The next few days passed in what Atef felt as unusual uncertainty. He noticed he didn’t have the access to the balcony in his room anymore as it was blocked by a hastily constructed scaffolding which would stop an even smaller child from squeezing through. The bed for which he could still swear he burnt had new bedsheets and a layer of varnish which looked especially hideous on the charred spot. He spent an awfully long amount of time in it, as if he were a traveller who decided to reward himself with endless sleep sessions after finally being back from a round-the-world quest. He passed his idle time with a few wooden soldier and knight figurines which had odd looking carvings on their bottoms, or soles of their feet. Although he briefly wondered, his mind never tackled with the possibility that those symbols were made by some other children, from whom the toys were perhaps even snatched away so that he is kept satisfied. Togrin even bestowed him with a book which showed drawings of duelling heroes, unimaginable banquets, fantastical creatures and landscapes of inexplicable far-away places. He tried sparking Atef’s innate creativity asking him to make up a story for each of the images, and if he liked it, he would award him with a new delight he has never tried before. And yet, the peak of every day was the night. At dead of the night, Atef would go out of the room and have a stroll, always accompanied by Togrin, shadowed by two servants. At first, he didn’t dare to object or ask anything, but on the third night the curiosity, so natural to a boy of his age and circumstances, prevailed.

- Master Togrin – he started cautiously – I love our suns, love ‘em as all these stars you told me stories about! But cann’a? Cann’a please leave my room during the day and be under them? Play in the field, or yard, or at least close to the pig stye? I swear, I won’t bother anyone, not the servants, not even the tiniest, incy-wincy worm. I will be so puny, punier than a sparkling pebble in the dark… not even Darek, you know the guard, the cruellest in the pit wouldda spot me.

Dead silence abounded. Master Togrin looked reserved to Atef. He couldn’t see through the mysterious, worried gaze which dwelled on something unbeknownst to him. Was he looking for too much? Or he didn’t fulfill some tucked away expectation he was marked with since the moment he woke up in the villa? Anxious goosebumps were running all over his body, heat flushes poured into neck and cheeks as he waited for the answer. Instead of an answer, Togrin picked up the pace stone-silent, leaving him behind, not even bothering to glance at him.

- Those who toil here have no love for the likes of you – he concluded with a tone which removes any further chance for a discussion. Atef childishly got stumped on this, lacking context. He couldn’t understand the bitterness between social classes, past those from the pit. The ruled, the servile bunch, who growl and grab by the ankles those who elevate themselves just enough out of the muck. And those up, at the apex. The nobles whose pastime consists of countless jealousies, fueling plots to enlarge their estates and seep away the power from rivals. Far from him was the revelation that such natural order doesn’t exist only between slaves, eternally despised and forced to labor, and their masters. He decided not to say a word or ask anything, and instead paced angrily through the hot night. He gazed at the stars, sifting through his mind in search for stories he could come up to tell Togrin. They reminded him of nights passed deep in the mines, under the arches which would glint up from the tiniest of sparks. He pictured each of them as nuggets dispersed in eternity that some industrious, heavenly miner will one day dig up with joy. Then they will shut down, and the sky will turn dark. Or, he thought, wouldn’t it be greater if some apt heavenly blacksmith used them all to forge one giant round star. A shield. He would love if it was a shield. So that the sky could guard all those, similar to him, who underneath it suffer. A brilliant halo, omnipresent, banishing evil, never again for it to reign, not even in a pit.

- Which constellation is that? – Togrin finally spoke up after a long silence laden with anxiety, pointing at the system of seven stars brighter than the rest of the heavenly multitude.

- The White Stag – Atef responded proudly moving his finger along the constellation skyline imagining a white stag prancing in the same woods he observed daily through the little holes in the scaffolding. He craved to explore it.

- And that one? – Togrin continued his examination.

- Limping Wolf. See! He howls! – Atef reminded his teacher of the story from last night.

- You’re a smart boy Atef! It’s a shame you spent so much of your life underground. By now, you could already be at a court of some baron or count learning to become a scribe. Maybe even in the Imperial city! And to top it all off, look at yourself. Slender, unexpectedly healthy, even strong… after all that you’ve been through. Who knows, maybe you could have been an excellent general as well.

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Atef clinged much more to the second idea. What a scribe does he didn’t understand, while a general was quite a vivid term in his mind. The word painted a portrait of a ferocious man who is obeyed without question. A magnificently adorned hero, just as stories would tell, recognized by a single glance to be a leader of men who would give their lives for him. The bane of vile and cruel who tremble with fear before him. They are but pale shadows in his wake, perishing if they confront him just as a slave would if he stood up to his master.

- And yet it is not too late! A lot awaits you soon – said Togrin noticing the boy’s wondering face, touching upon the subject of Atef’s unexpected freedom. The sudden promise lifted Atef’s spirits. The idleness has already started feeling painful and encumbering especially as his world outside of the pit became the pit. Only lighter, well decorated and inclusive of an occasional monitored stroll.

- In a day, two at most you will get a teacher. Jarat, only a day from here will become your home when we equip you properly. He will teach you to read and write, and if you continue being this smart and curious, maybe even to add and subtract, multiply and divide, apply yourself to knowledges foreign and inexplicable to many. You will know even more than I do – Togrin finished his exposé on the plan for the boy with a tone of significance.

- And whadda are all those thingies? – Atef asked with an honest ignorance in his voice for all these secretive skills.

- When you know how to read and write, you will understand all the lines and blotches in this world and you’ll be able to scribble them so that others can understand as well. When you know how to add and subtract, you will know how to buy and sell and know ahead how many coins you have left. And with multiplication and division you can be a trader, or a steward of an estate, just like this one – Togrin explained trying his best to use children tongue.

- Aha, so I kanna a lot then. I’ll know maybe even more than the pit boss then! – he shouted excitedly hoping that his guardian would be enthused.

- The mine Atef, when will you drop pit? It is not right to speak like that. As a matter of fact, a lot in your speech needs improvement.

- The bosses wouldda never call it mine – he simply concluded defending his habit. Master Togrin – his voice was now emanating gratitude and complete trust in his benefactor – no fella’ was ever so good to me except my ma’. Speak up, whadda canna I do for you? In the pit… mine, never you couldda get something from another slave, unless you gave something in return.

Togrin’s eyes sparked in the midst of darkness for a brief moment.

– Tell me about the mine. Tell me about your rat days as you call them, the days before you were brought here. I am so interested in that.

- My mother was Nayaga… Naya – he started off in a sad, somber voice – and she was so puny and frail. Since I canna remember I grew underground, and she grew older, disappearing before me. She never wanna to tell me who my dadda is or how she got in the pit. She died… soon as I couldda walk, so the other ma’s took me. While I was so puny I helped ‘em with all in Knotway.

- Knotway?

- The biggest chamber from which all ways go deep. Three, no four houses as big as this one could fit in there, and still there wouldda be enough space for a good pig stye – he said showing the number with his fingers and waving around with arms, trying to portray the enormity. - The bosses, when they hit the bottle and become chirpy, wouldda tell stories to us in cages. They said once, that Knotway was one big copper vein and they dug it up all so that the Empire canna have water. They said that copper was turned into pipes for the whole Imperial city. Is it nice, the Imperial city?

- I’ve never been there. Tell me what happened later, closer to the time when we brought you here? – Togrin asked with a hint of impatience free-flowing in the pitch of his voice.

- As master said, I became a rat as soon as I was yay high. The pit was full of cracks and holes, and I reckoned well where I came from and where I was going, else I coudda break me leg. I see also well in dark, and with just little ember I managed to find new sparkly veins of metal and gemstones. I was the best rat!

- Marvelous! Do you though, remember the last day?

The boy lowered his eyes thinking hard. He could remember flashing blurred images weaved in with bodily sensations which together constructed a dreadful, temple-burning synesthesia. A force, mysterious to him, has hidden his recent past behind a veil which the days passed in blissful ignorance hadn’t lifted even for an instant.

- Only that I went deep and that the ember in the small bone lamp almost died. I remember a rope around me belly and pain when they pulled me out. I remembered I called for ma’ and wished she was there. I remember everything burned. That it was picking me apart from the inside building a nest for itself.

- What, what was it? – Togrin released a cry of intense interest.

- I don’t know – the boy replied slowly with sadness.

Togrin stopped for a brief moment thinking everything over. – The walk for tonight is over. It is the time for you to rest – he concluded diligently.

Atef spent the next day in reexamination of the peculiar interest his guardian had for his last moments in the pit. He tried reconstructing every moment of his last quest to the depths. However, the eclipse of his mind which struck him suddenly in the pit’s jaws wouldn’t clear. Annoyed and exhausted, he gave himself up to the highlight of that day, chicken with potatoes which he subsequently sweetened with freshly picked cherries.