53. Rainy day for a diamond thief

It was raining heavily, and the wind was blowing as if it wanted to tear the Rock away. Le Bor would have said it was an excellent night for an escape. Maybe it was for a robbery too? At any rate, that’s what I was hoping for.

I waited for the watchman to pass on the street and enter the Stone Park. Then I came out of my hiding place and went to the cherry tree. It was losing its few remaining leaves. And the dead leaves on the ground were rustling together, carried by the wind. I climbed the trunk and stopped at the end of the branch nearest the window with the red curtains. I stretched out a hand for the glass. I knocked quietly. After a silence I gritted my teeth and knocked again. At last, I saw the shadow of a hand appear, the curtains moved, and the window opened.

“Is that you?” Lowen’s voice whispered.

I smiled and leapt inside.

“Ayo, Lowen,” I whispered. I glanced around, and as I saw that the boy was about to light a lantern, I hissed, “No way. Don’t light anything. You ready?”

“Uh…” Lowen cleared his throat. “I need to get dressed.”

I stopped groping for a small table. I think I was unconsciously looking for something interesting to slip into my pocket. All in all, Lowen was a good guy, and he would have let me take anything, wouldn’t he? I turned to him with the intention of asking then laughed under my breath. The little nail-pincher was in his nightgown.

“Hurry up, shyur,” I said.

And Lowen hurried up. He rummaged blindly in his drawers, fell halfway through putting on his trousers, and when he was finally slipping on his boots, I sat down beside him and said:

“Did you talk to my friend?”

Lowen nodded.

“Yes. I brought him everything he asked for. But I didn’t get to talk to him much.”

I smiled and patted him on the shoulder.

“Thank you, mate.”

I guessed his half shy, half conspiratorial smile, and then I stood up.

“Ready?”

Lowen exhaled sharply.

“Ready,” he affirmed.

He put on a coat, opened the window, and jumped on the cherry tree. It seemed that this was not the first time he had come down that way. And I confirmed my impression when, following him, I saw him close the window using a wire and a small outside latch. Once on the ground, we moved as quietly as we could away from Frashluc’s house.

“Are we going to the Cats?” Lowen asked.

The question was stupid: we were already going down the stairs to the neighborhood. Nevertheless, I replied:

“Natural.”

I took him to the same dead end where I had done my explorations. It was a hellish night, and we didn’t come across a single person. In the dead end, however, I could make out a heap curled up in an overturned barrel. A dog? No, a gwak. I decided to ignore him.

“Go up,” I said to Lowen.

He did not answer immediately. There was a noise, perhaps a shutter slamming or a tile falling. I saw the little nail-pincher flinch.

“Spirits,” he whispered. “Where am I to go up?”

I sighed and pointed to the gutter.

“This way. Up to the roof. It’s easy. You’ll see.”

Lowen tried. Certainly, it could not be said that he did not try. But he also complained.

“My hands are slipping.”

“Hang on,” I said.

“But everything is soaked,” he protested.

I sighed, impatient.

“If you can’t, you stay down here, shyur,” I warned him. “Watch.”

I pushed him away from the gutter and began to climb. When I reached the roof and looked down, I could see nothing. It was raining and windy, and a gust of wind nearly blew me off the roof. I hurried away from the edge. Good Mother, what a night.

I retrieved the hidden picklocks and waited a moment, not knowing whether Lowen would make it upstairs or not. No. He wasn’t coming. Well, it was almost a relief. I was already moving away on the roof when, through the wind, I heard a muffled scream. I retraced my steps, and when I saw Lowen hanging from the wing of the roof, I hurried to help him up. Luckily, unlike his grandfather, he was rather thin.

“Blasthell, Lowen,” I gasped. “You’re crazy. You can’t climb. You should have said so before. If you fall off, you pop yourself off, man.”

Lowen Frashluc did not answer; he was too busy recovering from his fright. I grabbed him by the sleeve.

“Forward.”

And we moved on. I soon found out that the little nail-pincher couldn’t walk on roofs either. And, of course, the weather did not help. But we got to the office window safe and sound. We sat down against the wall just as a flash of lightning lit up the whole sky. The thunder sounded like an explosion and seemed to tear the whole city apart.

“Good mother…” I grumbled. And I put my hands to my head, as if I could protect myself better from the weather.

“A… are you afraid?” Lowen asked.

He was obviously afraid. I cleared my throat and instead of lying to him, I raised a hand.

“This is the window to Korther’s office. And the diamond is inside.”

I didn’t know if it was really there, but I sounded so confident! I coughed.

“Help me get up there.”

I told him to get up. He got up. I climbed on him and heard him snort, and when I stood on his shoulders, I clung to the window sill. Through the whistling wind I heard distant bells. It was half past two at night. Okay. I reached into my pocket, and… Lowen slipped, and I ended up hanging on the ledge with one hand. I stomped around in vain, my hand slipped, and I fell back. Lowen groaned as he received my full weight. I hissed:

“Isturbag.”

We got to our feet, and this time, as soon as I was on his shoulders, I took out a stone, covered it with a silence spell, and praying that the magic trap would not be triggered again, I slammed it against the glass. It shattered. Bingo.

Leaning my elbows on the edge, I put my hand inside, taking care not to touch the window from the outside. I turned the handle. And I opened it. In fact, it was the wind that blew the panels open for good, pushing them wildly. I clutched the edge. No trap had been set off. It looked like Korther had not repaired the one I had activated in the afternoon.

I went inside, but I dared not go any further. I cast a perceptive spell across the room, but I didn’t know exactly why. Then I heard a:

“Hey!”

I sighed and leaned over to the window. Lowen was trying to pull himself up. He had guts, I had to admit. I helped him in and closed the panels. The wind coming through the broken glass whined like a wounded dog.

“What now?” Lowen muttered.

“We look for it,” I replied.

I performed a harmonic light spell and silently stepped forward in the room. Lowen had stayed behind to observe the beautiful quills that adorned Korther’s desk. I opened a drawer. I rummaged around. Nothing. I opened the wardrobe and found some clothes, some strange things, but no trace of the diamond. Where? Where could it be?

I opened all the drawers, lifted the rugs, climbed to the top of the wardrobe and cast a perceptive spell again, concentrating, looking for a strong flow of energy. The trouble was, there was more than one magara in this room. On the desk alone, there were quite a few, some were just trinkets, others couldn’t be worth much either, since they were in plain sight.

Then Lowen whispered:

“How about this?”

I frowned, climbed down from the wardrobe, and leaned in beside him. He was pointing to something under the desk. There, embedded in the wood, was a box. I groped around, looking for an opening. There was no lock. But there was certainly an opening. I did not doubt it, for my perceptive spell told me: there is a hole here, and another a bit further. And those holes were too well aligned for them to be defects in the wood. I also saw an energy trail. A trap. That was good news, because if there was a trap, maybe the Wind Tear was inside.

I tried to take the box out and then realized that it was pinned to the floor. I punched it impatiently and sighed.

‘No safe is completely safe,’ Yal had once told me. ‘That’s how you deal with a safe: you either take it with you or you open it.’

Well, obviously, this one was going to have to be opened. The problem was that I didn’t know how. Besides, at any moment, I could activate the trap unwittingly and, bam, I could very well die, who knows.

I cast a spell of light and watched the cracks. I looked at them for a while, then my spell lost its intensity, and I rebuilt it. To my amazement, the light barely pierced the darkness. I coughed, sneezed, and grunted.

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“Lowen. There’s a bottle of phosphorus over there by the door. Get a candle and light it, will you?”

“But your harmonic light works very well,” Lowen marveled.

“I can’t see well enough,” I insisted.

In fact, I could hardly see anything. Lowen huffed and reached for the box.

“I can perfectly see it, though. It’s a riddle opening. It works a bit like a safe with numbers, but it’s a bit different. My father gave me a box like that, but much smaller. I keep my marbles in it. Well, just the ones I like the most, not all of them—”

“Good mother, will you bring me some light?” I interrupted. We were in Korther’s office, and the little nail-pincher was talking to me about his marbles!

I sat cross-legged under the desk. When Lowen returned, I was feeling as if I had been told I was about to die. I was shaking from head to toe.

“I think… we have a problem,” I said.

“Yes. That candle doesn’t give much light,” Lowen acknowledged.

“The problem isn’t the candle,” I muttered, gasping. “It’s this box.”

“Leave it to me, I can open it,” Lowen assured.

I shook my head and pushed him aside.

“Don’t touch it. You don’t understand. Blasthell, I’m blind! I can’t see.”

“What?” Lowen stammered.

“I can’t see,” I hissed, altered. “That box had a damn trap. And I don’t know how it works…”

For a few moments, all that could be heard was the wind and the rain against the windows.

“I can feel it,” Lowen murmured suddenly. “There’s something in the air. Something that stings the eyes.”

My eyes didn’t sting. They were burning. I took out a handful of asofla and put it all in my mouth. Lowen said:

“Now I can’t see anything, either.”

I sighed as I chewed and suggested:

“Maybe, if we get away, it will get better.”

Grabbing each other, we stepped out from under the desk and moved to a corner of the room. We waited a moment, and then I asked:

“Do you still have the candle lit?”

“In principle, but I still can’t see anything,” Lowen admitted. He cleared his throat. “I thought you Black Daggers learned how to deactivate traps.”

I swallowed.

“Yeah… But, what do you want, I’m not an expert.”

Lowen sighed.

“We should come back another day. Two blind thieves stealing is ridiculous.”

I laughed quietly.

“Dead round. But we can’t stop. We have to open this box. If we leave here without the Tear, we’ll never find it. And if we don’t find it, Frashluc will kill my friend, he’ll kill me, and he won’t give the eight hundred and forty gold back to Le Bor, and… and, if I pop off, so will Little Wolf, and, then, Coldpalm will chase me to the hell of death, she told me… Of course, you don’t care. I don’t know why you’re meddling in this, shyur. If you want to run away, do it. I’m staying.”

I had a coughing fit which was not exactly discreet. When I calmed down, I moved away from the wall and walked blindly towards the desk. Then I heard a creak. A sudden draught caused a noisy cascade of papers. And someone called out:

“Pathetic.”

I stopped dead in my tracks, staring into space. I recognized the voice. It was Rolg.

“Pathetic and unbelievable,” the voice of Aberyl intervened. A door was heard to close. “Tell me, kid. What the hell are you doing here?”

The voice was calm, but I sensed an unusual tone in Aberyl’s voice: he was angry. And how could he not be! As for me, at that moment, I wished that a bolt of lightning would come through the window and burn me to a crisp. I did not answer. I heard footsteps.

“Watch out, Ab,” Rolg said. “There’s varisigre in the air. The boys are blind.”

“I can see that,” Aberyl snorted. “Boys, come closer. At once. If you stay there, the varisigre will burn your insides out.”

Panic drove me forward towards the voice. Only when I felt hands searching me did I think that what Abe had just said was a total lie.

“Picklocks. Not ours, you can tell right away,” Aberyl commented. “And a dagger. Ah. And asofla too, of course. Only thing missing is what you wanted to steal and couldn’t, eh? And you, kid,” he added, addressing Lowen. “Who the hell are you?”

There was a silence. And a sigh.

“Rolg. Could that varisigre have made them dumb too?”

“No. This powder only affects the eyes. They’ll recover in a few hours at most,” the old elf assured, “But they won’t recover that quickly from their stupidity, I’m afraid.”

“Answer, boy, who are you?” Aberyl insisted. “What? Do you want me to tear off your ears, you little rascal?”

I heard a groan, and Lowen gasped:

“You have no right to do this! I’m the grandson of Frashluc! Don’t touch me, you brute!”

There was an incredulous silence. I kept quiet. I had nothing to say. My actions were clear as day. And asking for forgiveness was good for the snotty cowards. So I faced it, and blind and helpless, I surrendered to my confreres, like a dirty traitor, but without making a fuss.

“You know what?” Aberyl said then. “We’ll put them in the basement. And I’m going to report to Korther right now. He’s going to be in for quite a surprise when he finds out that Frashluc’s grandson has entered his house uninvited. None other than Frashluc’s grandson!” Now he even sounded amused. “Come on, let’s go.”

They helped us down the stairs and locked us in the cellar. Well, they locked me in the cellar. In fact, at the last minute, Rolg decided to separate us and question Lowen more calmly, so they left me alone. The only advantage: it was not cold. I took off my soaked clothes, twisted them as best I could, and put them back on. And I said to myself: if I manage to get away, I’ll leave Estergat. Didn’t Diver say that he had found asofla in Lysentam? Well, I would go to Lysentam. I knew it wasn’t far. About fifty kilometers. I could get there in two days. But for that, first, I had to escape. And escaping from a basement with no windows and with eyes that couldn’t see was going to be pretty hard.

I shook my head. But what was I thinking? I couldn’t leave Estergat and leave Rogan in Frashluc’s hands. No. First, I would save him. Then I would take Little Wolf, convince my cronies to come with me, and leave with them and the Priest to see the world with Swift’s blessing. Didn’t my nakrus master tell me that I should explore the world? Well, then. For the moment, I only knew Estergat. Round, I had no idea of geography, but who cared… I’d go to the Storm Hills to get a ferilompard bone!

In any case, whether I would become an explorer, a nakrus or a merchant, I had to get out of that damned cellar first.

I crawled and groped in the dark. I came upon a bag full of clothes. A pile of baskets. A chair with two broken legs. Finally, I sighed, lay down on the bag, and closed my eyes. I heard a rustle. I grunted. Mice. Or rats. Damn rats. I coughed and coughed for a long time. Little by little, I realized that this cough was very similar to the one I had had the year before with the Cold One. Damn, that’s all I needed now, to get sick.

As time went by, I had to face the facts: I was sick. Well, I had been sick for a long time already because of the sokwata, but this was different: it was the Cold One for sure.

With the coughing, the fever, and the rats, I could not sleep. However, I was not fully conscious either, and when I heard the door open, I hardly noticed.

“Kid?”

My chest convulsed, and I coughed, hugging the bag of clothes. Rolg came closer, and I felt his hand on my shoulder. At that moment, I thought: perhaps Aberyl is gone again, Rolg is home alone, I’ll give him a mortic shock and go away, goodbye and farewell… The mere thought horrified me.

“Here, kid. I made you some herbal tea for your cough.”

I blinked. I still could not see anything, and yet I was sure that Rolg had brought light. He helped me to lean against the bag and put the bowl in my hands.

“Thank you, Rolg,” I muttered; my voice was hoarse.

I took a sip and suddenly wondered: what if Rolg had put poison in the bowl? What if he decided to kill me gently so Korther wouldn’t gut me and…? Pf. Slugboneries. I finished the brew. It tasted like onions, simple onions.

Rolg retrieved the empty bowl. He broke the silence in a saddened voice.

“Korther came by the Hostel, but he left. He’ll be back in a while and… On his way out, he said, ‘If I lay eyes on that devil, I’ll kill him,’” he quoted with a clear throat. “And he was saying it seriously, I’m afraid. You need to leave, kid. Right now.”

My eyes filled with tears, and I swallowed them as I nodded.

“I can’t come back.”

“No,” Rolg confirmed with a deep sigh. “You must not come back.”

This reminded me very much of the day my nakrus master had kicked me out of the cave. Although I knew that this time I deserved to be expelled, it hurt just as much because, after all, it was the Black Daggers who had taken me in when I was all alone in Estergat. They were the ones who had taught me to live among the sajits. And now they were disowning me. With good reason. Rolg hugged me.

“Son, don’t cry,” he whispered. “Other kaps wouldn’t give you a chance to stay alive, kid.”

“B-but you didn’t expel Yerris for what he did,” I defended myself in a hushed whisper.

There was silence. And Rolg stepped aside.

“You don’t realize what you’ve done, boy. Robbing the kap is treason. But working for Frashluc and getting his grandson into the Hostel… Well. You wouldn’t understand if I explained it to you. I don’t remember seeing Korther like that. Well, anyway. What’s done is done. Come on, get up. Good boy. Come on.”

He took me gently by the arm and led me out of the cellar. Blind as I was, I stumbled several times. Then the old elf let go of me briefly and gave me something heavy.

“It’s a blanket. It will help cure your cold. Come on,” he encouraged me.

He gently pushed me towards what must have been the exit door. Was there anyone in the room? In any case, no one made a sound. Only Rolg, when he opened the door. He whispered in my ear:

“May the spirits protect you, boy.”

I stepped back, groping the frame with one hand. My feet trod the mud of the dead end.

“Rolg,” I said. I swallow. “Tell Yal that… I love him very much. Does it run?”

“Of course, boy. I’ll tell him,” Rolg promised me.

My eyes in the dark and my voice trembling, I added:

“I love you too, Rolg. I’m sorry. I am very sorry.”

“I know, kid,” Rolg replied in a husky voice.

There was silence. Then I heard a creak. The old Black Dagger had closed the door. Ayo forever, I thought. I blinked, and clutching my blanket, I walked blindly down the dead end. Was it daylight yet? I had no idea. I stopped to listen to the city’s rumor and concluded that it must be nearly six o’clock. It was still nighttime. But people were already waking up. The workers on the night shift were going home, the others were leaving their houses. And I, without being able to see them, began to move from wall to wall and finally reached the end of the Bone Street. The journey to the ruined house was quite an adventure. I stumbled countless times. I bumped into people who, at best, just pushed me aside. I went down stairs, step after step, not wanting to repeat the trick of rolling down. Several times I had coughing fits that left me breathless, and I had to lean against a wall for long periods. Fortunately, it was not so difficult to recognize Sheer Cliff Street, even for a blind person: it was enough to go down the slope again and again until the ravine. Finally, I hit the stone ledge that separated the street from the precipice and, feeling that the wind was blowing there more than in other streets, I concluded that I had arrived. At last. I was walking along the ravine when suddenly I heard:

“If it isn’t Sharpy!”

“Good mother, looks like he’s out of his box.”

I thought I recognized the voices.

“Diver? Lin? Is that you? I can’t see you. I’m blind,” I explained.

“Blind?” the voice of Diver repeated as he approached. “You mean, forever?”

“No, don’t worry,” I reassured him. “There was a trap, it activated… Accidents will happen. It’ll pass in no time.”

“Well, that’s all right then!” Diver rejoiced, and he gave me a sharp slap on the back. “Hey, you scaluftard, you got into the gang when I wasn’t there! Let me see that mark. Did you make it for real?”

I smiled and rolled up my sleeve.

“Natural. You didn’t?”

“Why, of course I did! Ah, you can’t see, natural. Terrible!” he exclaimed, giving me a light punch on the shoulder. “If you go begging at the Esplanade right now, you’ll sure make a good wad.”

I laughed, and then coughed like hell. Hands grabbed the blanket which I was about to drop.

“Gee, are you sick?” Lin asked.

“A cold,” I replied. And I sneezed.

“Well, you’re not the only one,” Diver assured me, taking me by the arm. “Damba’s in bad shape too. And Venoms is burning hot. She’s even bearable now! Come in, come in and lie down. Are you hungry?”

“A little,” I said. In fact, I had not eaten a bite since the three dinners of the previous night.

“Well, as soon as I have time, I’ll be back with something,” Diver promised me.

I nodded, smiling, as I followed him. Diver was a good gwak. He often got into a lot of trouble, but no more than I did, and unlike me, he made a good living. I stopped.

“Diver.”

“Mm?”

“You think Frashluc would be able to kill Rogan?”

There was silence. And I heard him swear softly.

“I knew it. Frashluc has him prisoner?”

I nodded.

“I had to steal something from Korther to get him to release him. But… blasthell, I failed, you know. Look, man. If you take me to the guild, if you know where the Priest is…”

“I can’t get him out, mate,” Diver protested. I could tell by his voice that he was frightened.

“I’m not saying you take him out,” I assured him. “I just want you to take me there.”

“But you’re blind and sick,” he objected.

“That’s okay. It’s even better. This way, maybe they pity me and I’ll give the cold to those isturbags,” I spat. I coughed. When I calmed down, I begged: “Please, mate. It’s not that hard, is it?”

Even though I couldn’t see him, I could guess his embarrassed expression.

“It runs,” he finally agreed to my relief. “But you owe me one.”

“Or even two if you want, mate!” I exclaimed.

And I gave him a gwak hug, which, rather than a hug, was more like shaking the other like a plum tree. I stepped aside, still smiling.

“Are we going now?” Nat asked.

I affirmed emphatically.

“Now. No! Wait. Where is Little Wolf? I’ll go see Little Wolf, then we’ll go.”

Diver led me to the moppet in the ruined house. He was still asleep, and I woke the morjas from his bones with all the care I could muster. Feeling that he was waking up, I whispered a lullaby in his ear, followed by a:

“If I survive, I’ll teach you how to do it. And I’ll teach you to sing. What did you imagine, even a mute gwak can sing. Well. Ayo, Little Wolf.”

I asked for the blanket which Lin had taken from me, and I covered the little one with it. That done, I jumped to my feet and with the intonation of one who is preparing to conquer an empire, I said:

“Let's go, mate. I’m ready.”