80. Are you afraid of monsters?

A vampire, a vampire, a vampire, I repeated frantically.

“You could have told me we were going to the Surface,” Arik sighed.

The vampire had insisted that we not move from the dead end until I explained to him where the hell he had landed. So I explained to him what Estergat was—he’d never heard of the town—and told him that vampires were considered monsters here. He just gave me a mocking look. Now he looked absorbed again.

I shook my head.

“Is it true you’ve never seen the sky before?”

“Never.”

“And why are you alone? I mean… why aren’t you… with your people?”

Arik huffed, glanced at me, and after a hesitation, explained:

“I haven’t had a tribe for years. My clan was slaughtered by the sajits. I was put in a cage and sold to a prince of Tamisabra. I escaped by stealing what I could. And I’ve been running from my pursuers for days.” I marveled at his story. He growled, “That prince will not stop until he finds me. But this time it will be different. This time he won’t find me.”

I bit my lip, troubled. We sat behind a stone staircase in the dead end and watched people go by on the other street. In the distance, we could hear music. Was it coming from a tavern with the door open? It sounded very festive. Then I understood. Fifth Youngday of Mud Moon, Aberyl had said. The spring festivities were approaching, and some were rehearsing for the parade. That’s why there was more commotion than usual in the streets.

I rubbed my cheek and thought, Damn, I forgot Rolg’s bottle of radrasia. A pity, because it would have felt great at the moment. I sighed. As I assimilated the idea of being accompanied by a vampire, I started worrying about other things again. My family. Frashluc. Taking a sharp breath, I broke the silence and said:

“Your story is amazing. I’ll tell you what, let’s be friends. I’ll take you to a safe place and you lend me the cape. I’ll give you back the stone and I’ll lend you the shirt so no one can see your face. And, you, you give me the necklace back when I give you the cloak back. Does it work for ya?” I asked my question in Drionsan.

The vampire gave me a curious look.

“My cloak is just an elven cloak. It’s not as valuable as the stone.”

I pouted.

“But I need the cloak so I won’t be recognized; on the other hand, you can find stones everywhere. Take it,” I insisted.

I wanted to give him the black stone, but Arik stood up abruptly.

“No,” he replied. “A deal is a deal. And I’m not giving you the cape.”

I sighed and shrugged. So be it. I kept the stone, pulled the cap over my head, and got to my feet.

“Follow me,” I said.

I came out of the dead end, and after a few moments, Arik followed me. He asked:

“Why did they lock you up?”

I could hear a hint of curiosity in his voice. I grabbed him by the sleeve to get him out of the way of a cart and explained:

“Because I deserved it. These guys are confreres of mine.”

I said no more, and Arik asked no more questions: his eyes were too busy scanning the surroundings. He was more tense than a beaten gwak. When we reached Tarmil Avenue, we mingled with the crowd. Some had got ahead and had already had their faces painted and were wearing extravagant hats. In the spring, Estergat became more colorful than ever. I explained to Arik what all the fuss was about, but I don’t know if he listened at all. At one point, I saw him stagger, and I grabbed him by the arm.

“What’s wrong with you, shyur?” I said in Drionsan, worried.

The tone was enough for Arik to understand my question. He answered in a weak, shrill voice:

“I’m thirsty.”

“Oh!” I pointed to Tarmil Square, a little further up. “There’s a fountain there. Come on.”

Arik let out a short, high-pitched laugh.

“A fountain of blood?”

I stopped dead in my tracks with a shudder. Oh. Gosh. Blood. But of course. Curiosity mingled with my apprehension.

“Do you pop off if you don’t drink?” I asked. Seeing the look of incomprehension on the vampire’s face, I realized that I had spoken in Drionsan. I translated, “I mean, will you die if you don’t drink?”

Arik huffed. He seemed to have regained some of his strength because he was no longer losing his balance.

“I haven’t had a drink in a week. Last time, it was a sireloke… I was left wanting more. If I go on like this without quenching my thirst, I start not being able to move. Then little by little, my body becomes still. And I die.”

I looked at him, fascinated.

“Okay. And… and… so does the blood of those ‘sirelokes’ work too? Don’t you only drink sajit blood?”

Arik let out a hiss and a word that I did not understand.

“No,” he said. “In the past… yes, I used to drink sajit blood. But it is wrong. I know it’s wrong. That’s why my family died. The last time I drank sajit blood was when I was ten years old. That time… I threw myself at one of my owners. He didn’t hate me. So I did not kill him, and he spared me. But I tasted his blood. It was delicious.” At his eyes, I understood that he was grinning. “But I prefer anobe blood.”

I had no idea what an anobe was, so I say:

“We don’t have those around here, but there’s a lot of rats. Do you like rats?”

Arik shrugged.

“It’s better than nothing,” he assured. “Where can I find some?”

I sighed, grabbed him by the sleeve, and dragged him between the passers-by. We were coming out of the Avenue again, heading straight for the Cats, when the vampire asked me:

“Can I ask you one thing? Why don’t you have blood in your right hand?”

I froze at the question for a few seconds. I was tempted to reply, “What’s it to you?”. But he had confided in me, and though he would not lend me his cloak, I was kind and said:

“Because it doesn’t need it.”

We entered the Cat Quarter, following a group of masked youths. We left them near The Blue Flame and entered the Labyrinth. I knew of several rat-infested places, and we soon came to one of them: the dead end of the Cave where my cronies and I had hidden from the Ojisaries the previous summer. Manras had called it the Reeking Alley. It was full of rats. I pointed to them with a vague gesture: you could see them even in daylight.

“Help yourself, shyur,” I said in Drionsan.

The vampire understood me and didn’t hesitate: he approached the rats. I saw him hesitate a little, as if he didn’t know which one to choose. Then, quicker than I thought, he rushed over, grabbed one, and sank his fangs into its neck.

I looked around, worried, but there was no one there. Relieved, I approached, still limping a little, and crouched down beside him without a word. I waited. Arik finally left the rat and took another. And I could not have been more surprised when I saw that, after a moment, the first rat was stirring again. I was startled.

“It’s not dead!”

The vampire frowned.

“I’m not going to kill them.”

I looked at him, barely suppressing a smile. Damn, what a vampire. He may even turn out to be more delicate than any of the Estergat Cats, who had no problem whatsoever throwing rat poison all over the place! Not to mention the army of furry cats that prowled around the houses. Yet the subterranean vampire was being lenient. Well, I’ll be damned.

After seeing him satiate himself for a while, I said:

“Well. I’ve got some stuff to do. If you want, you can stay here, in that cave at the end of the alley, and I’ll come get you when I can. But right now I have to go.”

“That’s not the deal,” the vampire protested. His cheeks were all flushed with blood. “What if there are sajits coming this way?”

“They won’t come,” I assured. “And if someone comes to throw something, they won’t even look at you. But that’s why I was telling you: you should dress in my clothes and I in yours. That way, they’ll think you’re a ‘gwak’, you know, like me, a… I don’t know, you know what I mean. And, this way, the Black Daggers wouldn’t recognize me. There are only advantages.”

We looked into each other’s eyes. I snorted, looked up at the sky, and rose to my feet.

“I’m going.”

“Hold on,” the vampire let out. “All right. Let’s change our clothes.”

I smiled. And he smiled back at me, with his fangs clearly visible. We went into the cave and exchanged clothes. I left him with my huge shirt, and he left me with his elven cloak and elegant boots. A corner of my mind said: now I’ll leg it and ayo, goodbye, vampire. But something in Arik’s look and demeanor prevented me from seriously considering that option. I don’t know, it was… this childish confidence he was showing me, as if he couldn’t imagine that a deal could be broken as quickly as it was being made and that not only truths came out from the mouth of a gwak, far from it.

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So it was almost with the fear of betraying his confidence that I said to him:

“I said I’d come back tonight, but actually I can’t promise you that. You know, it’s a bit of a mess right now. But I’ll do my best to come back, believe me.”

The vampire nodded, looking at me with questioning eyes. He looked strange in those rags and so pale he was almost translucent. After another hesitation, I cleared my throat.

“Ayo.”

And I walked away. I didn’t tell him that I had left his mother’s stone in his trouser pocket. I mean, who knows where it would end up if he left it with me. In hell, for sure.

I left the Cave wondering how the hell Arik must feel now, in a city with a sky above and surrounded by sajits. Maybe I should have led him to the Crypt. Or with my companions. The mere thought brought a smile to my face, and I could already see myself saying, ayo, comrades, I bring you a newcomer, he’s a vampire, but he’s a good gwak!

I laughed under my breath and huffed:

“Good mother.”

I tried to move forward without a limp, climbed stairs and alleys, took shortcuts, and finally arrived at the Grey Square. Concealed behind my new elven cloak, I scanned the place. It was a sunny day, and the square was bustling. My gaze fell on the distant sign of The Yellow Dragon. I started walking.

The closer I got to the inn, the slower I got and the more I felt like I was doing something wrong. Very wrong. But, at the same time, why did Korther not want anyone to know where the tunnel was? Out of greed, because he wanted to be the only one to trade with the Underground cities. Well, it was better if it was him than Frashluc, but it was still ridiculous that such a dangerous tunnel was unknown to anyone but the Black Daggers.

I was arriving at the door of the inn. I changed my course and instead of stopping, I continued on down the street. My heart was beating chaotically. I started to run uphill—limping—towards Atuerzo. I passed Frashluc’s house and continued running towards the Elms School. It was time for the students to leave, and I hoped to find Lowen. I ran into him at the end of the street, just as he was saying goodbye to Zenira. When I saw Korther’s daughter, I stopped and backed up several steps. I had nowhere to hide, so I just stood behind a tree on the sidewalk, pulled my hood tightly over my face, and pretended to be contemplating something ragingly interesting in the palm of my hand.

What exactly had I had in mind when I went to the Elms? More or less, it was to ask Lowen to act as a messenger so that I wouldn’t have to talk directly with these criminals. The problem was that I hadn’t thought about Zenira when I came there. Then a small gang walked by on the street. Some of them looked at me strangely, and to my utter surprise, a dark elf suddenly exclaimed in amazement:

“He’s the midget’s brother!”

And that was Marg, Samfen’s harasser. Things happened like an avalanche. I ran, but with my limp, I could hardly get anywhere. They surrounded me and cornered me. I closed my eyes briefly, tired. That was all I needed.

“Stand aside,” I said.

Marg showed me a small box—a defensive magara of the kind that threw discharges, similar to the ones the flies wore. He smiled.

“Pull out your knife now, copper. Have you come to save your brother? Too late, I’m afraid, we’ve already left him shivering in the dead end.”

“Where did you get that cloak from?” one questioned, grabbing it. “Did you steal it?”

“Surely it wasn’t his father who bought it for him!” another one scoffed.

They continued their mockery, and incredibly, I could think of nothing to say. I had spent many hours under rocks, I had walked and climbed for hours without eating anything, and I had hardly rested. I was too exhausted to have any sort of lively reaction. The only thing I did was to walk towards someone and wait for them to move aside. They didn’t, natural, and jostled, I kept coming back to the center of the circle. Marg put away his magara and said:

“So? You, too, want to be an architect? Or maybe a street rat?”

Several laughed. It was funny to see that, when it came to making fun of someone, any ill-conceived mockery was enough to elicit stupid laughter.

“That’s enough!” a voice cried out. “You are all older than he is. You are a bunch of cowards.”

I couldn’t see who was talking, but Marg whistled in amusement.

“Well, well. Princess. Don’t get mad, that half-gwak is the one who threatened me with his knife when I was unarmed. We’re just putting him in his place.”

“Half-gwak?” I repeated indignantly, finally breaking my silence. “I am gwak one hundred per cent, isturbag. Get outta here.”

He gave me a slap, and I was about to throw myself at him, but several grabbed me and stopped me.

“You see, princess? This guy’s from the slums. He shouldn’t be hanging around the school. He’s dangerous.”

I finally managed to see Zenira’s face and Lowen’s face. The half elf had a frown on her face.

“I said, enough! You’re the ones who look like scum surrounding him like this. Leave him alone.”

Marg rolled his eyes, and grabbing me by the collar of the cloak, he dragged me out of the circle saying:

“You’re lucky the princess is protecting you. What do you say? Thank you. You say thank you, miss.”

I repeated with a listless sigh:

“Thank you, miss.”

“Well. If I see you around here again, I’ll tell the police it was you who pulled the knife. There are witnesses here. You hear me? Get out of here.”

I gave Marg a murderous look, wondering if his threat had any value, and limped away. I didn’t dare glance at Lowen and Zenira. I headed down the street. I felt too humiliated to want to tell Lowen anything. With annoyance, I heard footsteps running up behind me, and the two young nail-pinchers caught up with me.

“Draen!” Lowen whispered, overexcited. “Where did you get that cloak from? Did you steal it from the Harp?”

I glanced at him wearily, and after a silence, I said:

“No.”

My curt reply did not discourage him. He continued:

“Do you know that I learned from Zenira that it was you who stole the Solance? My father didn’t tell me!”

I muttered through my teeth and growled:

“Will you shut up, isturbag? Unless you want to send me to the hole. In that case, I’ll just sing until my voice gives out, you know? I’m sick of it.”

Oh, I was sick of it, yes! I was more than sick of it. Of Frashluc, of Korther, of the flies, and of fear. This fear that froze my insides, now I hated it, I pushed it away, I sent it chasing the clouds. I was sick of it!

I burst out:

“Stop following me, you damn nail-pinchers, go to hell!”

Both remained stunned, though Lowen more than Zenira: the latter recovered quickly from the surprise, and, with her hands on her hips, she blocked my way with indignation:

“Who the hell do you think you are?”

I didn’t bat an eyelid, but inwardly I thought, You have blundered with the shyurine, Mor-eldal. Her question probably did not require an answer, still I answered in a muffled voice:

“Nobody. I’m nobody. I am dead.”

And going around her, I walked away, not running like a squirrel but limping like the lame gwak that I was. This time they left me alone.

I walked along the wider streets, so that the Black Daggers would not catch me, and passed through the Esplanade. There I saw Swift sitting with his cap and his crippled leg. I greeted him, saying:

“What a rotten day.”

And I sat down next to him. The kap looked at me curiously.

“Why is that?” he inquired at last.

I told him what had happened, not worrying about hiding anything about the tunnel. To hell with secrets. I even told him that I had met a new companion who was a complete orphan and asked him if he wanted to meet him.

“Ah, well, natural, namesake,” Swift smiled. “If you think he’s a Wise One, we’ll adopt him as a Wise One.”

“Yeah, well, meeting him is one thing, but taking him in the gang is a bit…” I cleared my throat. “He’s a bit of a special guy. Say, are you afraid of the undead?”

Swift looked at me with a troubled expression.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“What about dragons?” I inquired. “The monsters of darkness. Ghosts. Do they scare you?”

My namesake snorted.

“Are you kidding me, shyur? You mean to tell me the new companion is an undead, invisible dragon?”

I laughed heartily.

“No. But, if you knew an undead, invisible dragon that was friendly, would you accept him?”

Swift continued to stare at me, bewildered.

“Damn, Sharpy. I don’t know. Who is this friend of yours? A harpy?”

“A vampire.”

It just slipped out. And, seeing Swift’s reaction, I understood that he needed more explanation:

“He only drinks rat blood, and he doesn’t even kill them, can you believe it! He’s a pacifist like the hellhound of the chroniclers. He’s… I don’t know, twelve, thirteen, whatever. And he’s more lost than a puppy in a cacmire.”

“Quagmire,” Swift corrected thoughtfully.

“This,” I agreed. “He says some sajits popped off his family, and an underground prince locked him up in a cage like a beast. Arik legged it, and now the nail-pincher is looking for him. A real mess!” I snorted. I paused, staring at the kap hopefully. “So, does it run? Can he stay?”

Swift looked at me in disbelief and then laughed.

“But how do you do it, Sharpy? You get into all the messes in the world. Take a bit of an example from me, get yourself a cripple’s leg, sit down, and meditate properly as the Spirits intended.”

I sighed.

“Ah, for that, don’t worry, I’m already limping. Now, I’ll do half as many slugboneries as before, because I go half as fast. So? What do you say? Eh?”

Swift shook his head, half amused, half annoyed.

“Okay,” he said at last. “I’m not prejudiced. But if I don’t like him, I’ll kick him out and you won’t complain.”

I smiled broadly.

“Well, natural, you’re the kap. He’ll be so happy! I don’t think he had many comrades down there,” I said.

Swift gave me a friendly push.

“Come on, gwak, go away and leave me alone to beg.”

“Okay, okay,” I agreed, rising to my feet. I pointed at him with a theatrical hand. “You’re a great kap, Swift. The best of the three I have.”

“Suck-up,” the red-haired elf scoffed.

“And the ugliest!” I added, laughing.

I avoided the tripping he tried to do to me and this time moved away in the direction of the Labyrinth. Swift shouted at me:

“Bring the monster to the Bivouac tonight!”

I raised a hand to say that I had heard and continued to walk away. I arrived at the Reeking Alley just as it was getting dark. I was almost surprised that I had come all this way without running into any Black Daggers, or Frashluc’s men, or any of the Cats who wanted to get their hands on my pretty cloak. It didn’t happen often, but sometimes I was lucky.

“Arik?” I called.

I dug my boots into the filth and walked down the narrow dead end to the Cave. It smelled even more deadly than usual, and it was hard to breathe. There was no sound. I frowned, fearing that he had left.

“Arik?” I repeated.

The cave was deserted. Oh, devils. He wasn’t gone, was he?

Then, in a corner near the Cave, I saw a form which made a growl. I tensed.

“Is that you, Arik?” I asked in Caeldric.

It was him. The vampire looked up. Though I had no idea what was happening to him, I dared to crouch down beside him and grab him by the sleeve.

“Are you okay?”

I saw him pass a white hand over his mouth, smearing himself with blood. Blasthell, he was even dirtier than Little Wolf. At last, he answered in a hesitant voice:

“I’ve had too much to drink.”

I blinked. Gosh. The vampire had all the symptoms of being drunk. I helped him to his feet, and he stammered:

“Why… did you leave me the stone?”

“The stone? Oh my, I wasn’t paying attention!” I lied. And, after accepting the black stone from his mother again, I made sure he covered his face before leading him out of the Reeking Alley. We were already reaching the Bivouac when he stretched a little and asked:

“Where are we going?”

“To see my comrades,” I replied, cheerfully. “That way you’ll have a good place to sleep. The Cave is only for emergencies.”

The vampire stopped short.

“Com-rades? What’s that?”

I had used the word in Drionsan. I explained:

“Friends. Family. I live up there, in those rocks, with them. Come on. You’ll see, you’ll like them. You were invited by the ‘kap’, no more, no less. I mean, the boss.”

Arik looked at me, dumbfounded.

“Invited? But… they’re sajits. I can’t go.”

I huffed.

“What the hell, but of course you can. I’m a sajit, too, you know. Come on, they won’t eat you. Just don’t show your fangs and it’ll be okay. It’s not that hard.”

And I pulled him without further talk, because I was tired of talking and walking, and in my head, I kept repeating to myself: I want to snooze, I want to snooze.

When we arrived at the refuge, almost all the companions were already there. I said, “Ayo, ayo”. I introduced Arik to them. Curious, Swift tried to communicate with him by gestures, and after I told Rogan and my cronies my miseries with a casualness due to exhaustion, I then listened to Manras tell a far-fetched story and said to him, “Damn, you have one hell of an imagination, gwak, tomorrow you’ll tell me another one”. Then I followed it up with a: “I’m dead”. And so, embracing a Little Wolf who was already deeply asleep, I prepared to do the same. The problem was that I was voraciously hungry, so, before closing my eyes, I said, “does anyone have anything to eat?”. They gave me some rodaria. And I fell asleep with the stick between my teeth, while the vampire, and Swift continued to communicate in the shadows. They couldn’t say much to each other since they didn’t share the same language, but they seemed to get along well. Whatever people said about us, we gwaks were more open and less superstitious than many, and although we were profoundly ignorant about some things, we were knowledgeable about many others.

My last thought, before I drifted off to sleep, was for my blood brothers. They didn’t deserve to be harmed because of me. But my deep concern was obliterated by fatigue. I only wanted to sleep. To sleep with my companions. And then, if I had to die for my family, I would do it at dawn. At dawn.

At dawn, at dawn, at dawn,

the bird’s singing in joy,

the flowers blossom and yawn,

and on the earth blazes

the white light of dawn.

At dawn, at dawn, at dawn!