81. I became a convicted traitor

With a delicious loaf of bread between my teeth, I was sitting on the grass with Rogan, my cronies, and Little Wolf, and was giving each of them a necklace, both deeply solemn and joyful, when suddenly I was awakened, shaken by the shoulders.

“Sharpy!” a voice whispered in my ear.

More asleep than awake, I recognized Diver’s voice. Without even opening my eyes, I stammered sleepily:

“What’s up?”

Diver huffed.

“Are you for real? Have you forgotten Frashluc?”

Immediately, discouragement and bitterness came over me, and I wanted to return to my necklaces and my delicious bread… Another push and a pinch. I gave a grunt and grabbed Diver by the arm.

“The Crazy Nut,” I croaked, in a bad mood. “That’s where the tunnel starts. That’s all I know.”

I crossed my arms and buried my face in them again. I heard a sigh from Diver. Then I heard nothing more: I was back in the world of dreams. Only this time I dreamed that I was in a tunnel with two great dragon eyes at the bottom, and the rocks were falling and falling and crushing me… And I was dying, but not all at once, it was a slow agony with fear in my guts… a terrible fear! I woke up drenched in sweat, trembling and with a racing heart.

As soon as I calmed down, I wondered if Diver had really come to see me that night or if I had dreamed it. Not being able to tell left me confused. It wouldn’t be the first time I’d dreamed I’d woken up and gone to sleep without waking up for real. Finally, I shrugged and looked at Little Wolf who was playing next to me, nibbling on Master’s skull. It was a sign that he was hungry. I ruffled his hair.

“Ayo, ayo, Little Wolf. Are you hungry?” The blond boy nodded energetically. “Well, let’s do something about it.”

It had been daylight for hours, but Manras and Dil were still asleep. I got up, and only then did I realize that the cloak was gone, and the boots were no longer where I had left them. I turned and looked for Arik, but could not find him. In fact, more than half of my companions had already left. I fiddled with Arik’s black stone in my pocket, sighed, and after a quick examination of my wounds, I roused my cronies from their slumber by singing a: Larilan, larilon, hey, Spring, come out now, bombumbim… They awoke and the four of us left the Bivouac. We reached the street which bordered the rocky area when I saw the Priest trotting up the hill, hiding something under his coat.

“Good thing you’re here!” he greeted us with a big smile. “I bought you guys breakfast. Yesterday I harvested well, and since you were hungry, Sharpy, my ancestors told me: be generous and give to the hungry soul. Here, here: it’s good, rye bread.”

I couldn’t help but let out an exclamation of joy when I saw the loaf of bread. My mouth was already full and my eyes half closed with pleasure when I said:

“Good mother, thank you, Priest. I owe you one.”

“Blasthell. I owe you more than one for what you did at the hospital,” he replied.

I rolled my eyes. The Priest would never forget what I had done for him in the hospital. The five of us left no crumb, and after wandering the area a bit, we headed for the Tarmil Quarter. I was barely limping now.

After such breakfast and because there was a festive atmosphere in the town, we naturally gave free rein to our whims. I had already betrayed Korther, I no longer had to fear Frashluc, and therefore my conscience was almost completely clear. So we strolled down Tarmil Avenue from shop to shop and fountain to fountain, met Swift and the vampire on the Esplanade, and the kap informed us that in the morning he had sold the elven cloak—apparently with Arik’s consent. He had made a good sum of money from it, with which he had bought appropriate clothing for the newcomer, including a muffler. He did not tell us where the rest of the money had gone.

We made the most of the day. We begged a little, but only a little: we spent the rest of the time walking through the crowded streets, buying a can of paint from a vendor, and painting our faces and even our arms. We also drew two black circles around Arik’s eyes. At first, he didn’t want to, but nothing is more convincing than a troop of gwaks determined to see all their comrades, especially the new ones, do the same. As with everything: insist and conquer. Besides, the vampire was a quick learner, and by the time the parade rolled around, he was already able to say: blasthell, great, it’s ragingly good and ayo, comrades! Among other things. At first, he looked shy and serious, but gradually he loosened up, and by afternoon, he was up for all our gwakeries: he snatched a flower necklace hanging on a door, splashed people near a fountain, pulled the tails of the parade horses… The only thing he didn’t do was spit on the boots of the nail-pinchers because he said that his spit attracted attention because of the smell. In the end, vampire or not, he was a kid like the rest of us.

I yawned. There were about ten of us sitting on the grass of the Evening Park. The afternoon was drawing to a close, the air was cool, and yet the place was crowded with walkers. We had drawn lots to see who would have to beg for a ball like the one those children playing a little further on had, and it had fallen on Manras, so the little dark elf was now turning around, holding out his hand to passers-by. For the moment, he wasn’t having much success. When a group of people passed by him, basically jostling him out of the way, I laughed.

“You’re letting the customers slip away, demorjed! At this rate, we’ll have the ball in the summer!”

I said it in a cheerful tone, but Manras gave me a nervous pout and looked distressed at the nail-pinchers. I rolled my eyes and said:

“Bah, forget it already and come back!”

Anyway, it was clear that we were not going to get the balloon before nightfall even if we joined all our savings.

As the sky darkened, I saw the owner of the balloon say goodbye to his friends and walk away with his family. I glanced at Manras’ scowling face and gave him a mocking push.

“Forget about the ball. That’s all nail-pincher stuff. We got better stuff!”

I placed the rodaria stick between my teeth and lay down on the grass. The Gem was already shining in the sky, and we could see the stars.

“Better stuff?” Manras questioned. “What better stuff?”

Damba, Venoms, and Lin had already gone back to the Bivouac, and now it was just Rogan, my cronies, Arik, Syrdio, Little Wolf, and me. I raised my hand and pointed to the dark sky with a broad gesture.

“This. Freedom. Nobody tells us when to stop playing.”

There was a silence during which the voices of passers-by were heard. Then Dil said:

“Nobody tells the dead either.”

We snorted and laughed.

“Round,” I admitted. “But they’re spirits, it’s not the same.”

Syrdio intervened, mockingly:

“You don’t think those nail-pincher’s kids would want to take your place, do you, Sharpy?”

I pouted and twisted my mouth a few times.

“Bah. Well, no,” I admitted. “They’re lucky. But that doesn’t make us be less than them, does it?”

Rogan cleared his throat.

“He who compares himself to his neighbor will have only eternal sorrow,” he quoted.

I shrugged and sighed.

“Bah. What do I know. Anyway, we’re lucky too. We’re alive. And we weren’t born stupid. That’s why I think we should study.”

A sudden idea lit up my face with a smile.

“Study?” Rogan repeated. “I always liked to study. I went to school with the priests,” he reminded us. “And one of them once said to me, ‘Rogan, you could become a minister’. Can you believe it?”

I do not know whether I believed him, but he had told us the story so many times that I was going to believe him for good. As the Priest opened his mouth with some new inspiration, I stood up abruptly and said energetically:

“We’re going to study. Now. It’s a holiday, it’s the perfect day,” I argued. “Come on, let’s go.”

I had taken them all by surprise.

“Sharpy, where are you going?” Manras wondered when he saw me standing.

I smiled broadly.

“To the National Library. Come on, shyurs!”

I started to walk away, holding Little Wolf’s hand, and I heard Syrdio’s laughter.

“You’re losing it, Sharpy!”

I came back to pull Arik by the sleeve and say:

“Not at all. Arik will open us up. He has a magic wand. It’s going to be amazing. Have you ever seen shelves full of books? I have. But I want you to see them. Come on, come on, don’t be slackers, to study you have to be pers… persev… I mean, you’ve gotta have guts and work super hard, and if you don’t move your shanks, you’re not going to get anything in life. Onward!”

I pulled Arik, and my cronies followed me, intrigued. Rogan did the same, looking more reserved, and Syrdio said as he joined us:

“If you get caught, you’re in big trouble, shyurs! All to see some damn books you can’t even read.”

“You bet I can!” I replied.

“You can read books for real? Yeah sure,” Syrdio retorted. “You may be a wizard, but you’re just a gwak.”

I faced him, my eyebrows furrowed. He added:

“Get real, shyur. You’re not going to make yourself a scholar by walking into the library one night. But if you want to be a smartass, that’s your problem.”

“Wouldn’t it be better to wisen yourself somewhere else that’s not under surveillance?” Rogan intervened. “At the temple, for example. At this hour, they must still be celebrating the arrival of spring. And on the altar, there’s always a copy of the Holy Book. Surely you haven’t even read it.”

That Syrdio should oppose me was not unexpected, but the Priest? I looked at them both, puzzled. Was my idea so far-fetched? I just wanted to learn! Then Arik asked in Caeldric:

“What’s going on?”

I sighed and glanced at the vampire thoughtfully. He hadn’t understood a thing. Rogan added:

“Let’s go to the Bivouac. From there, the fireworks can be seen super well. Let’s go, ’kay?”

I sighed again, disappointed. As my companions started walking out of the park, I took Little Wolf on my shoulders and followed them, taciturn. After a silence, I asked Arik in an innocent tone:

“How does your magic wand work?”

* * *

The next afternoon, I entered a clothing store for nail-pinchers, behind a tall woman and her two sons, sneaked behind some shelves, and taking advantage of the fact that the saleswoman had not yet seen me, I hid behind a large crate covered with piles of cloth. Once there, I waited. I waited until my muscles went numb and the excitement of the theft wore off. Night fell. And the store closed. I waited a long time, listening for the slightest noise, and then I came out of my hiding place. I stalked to the counter, avoiding the stacks and shelves, groped around, and finally found the cash register. I took out the magic key and inserted it into the lock. I activated the magara, which warped into the shape of the proper key, turned, and the box opened. I immediately withdrew the magara, for Arik had warned me that it could get stuck in the lock. I looked inside the crate and held my breath. There were at least thirty siatos in coins and bills in there. I swiped it all. I opened the exit door and left like the wind, surrounded by harmonic shadows. I didn’t come out any more knowledgeable or erudite, but I now had enough money to pay off my debt to Swift and even hire a tutor for a whole moon. Wasn’t that a genius idea!

As spring was coming, Swift had decided to change shelter. The Bivouac was good for not freezing to death, because the ground was always warm, but it was a lethal hell of sharp rocks: the day before, without going further back, Little Wolf had been on the verge of breaking his bones, and only the Priest’s reflexes had saved him. So we had moved to a dead end of the Labyrinth, property of those of Frashluc. In exchange for promises of certain privileges—such as a safe haven or cheaper rodaria—we compromised to work for them, whether as simple “eyes”, professional beggars, bootblackers, or merchants: anything was good. Up to that point, Swift had always tried to avoid any compromise, but they had obviously changed his mind. And I, as a member of the gang, followed suit. I thought that maybe this way the Black Daggers wouldn’t know where to look for me anymore. I didn’t like the idea of continuing to work for Frashluc, but hadn’t I promised to be loyal in exchange for the Black Hawk’s death? Well, for once, I was keeping my word.

It took me a good two hours to get to the shelter, because I was careful. I didn’t want the loot to be taken from me. I finally reached the dead end and, placing the money in such a way that no one could take it from me without my noticing, I settled down to sleep, rich as a nail-pincher. And I slept.

Over the next few days, I set about finding a teacher who would be willing to teach not only me but a whole group of gwaks. The first was a wise old woman from the Cats. She came to the shelter for three days every afternoon to teach us things, until I bought a small slate and chalk for her to draw letters for us and it turned out that the old woman could not write. That would have really annoyed me if the old woman hadn’t been a kind and sympathetic soul, so I said to her: thank you, grandma, but we want to study with a real teacher. And I sent her away.

I fired two other less friendly crooks before coming to the conclusion that, in the Cat Quarter, I was not going to find any educated sajit. So I went to Tarmil.

By this point, my loot had dwindled considerably. First, Swift had kept ten siatos as the kap. Then I had to change the paper money for hard cash, and Frashluc’s men took a good share. I had a total of thirty goldies left. Thirty goldies to become a knowledgeable man.

Finally, I thought of my brother Skelrog. He was a schoolmaster: he certainly knew a lot. It was the first Kindday of Straw Moon. After making an errand to the Swashbuckler, I went straight to Passage School, not without remembering to pass far from The Crazy Nut, just in case. The school was deserted. Was I late? I was about to turn back, disappointed, soaked in the spring rain, when I saw two figures talking near the school’s service door, under the courtyard. It was Skelrog, with Kakzail. Perhaps alerted by my sudden immobility, the two brothers turned their eyes to me. I took a step to the side, suddenly filled with apprehension. If they caught me, ayo freedom. All things considered, was it worth telling Skelrog about my scholarly aspirations? It was rather risky.

“Ashig?” Kakzail snapped, surprised.

I turned around and ran away, calling myself a demorjed. Why on earth had I gone to Passage School if I was going to run away as soon as I got there? Triple demorjed.

I was still running when, unexpectedly, I was tripped, and just as I was about to sprawl in a puddle, arms grabbed me before I hit the ground and dragged me to a dead end. When I looked up, I felt as good as dead. It was Yal. My master had a look on his face that did not bode well.

“Elassar…” I gasped.

“No Elassar here,” he replied briskly. He shoved me, and as I struggled to catch my balance, he hissed: “You are the worst sari I could have had. You have shamed the whole brotherhood and deceived us all. Korther can do nothing more for you, Mor-eldal, do you understand? He has expelled you for good.”

I bowed my head. Guilt gnawed at my insides. After a silence, Yal made a sudden, altered gesture.

“Aren’t you going to say anything?”

I bit my upper lip nervously, raising and lowering my head in agitation. The disappointment that shone in my master’s eyes was so penetrating that I wanted to slap myself.

“Korther thinks he knows how you escaped,” Yal added in a voice from beyond the grave. “If you tell us where the…boy who went out with you is, he’ll spare your life.”

I looked up sharply. How the hell did they know about Arik?

“I ran away by myself,” I replied.

Yal gritted his teeth and breathed in to calm himself.

“Some Undergrounders are looking for him. And they are willing to leave the tunnel intact if we bring them the vam… the boy. He was wearing an elven cloak. And we know one was sold in the Cats not long ago. We don’t know who sold it yet, but… it won’t be long before we find out. And if it turns out he’s with you, Draen, that would be the last straw. Look, this boy is not a normal boy.”

I rolled my eyes and said:

“No idea where the hell is that gwak. There’re only normal people in my gang.”

Yal shook me by the shoulders with intense exasperation.

“You don’t realize the situation you’re in, Draen! You’re playing with your life.”

I saw movement behind my master… and my eyes widened. Kakzail was there, standing at the entrance to the dead end. Who knows what he had heard? Alerted by my gaze, Yal turned around and more or less regained his composure, calling out:

“Well, well. Kakzail Malaxalra. What a surprise.”

My older brother drummed on the pommel of his sword.

“What’s a Capitol official and a gwak doing in an alley? Or perhaps I should say two Black Daggers.”

I snorted.

“One Black Dagger. I’m not one anymore.”

And saying this, I tried to go round my master and make a way for myself by pretending to walk quietly, and then I went like an arrow. I avoided Kakzail’s hand and disappeared down the street.

The goal of going to rescue Arik kept me from any pessimistic thoughts about that “you’re playing with your life” and Korther’s threat of death. I went deep into the Labyrinth and made sure no one was following me before returning to the shelter. Arik wasn’t there. I waited impatiently. I saw my cronies return, and eventually the whole gang. And every time a companion arrived, I jumped up and down and said, “What about Arik?”. Nothing, they didn’t know where he was.

Increasingly convinced that he had been caught, I felt a relief of a thousand demons when I heard Swift’s voice and saw his figure with that of the vampire. I rushed forward.

“Arik! You must leave. The prince knows you’re here.”

The vampire’s blue eyes shone in the light of the small fire.

“How?” he said. “How does he know?”

I grimaced.

“Because of the Black Daggers. And because of the elven cloak that was sold. Come. I’ll take you somewhere safe.”

I told Swift what was happening, and without further ado, we planned our escape. We would go to the Crypt, but to do that, we had to cross one of the bridges. We chose the Moon Bridge, the closest and most direct path, and within minutes we were on our way.

As we moved forward, I gave Arik some advice:

“If you come across a nadre or a wolf, you climb a tree. Since you’re a vampire, I’m not telling you not to eat berries and mushrooms you don’t know. But I guess that goes for animals you don’t know. You go on towards the Rising Sun, to the mountains. If you want to come back, if I were you, I would at least wait for a moon, because knowing how nosy the Black Daggers are…”

I chatted on and on until we came to Moon Square. There I hid my face well without slowing my pace. It was already dark, it had stopped raining, and the Moon and the Gem lit up the sky. In the darkness, I saw a suspicious figure on the other side of the main square. Anyone else would not have noticed it, but I was on the lookout. I stopped in the shadows of a building and whispered to Arik:

“I think they’re watching the bridge.”

“The Black Daggers?” the vampire inquired.

I nodded.

“We should split up,” I suggested. “The Black Daggers might recognize me. As I told you, the forest is straight ahead, you can’t go wrong.”

Arik nodded, tense.

“Thank you.”

I smiled.

“You’re welcome. By the way, your mother’s stone. I almost forgot about it. Will you leave me the wand? In the forest, you won’t find any locked doors…”

“It runs,” Arik said in Drionsan. He hesitantly accepted the stone and handed me back the music necklace. He articulated, “Swift told me: ‘he made a fool of you with that necklace’. Is that true?”

I swallowed.

“Er… Swift, that scoundrel,” I croaked. “That scaluftard was talking nonsense. Anyway, the important thing is that we’re buddies and we’ve helped each other out, right?”

Arik’s eyes smiled.

“Yeah. I guess so,” he admitted in Caeldric. “You know? If it wasn’t for the prince…I would have stayed.”

The confession brought a smile to my face.

“Natural,” I said in Drionsan. “Even vampires need comrades.” I patted him on the shoulder and pointed with my chin to a group of people heading toward the bridge. “Mingle with that group over there, and you’ll cross as invisible as a spirit.”

Arik breathed in, nodded, and then began to walk towards the bridge. He stopped after a few steps just to say:

“Ayo.”

My smile widened.

“Ayo, ayo! Take care of yourself.”

At that moment, I had the funny impression that I had taken the place of my nakrus master and Arik had taken mine: I was staying at home, and he was going off to explore the world.

As the vampire began to cross the bridge among the passersby, I walked around the square to get closer and make sure the young vampire would arrive safely on the other side. I kept watching the suspicious-looking one out of the corner of my eye. Now he didn’t look so suspicious to me. He was relaxed, smoking a pipe near the bridge. When I lost sight of Arik, I said to myself: it’s time to go. And I turned back, just in time to see two figures heading straight for me. One of them looked familiar. I jumped up like a squirrel and ran down the quay to the river. One of them blocked my way by taking a shortcut through another street, and I changed my course, but the other blocked my way. I was trapped. I jumped aboard one of the barges moored there. There were several lines and I could continue to run from barge to barge. If only I could make it to the canal near the Mill Prison, maybe I could lose them.

My bare feet made almost no noise on the wood. The boots of my two pursuers, however, were clearly audible. Now that I remembered Yal’s words, I had no doubt about the intentions of these guys. They had been sent to kill me. Korther had had enough of me, I had betrayed him too many times, what I had done was unforgivable. They’d kicked me out of the Brotherhood, and I knew the location of the new Hostel, I knew Korther, Aberyl, and Rolg were demons, and to top it all off, I was a necromancer monster… Let’s just say they had more than enough reason to kill me.

I was ragingly lucky: I just happened to pass a barge-tavern where a wedding party was taking place and managed to slip away in the middle of the crowd. I legged it along the canal and came upon some boys I knew from Fairbank Pension. I said to them:

“Ayo, the flies are chasing me, please cover me!”

They all understood, and as they resumed their daily cork race, one of them lent me his coat, we exchanged hats, I rubbed my face with ashes and became unrecognizable. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my pursuers continuing their race down a random street. I was pretty sure that one of them was Aberyl.

After complaining to the companions of Fairbank Pension about those flies that kept poisoning the gwaks, I said:

“I owe you one, comrades. If you ever want to buy anything in the market over there in the Cats, don’t hesitate, I’ll act as a middleman and give you a discount. Ask after Sharpy. I’m pretty well known in the neighborhood.”

I played a cork race with them, in case the Black Daggers came back. And indeed they did come back, but they paid no more attention to us on the way back than on the way out. So when I thought I was safe at last, I took my coat and cap, said “ayo” to them, and returned to the Cats by a circuitous route.

The closer I got to the shelter, the more my thoughts swirled in my head and the more fear came back to oppress me. Because I knew that, if the Black Daggers hadn’t caught me tonight, they’d catch me in at most two, three, four days maybe, and if they were going to pop me off in such a short time, honestly, I’d almost be better off leaving with Arik.

So I arrived at the shelter trembling, and as the companions wanted to know if the escape had gone well, they all noticed my condition.

“Did he get caught?” Swift worried.

I shook my head and rubbed my chest, as if that could rub off the fear.

“No. He’s gone. I was the one they almost got.”

“The Black Daggers?” the Priest asked.

I nodded mechanically and stammered:

“They want to pop me off. I should… turn myself in. After all, I deserve it.”

Swift let out a gasp, grabbed me by the shoulders, and shook me.

“Don’t be an isturbag. You won’t turn yourself in. Sit down and breathe, namesake.”

I sat down, but I repeated more fervently:

“I’ll turn myself in. I betrayed my cousin. He was my master. I’ve been such a bastard. All because of that isturbag of Frashluc. I hate him, I hate him, I hate him!”

I couldn’t control myself any longer, so I scratched myself until I bled. I wanted to claw my eyes out. I wanted to live, and at the same time, I wanted to die. I wanted to be left in peace! They pulled my hands away. I screamed in despair. And they calmed me down by putting drugs in my mouth. I was left spacey, but nevertheless, when Little Wolf came to me, I hugged him gently and rocked him to sleep. I didn’t sleep a wink all night, and in case I had any idea of sneaking out, they gave me another dose of dandepassion.

When I woke up around noon, I was still groggy. Manras and Dil knew that they didn’t have to work for food as long as I was with them, so they had been lazing around in the dead end. Unless it was because Swift had asked them to watch me. They were busy playing thumb wrestling. I barely looked up, wrapped my head in my blanket again, and pretended to be asleep. Now that my fit of despair and my apathetic state were over, my head was gradually waking up. My nakrus master used to say that when faced with a problem one should always look for a solution before giving in. So I spent the next few hours looking for one. After a while, Manras came and pulled me by the ear, saying, “Sharpy! We know you’re awake”. I rolled my eyes, sat up, ate some leftover lentils with bread, and spent the afternoon with my cronies and Little Wolf.

As I knew that my outburst the day before had shocked my friends, I made an effort to release my good humor and show them that I had not gone mad. For though it was true that I had betrayed and disappointed some of my loved ones, I still had other loved ones who liked me, who were not angry with me, and who wanted me to play with them. So I sent my worries for the future to chase the clouds away and played with my companions.

We were busy drawing on the slate with the chalk—and I was saying to Manras “isturbag, you don’t spit to erase, you rub with your fist, you’re really an isturbag”— when a head appeared in the dead end, and I jumped to my feet.

“Diver!”

We welcomed him with joy and he came and sat down with a curious expression on his face.

“I was told about yesterday,” he said. He looked down with careful eyes at my right arm reddened by my scratches from the night before and shrugged, smiling. “I was going to offer you something, but I see you’re doing better.”

I looked at him eagerly.

“Offer me something? What?”

My friend shrugged again.

“Well… I’ve been offered something to keep you away from the Black Daggers. Are you interested?”

“If I am interested?” I cried, dumbfounded. “Ragingly!”

Diver continued:

“Delivering messages in Frashluc’s tunnels, running around like a maniac, breaking your back, cleaning out forbidden houses, doing everything you’re told… Are you still interested?”

I nodded vigorously: in the face of death, any such alternative was good enough. Diver smiled broadly.

“Great. So, are we partners?”

He raised his hand. My heart vibrating with relief and excitement, I bumped it and said:

“Partners!”