65. The Power of the Orb

Quick as the wind, I opened the door, entered, and tried to close it. To no avail: the snout of the hellhound got stuck between the doorframe and the door, which flew open. I was thrown flat on the floor, and a moment later, the hellhound was lying on me, literally! I could hear his loud breath. His weight barely let me breathe, and I was not exactly serene, so I was suffocating.

“What the hell is he doing here?” a disbelieving voice called out. Korther’s.

And another one said:

“I can’t believe it. I can’t believe it! It’s him! Shokinori, he’s the one who has it! He has the opal!”

They fell silent. I pushed upwards to try to breathe. I took a gulp of air and fell back. Korther commented:

“If that’s true, honestly, I don’t know what the hell I’m going to do with him.”

Suddenly, Dakis moved a little, just a little, but he let me breathe more normally. Looking up from the ground, I finally saw the people present. Before me were Shokinori’s bare feet, Yabir’s, Korther’s shiny shoes, and Zenira’s white slippers. The expressions were very varied. Shokinori had a focused expression and was holding the Purple Orb in his hand. Zenira was covering her mouth—Was that deviless smiling? Yabir’s eyes glowed. Korther’s eyes were flashing.

“May we know who told you I live here?” the latter threw at me sharply.

I swallowed.

“Yes, sir,” I gasped. And, under his impatient gaze, I explained, “The Black Cat sent me to say that he found nothing in the office.”

I tried to escape the weight of the hellhound again, but it would not let go. The mere thought of the beast standing over me made me dizzy.

Korther’s shiny shoes approached.

“According to Yabir, the White Opal’s link points you out. Any explanation perhaps?”

I shook my head, confused.

“None, sir.”

Why the blasthell would the link to the White Opal point at me?

“If someone will make the hellhound move away, maybe we can make sure he has it or not,” Korther suggested with forced patience.

Shokinori nodded, and Dakis moved as if reluctantly. When he stepped aside, my tremors became evident. Korther laid a hand on my shoulder.

“Stay still.”

He searched me. He took out the knife, the twenty or so nails I had, a pretty little stone I had found by the Timid River, a piece of old string… When he took out the black twig, he glanced at me, sighed, and shook his head.

“Unless it’s that stone… which I doubt, he has no White Opal, gentlemen.”

Finally, he moved aside, and I managed to sit down. My eyes went straight to the hellhound. He flared his nostrils. I flared mine. Yabir insisted:

“The Orb makes it clear that it is… right there!” he enthused. “It’s never been that obvious before.”

“Well, I don’t think it’s so obvious, though,” Korther replied. “That boy was searched after his job was done. He hasn’t stolen anything from the rooms. And he has nothing in his pockets.” He paused, let out a sigh, and turned to me again. “Kid, take off your boots.”

I looked at him as if to say, “I’m not hiding anything!”, but I obeyed. I took off my boots. Korther pushed them aside, glanced questioningly at the hobbits. Yabir had retrieved the Orb. He shook his head and pointed at me as if he were pointing at the culprit:

“It’s still there.”

“Maybe he ate it,” Shokinori mused.

My eyes widened in horror.

“I have no opal!” I protested. “Blasthell, I swear it! Blasthell,” I repeated, looking at them in turn, alarmed.

There was a brief silence. Then, giving vent to my instincts, I sprang to my feet, ready to run from there… and Dakis threw me down again.

“May the devils pop you off!” I exclaimed.

This time, I was on my back, and a stream of drool splashed on my face. Once again, my eyes were filled with squirrels, stars, and faces of my nakrus master, and they blocked it all out. The warm liquid on my skin was not saliva: it was blood… No! It was the water of the valley fountain, in summer…

“Dear, go to your room,” Korther said suddenly. “Please. Listen to your father.”

There was a rustle of footsteps as Zenira reluctantly walked away. After another silence, Yabir whispered in Caeldric:

“I’m sure of it, Shok. Really.” And he added in Drionsan for Korther, “I can’t explain it either, my friend. But… that’s what the Orb says. Excuse me, but… do you mind?”

“Go ahead and search him,” Korther replied. “His pockets are empty, his cap is a very ordinary cap, his coat is just a common coat—so, as Shokinori says, unless he swallowed it and it got stuck somewhere, I don’t see where it could be.”

The more they mentioned that I had swallowed the White Opal, the more I was convinced that they were going to kill me, they were going to dissect me like those corpses that the Raiwanese and Le Bor took out of the graveyards to sell to the doctors, they were going to gut me.

A part of my mind was telling me: No! Yabir would never do that, he is a scholar, you have heard him tell incredible stories, he even put you in a chronicle, he can’t hurt you, it’s impossible!

But another part of my mind was also telling me: I am a gwak, a damned, worthless gwak, what do they care about me? A grain of sand, dust, ash!

Again Dakis stepped aside. I rolled to the floor and leapt to my feet, trying to undo the harmonies that were preventing me from seeing reality clearly. I stumbled blindly, a hand grabbed me, and I reacted violently, I threw a mortic discharge. I think I did so because I saw a metallic glint appear in my field of vision, like that of a knife. Except that when I looked more closely, I saw no knife. I did, however, see Korther’s demonic eyes. They were even redder than usual, and on his face were the black marks of the demons, about to reveal themselves completely… At his murderous expression, I had no doubt that I had sent the shock to him. And as he struggled to control himself, the Black Dagger kap grabbed me by the neck and slammed me against the wall, not caring that the elegant lamp on a piece of furniture had just broken into a thousand pieces on the floor. I felt a strange energy just where the demon’s hand was holding me, half choking me. I had never seen him so angry. He couldn’t even speak. Suddenly, I heard a hostile growl. It was Dakis. Korther let go of me, and without turning his back on the hobbits, he regained control of his energy, his eyes turned pinker, and he said in an icy voice:

“Did you touch anything in the vaults?”

It took me a few seconds to understand his question, for I rather expected him to butcher me: his eyes expressed that desire with clarity. I opened my mouth and, with a broken voice, breathed out:

“No, sir. I mean, I did…”

I received a slap. Dakis growled again, displeased. Hell, who would have thought that the wolf would be on my side now! Korther shook me.

“What did you take?”

“N-nothing,” I stammered. “I didn’t take anything.”

Korther pulled my head up by the hair and hissed:

“If you’re lying to me, lad, I’ll tie you up and sell you to the Tassians. I want the truth.”

“Sir!” I gasped.

That was all I could say. The next moment, Dakis was pouncing on Korther. He didn’t lie on top of him, but he pushed him away from me and sat on his hind legs, turning his back to me and looking the demon in the eye with a clearly threatening look.

“Good mother,” I muttered, dumbfounded.

“By Baïra!” Yabir exclaimed, rushing forward. “I am very sorry, Mr. Ixtar. Dakis cannot stand violence…”

While the young hobbit apologized, I dropped to the ground in exhaustion and examined my foot. I had cut myself with several pieces of glass from the lamp. I removed them as best I could, and was thinking that this was the best time to get away, when suddenly, I saw that the hellhound had turned towards me. We looked at each other, he with curiosity, I with bated breath. Then, to my amazement, Dakis brought his huge snout to my injured foot and licked it. I knew that saliva helped to heal. So I stood still and murmured a:

“Thank you, Dakis.”

The great quadruped wagged its tail, and I saw Shokinori behind it rolling his eyes. The hobbit warrior had once told me that he communicated with the hellhound telepathically. I wondered what they had said to each other now. Korther replied to Yabir:

“It’s nothing. It’s that rascal that’s driving me crazy. Excuse me, please. I need… a glass of water.”

I saw him walk away to the other room and close the door behind him without a word. Yabir looked worried. Shokinori approached me, careful not to step on the glass.

“Come on, get up. Let’s fix this. I always carry a first-aid kit,” he assured in Caeldric, patting his bulging pockets.

We sat on a sofa there, and he disinfected and bandaged my foot. Meanwhile, Yabir fiddled with the Purple Orb, walking it over me and muttering:

“Too close. It’s impossible to know. But it’s there. No doubt about it, it’s there. Are you sure you didn’t take anything, kid?”

“Quite sure,” I said.

And then a thought came to me, but no, that couldn’t be it. It was ridiculous. Yabir frowned as he passed the orb over my neck.

“May I?” he asked.

I took off my scarf, revealing my collars. Yabir huffed.

“What’s all that mess? You look like Shokinori.”

Shokinori clicked his tongue. Yet Yabir was telling the truth: the hobbit warrior, like me, was wearing a good collection of necklaces. I had five in all: the Daglat’s star, the family pendant, Rogan’s shell necklace, the ferilompard’s bone necklace—I’d made one for Little Wolf too—and the little one’s blue gem. Yabir was interested in the latter.

“Can I have a closer look?”

I shrugged my shoulders.

“As you wish, but do not touch it.”

I brought it to his eyes, and Yabir examined it with great interest. After a silence, he asked:

“Did you have it the last time we saw each other, too?”

I nodded. And Yabir shook his head.

“Then it can’t be that.” He paused. “Are you wearing something you weren’t wearing last time?”

I hesitated, and as Yabir looked at me intently, I nodded.

“Yes. But it’s not an opal.”

“What is it?” Yabir urged.

Without saying a word, I dropped the blue gem and picked up the bone necklace. Yabir frowned and examined them one by one. He shook his head, looking more and more astonished.

“Bones?”

I jerked back as I felt Yabir cast a perceptive spell and took the bones from his hands.

“They’re not yours!” I protested.

“You took them out of the Palace?” Shokinori replied in a low voice.

The hobbits kept their eyes on me. I looked embarrassed and nodded.

“But please don’t tell Korther,” I muttered in Caeldric. “He’s already mad at me. He told me not to touch anything. But, that’s because it was… a ferilompard.”

The two hobbits looked at each other, eyebrows furrowed.

“A ferilompard,” Yabir repeated.

And then, perhaps remembering the conversation he had watched between Coldpalm and me, he seemed to understand, he blinked, he turned back to Shokinori, and suddenly, he burst out laughing.

I looked at him, surprised. And why was he laughing now? Good mother, here I was with my injured foot, Korther in a room perhaps planning my murder, and this hobbit was laughing at my ferilompard!

And there must have been a brejic conversation because Shokinori seemed to understand too, and he smiled thoughtfully.

“It might be,” he admitted.

Yabir was still laughing quietly when he went to sit in a chair. He commented in Caeldric:

“It’s quite a coincidence that there was a real treasure next to it. But, of course, one of those skeletons must be worth a fortune even to those who… don’t play with its morjas. It’s no wonder they kept it there. And that’s why the Purple Orb is so unstable: because there are bones everywhere, but not all bones are as powerful. It’s so obvious! Why didn’t my father think of that? Marevor Helith gave up the relic when he repented, so as not to fall into temptation again. It had to have something to do with necromancy! The White Opal doesn’t exist: it’s bones. Bones!”

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

There was a silence during which I looked at them, bewildered. Then the door to the room opened, and Korther appeared. He looked calmer.

“Sorry for the interruption,” the kap said. “Did you find out anything?”

“Indeed, we did!” Yabir exclaimed, rising to his feet. “The Purple Orb has stopped signaling the boy. It seems to have gone mad. And I with it, I confess. Sorry, boy.”

He gave me an apologetic pout. I was getting more and more confused. Just as I was beginning to understand his theory that the White Opal didn’t exist, he told Korther that the Purple Orb didn’t signal me anymore? Well, actually, it wasn’t signaling me, but the necklace of bones. Bones that I had stolen from the Palace when I was only supposed to steal the Solance. Then I understood. The hobbits were covering up my mistake and, in the process, concealing the power of the Purple Orb. Very discreetly, Shokinori winked at me. Yabir concluded:

“I’m afraid that, in the end, the White Opal is nothing more than a legend. Seeing the Purple Orb functioning in such an erratic manner saddens me, but… things are what they are. This story has already gone too far. I believe, Mr. Ixtar, that the time has come to consider taking that secret passage and returning to Yadibia. As we agreed, I will escort you to my own city whenever you wish. I only hope you will not delay too long, because, you understand, the longing for our land is—how do you say it in Drionsan—strong?”

Korther ran a hand over his face, greatly surprised.

“Uh… Yeah, why not. I mean…”

He looked at the three of us with a keen eye. Then he said:

“So our deal still stands even without that opal?”

“Absolutely,” Yabir asserted. “Estergat has wonders impossible to find in Yadibia. I’m sure that, if we reopen the tunnels, the journey will be reduced to a few days and any merchant from Estergat will be more than welcome in my city.”

“Merchants won’t be precisely cheap or very legal, I’m afraid,” Korther smiled.

Yabir smiled in turn.

“Nor will those who go the other way. I assure you that in the Underground, there is much wealth. But also much danger,” he added in a mysterious voice.

Korther cleared his throat and looked satisfied.

“I must admit that I am delighted at the prospect. So I’ll take care of the ammunition matter and…I’ll let you know when we can get underway. I only ask, as always, for discretion.”

Yabir bowed deeply.

“I shall be discretion itself, Mr. Ixtar. They say in my hometown…” He took an inspired look, hesitated, struggling to translate the saying, and glanced at me as he said in Caeldric, “The barbarian rants and destroys, the wise man is silent and builds.”

I translated more or less into Drionsan, and Korther said:

“Your prudence does you credit.”

They exchanged a few more words in an unmistakably friendly tone. I stopped listening to them. I was putting my thoughts in order. Well, it runs, the Purple Orb had only one opal, the black one, and Marevor Helith had used the Purple Orb to search for morjas-laden bones and thus raise his undead… It runs. I understood that. And I also understood that, somehow, Korther was going to help the hobbits return home through tunnels they were going to make with “ammunition”. Okay. And, the good thing was that Korther didn’t know about the stolen bones, so I didn’t run the risk of having them taken away. Great. The only risk was that he’d pop me off for throwing him a mortic shock. And that wasn’t so great.

I buttoned my coat, examined the bandage around my foot, put on my boots, pouted, and shrugged. It didn’t hurt too much. I got up, gathered my things, and was about to slip out, taking advantage of the fact that no one was paying attention to me, when I ran into Dakis. I bit my lip and, with great caution—and great bravery—I reached out with my left hand to the beast’s snout. I stroked it. His fur was black. I saw him wagging his tail, and I smiled. I withdrew my hand.

“I’m legging it and quick,” I whispered.

No sooner had I taken a limping step towards the back door than I heard Korther’s voice say:

“By no means, lad. You’re staying here until I’m done with you.”

That didn’t bode well, but when Dakis gave a dull growl, I assured him in a low voice:

“It’s all right.”

Anyway, originally, I had come there to ask for ten siatos. So I waited patiently. Yabir and Shokinori finally bowed to Korther, who escorted them to the exit, and I waved to the hellhound, who I suddenly found quite friendly. As Korther went outside, deep in conversation with Yabir, I saw a small face appear in a corridor. It was Zenira. When she saw me, she was speechless. Finally, she came forward, looked at the pieces of glass on the floor, and asked:

“Is it true you had an opal?”

I rolled my eyes.

“No. They’ve got it all wrong.”

Zenira bit her lip, glanced toward the front door, and inquired:

“Where do you live?”

I arched my eyebrows, but answered without hesitation:

“In the Labyrinth.”

Zenira crossed her arms and stopped a few steps away from me.

“And where do you go to school?”

I snorted, laughing.

“At the Labyrinth’s school, natural. What about you?”

Zenira frowned, as if wondering if I was making fun of her. She replied:

“To the Elms. You know it?”

“Natural. I spent a night there a long time ago,” I replied.

Zenira opened her eyes wide. Then I had an idea.

“Say, can you write?” I saw her nod, looking surprised, and said, “Could you write a letter for me?”

Zenira huffed.

“Can’t you write yourself?”

“Yes, yes, natural I can,” I replied with dignity. “But it’s important that the letter be readable. And, like… my signs are very disjointed. A master told me so. So, will you do it? It would be only ten words or so. I’ll pay you a goldy,” I added as I saw her hesitate.

Zenira looked at me, bewildered.

“A goldy? How much is that?”

I laughed at her ignorance.

“A siato, shyurine. A goldy is a siato. So, is that okay?”

Suddenly, the door opened, and Zenira whispered quickly:

“Tomorrow is Sacredday. Wait for me the day after tomorrow at the Elms at half-past four.”

I smiled.

“In the afternoon, I suppose.”

Zenira answered me only with an eloquent gasp, and by the time Korther came out of the vestibule and into the dining room, the half elf, quick as a squirrel, had disappeared into her room. Korther’s expression darkened when he saw me. Standing by a wall, I bowed my head and whispered:

“I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to do it. It just went off. I couldn’t control it. I didn’t even know it was you. I swear.”

Korther said nothing. He took out a broom, made a heap of the pieces of glass, lit a lantern, and finally asked:

“Can you kill with it?”

I blinked under his impassive gaze. I pouted, indicating that I did not know. He didn’t seem to like my answer. He sighed.

“Well… sometimes I wonder if you’re making fun of me, lad.”

I shook my head, dazed.

“No, sir. I swear I’m not.”

Korther looked at me skeptically. And he made a vague gesture.

“Feh. The sooner you disappear, the better. Did you come to get your siatos? Well, I’ll give them all to you and let you take care of them. I don’t want you to ever come back here again. Never, you understand? I’ll send for you if I have a job for you. Follow me.”

I wasn’t particularly happy about the idea of him giving me the five hundred and some siatos left, but I didn’t dare protest. I followed him to a desk. There were no objects there like the ones in the Hostel’s office. In fact, the decor was totally different. Everything was much cleaner and more airy.

Korther made a gesture for me to stay on the threshold, he walked around his table, bent down, opened what must have been the safe, and after placing a pile of white coins on the table, he closed it.

“Twenty-seven crowns and three siatos,” he said at last. He pushed my money across the table. “All for you, lad. Try not to spend it like a fool.”

I nodded, biting my cheek, and proceeded to put the money in my pockets, knowing full well that to go out into the street like that was imprudent. I left five crowns on the table, the equivalent of a hundred siatos, and explained:

“It’s for the Black Cat and for Sla. Can you give it to them?”

Korther cleared his throat patiently.

“I’ll give it to them when I see them. Anything else?”

I shook my head.

“No, sir.”

The kap looked thoughtful.

“If you’d learn not to make one blunder after another, lad, it would be a big step. You did very well on the last job. Try not to ruin the effect, huh? And now get out of here before you give me another reason to hang you by the ears. Get out of here and don’t come back, all right?”

I swallowed, nodded, and went off the way I had come. It was only when I closed the back door that I thought about Korther’s words and smiled. He had paid me a compliment! He had not said that I had done well at the Palace. He had said I had done very well! Good mother, well of course I had done very well. Everything had gone perfectly. Because I was Mor-eldal, the great Black Dagger, the relic thief. And the bone thief.

I walked through the little garden smiling from ear to ear. The Great Temple rang at seven o’clock in the evening. And to think that Swift had told me to come back with the ten siatos at six o’clock… Well, never mind, let him wait. I wasn’t going to let him push me around on top of it.

I left the hedge-lined path, left Atuerzo behind me, and walked through the streets of Tarmil. I didn’t dare walk very fast, let alone trot, because the coins would have made even more noise. And, besides, because of my foot, I was limping.

Despite my lame leg, I did not return to the Labyrinth. I had come to the conclusion that I needed to hide those crowns in a safe place. And, of course, when I was looking for a safe place, the only one that immediately came to mind was the Crypt. It was going to be a good two hours of walking and limping, but it was worth it. And to hell with Swift’s impatience.

The only problem was that to get to the Crypt I had to cross the river. Night had already fallen completely when I arrived at the Astrania Bridge, near the Evening Park. I leaned against a tree, spied the place, and took advantage of the moment when a large group of people were crossing the bridge to cross it without the guard in his sentry box giving us more than a weary look. I passed through the warehouses, the factories, the abandoned fields near the mines, up the Ravines, and into the forest.

I hadn’t been to the Crypt for a long time, and the forest was so different in winter, with the bare trees, that I wasn’t sure I was going the right way. I was looking for the big tree where I had already spent the night twice that year. The problem was that tonight there was no Gem, no Moon, no Candle, and I had only the stars to guide me. But I could do something about that, I thought. I cast a spell of harmonic light and smiled. Celmists called them “illusions”, “deceptive magic”, but they weren’t: harmonies were the best. As long as you kept them under control, of course.

I don’t know how long I wandered between the trunks before I thought I was going too far and turned back. My limping was getting worse, and after a while, when I couldn’t find the tree, I called myself a demorjed for having gone so far and not trusting the gang. But, at the same time, who in their right mind would have trusted that gwaks would respect four hundred and forty-three siatos? The Patron Saint maybe, but not me. And, blasthell, they were my comrades, natural, but one had to be realistic.

Finally, I decided to choose a tree closer to the edge, above the Ravines. I climbed several trunks in search of a hollow, for I did not want to bury the coins, it would be seen, and I knew that there were people who ventured into the Fal forest at night to look for wood. It had to be a good hiding place. I found it, in the hollow of a tree. I pulled out a handful of cobwebs. Perfect. I put everything there but two crowns and three siatos, which I hid in my boots and cap. I climbed down, looked for several landmarks, and nodded, satisfied. I gave the blessed trunk a pat.

“Ayo, tree. Keep the whitewheels for me.”

I took a detour, picked up a sturdy stick, and limped back to Estergat, thinking that, even so, if a fly came to stop and search me, I would go straight to Carnation. No ordinary gwak walked around with forty-three siatos in his pockets. I was going to have to change the whitewheels for goldies, and the traders would certainly take a good commission. I rolled my eyes. I had never thought so much about money before I became a nail-pincher.

I came back over the same bridge, and when I arrived at the Labyrinth, I was exhausted, worn out, completely beat. I dragged my wounded foot as I made my way through the alleys, helped by my stick. At that hour, the honest Cats were still awake, and the lights in the windows dimly lit my way. I arrived at the shelter without having passed a single fly patrol. I squinted. One good thing was that by taking the cure my eyesight had not worsened, so that we old sokwatas could still see better than anyone else. That’s how I recognized Swift and Syrdio.

“Ayo, comrades!” I said.

“Look who’s coming here!” Swift grumbled. “It’s nearly midnight, isturbag. What the blasthell were you doing?”

I cast a spell of harmonic light and grimaced. Swift had a black eye, and Syrdio had his sleeve rolled up and his arm bandaged. A storm had passed by, and I had missed it. Not to mention that I could have avoided it. But then I would have lost all the money.

I leaned on the stick. Perhaps because he saw that I was in a bad state, the kap did not throw himself at me to vent his frustration. I cleared my throat.

“Well, they sure did a number on you.” I couldn’t help but smile. “Who did you fight with?”

Swift huffed.

“Some isturbiags. You bring the goldies?”

“No, I bring a whitewheel,” I replied. There was a silence. And I observed, “It’s yours, but you don’t ask me for more, because I won’t give you any more.”

Swift gave a grunt.

“Cough it up, namesake.”

I leaned against a wall, took the boot off the wounded foot and gave him the coin. As soon as I gave it to him, Swift said:

“What took you so long to come back?”

I shrugged my shoulders.

“I’m limping.”

“Yeah, that I can see, but seven hours to get to the Black Dagger and back just doesn’t cut it, shyur. Where did you go?” the elf insisted.

“And what does it matter?” I retorted in a biting tone. “I couldn’t get back before, what do you want, it’s not my fault if you get yourself in trouble—”

“Hey, hey, hey! You don’t talk to me in that tone, namesake,” Swift warned. “I didn’t get myself into trouble. It’s Diver.”

My eyes widened.

“Diver?”

“Yes. They did a dirty trick on him,” he explained, lowering his voice. “Sometimes Nat’s a genius. But other times, he goofs beastly. You know what I mean.”

“I don’t,” I admitted. “What did he do?”

Swift stirred nervously, glanced towards the shelter, and lowered his voice even more.

“He’s snoozing at the moment. Apparently…”

Syrdio shoved him.

“Good mother, what are you going to tell him!” he hissed.

Swift clicked his tongue in irritation.

“It’s my namesake, and I tell him what I want. Move over.”

Syrdio gave a muffled groan, but moved away a few paces. Swift muttered an imprecation, and resumed in a whisper:

“Apparently, some thieves tried to recruit Diver. Or rather, the opposite. You know Nat’s got a serious addiction to karuja, and the Frashluc people don’t give it to him for free. So he needs money. Anyway, the story went wrong. When they told him what they were going to steal and how they were going to do it, Diver chickened out. Instead of doing it right at the beginning, you know, he backed out at the end. And without him, the bludgers couldn’t get in. So he completely screwed up their plan. And now, well, he’s ashamed, like he popped somebody off. They ask him for money, and he says he’s gonna throw himself in the ravine, that he’s desperate. He says he’s just a coward and blah blah blah… Syrdio and I tried to get these ideas out of his head, but the only thing that worked was the bottle of radrasia, I put it in his mouth, and he wouldn’t let it go. Now he’s sleeping, I tell you, and for a long time.”

The story left a bitter taste in my mouth. I was exhausted, but it suddenly revived me.

“Good grief. He didn’t tell me,” I muttered.

“Diver doesn’t tell anyone much,” Swift snorted. “He confessed it to Syrdio because he found him hiccupping in a corner. Like I tell you, he’s half drowned. It’s really sad to see him like that. You’re a good mate of his too, Sharpy. If you got any ideas on how to cheer him up, well, you know…”

I nodded, still shocked.

“Natural,” I whispered.

There was silence. And then Swift added:

“Where have you been?”

I rolled my eyes.

“Gosh, you’re a pain. The Black Daggers’ shelter changed and I had to look for it. That’s all.”

Swift took hold of my staff and compared it to his.

“That’s all, huh?” he scoffed. “Well, you see. Sticks like that, you can only find them in the Crypt, shyur.”

I made an annoyed pout.

“So what? What’s the big deal? I like trees.”

Swift laughed softly and shook me fraternally, taking me by the shoulder.

“I knew it. I know you well, namesake. So, this kap gave you everything, huh. Say, if anything should happen to you, it’d be a shame for the money to stay buried.”

His suggestion irritated me.

“This money isn’t yours, Swift. It’s for Little Wolf and only for Little Wolf.”

“Well,” the elf agreed, “But we might as well enjoy it, rather than the flies, right?”

I grunted, and leaning my good foot on the rock near the entrance, I slid awkwardly over the edge. Once seated astride, I turned to the kap, who was leaning against the wall, mockingly, and I said:

“Say, namesake, is there anything left to bite?”

“Well, no, but, if you want, give me some nails, and I’ll get you something,” the kap offered. “I can change the whitewheel for goldies while I’m at it.”

I arched an eyebrow. That the kap should offer to buy me food was a surprise. I cheered up.

“Well,” I agreed, and gave him fifteen nails for a whole loaf.

Swift took two steps away, but suddenly came back as if remembering something.

“By the way, Sharpy, there’s something I didn’t tell you. You’ll be happy to hear that, since you kept bugging him about it. It’s Rogan. He got right into the fight when those isturbags came. I told him this time: Hey, Priest, last time I ask, but if I told you you were one of the gang, would you say it runs? And you know what he said to me?”

My heart beat with hope and emotion.

“What did he say?”

Swift laughed.

“Well, that it runs! That guy’s a weirdo… but, that’s precisely why he fits well in the gang.”

He patted me on the shoulder and set off with Syrdio at a brisk pace. Soon both of their figures disappeared between the shadows of the night.

I shook my head, smiling, and looked up at the starry sky. I hadn’t done much for quite a few days now: I didn’t steal, I didn’t beg, I didn’t even bother to go out of the Cats much except to say ayo to my working comrades, to Yum and some other acquaintance. But what I did do every day was go to listen to the stories of Breaky-Hand in the afternoon in Wool Square, and I dined at The Drawer every night—I was glad to hear that the tavern-keeper Sham had been released from Carnation for lack of evidence! The rest of the day, I was having fun goofing around with my companions, and I liked to throw wise phrases at Little Wolf like my nakrus master had done with me. In the end, during these two weeks, I had done exactly what I wanted to do. And I had ragingly taken a liking to it. And I didn’t understand why Diver insisted on taking karuja when it was ruining him. Tomorrow, I’ll take him to play the fool with us, I promised myself. I’ll buy him a finger-licking good snack at The Ballerinas, and I’ll buy him some rodaria root to calm his nerves, and I won’t let him get away with making slugboneries. Like hell I was going to let those merchants play with a comrade’s life! Never.

And so, determined, I closed my eyes and waited for dinner, while in the distance the midnight bells chimed.