84. The Booby House

We returned to Estergat by cart. First, I had to explain to Aberyl why I had decided to flee, and my explanation—I popped Frashluc off—had left him first flabbergasted, then incredulous, then deeply annoyed, and finally he had thought it prudent to take us all to where they were hiding the vampire. He said, “No one must know that you are with us, or they will think that Korther sent you to kill him”. I hadn’t thought of such a possibility. And well, how could I have thought of that when I was convinced that the Black Daggers wanted to turn me into a spirit?

So I had unintentionally got my companions into trouble, preventing them from returning to Swift’s gang. Manras looked delighted: he had been immediately seduced when Aberyl had bought some sweets from a street vendor and offered them to us before we got into the cart. The two of them got along very well right away, and Manras besieged him with questions during the ride, such as: How did you learn to swim? And is it very difficult? How do you do it? Are you a nail-pincher? I mean, you’ve got a lot of nails, right? How do you do it?

At some point, he was about to say the word “Black Dagger,” and I gave him a smack on the head to shut him up.

“Shut your mouth, shyur.”

He shut it for a few minutes while he stuffed himself with a fistful of sweets, and then he said:

“We have money too. It’s Sharpy who gives it to us. You know, he’s got this magic thing that…”

Wham. Another smack on the head. I glared at him.

“You’re pissing me off, demorjed,” I hissed at him.

Manras bit his lip, flinching, and remained silent for the rest of the journey. I saw a mocking glint in the Black Dagger’s eyes.

We went down to Riskel’s market, and from there, Aberyl led us to an arched street in the lower part of Tarmil, full of shops and taverns. We entered a building between two shops that were beginning to be bustling with shoppers and onlookers. No one gave us even a glance. As the door closed, the voices outside died away almost completely.

“Are we all here? Good,” Aberyl said, satisfied. “This way.”

We walked through the dark hallway and up the stairs. On the first floor landing we passed Yerris. The black half-gnome looked restless. He glanced curiously at the gwaks before giving me a quick smile of welcome and turning to Aberyl.

“Ab. There’s news.”

He said it in the tone of: there’s some pretty bad news. Aberyl snorted.

“I know. It’s about Frashluc, isn’t it?”

Yerris arched his eyebrows and cleared his throat.

“We don’t know they did it yet. How did you learn about it so quickly? Did Draen know that…?”

Aberyl had wrinkled his forehead. He interrupted him by raising a hand.

“Wait, you don’t know if they did what?” he inquired. “I think we’re talking about two different things.”

“Oh. I’m talking about the tunnel,” Yerris explained. “The flies got into The Crazy Nut.”

Aberyl straightened up as if he had been slapped.

“They discovered the tunnel? My tunnel?”

The Black Cat grimaced.

“By now… it’s likely. It’s already nine in the morning, and they got in at six. We blew up the tunnel to the new hostel, and I don’t think they will be able to find it. What a mess. Manshif is upstairs with his family. He’s pissed…! He says that Korther will have to pay him everything, papers, a new tavern and all. But, hey, if things had gone well, he, too, would have made a good profit. Anyway. For the moment, I haven’t heard from Korther. Like he doesn’t exist. Hey, Ab. Why did you bring all the group? Could it be they’re recruits?” he scoffed.

Aberyl blew out loudly several times.

“Devils, devils, devils.” He glanced at me and my companions and said, “Look, take these boys upstairs with Arik. You guys, don’t move from the room and don’t show your face at the windows, okay? This is serious. And you, Black Cat, get back downstairs right now.”

“It runs,” Yerris agreed. And he waved us on. “Up, shyurs!”

I followed him, deep in thought. So the flies had discovered the tunnel to the Underground. Truthfully, I hadn’t thought until now that building such a tunnel could be illegal. I understood that it was secret, but… Blasthell, you knew what the flies deemed acceptable or not. In any case, if it was Frashluc who had wanted to play a dirty trick on Korther, it was my fault since I had revealed to him that the entrance was at The Crazy Nut. Just thinking about it kept me from asking Yerris any questions. Anyway, the Black Cat was climbing the stairs four by four, and even he, talkative as he was, could not manage more than a “welcome to the Booby House!”, followed by a comment about the irritated voices behind a door on the third floor and a “this way, shyurs, don’t stay behind”. We soon reached the fourth floor, the top floor. There was a door. Yerris pulled back the bar blocking it and gave me an embarrassed smile.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, weighing the piece of wood that served as a bar. “It’s preventive measures, nothing more. Get in,” he invited us.

I glanced at him uneasily as I crossed the threshold. As a matter of fact, now that I thought that without me there would have been no problem with the tunnel, I was pretty sure that Korther must be anxious to wring my neck. And what better way to do it than to lock me in a room with a barred door?

But Aberyl had saved Little Wolf, I reminded myself. And I said to myself firmly: trust, Mor-eldal. For once, trust them.

And so I trusted them. I entered, followed by my cronies and a Priest that was clearly moving reluctantly. The room was quite large, but it was empty except for a carpet, a box with bowls and pots, and a straw mattress. The shutters of the two windows were half closed, and standing by one of those, alerted by the noise, was Arik. The vampire gasped in amazement as he recognized us.

“Draen?”

I smiled and stepped forward, cheerful.

“Ayo, comrade! I see you got caught,” I continued in Caeldric. “Don’t worry. They won’t do anything to you.”

Just then, the sound of Yerris replacing the bar was heard outside, and for a moment, I doubted and repeated to myself: trust, blasthell.

Arik uncovered his fangs when Little Wolf came running up to greet him; he ruffled his hair and pointed to the carpet as if to invite us to sit down.

“My house is your house,” he pronounced in Caeldric.

I smiled, amused, and we settled down. After I had more or less explained to him why I had fled from Frashluc’s domains and told him how Aberyl had saved Little Wolf, we decided that we had talked enough about complicated things and started playing cards. I taught my companions a few tricks to shuffle them, for I was the only one who had practised the lessons of Le Bor’s lady a little.

In the afternoon, Yerris returned to bring us bread and bottles of wine, and found us dozing and recovering the hours of sleep we had skipped the night before. Seeing him appear, I hastened to say to him:

“Hey, Black Cat, don’t run. What’s up?”

The semi-gnome shrugged, looking very busy.

“We don’t know much yet. How are you doing with him?”

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He pointed discreetly at Arik with his chin. I rolled my eyes.

“Wind in my sails. He’s a comrade, Yerris, he’s not a monster. How long are we going to be locked up in here?”

Yerris shook his head.

“No idea. I don’t think Korther will give you much time until things settle down, shyur. But Aberyl asked me to tell you: just a little more patience and stay calm, I know how you are.” He smiled. “Well, I must be off, I’m in a hurry. You guys have enough here to get an army drunk. And, besides, it’s good wine! Don’t tell Manshif, I swiped it from him with his lady’s consent, for a good cause: that good tavern-keeper holds his drink well in general, but being so exalted as he is right now, it’s better for him not to bend the elbow. I’ll be back as soon as I can to bring you some food. Maybe tomorrow. Ayo and have fun with… your comrade,” he rasped, glancing nervously at the vampire. “Ayo,” he repeated.

He closed the door before I could think of saying anything to him. I heard him replace the bar. And the silence returned.

I sighed and lay back on the carpet. In spite of myself, my mind was working, wondering: if it were necessary, how could I get out of this room? Not through the window: it was too high and I had no rope. And to force that bar, I would have needed at least two mist hellhounds, or even an earth dragon. The walls were made of brick. That was a possible way out, but too visible…

Blasthell, Mor-eldal, I scolded myself. Why can’t you stop thinking about legging it every two seconds?

So, after eating, I lay down on my stomach, picked up the deck of cards, and proposed to my companions:

“How about a game of old-nails?”

* * *

The sound of the bar and the door opening woke me up in the middle of the night. It was my second night in this room of the Booby House. Yerris had not come in the morning. It had taken me hours to fall asleep because of hunger, and now that I had finally managed to do so, bang, people were coming. Was it the Black Cat? Despite a persistent headache that clouded my mind, my mouth watered just thinking about food.

There were whispers, and I blinked at the light. It was a harmonic light.

“Yuck, Spirits, it smells like a corpse in here,” a girl’s voice complained.

It was true: the day before, we had convinced Arik to give us a demonstration of his spitting. And it smelled bad, but so bad! We’d even had to open the window, and suffocated as we were, we had drunk more than we should have, hence the headache. The vampire, that bastard, had been laughing at us for a long time.

“Do you see anything?” a boy’s voice asked.

“Look out!” the girl whispered. “There might be someone there.”

“Locked up with a bar?” the boy replied, skeptically. “Don’t tell me that your father, too, locks up peop…?”

There was the sound of an empty bottle being dropped. I could feel my companions stirring, stretching, and wondering what was going on. Then the light grew brighter and not only could we see the faces of the two newcomers, but they could see us too, half sat up on the carpet and still dazed. I was stunned as I recognized our visitors, but maybe not as stunned as they were. It was Lowen and Zenira. The grandson of Frashluc and the daughter of Korther. At the time, I could only wonder what the hell was going on. Something was wrong, because it was night, and at night, nail-pincher’s children normally slept at home. But there they were, on the top floor of the Booby House.

Zenira let out a muffled scream of terror, and the light disappeared.

“Let’s get out of here!”

She pulled Lowen towards the exit, but he resisted.

“Wait, Zen! I think… I think I saw Draen.”

“Who?”

“Draen, the copper gwak. I’m sure I’ve seen him.”

“Nonsense, you probably just saw his spirit! Let’s get out of here, this place is scary and smells like death,” the girl urged him.

Rogan reacted before I did, throwing in a croak:

“I’m hungry!”

There was a brief silence. Then I said in a drawl:

“Please.”

And Manras echoed me in a pitiful voice. The response was swift: the two young nail-pinchers left in a hurry and put the bar back up so quickly that I did not even have time to think of getting up to try to prevent them from locking us in again. I let out a plaintive sigh as I rested my head on the carpet.

“Blasthell,” I muttered.

I went back to sleep almost immediately. The next morning, when I told my companions that I had dreamed that Zenira and Lowen had come in the middle of the night, Rogan exclaimed:

“Merciful spirits! So did I. Well, I don’t know who they were. They were like two spirits pretending to be my ancestors, I think…”

“Me too!” Manras interjected, excitedly. “Except they weren’t my ancestors, they were Taka and Le Bor.”

“It wasn’t a dream,” Arik interjected in Caeldric. The vampire was the only one with a clear head, because he hadn’t tasted the wine: he didn’t need it, and besides, he said it made him gag.

I turned to him, both confused and puzzled.

“It wasn’t a dream?” I repeated. “You mean Zenira and Lowen did come, and Rogan and Taka’s ancestors and Le Bor too? No kidding,” I laughed.

“Two children came,” Arik declared. “I don’t know who they were.”

I frowned and massaged my temples. Damn. How hungry I was and how I wanted to drink water, pure water, not wine. With a grimace, I grabbed the neck of a bottle, uncorked it, and drank before passing it to Little Wolf for a moment. The little fellow did not seem to like the diet, and as soon as I took the bottle away from him, he began to bite the cork. Well! Did Aberyl intend to let him starve to death after saving him from the canal? A wave of frustration swept over me, and I took a deep breath and jumped to my feet.

“I’ve had enough,” I announced.

I walked to the door and began to bang my fist, first with one, then with both.

“We’re hungry!” I cried.

I repeated my lament several times and then changed it to threats:

“I’ll break the wall if you don’t open up! I’ll blow it up, I’ve got explosives! I’ll scream for help through the window! I can bellow like a dragon! The whole neighborhood will hear me! Somebody open up, blasthell! Open up right now!”

Nothing. Finally, I tired of pounding my aching left fist and returned to the carpet, defeated but angry. No sooner had I sat down than I stood up, pulling the nail out of the music necklace and preparing to break through the partition wall by the door. If the Black Daggers wanted Mor-eldal to stay put, they would have to feed him and his companions, blasthell!

I had already made a good mess when, perhaps an hour later, we heard the bar, and the door opened. As the hinges were on my side, I had time to quickly hide my nail before the newcomers poked their heads in.

It was Korther, followed by three other Black Daggers whom I did not recognize. All were armed and masked except Korther, who was dressed as a nail-pincher. His devilish eyes watched us as I backed away to join my companions. The elfocan’s gaze fell on me, then on the damage I’d done to the wall, and when his attention returned to me, I stared into the void in shame. Blasthell.

“And here is the assassin,” Korther commented.

He took a step towards me. I shuddered, but looked up, alert. Was he angry? His eyes sparkled with both amusement and lethal venom. He was pissed, I confirmed. But maybe not at me, right? I tried to defend myself.

“I didn’t kill him,” I said. “He popped off ’cause his ticker gave out. And he had a knife.”

“Oh, yeah?” Korther replied, stopping in front of me with a scoff. “A knife?” Immediately, he pulled out a dagger and pressed it against my throat. “Did he threaten you like that, lad? And you attacked him? You thought he was going to ‘pop you off’, didn’t you? Tell me, lad, are you going to attack me too?”

I looked back at him in horror, feeling the metal blade on my neck. My companions were, I think, more frightened than I was. I articulated:

“No, sir.”

“No,” Korther repeated.

He pressed a little more, and I thought, I deserve it, I am a traitor, let him pop me off, I am not going to do anything to stop him. I begged in a hoarse voice:

“Don’t kill my friends, please. Don’t kill them.”

The kap arched his eyebrows. And then he rolled his eyes. He withdrew his dagger as quickly as he had pulled it out.

“I’m not going to kill you. But I have to say, you have a knack for making my life difficult, lad. Frashluc’s death caught us at a bad time. His son, Darys, is a complete idiot. He thought you were an undercover assassin, lost his mind, and ordered me sequestered, but, guess what, he couldn’t find me, so he sequestered my daughter.”

Still recovering from my fright, I gasped in disbelief.

“Zenira? B-but that’s impossible. I saw her last night. She came in with Lowen, right here. They took off like hares because they thought we were ghosts or something. Blasthell. So it was all a dream?”

I shook my head in confusion. There was a murmur from behind the half-open door. Korther sighed loudly, putting a hand to his forehead.

“Spirits. We can’t even leave her alone for one night. Zenira! Haven’t I told you a thousand times not to eavesdrop?”

The girl appeared between the Black Daggers, red as a tomato. Lowen followed her, even more hesitant.

“Sorry, Pop,” she said in a small, innocent voice. “It’s just… there was a bar. We couldn’t imagine there were people inside. Why are you holding them prisoner here?”

She looked me up and down, looking uncomfortable. I was even more uncomfortable.

“Mmph. They’re safer locked in here than out there, my dear,” Korther assured. And he put an arm around his daughter’s shoulders, adding in a tone of gentle reprimand, “And you, you’d better be more careful… Lowen already saved you and Draen once. I think our little hero has given enough of himself for this week. And, now, it will be best if I send you back to the Elms before your classmates start wondering what happened to you.”

“Already?” Zenira protested. “But I haven’t done my homework!”

“You should have done it last night instead of snooping around and taking bars off doors,” the kap retorted. “Come on, hurry up or you’ll be late for school. Or should I send you a guide?”

The two little nail-pinchers sighed in disappointment, looked curiously at the five gwaks in the room again, and under Korther’s imperious eyes, they left.

As the sound of their footsteps died away, I frowned and dared to ask:

“Sir. What happened to the Black Cat? He said he’d bring us food and he didn’t come.”

Korther pouted.

“These two nights have been busy. Aberyl and Yerris were injured in a stupid fight with those of Frashluc. But they are alive and safe, rest assured. In two weeks, they’ll be fine. Slaryn, on the other hand, almost killed her kap,” he cleared his throat, while exchanging an amused look with his fellow Black Daggers. “Anyway, back to the matter at hand. If I came here…” He glanced curiously at the vampire before continuing, “It’s to give you a new job.”

This left me speechless. A job… for me? After all my betrayals? My heart filled with gratitude.

“Really? A job for me?”

“That’s right. And, this time, you can’t let me down.”

I looked at him, looked at my companions, at the other Black Daggers, and then back at Korther’s face; I was seething with curiosity.

“What should I do?” I asked.

Korther dropped his serious expression and a mocking smile stretched his lips.

“What you do best, lad: sing.”