he was and is a traitor.”

Slaryn’s eyes sparkled.

“At least give him a chance, Korther. He wanted to be a Black Dagger. I did not. And you’re disowning him and not me. It’s not fair.”

“Life is unfair, my dear. And I don’t forgive easily.”

“If I die, it is my mother who will not forgive you,” Slaryn replied.

Korther shook his head, sighing.

“And it would pain me, I assure you.” He stepped forward, hands in his pockets. “Look, Slaryn, the situation doesn’t look so hopeless. Yesterday you told Alvon that you had sokwata for two moons, didn’t you?”

“For… a little more,” Slaryn admitted. “The Ojisaries managed to catch a few kids again, I don’t know how many. We still haven’t found all the sokwatas who managed to escape.”

The kap nodded meditatively as I turned pale. So we hadn’t all escaped? Blasthell…

“Good. Fantastic,” Korther said. “So, maybe you have enough for three or even four moons, right?”

Slaryn gave a sarcastic pout.

“Fantastic?” she repeated. “It seems anything but fantastic to me. Four moons of life is a pittance. But, anyway, the Ojisaries are going to kill us before then because no one is doing anything to end this gang, least of all Korther the Heartless.”

“There you go, blaming me again,” Korther pointed out to her patiently. “Look, darling, just two days ago the Black Hawk was a nobody, and now he’s competing squarely with Frashluc of the Cats himself. Do you know what we Black Daggers are in all this, Slaryn? Professional thieves, a little adventurers, mercenaries… but we are not warriors, nor heroes, nor suicidal. Your friends had a chance of a thousand demons when they escaped. Now, the Black Hawk has probably recruited more people. He could recruit an army. If he was really pocketing ninety salbronix pearls a day, he must be rotten with money. Those pearls, you don’t sell them for less than fifteen siatos each, and maybe even more.”

Fifteen siatos, I thought, frowning. And the kap had only given me five siatos for the five pearls I had sold him in winter. He had tricked me.

“I think I forgot to mention to you, too,” Korther added, “that the Black Hawk and I came to a mutual agreement some time ago. I paid him a good sum, and the scoundrel agreed to destroy certain information. Information, by the way, that Yerris had stolen from my office last year here at the Hostel. He confessed to it himself. It was carelessness on my part, I admit, but don’t tell me this wasn’t an infamous betrayal on the part of that innocent saint who seems to have won you over so well, my dear.”

Slaryn returned a troubled look and ran his hand over her forehead, muttering a:

“Spirits.”

I bravely stepped in:

“Korther. Yerris didn’t want to betray you. Those guys forced him and—”

“They trained him for that,” Korther cut me off. “Don’t side with him, lad. You’re in enough trouble already. Well, let’s see. You’ve come here to ask me to forget my deal with the Black Hawk and that I give you a hand in capturing this alchemist because, as I understand it, he’s your only salvation. Have you not thought that you may have been led to believe that this sokwata is a very difficult potion to make and that in reality it is not so difficult? Who knows, maybe the formula for making the sokwata isn’t that complicated and can be picked up by another alchemist, or maybe,” he said, “maybe this whole thing about you dying if you don’t take sokwata… Maybe they just made that up to scare you.”

Slaryn let out a sarcastic growl.

“Yes of course! Yerris told me what happened to them when the Ojisaries stopped giving them sokwata: after a week, they were almost dying.”

“Almost dying,” Korther pointed out. “Maybe they put a poison in the bread so they would draw the wrong conclusions. Or maybe, after a while, they would have detoxed or unmutated or whatever.”

Slaryn hissed:

“Impossible: the alchemist himself told Yerris that, without sokwata, he would die.”

“Yerris,” Korther repeated. Under the dark elf’s glare, he rolled his eyes. “I’m not saying your story isn’t true, Slaryn: I’m only saying that, so far, we have no proof of anything.”

“That’s because you don’t listen to me, isturbag!” Slaryn cried. She seemed about to add something, let out an exasperated growl, made an angry gesture, turned around, opened the door, and left, slamming it behind her.

I blinked in amazement, and for a moment, I was tempted to follow her, but then I remembered my twenty siatos.

“Mothers of the Light,” Korther sighed, sitting down in his armchair.

“Strange business, eh?” Aberyl let out, leaning back in his seat.

“You said it, Ab. You said it,” Korther murmured.

The pale-skinned human slipped the bottle of satranin into his pocket and said:

“I don’t know about you, but I personally don’t really like the idea of letting thirty kids die because of an alchemist and a criminal. I know it could be risky, but… having a good alchemist in our brotherhood, it could be very useful to us.”

Korther looked at him as if he had gone mad. He huffed and looked away in disbelief.

“You and your wacky ideas, Aberyl. Listen, for the moment, as far as we know, the only thing the Black Hawk has done is to capture gwaks and put them in a mine to get salbronix, exactly like the factory owners do in the Canals, and nobody stops them, right? Bah. You’re not going to call me heartless too, are you? Am I now supposed to deal with the problems of the Cat gwaks? Come on, Ab, come on, I’m not going to make a hasty decision that gets us a whole criminal gang on our backs and sinks us all at once. Then our colleagues would definitely laugh at me and laugh their asses off. And I would go down in history as Korther the Good, that kap who, in an attempt to save thirty gwaks, squandered his fortune and ended up tragically murdered by a criminal who had only just known what a gold coin was barely some days ago. Oh, come on!”

He clicked his tongue dismissively, and I saw the corners of Abe’s mouth go up acutely.

“You’re getting yourself all worked up, Korther.”

“Worked up? Me? Bah!”

“How good it is to have a clear conscience when one closes one’s eyes at night, ready to begin a new day,” Aberyl pronounced in a wise tone.

He readjusted the blue scarf in front of his face and stood up. Korther gave him a mocking look.

“Stop it now, Ab. My conscience is very clear. I have a thousand matters on my mind, I do what I can.”

“Frawa won’t forgive you,” Aberyl commented calmly.

Korther rolled his eyes.

“If Frawa would stop going in and out of jail and take a little more care of her daughter, maybe that one wouldn’t have ended up sympathizing with a traitor and preferring the streets to the Den. But, hell, now that Rolg’s gone, maybe you’ll offer to take in that young cat,” he scoffed.

“Mm. Too feisty for my taste,” Aberyl said. His very clear blue eyes smiled. They landed on me, and flinching at their sudden notice of my presence, I adopted the air of one who hears without listening and waits patiently for the adults to pay attention without the slightest intention of prying. “The boy, on the other hand, looks quieter. He wouldn’t happen to be the one who helped you steal the Wada, would he?”

Korther smiled.

“Himself. What do you want, lad?”

I looked at him hopefully.

“Well… You see. I’ve got an injured friend at the Passion Flower Hospital. And I need money to pay for the care.”

“Ah, you’ve come to claim the twenty siatos, haven’t you?” I nodded, and Korther reached into his pockets. “Here you are—seven siatos in silver coins. Give that to them. And if that’s not enough, I’ll give you more.”

I did not complain, I smiled, picked up the coins, and said:

“It runs. Thank you, sir. Say, is it true that Rolg has left the Den?”

Korther winced and cleared his throat.

“Yes. He’s gone.”

My face got darker.

“But where?”

Korther gave me a mysterious pout, and his eyes assessed me carefully.

“The Spirits know where. In his absence, let us remember him as a man of heart, eh?”

I turned deathly pale.

“He died?”

I remembered vividly the last time I had seen him, covered in black marks, with sharp teeth, and in short, transformed into a demon. What if, in fact, he was in mortal danger that day and died because I didn’t help and…? The elfocan laughed out loud.

“No. That old elf is alive and well, more alive than any of us. He just took a vacation, that’s all. Everyone needs a change of scenery now and then.”

I sighed with relief and stared at him. He’s alive, and more alive than any of us, I repeated to myself. Didn’t my nakrus master say that demons worshiped Life, convinced that they were more alive than normal sajits? Korther knew. He knew that Rolg was a demon. Who knows, maybe Korther was one, too, I thought with a shudder. Well, as long as he didn’t find out I had an undead hand… I inhaled and shook my head. The thought of the change of air made me think of Yal, and I asked:

“What about Yal? Where does he live now?”

“Dear Heavens, Yal has not yet returned from Kitra,” Korther informed me. “He has been very busy. In fact, he doesn’t even know about your adventure in the mine. I didn’t want to worry him. It shouldn’t be long before he returns.”

I nodded thoughtfully, and Korther smiled at me.

“Hey, lad. Tell me, you’re aware of everything the Black Daggers have done for you, aren’t you?”

More like of everything that Rolg and Yal had done for me, I mentally corrected. But I nodded anyway, and Korther continued:

“I understand why you tried to save Yerris. I am not accusing you. And it may even be that you are right and that Yerris is simply a poor, tortured, misunderstood gwak.”

I opened my eyes wide, filled with hope.

“So you’ll forgive him?”

Korther pouted.

“Uh… Let’s just say I don’t feel like forgiving him yet, but maybe one day, if he proves to me that he knows how to be loyal… Who knows, life is full of surprises.” I heard Aberyl stifle an amused gasp as he leaned against a wall. Korther continued, “Anyway, you, you’re still a sari of the brotherhood and as such, you’re going to do me a small favor. If anything happens, like if the Ojisaries capture any more children or… anything that you think is important, you come here and tell me. These days, if I’m not at the Hostel, Aberyl will be. You got that?”

I shrugged.

“Ragingly.”

Korther smiled again and patted my cheek.

“Well, go see this injured friend and let’s hope he recovers.”

I nodded vigorously, glanced at the pale human, and said to them both:

“Ayo.”

I got out of there and was already thinking so much about Rogan and the hospital that I forgot to take a detour and went right through the Grey Square in the Cats. When I heard a loud “Hey, kid!”, I jumped up, my heart racing, convinced I was seeing Ojisaries everywhere. Then I saw old Fiks sitting on a stone bench with some companions, and I let out a sigh of relief.

“It’s been a long time since we’ve seen you around here, Bard,” the old worker greeted me.

I smiled and approached.

“Fiks, good to see you, you gave me quite a scare. How are you?”

“Well, as you see, chatting with the whole crew,” the old workman replied, while his companions continued to talk cheerfully. “You look very pale, as if you had not seen the sun for moons. Tell me, by any chance, you didn’t do anything funny that sent you to Carnation, did you?”

I huffed, making a vague gesture.

“Nah. I don’t know any flies.”

“Oh? Well, that’s just as well,” Fiks smiled, with the face of one who wants to say that, altogether, it’s none of his business. “Anyway, I know you’re a good guy!”

I smiled back at him, and then I saw familiar figures beyond Fiks on the other side of the square. It was my namesake Swift with two of his band. And his watchful gwak gaze was upon me. Blasthell. Suddenly, I was fully aware of the coins in my pocket, I felt them in danger, and I threw:

“Well! Gotta go. Ayo, Fiks.”

I turned and ran out of the square and up a street in the direction of Atuerzo. At one point, I glanced back, and seeing that Swift was following me and fast, I widened my eyes, accelerated, and a dull fear came over me. My namesake was not called “Swift” for nothing, for in a few moments, he caught up with me and seized my arm.

“Hey, Sharpy! Why are you running?”

“Let me go!” I shouted at him.

Swift arched his eyebrows.

“Devils. What got into you?”

I glared at him and pulled to free myself. The red-haired elf let go of me, putting on a peaceful expression.

“Hey, namesake, you’re not giving me that face because of the goldies you gave me last time?”

“I didn’t give them to you, you stole them from me,” I growled.

I gritted my teeth as the two companions of Swift’s joined us. We had reached the street that ran along the remains of the Old Wall, right on the border with Atuerzo. There were quite a few passers-by, but they passed us without even glancing at us. I stepped back, glaring at Swift.

“Stay away from me, isturbag.”

I saw a mocking and exasperated glint in Swift’s eyes.

“I just wanted to say I’m glad you made it out of hell alive. And now, call me isturbag one more time and I’ll slap your face, shyur.”

I shrugged, and having already gone a good many paces away, I said to him:

“Demorjed!”

I turned my back on him and ran off. Fortunately for me, Swift did not pursue me this time.

When I arrived at the hospital, I left my seven siatos with a clerk, asked to see Rogan, and a young nurse led me to a large room full of beds and patients, where she left me to look for my friend. I wandered between the beds, and for a terrible moment, did not see him, and thought I would not find him. But then I saw him at the back, near the window which looked out on to a courtyard. He was lying asleep, his skin so pale it was frightening to see. I knelt beside him and looked at the bandage, and then I looked back at his face. I touched his forehead and concentrated. By dint of my insistence, despite the sokwata skin that protected him from my spells, I managed to find a way to speed up the transformation of the morjas in his bones and turn it into jaypu. It wasn’t much, but it always helped a little, or so my nakrus master said. When I had almost completely consumed my energy stem, I whispered to him:

“Priest, you’re going to be fine. My ancestors told me so, and though I do not know them, they are not mistaken. He who does not believe me is a miscreant!”

I smiled as I realized that I had unconsciously imitated his excited tone. In the room, the murmurs of the nurses and the complaints of the awake patients could be heard. After a moment’s silence, I stood up and realized that the boy in the bed next to Rogan’s was looking at me with a sarcastic expression. I frowned, as if to say, “Whatcha lookin’ at?”, and he seemed that, in the end, he was going to keep silent, but then he let out:

“Gwak.”

I arched my eyebrows. It wasn’t the first time I’d heard that word used as an insult, but it was the first time a kid had said it to me like that, as if he was worth more because he had parents and I was less because I didn’t. Well, hell, I wasn’t. Several lines went through my head, some of them quite good, like “nail-pinching shrimp”, or “unlicked cub”, but in the end I preferred not to make a scandal: I straightened up and ignored him as decently as I could.

“Priest,” I said in a low voice. “I’m sorry the company isn’t as good at the hospital as it is at the well. But you’ll see how you’re getting back in a peace-and-virtue, and soon you’ll tell us one of your stories, and I’ll make a song out of it.” I smiled. “I’ll come back tomorrow and bring you an apple. You said it was your favorite fruit. Or maybe a flower. I already know which one. A moonflower. My master said it was good for everything. Except… in the valley there were many, but here I haven’t seen any. Don’t worry, if I don’t find one, I’ll bring you something else, okay?”

Rogan, of course, did not answer. But I was sure he had heard me. Finally, with a sigh, I walked away. And I held back from punching the bandaged leg of the nail-pinching shrimp. Because I was an honorable gwak, and proud of it.