Ceramic bottles clinked against each other against a backdrop of sizzling stoves and deafening chatter. The restaurant was as busy as ever. The approaching threat of the Darktide didn’t seem to discourage the appetite of the Nameless Town ruffians. If anything, the thought of impending death seemed to fuel their blood thirst and lust for the vices. Sales of the moonshine Old Fatt brewed in the basement had never been higher.
Vardan wiped the sweat from his brow as he wiped down tables, took orders from the customers and shuttled food from the kitchen. He was still as good-looking as ever, but between the dirt smeared on his face, the ragged clothes he was wearing and his long, matted hair, he looked just like any another urchin working another part-time job.
He was a really good worker too. He remembered all the orders perfectly, was quick on his feet and always made sure no one waited too long for their food. He was so good, in fact, that Adil would sulk and pout whenever he showed up, because Old Fatt would not stop comparing the two of them whenever Vardan came to help. Adil often ended up having to wash the dishes in the back of the kitchen because Vardan was just so much better than him at all the other jobs.
Fortunately for Adil, he didn’t have to stay squatting over the tub full of dirt plates for the whole day. Three men arrived at the restaurant, one bald, one skinny and one with a rat perched on his shoulder. Vardan quickly approached them and cleared a table for them to sit down.
As he leaned over to wipe the table, he whispered discreetly to the man with the rat, “I thought we agreed: just you and me for these meetings.”
The man stroked the rat as it nibbled on a piece of mystery meat he took out from a pouch. He looked at the rat adoringly as he replied, “Fat chance of that after what you pulled a few days ago. I don’t want to be the next dog that gets put down in the streets.”
The mention of dogs caused Vardan to pause for a brief second. He had not talked with Hakimi since the incident that day. He knew they had made an impression with the bandits— his informants had told him as much— but he didn’t expect this reaction from Zhang Mo Yu.
“You’ve heard about it?”
Vardan’s gaze casually swept across Zhang Mo Yu and his two companions. While Zhang Mo Yu seemed awfully relaxed and laidback, his companions clearly did not share his attitude. Their backs were tight with tension and their hands hovered close to their weapons.
“Half the town’s heard about it at this point, I reckon.”
Vardan swept the last of the food waste off the table and looked into Zhang Mo Yu’s eyes as he said, “And you’re scared?”
The faint smile faded from the weathered bandit’s face, morphing into a scowl. He leaned forward and replied, “Not in the slightest.”
“Good. Now let’s talk business,” Vardan held eye contact for a brief second, before putting on his best service smile and saying, “Three bottles of rice wine, one fried fish, sweet and sour shrimps and oyster mushrooms, yes? I will be back with your drinks shortly.”
As Vardan walked away to the kitchen, however, he couldn’t help but notice. Zhang Mo Yu only had one rat on him. The bandit usually kept more than three or four of those rodents on him at any one time. If he only has one rat with him now, it meant that the others were likely standing guard or scouting the area. Zhang Mo Yu was a lot more wary than he was willing to let on.
Vardan frowned slightly as he relayed the orders to Old Fatt and took out three wine bottles. He hated to admit it, but Hakimi’s actions were working exactly the way he intended them to. The small bandit groups had mostly given up after the incident that day. His sources told him that most of them had simply returned to more profitable ventures, but a big driving force behind it was the fact the increased risk to their plans. The lines between cat and mouse had started to blur in the little game they had been playing. Thanks to that, there had not been any retaliation against the urchins, even though some of the bandits suspected their involvement in helping Vardan and his gang. If even Zhang Mo Yu was wary of him, it meant that they had indeed managed to establish a reputation for themselves as a force to be reckoned with.
Vardan returned to Zhang Mo Yu’s table with his drinks and subtly dropped off a pouch in the middle of the table. Zhang Mo Yu was unusually forthright today and gave him all the information he wanted. A few of the large gangs were taking notice of them and were starting to gather information. Fang Chen Yu had been particularly elusive as of late, hardly spotted outside of his palace at all. A few other pieces of news and gossip on the tension and conflicts between the various bandit groups. He made no mention of extra payments nor any veiled threats or attempts at verbal jousting with Vardan this time, unlike their usual meetings, something that Vardan took note of.
Zhang Mo Yu and his companions left half an hour later, after they had finished their meal. Vardan quickly cleaned up the table and shuttled off a few more orders before saying goodbye to Old Fatt and Adil. Vardan sighed as he moved through the tunnels, heading back for home base. He was still bitter with Hakimi for what he did, in front of the other children, no less. He knew Hakimi only did what he did for the benefit of everyone, but even now he thought it was wrong. Nevertheless, he could not deny that Hakimi’s actions had kept them all safe for now.
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As he walked past the dimly lit limestone walls of the passages, Vardan couldn’t help but wonder if Hakimi was right after all. Perhaps there was no room for idealism in a world as dark and shadowed as theirs.
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Hakimi picked at the edges of the page absentmindedly. He was trying his best to decipher the readings, seeing if he had mispronounced something in the spell, or if there was some other hidden interpretation that he had missed, but he simply couldn’t focus. It was bad enough that he still had not managed to figure out the spell, but worst of all, the atmosphere in the mines was very stiff.
Hakimi didn’t typically pay attention to these sorts of things. Social interactions were a chore to him and he would rather be alone most days, but it was difficult when morale was affected. The novelty of being free children was starting to wear off, the mines were running dry and everyone was in a bad mood. Just the other day, Osman and a bunch of the other Malay kids almost got into a fight with Han Yang and his clique. It was allegedly over a particular empty mining cart that someone had reserved and another person had taken without asking, but as dull as he was when it came to these things, Hakimi knew the truth.
The tension was a direct result of his fight with Vardan. The two of them had not spoken since and mostly went about their tasks without any discussion. On the rare occasion that some sort of second opinion or advice was needed, Vardan would just send Han Yang as his messenger instead. Hakimi did the petty thing and responded by having Osman be his messenger as well.
The other kids had picked up on the cold war and the mood had been pretty down for the past few days. The younger kids knew something was wrong, but didn’t know what to do about it. Meanwhile, the older kids like Osman and Han Yang started to blame each other’s leader for the fallout. Like it or not, they started picking sides and the tensions and rivalries that had been previously been put to rest were starting to burn once more.
It was a shame to see that and Hakimi felt guilty for being part of the reason this was happening, especially since the two distinct groups were finally starting to get along with each other. He tried to talk to Osman about the rivalry with Han Yang and his clique to no avail. He didn’t know if what he did back then had been the right thing to do. Vardan was the one with all the information on the outside world and since they weren’t on speaking terms, Hakimi had no idea what the effect of his little stunt had been.
What was for certain, however, was the nightmares he had been having. Vardan was right. He saw the men he killed in his dreams. Over and over, the same few minutes replaying without stop or pause in his mind until he woke up, screaming and flailing in the middle of the night, face as white as a sheet. Hakimi had expected as much. He never once regretted his actions. He knew Vardan was right, but he knew that this was a price he had to pay to protect what he had to protect.
Hakimi closed the book together. He had more important things to do than wallow in his thoughts. Finding the next ore vein was of the utmost priority. He closed his eyes and focused, trying his best to enunciate every single word of the spell as accurately as he could. He tried several times and nothing happened at all. No vision, no strange feeling in his stomach, no magic.
Suddenly, a small hand tapped him on the shoulder. Hakimi froze and leapt to his feet. He turned around and saw a familiar face staring at him.
“You okay?” said Ru Meng in stiff, unnatural Malay.
Hakimi sighed and replied, “I’m fine.”
The two of them stared at each other for a few dozen seconds of awkward silence as Ru Meng squinted and frowned, like he was trying to get something out of his mouth.
“If you have something to say, just say it normally,” Hakimi said in Mandarin.
Ru Meng gave up and started speaking properly, “Sorry, I’m still learning. Arjun and Hafiz have been trying their best to teach me, but I’m still having trouble learning. I’m…not very smart.”
“What do you want?” Hakimi said brusquely. He didn’t not like the kid. He just didn’t know what to do with him most of the time. The thing with his father was unfamiliar territory with him and Hakimi genuinely didn’t know what to say to Ru Meng, even though he felt sorry for him. He didn’t know how to help him either.
“The…the uh…spell. Do you need help?”
Hakimi looked down at the spell book and back at Ru Meng. He forgot he could ask for help, with everything that had been happening around here recently. He nodded.
“Go ahead and recite it,” said Ru Meng.
Hakimi recited the spell loudly and nothing happened.
Ru Meng tilted his head and frowned.
“I don’t think I can help,” he said after a long pause, “It’s different from the spells I’ve learned. A different language, I think. Like Malay and Mandarin.”
Hakimi sighed and said, “I expected as much. It’s fine. I’ll figure it out on my own.”
“But I think there’s something you can try. My father, he…he used to tell me that my spells weren’t working not because I was chanting it wrong, but because I didn’t understand the proper meaning behind the words. Not just the meaning of the words themselves, but what the words are trying to say, if that makes sense,” said Ru Meng as he rubbed his arms awkwardly, “Sorry, I’m not very good at explaining things.”
Hakimi paused for a moment and flipped through the pages once more. Perhaps there was something to what Ru Meng was saying. The passages he was reciting appeared to be some sort of allegory, some reference to a story in the Quran, but he never really thought about the meaning behind them. What was the message or moral it was trying to convey?
“No, that’s helpful, Ru Meng. Thank you. I’ll give it a try.”
Hakimi turned away and started thinking about the text in the book.
“Actually, Hakimi, there’s something I want to talk to you about, if it’s okay?”
Hakimi turned back once more and looked at the shy kid in surprise.