54. Reward and condemnation

Diver led me through the Labyrinth, up the alleys, ever higher. We had just arrived at the upper part of the Cats when, suddenly, I said:

“I think I’m starting to see something.”

In fact, although I could see everything very grey, I could make out silhouettes. I even guessed that Diver just turned his head towards me.

“That’s the trouble with rich houses, they always have traps,” he commented. “What happened?”

I sighed and shook my head as we moved on.

“Well, I don’t know. I don’t know if it was the box that was activated, the window or what. In any case, some kind of product came out. Something evil. And I don’t even know if the diamond was in the box. Total fiasco. And now the Black Daggers have fired me. And Frashluc’s gonna pop me off, I’m telling you. But I’ll take the Priest out no matter what.”

Diver stopped and stepped aside to face me.

“Hey, wait a second, what are you planning to do?” he inquired in a concerned tone.

I frowned.

“You promised, Diver. The rest is my business.”

My companion hesitated, but he took me by the arm again, and we continued.

“Some of these guys have a heavy hand,” he warned me. “They’ll make your ears bleed if you cross the line.”

“I don’t care,” I replied.

I heard him sigh. When we entered a narrow courtyard my vision was still blurred, but I could already see the colors, and, well, I could walk by myself. I saw a tall, strong figure moving away from a wall.

“Nat? Who are you bringing?”

I was the one who answered:

“This is the Frashluc Guild, I have round? And that’s where my mate is locked up, round? Well, I’m coming to get him. Frashluc told me he could come out.”

I blinked in vain to try to see the reaction of my interlocutor.

“Uh… really?” this one asked.

I shrugged.

“For real and in Drionsan. He said: good job, go free your friend and leave me alone! That’s all he said. Where’s Rogan?”

“Well…” The Cat hesitated. “Wait here for a moment, okay? Nat, the merchandise has already arrived. I’ll pass it to you now, it runs?”

Diver nodded, patted me on the shoulder, and disappeared with the other through a door. I was left alone in the courtyard, freezing. Had that Cat bought my ruse?

I waited for a long time, went round the puddles, coughed, sat on a stone edge, stood up, played with boards, climbing up and down a heap, until at last a door opened. And I saw a figure appear. I approached with squinting eyes.

“Rogan?”

No, it wasn’t Rogan. He was too tall. He answered me in a quiet voice:

“Come in.”

I clenched my jaws and shook my head.

“No, no. Let Rogan come out. Let Rogan come out and, then, I’m going in, I swear. But let Rogan come out.”

I did not see the hand coming: it grabbed me by the neck and pushed me inside without mercy. I did not dare to protest, for I could not see well enough to defend myself. I took a few steps down a corridor, half-jostled by my guide, and he was opening a door when I heard a gasp.

“Sharpy!”

I straightened up at once. That was the Priest, wasn’t it? I saw a form kneeling on the ground with a bucket beside him and something in his hands. A rag, perhaps? The guide said:

“Stop this, gwak. And get out.”

“B-but… what about the Sharpy?” the Priest asked as he stood up. “What’s up with him?”

“Nothing,” I assured him. “I’m fine. I’m staying. That’s all. Get out of here, mate. And take good care of Little Wolf.”

Rogan had approached me.

“What on earth are you saying?” he gasped.

I breathed in:

“I say, mate, you take care of…”

I had a sudden coughing fit, more violent than the others. When it was over I could not breathe. I simply could not breathe. My throat made a shrill sound. Finally, everything went black, and I collapsed, suffocated.

* * *

I awoke with a violent cough which left me breathless and on the verge of fainting. My eyes were open, and the light was blinding me, but after a while I could see my surroundings with complete clarity. I was lying on a comfortable red and gold carpet. It was warm in the room. There were no windows, the stove was lit, and at the table, two people were sitting playing cards. They were Jarvik the Albino and a copper human with features from the Valley like me, except he had greying hair.

Jarvik laid his cards on the table. His reddish eyes were looking intently at me.

“How are you feeling, boy?”

I gathered enough strength to open my mouth and whisper:

“Awful.”

My throat ached as if a dagger had been lodged in it. The Albino made a pout.

“It shows,” he assured me. He stood up, came over, and leaned close to me with his hands clasped. Half-stunned, I stared at his snow-white face. “Well, kid. You’ll be glad to know you did exactly what Frashluc hoped you would.”

I blinked.

“What?” I muttered, stunned.

“Uh… yeah,” the Albino cleared his throat. “Frashluc suspected that Korther didn’t have the Tear and had already sold it. In fact, it didn’t matter to him if you found it or if the Black Daggers caught you. The point was to mock Korther by stealing the loyalty of one of his apprentices. That’s all.”

I looked back with an expression of complete incomprehension and coughed.

“But why?” I gasped.

The Albino gave me an embarrassed smile.

“Well. It’s part of the endless game of bad tricks that Korther and Frashluc play on each other. Sometimes, they give each other golden cups, and other times, they bicker like kids… Frashluc has a territory to defend, you understand. Korther doesn’t always play by his rules and that pisses the kap off.” He shrugged, making a new face. “If Lowen hadn’t gone with you, Frashluc would have forgotten about you the moment he heard the Black Daggers had caught you. But… that kid Lowen, he’s his grandson, you understand? Frashluc has affection for his grandson. And he wants to teach him a lesson for his little adventure. So… in a few hours or maybe more, we’ll know what he’s gonna do with you, boy. So try to do exactly as you’re told and… maybe you’ll get out of this alive.”

He patted me on the shoulder and stood up, adding more for his companion than for me:

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

“Poor boy. Not easy to dare to move a finger with a grandfather like that. But it must be said that that kid has some crazy ideas… If his mother finds out about this…”

He huffed. He was obviously talking about Lowen. He sat back down at the table before my wide eyes. Frashluc was going to gut me alive. I was sure of it. My heart raced, my chest tightened, and the coughing attacked me again. At the table, the Albino and his companion were talking quietly about their card game, filling the room with cigar smoke and pouring themselves copious cups of wine.

“He’s making me sick with coughing so much,” the Valley man complained after a while. He glanced at me impatiently, then suddenly rose with a glass full of wine and brought it to me. “Hey, kid. Here you go. It’ll warm you up.”

I was not particularly cold in that room, but I accepted the glass and emptied it. The Valley man looked at me, and after a few moments, he showed all his teeth.

“Look at that, he stopped coughing. Want another one?”

I nodded silently, not daring to speak for fear of starting to cough again. He motioned for me to get up and sit at the table. I took another drink. A strange lucidity came over me little by little.

“It’s Azada wine, and he’s drinking it like it’s sangria,” the Albino snorted. “Come on, stop, don’t give him any more.”

“Bah, my aunt used to give me a glass of radrasia when I was sick,” the Valley man assured, while pouring me another glass. “This stuff cures everything. Besides, who’s to say that by tomorrow Frashluc won’t have broken his head. Let that poor kid enjoy it. And he’s enjoying it for sure!” he said cheerfully as I finished the third glass.

He laughed, patting me hard on the back and nearly making me choke. I was, I think, on my fourth drink when my mind really began to forget about my sore throat and my headache… My forehead fell heavily against the table. Through my deep numbness, I heard the Albino say with amusement:

“He didn’t make it to four. Cough up the bread, mate.”

They had even made a bet, good mother… And I wasn’t even aware of it. I coughed, and hands helped me to lie down on the carpet, and soon I was fast asleep. And so deeply that it took me a while to react when, perhaps hours later, a hand began to shake me.

“Hey! Get up, boy,” the Albino said in a voice that seemed to come from far, far away.

He shook me more vigorously, and at last, I blinked and sat up. The room would have been dark if it had not been for the lantern which the Albino carried. And blasthell how my head ached… No, actually, I hurt all over. I thrust my hands into my pockets and let out a groan when I saw that they were empty. Of course. Aberyl had taken the asofla from me at the Hostel.

“Asofla,” I stammered. “Asofla, asofla, asofla—”

“I said stand up,” the Albino repeated, and he pulled me to my feet. “Come on.”

I didn’t know where he was taking me, but that was the least of my concerns at the time. I was more concerned with keeping myself upright and following the Albino without collapsing. He helped me along a corridor, and we stopped at the exit door to the guild. He put something in the palm of my hand. It was a small bag.

“Frashluc’s reward,” the Albino explained. “Six siatos. He thanks you for the services lent and asks that you not speak with his grandson again if you don’t want to die. Do you understand? If you speak one word to the kid, if you look at him, you are dead.” I felt a cold finger against my throat. I nodded once, and he patted me on the shoulder. “You’re free.”

He opened the door, and a snow-laden gust of wind came in. I went out, pushed by the Albino. On the threshold, he said:

“You got lucky, boy. I don’t know if the Black Daggers will take you back or not, but… Well. You’re alive, that’s the main thing, isn’t it? I wouldn’t stay here in the snow too long if I were you. Shake it off and walk, huh? Good boy.”

He gave me a parting smile, and I murmured a faint and hoarse:

“Ayo.”

He closed the door. I put the money in my pocket, and refreshed by the snow and the cold, I went forward and out of the yard. It was already evening, and with the snow still falling, one could hardly see. I had not yet reached the end of the adjoining lane when a figure appeared through the snowflakes and rushed towards me.

“Sharpy!”

I smiled slightly, very happy.

“Priest, ayo. You got any asofla?”

Rogan nodded and hurried to give me some. I put a good handful in my mouth as he said:

“Spirits, I thought they were gonna kill you, you know? I spent all afternoon waiting for you here. You don’t know how many curses I put on them, that their ancestors were going to chain them to the underworld, that they were going to pop off, bled like pigs… And it worked! Well, not right away. One of them, the Twisted-Nose, came out to shut me up, but the one with the snowy face put water in the wine and told me they were going to let you go. I promised them I would remove all curses, natural.”

I smiled broadly.

“Natural.” A great fatigue was gradually replacing the pain. I sighed and added, “Good to see you, Priest.”

We embraced like brothers, and he snorted:

“You’re burning like a chimney, shyur. Diver tells me you’ve joined Swift’s gang. I’ll walk you to his hideout, all right?”

I frowned.

“All right. But, tell me, you’re not going to join the gang?”

Rogan pouted.

“I don’t know… I’ve never been good at handling a gang.”

“Mmph. Slugboneries,” I replied. “Come on, come with us, mate. Swift is not a bad guy. And he’s got a house. You don’t have one. And it’s cold, mate. Come on, come with us,” I repeated.

Rogan did not answer out loud, but to my joy, he nodded. We went down the whole district. We passed by The Wind Rose, and remembering that I hadn’t eaten in almost two days, I thought of going to buy a snack, but the mere thought of eating something turned my stomach, and I preferred to concentrate my efforts on putting one foot in front of the other.

The snow and the wind prevented us from speaking without raising our voices, so we hardly spoke the whole way, and I walked on, deep in thought. Inwardly, I spoke with my nakrus master and said to him: Oh! If you knew all my misadventures, Elassar! Rolg took me in, Yal was like a second master, and Korther wasn’t a bad person either… And I betrayed them all. Like Yerris. Except, he was lucky, unlike me, he’d been in the brotherhood longer, and he was working for a small-time crook and not Frashluc. But still, it’s not fair, Elassar. All I wanted to do was save Rogan. And I saved him. That’s the important thing. We’re alive. That’s the important thing, right? I’ve got the gang, I’ve got my cronies… They’re not gonna throw me out, because they don’t have anybody either, and they don’t kidnap, they don’t threaten to kill, and they don’t steal relics. I want to be a free gwak, Elassar. I don’t want anyone to tell me what to do. Swift, at most, and only a little and because he’s a gwak. No one else. From now on, I make myself a rebel gwak, I make myself a man and to hell with the big cats. What do you think, Elassar? I wish I could talk to you for real. I hope at least you haven’t forgotten me. You were so different from the sajits I know. And I miss you so much…

I breathed in. My feet were freezing in the snow.

“Sharpy… You crying?” Rogan asked.

I shook my head and wiped my nose on my coat while denying:

“It’s the cold.”

Only a few hours after arriving at the ruined house, my condition worsened. I was not coughing so much, but I was burning up, and I did nothing but lie around with the other sick gwaks, hardly aware of what was going on around me. My companions brought me food, and I vomited it all. The more time passed, the more I realized that instead of getting better, everything seemed to get worse. The hours went by without me being aware of it. By the third or fourth day, I could barely move. Diver removed a cloth full of melted snow from my forehead.

“They’re dying, Swift,” he declared in a husky voice. “There’s something weird here. Something very weird.”

Swift was sitting by the fire. He added a log while muttering:

“Death is not weird.”

Diver shook his head.

“No, no, Swift. Haven’t you noticed? Everyone who’s sick is a sokwata. Ragok got better right away. On the other hand… they didn’t.”

He looked down at the six feverish, dying bodies. Damba, Rogan, Syrdio, Dil, Venoms, and I were burning with fever and dying before the sad eyes of our healthy companions. Swift rose slowly to his feet.

“You mean the disease has something to do with the sokwata? Or… with the asofla? But… then why aren’t you sick yourself?”

Diver did not answer immediately.

“Well… Manras is still fine too. But maybe tomorrow he won’t be… You’ve gotta do something, Swift. I’ve gotta do something, and I don’t know what.” He clenched his fist and slapped his forehead. After a silence, he added in a voice full of venom, “If I knew where the Alchemist was… That devil sentenced us to death, and he knew it, I know he knew it. If I had him in my face…” He coughed and caught his breath. “I killed them, Swift. I should never have told them about the asofla. It’s all my fault. I killed them, blasthell, I killed them!”

Swift leaned close to him, his face grim, and he squeezed his shoulder to calm him.

“I’ll go get a doctor.”

“Yeah, sure, and what are you going to pay him with?” Diver sighed.

I was in one of my rare moments of lucidity, and when I heard the question, I groaned and raised my hand. The Diver took it from me. It did not help me, for my intention was to take the purse of siatos from my pocket. I moved my other hand, and at last, I managed to get it out.

“Spirits, blow me up,” Diver gasped.

Swift picked up the small bag and asked:

“How much is there?”

I moved my lips to say a “six,” but I don’t think they heard me. They counted anyway, and Swift straightened up.

“I don’t know if it will be enough for all of them, but I’m going anyway. At least to get the doctor to see them and… well, hopefully he’ll heal them. Stay here, Diver, and look after them.” He hesitated, “I’m going. Hold on, comrades.”

I breathed in with difficulty and saw through my fever the reddened eyes of Diver. On my right, lay Dil, on my left, Rogan. The Priest had his hands on his chest and was moving his lips as if he were praying. The Little Prince was sleeping. His breathing was as wheezy as mine. With effort, I croaked:

“Diver. It’s not your fault. It’s the fault of the Black Hawk. The Black Hawk and those who bought the pearls. They’re our killers. Not you.”

Diver had leaned towards me to hear me better. He clasped my hand in his, trembling.

“I know he’s in Estergat,” he whispered. “There, in the taverns… you hear things, you know? I know Frashluc helped him change his identity, but that isturbag didn’t run away. If I knew where he was, I’d kill him, mate. I’d kill him for everything he’s done to us. One thing is to be hungry, to be mistreated, insulted… It hurts, and sometimes a lot, but it heals, you know? On the other hand, to have someone put you in a mine and change you inside until you are sentenced to death…” He looked at his free hand and whispered, “I’d kill him if I could, mate. I’d cut my damned life short to cut his throat. That’s… horrible, right? That’s horrible. But I want to do it.”

I nodded and smiled faintly.

“Me too,” I admitted in a whisper.

Nat gave me a pained, lopsided smile, and after a moment’s silence, he moved away. Then I felt a small figure stir and curl up against me. It was Little Wolf. His skin was so cold in comparison! I kissed him and stopped concentrating on my jaypu for a moment to awaken the little one’s morjas. I think I didn’t quite succeed. I quickly fell back into an empty vortex, a world where neither thoughts nor memories existed, only a small voice telling me: even you, Survivor, cannot escape death.