62. Sneaking into the treasure vaults

I was walking along the Esplanade, singing happily, when suddenly the manticore rose and the fountains began to spit blood. Flies with brushes rushed at me and shouted: “Scrub, scrub, you lout!” And I obeyed them, appalled. Dil arrived and whispered in my ear, “Sharpy, you forgot, you were supposed to nab the Solance, you were late, but don’t worry, it doesn’t matter, do you think I’m going to die? Am I going to die?” he repeated. And a river of blood dragged and drowned all my comrades. The last thing I saw of them was Rogan’s hat floating on a red sea… I screamed.

I woke with a start, sitting up and shaking. It was a dream! It was all a dream! Damn, what a stupid dream, I spat mentally. I caught my breath as I looked around sharply.

I was lying on a straw mattress in a small, almost empty room. There was a window with bars through which the daylight was streaming in. However, I was strictly forbidden to go near the curtains, and especially to draw them: no one passing in the street should see me. Probably because the house I was in was in a high part of the city… The Harp, perhaps.

I didn’t know when I had been brought here, I couldn’t remember anything: after leaving the Cats’ apartment and going to the Yellow Dragon with Le Bor, I had fallen asleep with exhaustion, and it was only at nightfall that I had woken up, shaken by a masked dark elf. He had brought me food and given me karuja, and when I had asked him where Le Bor was and where I was, he had answered: “stay quiet and don’t show your face at the window or I cut your throat”. And he’d added: “Remember what the kap will do to your friends if you don’t obey; tomorrow some people will come to get you”.

Those were the only words I had heard since I had been within these four walls. I had not seen anyone else either. I stood up, stretched, and put my ear to the door. There was no sound. Then I amused myself by reciting the names of the bones in Caeldric: my master had taught me a song to remember them. I did a handstand while singing, walked on my hands, talked to myself, and unwittingly, gradually raised my voice. After a while, I realized it and suddenly fell silent, frightened. Blasthell. The dark elf wasn’t going to get angry, was he? He didn’t: besides, he didn’t seem to be in the house. In fact, everything seemed to indicate that no one was living in the property. I hoped that the neighbors had not heard anything.

Anyway, I didn’t have much time to get bored before nightfall. I was singing in a whisper a “Trah-la-lah, I picked this morning, trah-la-lah, a little sprig of jasmine. This morning I picked it for you, my friend, a little jasmine…”, well, I was at that point when I heard a sound of very light footsteps, followed by the sound of a key in the lock. I fell silent, and the door opened, revealing a dark lantern light.

“Is that the boy?” a voice whispered.

“Who else could it be?” another voice replied, and pointing the light straight at me, he confirmed, “It’s him.”

Both were masked, but I recognized the voice of the second: it was Jarvik the Albino, Frashluc’s servant and regular of The Drawer. I stood up and approached.

“Ayo. Is it time?” I asked.

“It’s time,” the Albino said. And he reached into his pocket. “Here, the karuja. I brought some bread too.”

“Good mother, thank you,” I rejoiced.

I swallowed the karuja first and then the bun in a few bites. I could hardly swallow the last piece because I was so nervous.

“Come on, let’s go,” the Albino encouraged me.

I walked out, and as the stranger led the way, the Albino closed it. A mere glance around the house informed me that we were not in the Cat’s or Tarmil’s neighborhood: this was Atuerzo at least. Or the Harp. I confirmed it when we came out: we were right next to the Citadel wall, right on top of the Rock. I couldn’t believe I’d been brought there in broad daylight. Perhaps there was a secret passage inside the house? It was exhilarating just to imagine.

Unfortunately, there seemed to be no secret way into the Citadel itself: the Palace was there, and to get in there we would have to climb the wall—not too difficult a task, I thought, considering that it was old and covered with vines.

Our guide stopped at a street corner, facing the wall, and gestured. We stood against a wall, waiting for a patrol to pass. It was cold, but I was so excited and altered that I could hardly feel it. As the light of the lanterns faded away, I looked at the wall through the darkness of the night. I remembered that, according to Yerris, Yalet had once entered there for his test of initiation into the Brotherhood of the Black Daggers. He had pinched a hundred siatos, and the Black Cat held him in high esteem for it. Well, what kind of esteem Yerris was going to have for me when I snatched the very Jewel of Estergat and helped rob the Palace’s treasure! That is, if all went well.

Suddenly, the Albino made a rather rude night bird sound. I rolled my eyes mockingly.

“Was that supposed to be an owl hoot? I can do better,” I commented.

I received a smack on the back of my neck. A few seconds later, the Albino said:

“Let’s go.”

We moved towards the wall, and I noticed that a rope had appeared and was hanging from the battlements. The Albino took it and tied me up quickly, whispering in my ear:

“Don’t forget: when you come back, you give the Solance to me. You know what’s at stake. Good luck.”

He gave a sharp tug on the rope, and my feet lifted off the ground. Half climbing, half hoisted by the rope, I reached the top faster than I thought possible. No sooner had I climbed over the battlements than a hand caught me and forced me to duck down. I squinted, and using the faint blue light of the Gem, recognized my companion and smiled.

“Elassar,” I whispered. “Happy to see you.”

My cousin covered my mouth in exasperation and motioned for me to follow him. I followed him, more and more certain that everything was going to be all right. After all, I was not alone: I was accompanied by the Black Daggers, the most skilful thieves in Estergat!

We descended to a roof adjoining the wall, passed to another roof below, and landed in a garden. I hardly looked around, only trying to keep my eyes on Yal, to make no noise, to avoid the puddles… but I still noticed the lights of the fountains, and the shining mosaics of the paths and stairways which led up through the gardens. Flower gardens, here, in winter!

It was like another world. And that made me uneasy. I relaxed a little when, after walking around the glittering fountains, we came to a grove of tall trees. They reminded me of the trunks in the valley, big and branchy. Some of them offered a good shelter for the night. Were there any squirrels? There probably were. But, of course, I couldn’t be sure because squirrels never came out at night.

We joined another figure in the darkness. That of Ab.

“Ayo,” I whispered, crouching down close to him.

I followed the direction of his gaze, and was left in awe. There, close by, half hidden behind the shrubs, stood a side of the palace. It was large, not very high, but majestic. From the Cats one could see only the circular tower. From here, I could see the imposing glass windows, the golden roof, the bluish stones that shone under the light of the Gem…

“Wow, classy,” I breathed out, amazed. “What’s it made of?”

Aberyl forced me to bend down further.

“Of celestial stone, taken from your land,” he answered in a low voice.

I exhaled in disbelief. They had brought stones from the Evon-Sil Valley to make the Palace? Thunders!

“It must be at least a thousand years old,” I blurted out.

Aberyl choked, mocking.

“No, son. The first palace was built over two thousand years ago, but a landslide completely destroyed it a century ago, and they built a new one, bigger and more luxurious, to the great honor of the Fiedman family.”

I arched my eyebrows.

“The Fiedmans? They live there?”

“Absolutely. Ever since Stirxis Fiedman was elected president of Parliament.”

“Ah, that’s right. He created it. I know that,” I said in an expert tone. “Actually, I knew a Fiedman, some time ago. Shudi Fiedman. He painted my portrait.”

Aberyl laughed under his breath.

“Yeah, sure.”

I frowned.

“What? I’m not lying,” I protested. “Yal knows I’m not lying. Right, Yal…?”

I turned and fell silent when I saw that my cousin was not behind me.

“He’s gone to keep watch,” Ab explained. And he stepped quietly further into the bushes, away from the edge, adding, “Enough of this chatter. I brought your tools.”

For the next few moments, the Black Dagger provided me with all sorts of paraphernalia, advice, and warnings. Finally, after I repeated several “Yes, yes”, “I know”, and “sure”, Abe fell silent. We sat on a large root, freezing, waiting for the right time to come. Inside me, tension was mixed with growing excitement, for I had realized that day that, if I triumphed, I would not only save my companions, but I would gain the consideration of the Black Daggers. At least a little.

For a while, I listened to the whisper of the night breeze blowing through the bare branches. Then I whispered:

“Ab.”

“Mm,” Aberyl said, distracted.

I breathed in, bit my lip, and said:

“Say. Are you a demon?”

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Aberyl did not answer immediately, and regretting to have broached the subject, I stammered:

“Forget it.”

I heard him gasp, amused.

“Hard to forget,” he breathed in then. “But, for everyone’s sake, let’s forget it.”

That sounded very much like a confirmation. I smiled, slapped my forehead theatrically, pretended to throw something away, and said:

“Forgotten.”

I saw the demon shake his head, perhaps smiling behind his muffler. I would have liked to ask him if what my master had told me about that energy of Life that was awakened in demons was true… but I was supposed to have “forgotten”. Tsk. After a silence, Aberyl inquired:

“What was the name of this master of the valley?”

I shrugged my shoulders.

“Yabir says he may have been called Narsh-Ikbal. I don’t know his name.”

I saw Aberyl turn his head sharply towards me.

“Yabir? Does he know that…?”

I pouted and nodded.

“It’s because of Dakis, the hellhound,” I explained. “He recognized the mortic energy in my hand. Besides, these guys are Baïras. They know a bunch of things.”

“Mm… No doubt about it,” Aberyl muttered. He pulled his hood down better. “Tell me, kid, out of curiosity. Did you ever think of giving up that hand?” I looked at him, stunned, as he pondered, “Unless you have other body parts that—”

“No,” I cut him off, shocked. “It’s my hand. Giving it up… But what the blasthell are you saying—”

“Keep it down, son,” Aberyl interrupted.

I bit my lips with an apologetic pout which he surely could not see. At that moment, the bells of a temple rang out twelve o’clock, and I stiffened again, sitting on my root. Aberyl rose to his feet.

“Forget it. It was just a question. Do you have everything you need?”

I stood up, fumbling awkwardly in my pockets.

“I… think so.”

Aberyl paused for a moment.

“Are you ready?”

I breathed in and sent my apprehensions chase the clouds before stating:

“Ragingly.”

“Good. And… I suppose you remember the ‘if I sing, I’m dead’ lesson, and ‘if I’m seen, I run for it, if I’m caught, I’ll hold my tongue’,” Aberyl recited calmly.

I gave a slight offended grunt.

“I know,” I said. “The only thing I sing is songs. But, anyway, I won’t be seen or caught.”

Aberyl placed a proud and amused hand on my shoulder.

“That’s the spirit, kid. Let’s go.”

I followed him to Yal’s hiding place, heard them whispering, and then Aberyl surrounded himself with a subtle harmonic haze and gently pushed me forward. We approached the Palace with a rather quiet gait. There were no guards outside. We arrived at the blue wall of the Palace, and Aberyl changed the harmonies. I couldn’t see the result from my perspective, but if someone from the outside had looked at the wall, they probably wouldn’t have seen anything but the bluish, valley stone.

Aberyl led me to the much talked about narrow window with one vertical and one horizontal rung. The Daggerman hoisted me up so I could use the hydra blood. I took out a vial of water to activate the effects, and the wrought iron began to dissolve. I melted it in four places, and in two minutes at most, I removed the iron cross. There was no magic trap here; it was a simple, small window in the servants’ wing. Cautiously, I slipped inside and landed as quietly as a cat on a low table. From inside, I replaced the cross so that nobody would see that anyone had been there. That done, I pricked up my ears and squinted in the darkness. I was in a storeroom. Just as Korther had expected. Good. I breathed in and said to myself: quick.

Quick, but without mistakes, I corrected myself. And, impressed with my own coolness, I sat down on a chair and sprayed the picklock with that strange yellow stuff which Korther said would at least help me to neutralize many of the traps. I didn’t know where he had gotten it, but it must have cost him a fortune. Of course, the loot would make up for it. I went to the door and probed it. I could see no trap. I frowned, hesitating. I examined it more closely. Finally, I tried to turn the handle. It was open. Good.

Straight ahead to the back, I repeated to myself as I did what I thought. To the right. Straight ahead to the stairs that go up…

All was silent. A strange excitement came over me as I walked through a long, wide, deserted hallway. There were huge pictures hanging on the walls, and with every step, the soft carpet caressed my calloused feet. I felt like a stealthy cat who, for one night, crowned himself king of this place. And my power, my most precious weapon, was my discretion.

Suddenly, I saw a figure watching me, and I stopped dead in my tracks. It was a statue. Just a statue. Good mother.

The fright had made me forget the route, and I had to recite it to myself again from the beginning to continue. Left, straight ahead… The doors I passed through had no traps. That made sense: the most likely thing was that there were traps only on the front doors and on those that kept valuable things, like the treasure and the Solance.

I was just reaching the area that was already deep inside the Rock when I heard voices and desperately looked for a hiding place. I was still searching when I saw the light of a torch appear at the end of the corridor. I threw myself down and rolled under a bench. It wasn’t exactly the best hiding place, but… the hallway didn’t offer many options. As the voices got closer, I wrapped myself in harmonic shadows. I repeated to myself in panic: if they see me, I’m done for. If they see me, I’m done for.

They passed quickly and left the corridor in shadow again. Only afterwards, like an echo, did a piece of the conversation come to me. They had been talking about some factory that had exploded in the Canals quarter, and saying that “those evildoers” deserved to die like in the old days. And at the end, one of them had mentioned Miroki Fal. Had he really said “they’re getting married in the spring”? Was Miroki Fal really going to get married? It remained to be seen if it was with the beautiful elf Lesabeth, but… Well, in any case, the Nail-pincher was still alive. The only thing that prevented me from rejoicing at the news was to think that, if Miroki Fal had been there and had caught me under the bench at that moment, he would have immediately called the guards. Because, romantic or not, he was and always would be a nail-pincher.

I stretched my legs, came out of my hiding place, and hurried on with my task. I could already imagine Yal and Aberyl getting restless outside and wondering what stupid thing the little necromancer had done now… Well, none for now!

This almost ceased to be true when I touched the handle of a door to open it. It resisted. Locked. And with a trap, I noticed. I pulled out the picklock and hesitated. How well had Korther tested this neutralizing liquid? What if it didn’t work? After cursing myself several times for my indecision, I put the picklock away again, held out my mortic hand, and set about deactivating the trap the old-fashioned way. It was complex, devils, it really was. But it was similar to one of the ones I’d already deactivated during my lessons. Except that it was connected to something… something powerful that was monitoring it. The Solance, for sure.

Without giving myself time to feed my fears, I concentrated and finally deactivated the trap without altering the Solance’s link. I then forced the lock and entered what Korther called the “forbidden zone”. Puh, as if the rest of the Palace wasn’t too…

I continued on my way. I opened another door and came to what Korther called the “arch”, a semicircular corridor that surrounded the room of the treasure chambers. There were torches burning. I closed the door with a silent spell and listened. I heard a snore. I smiled: I couldn’t believe my luck. I walked along the right wall and saw an armed giant elf sitting on a chair and sleeping. I stepped a little further to make sure that there were no other guards in the hallway, and then I grabbed a third bottle, took out a handkerchief, and sprinkled it with satranin. This done, I crept up to the snorer and laid the handkerchief down gently, fearing to wake him. But he did not. A few moments later, I withdrew the handkerchief and bet that the guard would not wake up even if someone shouted “ayo!” in his ear. I smiled at him and went on my way.

I was almost there. I counted the doors, and came upon the one which I supposed must be the one which led to the stairs, to the gate, and finally to the Solance. I touched the door with my hand, and at once, I leaped back. The wood was charged with energy. It wasn’t just the locks; everything was covered in energy patterns. And, of course, these were connected to the Solance.

I bit my lips. This… Korther hadn’t planned this. But he’d warned me that I might be in for some surprises. ‘A good thief must know how to improvise,’ he had told me. Well, time to improvise, but I really didn’t know how to disable a trap that big.

I probed the locks, my eyes wide with despair. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know what to do! At this rate, the crowing of the rooster would wake everyone up before I even entered the room. And then my comrades…

I stopped dead in my tracks. I had just come across a familiar tracing. Clinging to my little discovery, I forced myself to stop hesitating and to act. I realized that it was going to be impossible to deactivate such a spell: I had to undo it, to break it brutally, and to do that… I looked down and took out the yellow vial. If it really could neutralize the spells, it would come in extremely handy.

I finally decided to trust Korther, except I didn’t use his product exactly as he told me to. I neutralized the enchantment on the door by soaking it with the handkerchief, and as I did my cleaning work, I undid knots and more energy knots. I undid everything but the places that were connected to the Solance. And then I set about deactivating the links. There were four in all, one on each lock and one on the top of the door. I deactivated the first ones, but the last one… well, I couldn’t reach it. It was too high. With a grimace, without even hesitating, I walked over to the sleeping guard, knocked him out of his chair and brought it close to the door. Then, at last, I left a more or less harmless door. All that remained was for me to force the locks.

I forced one. I forced another. But the third one resisted, it didn’t want to open, it didn’t want to listen to me… I lost my patience, took out a new picklock, covered it very lightly with hydra blood, spat on it, and quickly introduced it into the hole. Bingo. A moment later, I opened the door and went down the stairs to the Chamber of the Solance. It was so close… And I could feel a powerful energy in that place. An energy that said to me, “Get out of here, demorjed!”. But I did not.

I advanced to the iron-barred gate, the last obstacle between me and the Solance. There was no doubt in my mind that it was the silver pyramid-shaped object on a pedestal. Magic glowed around the relic, and it even made a strange sound like the bong of the mine, only duller. Blasthell. Korther had not thought of that. If the Solance made that sound, it was a bit like go to steal a harmonica and then starting to play it while stealing it… But who cared as long as I had time to hand it to the Albino. Then let Frashluc throw it in the river if he felt like it.

I broke the iron-barred door with that blessed hydra blood and advanced into the room. It was circular. In the centre was the Solance; and around it, behind grates, the treasure vaults. There were four in all, and all were full of piled up wealth, white gold, colored jewels, magaras, objects of all kinds. It made one shudder just to look at all this and think: why? why lock up so much money?

“Nail-pincher,” I muttered.

I opened all the gates of the vaults as carefully as the door above, and without daring to enter. But I had to enter, because Korther wanted me to look for the White Opal. Well, great! And how did he want me to find it? Surely there were lots of opals in there, and diamonds, and… and… Thunders!

I breathed in deeply to calm myself, and with a feeling of entering the Underworld, I crossed the threshold of a vault. “Don’t touch anything,” Korther had said. Well, you see, big kap: it’s impossible not to touch anything. Everything was too crowded.

Well, what if I told him I’d looked everywhere and hadn’t found it. That was one possibility, much less terrifying than coming back without the Solance. The problem was… I too wanted to find that opal, mainly for Yabir, to show him that the legend was true. But no matter how much I searched the place, no matter how many perceptive spells I cast in the midst of all that wealth, I could find nothing.

Until suddenly I stumbled over a strangely colored rope, sprawled out, and knocked over a tapestry which covered the back of the vault where I was. But instead of a bare wall, it revealed a hole, and I found myself face to face with the jaws of a huge beast. It was a skeleton, fortunately. But what a skeleton!

I straightened up and held out a hand to its head in wonder. Of all the treasures here, this was the most extraordinary. Perhaps I thought that because I was a necromancer, I don’t know, but… damn! I had never seen a creature like this. It looked like a dragon. Except that it had no tail, I realized, when I had gone all the way around the beast. I kept touching it: its bones were brimming with morjas. I was overwhelmed with emotion. For sure, it was a ferilompard. It had to be! And if it wasn’t, it didn’t matter, my master was going to jump for joy when I… when…

Reality hit me like a bucket of ice water. I wasn’t in the valley, I wasn’t with Elassar: I was at the Palace of Estergat stealing the Solance. And I had to hurry.

I gave up the White Opal, stuffed my pockets with the smallest bones I could find, and gave an apologetic pout to the ferilompard, or… well, whatever that creature was. In Caeldric, I said:

“Sorry, friend. I’d take you to my master in one piece, but you’re really big. If you were smaller, I might even have made you walk and stuff. But you’re too big.”

I hugged its head, with tears in my eyes, kissed it, and whispered:

“Ayo.”

And turning my back on the skeleton, I made my way to the pedestal. The Solance was buzzing like a swarm of bees. Its buzzing was beginning to give me a headache. I stopped. The pedestal was high, and I had to climb it. I finally reached an edge, pulled myself up and sat down right next to the silver pyramid. I gazed at it with a mixture of fascination and awe. According to Korther’s theory, the relic would not react to my right hand. It would look for some trace of jaypu through the magara that enveloped my bones… and it would find only mortic energy. Well, that was the theory. In that moment, I wished I had known if it was dangerous to touch it, at all, with my skin or just by spitting on it.

But I had no time to experiment, so I did what Korther had told me to do: I touched the Solance with my right hand.

And I felt like hell was crashing down on me.