The old wise woman knew many things. She made medicines for Raps' mother using whatever Raps managed to snatch from the kitchen. She taught Raps herself how to prepare poultices and compresses, narrating frightening but fascinating stories in the process. Some said the old woman could see the future, but if that were true, the Taulars wouldn't be in such dire straits. The old woman was forbidden from leaving her dwelling; if the guards noticed, they would shoot her or beat her to death with their whips. Perhaps Eklat hadn't killed her yet only because she could keep the slaves in working condition. Or they hesitated because it would require a couple of well-trained soldiers to deal with her, and still the outcome of such a clash would remain uncertain. In any case, as long as the old woman stayed put, she would be safe. But a wise woman is a wise woman...

— Rapsi, did you get how these herbs look, hm? Long green stems, round flat leaves, five or six on each stem, they have a sweet scent when you crush them between your fingers. We need one handful. But more is better. Then...

The creaking-whispering voice of the old woman filled Raps with melancholy. This was already the sixth or seventh herb on the list that Raps needed to find and steal from the kitchen. According to the plan, in which she was the main executor. Or rather, the only possible one. It had only been a few days since the miraculous find, but her kinsfolk had already devised a plan. It seemed they had been preparing it for a long, long time. And now it was time to execute it. In a couple of weeks, she would stand before the Vizier to join his concubines, and then...

— Rapsi, are you listening? One mistake could cost us dearly! Repeat what I said, hm?

— Orange tiny flowers, they are usually thrown into the porridge to mask its stench...

— No-no-no! Red! Red tiny flowers! Don't mix them up!

— Granny Ittira, how am I going to hide all this? I've never stolen so much before!

— Then Arti will have to do without fruits for now. Fruits are harder to carry, right? Herbs are lighter. But wait, we also have roots and other peculiarities. So remember them well! Granny demands it, — the old woman said, squinting at her with half-blind, glassy white eyes. Even the guards seemed afraid of that gaze. It felt like she would extend her crooked, balding finger—bam! —and someone would immediately drop dead. Could she really do such a thing? Perhaps soon they would find out.

— And you carry your little knife everywhere without fear, from what I can see.

— How... How did you find out, gran? — Raps clutched her side, where she kept the small weapon, about the size of a thick knitting needle. It had been a knife before. And just a little earlier, it was a sword...

— Hee-hee-hee, I sense it, I sense it. Well, let granny see it...

Raps cautiously retrieved the needle. In this form, the guards wouldn't find it even during a thorough search. At least, that's what Raps hoped for.

— It... can change as I want. But I can't give it away—it's too heavy for others. Even when it's this small."

— A marvelous little thing! Who would have thought that the whole cheese and cabbage would start because of it. And I never thought I would live to see it. Now, show me how you can change it, hm?

Raps focused. The needle began to increase in size, a blade and a hilt appeared, and the runes became more visible—their dull blue light adding even more ominous, otherworldly tones to the wise woman's face. Shivers ran down Raps' spine. After a couple of moments, she was gripping a sword in her hand.

— A fascinating little thing! My sons said they found it deep in the mine. Why can only you wield it, hm? Every magical trinket has its, so caller, rules—apparently, this is one of them. Perhaps you know something else, hm?

— Well, I read some... some verse, and the sword began to glow, and then I realized I could lift it. Its name is Suiravka.

— A curious little thing! And it even has a name, hee-hee, curious, curious. So, the first rule is to read a verse, it seems?

— Yes, but Unlad tried to repeat it after me and still couldn't lift it.

— I see, so whoever was first —got the prize, hm? And what forms have you tried, hm? Or the most unusual ones? Maybe it can have multiple blades, hm? Or maybe it can be something other than a weapon? A key, perhaps, a key?

— Well, I haven't tried... Let me think carefully now...

Raps began to imagine the largest sword that could fit in her hand. Suiravka started to change, becoming what she envisioned. The old woman burst into wicked laughter.

— Go on, Raps, go on!

So it can be big too. But how long? Suiravka transformed into a steel spear, resembling the one Raps saw on the long-eared creature in her dream. Perhaps an axe? Yes, it could be an axe too. The old woman shifted from foot to foot, clapping her hands, and her laughter grew more and more sinister and loud. Raps continued. Closing her eyes again, she pictured the armor she had seen on the skeleton in the mine...

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— Oh, something's not right, hm?

Suiravka didn't respond, remaining in the form of an axe. Raps tried again, trying to envision the armor as accurately as possible. Did she miss something? But Suiravka remained unchanged.

— What did you imagine, Rapsi?

— The armor, I thought about the armor.

— Hee-hee, the second rule: it can only be a weapon, hm? Try a key, try!

Raps envisioned a key. Suiravka didn't change.

— It's not working...

— What a pity, what a pity. It would have made our lives easier, hee-hee. Now, imagine it as... not a metal weapon, hm?

Not a metal weapon? A whip? Raps closed her eyes again. Thoughts of a whip were not pleasant, but Suiravka changed. However, it remained metallic, yet flexible like a whip.

— Hee-hee-hee! Wonderful, wonderful, Rapsi! And now, let it have sharp edges, hm?

Raps engaged in the old woman's experiments, imagining an unprecedented weapon —a whip with blades. It worked! Suiravka took on a highly unusual and dangerous appearance.

— And if it's a key, but a sharp one, hm? What about that?

Suiravka didn't obey. Apparently, only a weapon... What a shame.

— The rules, Rapsi, the rules! Look how intriguing it turns out! Such a little thing! Hee-hee-hee. Soon, soon, we will escape this pit, soon. But for now, hide your wonder and remember once again the herbs I told you about, hm?

— Gran, I've memorized them..."

— Don't be frivolous, Rapsi! — the wise woman's tone abruptly shifted to stern and somewhat rough, — Our lives depend on you. Our freedom. Our future. And not only ours! The others in the mines are preparing too, you know? And everything will revolve around you, do you understand, hm?

— But I..., — Rapsamash hesitated and lowered her head, — I'm scared, gran. I won't be able to handle it...

— Rapsi, my child, — the old woman gently grasped her shoulders, — Everyone knows that you can do it, and we will all help you. Performing great deeds is in your blood; your lineage has always led our people toward the light. Your mother was once a symbol of our hope, but now that symbol is you. Do you understand, hm? Your mother passed her will, her spark, to you, and you will succeed, Rapsi. No one but you can.

— But I'm not like my mother, — her voice trembled, — My eyes are different...

— My dear, I know how you grieve over not having her eyes. But the color of the eyes doesn't determine whether or not you inherited her courage, intelligence, and determination. Ba Mora Ammadithra—your lineage, your blood—each of you is special, descendants of our ancestors.

— And Arti? She... She's furless! Half-human!

— But their blood runs through her veins too. She is clever and kind, Rapsi. She is your sister, and she is one of us. How she looks is not the most important thing, agree, hm? Look at me, for example—I'm old and feeble, yet people fear me. Why is that, hm? How could such a useless weak old woman inspire fear?

— But she stole Mama's eyes!

— No, child, she didn't steal them. Perhaps your mother herself wanted you to find solace in your sister when she will be gone. And she gave her eyes to her. Would it be better if she had human eyes?

— But why don't I have Mama's eyes?

— Well, my dear, something must have come from your father as well. Your lineage is not determined by the color of your eyes or your fur. It goes much deeper, Rapsi. It's also a kind of magic.

— I don't understand...

— You will understand, my dear, you will. It takes time. I hope we have that time. But for now... Now remember that Arti is not to blame for being born that way. And you know very well who is to blame. You know, don't you?

— Eklat...

— Exactly, my child, exactly. Eklat is the one responsible for all our troubles. But we will make them pay. You will make them pay.

The wise woman looked directly into Rapsamash's eyes. The girl suddenly felt her fur stand on end, and her heart beat stronger and faster. She involuntarily bared her teeth. A sudden surge of anger and malice pushed her doubts aside, but only for a moment. She was still afraid, deeply afraid. When it was just explained to her that in the future, she would become a concubine, at first, she was delighted to see the light of the sun, which she had long forgotten, to eat delicious food and fruits, clean water, forget about these dirty mines. But the closer that very day became, the more she doubted, the more she did not want to leave her mother and her congeners. She will be there, alone, among those who mercilessly beat her, humiliated and fed her with slop, who tortured her comrades, maimed and executed them at their own whim, who came to their already not the most prosperous city, and made them all slaves, hid underground in order to cash in on their own. She will be there alone, among the enemies, and no one can save her, and no one can stop them if they want to do something bad to her. And they certainly want to... And down here, her congeners would continue to toil tirelessly, day after day, year after year, generation after generation. But now, everything could change. She could save them all... but would she be able to? Since Sanlad and Unlad explained the plan to her, she could hardly sleep peacefully. They all now relied on her. But she would be there, alone, and if she fails... Day after day, year after year, generation after generation. She would never see Mama, or Arti, or uncle Sangar, or granny Ittira, or her impetuos sons again... And if she fails, they would hardly see each other either. Eklat would take care of them all. She had to, she was obliged to stop them. For Mama, for her congeners, for herself.

— You're lost in heavy thoughts, Rapsi, aren't you? — The wise woman stroked the girl's head and suddenly pulled her hand away sharply, — Shh!

The old woman peered out from behind the curtain of her hut. Rapsamash, curious and cautious, tried to see what had caught the old woman's attention so abruptly. Just nearby the entrance, there sat a cat. The Taular called them younger brothers or little congeners. There were a few of them in the mine, and they were collectively cared for. After all, they shared some common roots. But Rapsamash had never seen this particular cat before.

— He looks rather strange... Bald, perhaps. Rapsi, have you ever seen one like him before?

— No, I've never come across this one. Maybe he was recently abandoned.

— He has an unpleasant look. Probably upset that he was thrown in here with us. Well, the Breach be with him, he won't be lost, — Ittira lowered the curtain and walked further into her hut, speaking in a hoarse whisper, — And you, Rapsi, repeat to me what we have about the herbs, and hurry on, lest they miss you.

— Red small flowers that are thrown into the porridge...