Zdain

Ipalos, Andiol Empire

The bathroom door slammed shut. Josel was...completely impossible. Sometimes the blond-haired one was as if he had swallowed a burdock - mean and ill-tempered. Occasionally - though quite rarely - the caring and friendly side of Josel would bubble up to the surface. Then there was this third Josel Sandkan, who tossed verbal barbs like sharp stone chips, and was a very funny young man in his own mind.

The first Josel Zdain hated, the second he admitted he liked, and the third he did not know what to think. That was it. Zdain Monteilon could not figure out what he really thought of Josel.

Sighing softly, he sat back on the bed and closed his eyes. His thoughts drifted into the past, and Zdain only dimly noticed that Josel returned to the room after a while.

He remembered Josel from his childhood, from a time when they had attended the same school. It was probably Josel's golden hair that had first caught Zdain's attention. Such light hair was almost unique in the Paidos region.

Josel had stuck in Zdain's mind anyway. A lively blond boy, always on the move and the centre of attention. Most of the time Josel had kept to a tight circle of his three best friends, but occasionally he would gather around a larger pack of noisy boys. The girls clearly liked Josel too, probably because of both his looks and personality.

Zdain had followed a lonelier path throughout his childhood. As a shy person, he could not take his place in a gang of boisterous boys, and in Paidos, where the hatred for superiors was the norm, a governor as a father had no advantage in making friends. Zdain was not bullied, but in some ways the other children shunned him. Too often he was left to wander the schoolyard alone, knowing that the guards his father hired were on duty within earshot.

In particular, Zdain failed to befriend Josel and his friends. On the contrary, after an unfortunate incident in their childhood, the foursome began to be openly hostile towards him. As the years went by, the boys mostly left Zdain alone.

Every now and then there were still occasions when they would almost get into a scuffle. These were the sports competitions in which both Zdain and Josel excelled. They met on the running track, on the long jump venue and in the swimming pool, alternately beating each other.

Depending on who was better, Josel gave Zdain either bilious or smug looks. Rarely did the blond bother to say anything, if he did, it was something insulting. Josel's unfriendliness left Zdain at a loss. At first it saddened him, but eventually he stopped caring and tried to respond with equally sour looks.

Although Zdain had little or no contact with Josel, he was always aware of the boy's presence. Zdain saw Josel laughing with joy when he won a sports competition, amusing the girls in his class with his funny stories, jumping on a moving rail-carriage and climbing the water rails to the roof of the school.

He also knew that Josel hated olives but loved raspberry caramels, that he had a birthmark on his left shoulder and that he said he never did his homework, but still did at least well in his exams. Zdain Monteilon knew all this about Josel Sandkan, even though he did not really know the boy.

* * *

Although Zdain did not have a group of friends like Josel, he had something the blond lacked: Venr. His big brother was talented, ambitious and a great athlete. He succeeded in everything he set out to do and was not afraid of anything or anyone. Unlike Zdain, Venr had also managed to make a lot of friends. With his sunny disposition, Venr even melted the parents of his classmates who had a cold attitude towards the governor.

If Venr was liked at school, he was adored at home. Elyssa Monteilon practically worshipped her older son, forgetting that Zdain existed. Dareis Monteilon, on the other hand, used to compare the brothers to each other - naturally Venr always got all the praise.

His parents had barely noticed when Zdain brought home a school report with nothing but excellent marks. After all, Venr had received the Imperial Medal of Recognition for being the best student in the town in arithmetic, history and geography. Where Zdain was excellent, Venr was magically good.

While Zdain had won his discipline in the Spring Competition one year, Dareis Monteilon had shown no pride in his younger son. After all, winning one sport was no great achievement compared to the fact that, at the age of fifteen, Venr had won no less than five of the nine events.

The only comment from his father to Zdain was that he should train harder to compete in the future. As if Zdain was not already training like crazy. Dareis Monteilon insisted that his offspring must show total dedication to both sport and schoolwork. As the sons of the governor, Venr and Zdain had to set an example for the other children of Paidos, as their father often reminded them. That's why Zdain spent several evenings a week stifling himself on the sports field and doing his homework late into the night, without receiving any praise.

His father had already begun to talk in family circles about the possibility of Venr succeeding him as governor in due course. That would require some sort of arrangement, although it was not uncommon in Andiol for the position to be inherited. Of course, no one even considered the possibility that Zdain might become the next imperial governor of Paidos instead of Venr.

Sometimes Zdain thought that his parents would have been much happier if they had only had Venr. Especially after that nasty disgrace - as his father called it - he had felt doubly so.

With the nasty disgrace, his mother had become increasingly immersed in Venr's excellence, and his father's attitude towards Zdain had become hateful. Neither of them ever called him by his nickname 'Din' again.

Soon after the incident, Zdain had become even more lonely at home. It had been over six months since Venr had travelled to Dimalos and joined the Imperial Army. He had excellent references, of course, and everything had been agreed in advance with the senior officers known to Governor Monteilon. So, Venr Monteilon, nineteen years old, was currently serving as a second lieutenant in the Imperial Army in the far west.

After his departure, the Governor Monteilon's palace had become a less cheerful place. There was no longer an ingenious older brother. There was only the younger brother, whose disgrace was remembered by the sad looks of his mother, the condemning looks of his father, and the knowing glances of the servants.

As Zdain lay on the bed in Marta Donthav's guest room, his thoughts drifted from Venr back to Josel - or more precisely, to his mother, who had died in an accident a year and a half ago. Andreuz and Idalae Sandkan were fairly well-known people in Paidos, so the accident had been reported in the press.

Some days after the news of the death, a visitor had arrived at the Governor's Palace. Zdain had never met Andreuz Sandkan before and could not have imagined that his formal father would be associated with such a fairy tale writer. Nevertheless, Mr Sandkan had arrived unexpectedly to meet Dareis Monteilon.

Zdain would have preferred to remain invisible, but manners demanded that he offer his condolences to the family of the deceased. Especially as Zdain's mother was, as usual, visiting some of her acquaintances and Venr was in his close combat training.

Dareis Monteilon and Andreuz Sandkan must have talked for more than two hours in the governor's private quarters without being disturbed. Zdain could only guess that it was about more than just regretting Mrs Sandkan's death. At the time, he had heard nothing from his father except cautious references to the Blue Moon. He was aware that Father had more on his mind than his position as governor, but that was all he knew at the age of fourteen.

When the servant finally came to tell Zdain that his father was waiting, the boy had walked into the governor's chambers feeling insecure. He did not like meeting strangers, and he was shy about socialising with the guests invited to the governor's party. Venr was natural at it, his big brother was not timid at all and knew how to behave gracefully in any situation.

As Zdain stepped over the threshold, he saw his father and Mr Sandkan talking, drinking glasses in hand. The governor was leaning against the piano, looking thoughtful, while the author stood with his back to the doorway, gesturing with his free hand.

Zdain tapped the doorframe with his knuckles, causing the men to stop talking and turn to him.

"You're here at last," Dareis Monteilon said gruffly, glancing at his pocket watch with a reproachful look that Zdain knew had once again displeased his father.

Andreuz Sandkan, gave a curious look at the newcomer. "He has a lot of his mother's looks," the author said appraisingly. Only the sadness in the blue-grey eyes told Zdain that the man had just lost his wife.

Otherwise, Andreuz Sandkan looked like a mixture of intelligence, toughness and benevolence. Zdain could recognise the same high cheekbones and similar chin and eye shape as Josel. Andreuz Sandkan's thinning hair was also blond, though not strikingly golden as his son's.

"Mr Sandkan, I'm sorry about your wife," Zdain managed to get out.

"Thank you," Andreuz Sandkan said, shaking his head dejectedly, then looked at the governor. "Your son is well-behaved, I wish I could say the same for our Josel."

Dareis Monteilon did not share the praise for his son. After a moment of silence, the author turned back to Zdain. "I heard you won the running last spring. Josel cursed his second place and his loss to you for who knows how many days. You two aren't friends, are you?"

"Well...we haven't really met properly," Zdain agreed.

"Why not introduce the boys to each other? It would do Zdain good to meet his peers once in a while instead of dangling after his brother and the palace guards all the time," Dareis Monteilon interjected, making Zdain blush with embarrassment. How could Father humiliate him in front of Mr Sandkan?

Andreuz Sandkan, however, did not agree with Zdain's father. "Dareis, it might not be the best idea. After all, we don't want to spread rumors about the bond between us. And secondly, Josel is not the easiest case to deal with."

Zdain stared at the writer in astonishment. Very few people called the governor of Paidos by his first name. And what on earth was this bond between them? Only today he had learned that the two men even knew each other.

"You're probably right, as usual. It's better that the news of this meeting don't reach people's ears," Dareis Monteilon said, looking meaningfully at his son.

Andreuz Sandkan then asked Zdain about school, sports and so on. Zdain answered the stranger's questions politely, but a little shyly.

Occasionally, the father would interject a clarifying remark or urge his silent son to tell him more. "Zdain, tell me about the time...", "Zdain, do you really not remember?"

Zdain was annoyed by his father's interference, but Dareis Monteilon would not be objected, especially in the presence of his guests.

Fortunately, Mr Sandkan finally glanced at the wall clock and decided it was time to go home. He patted Zdain on the shoulder as he left and made a strange request: "If my son starts arguing with you, try to be patient. He has just lost his mother. Dareis and I do not want you to be mortal enemies, for the day may come when you and Josel will need each other's help.

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

Andreuz Sandkan's words troubled fourteen-year-old Zdain. He did not bother to ask his father, for the answers would have been familiarly vague. "I'll tell you when you're old enough," Father used to say.

But it had to be something important, so Zdain obeyed the author's request. He refused to listen to Josel's taunts when he met the golden-haired boy and his friends on the street a week later.

It was not until the night the Shadow Cross attacked the Governor's Palace that Zdain began to understand the meaning of Andreuz Sandkan's words. Standing in the hallway of the Sandkan family home, under Josel's shocked gaze, Zdain first sensed that he and Josel Sandkan would indeed need each other's help.

* * *

The bed creaked as Zdain opened his eyes and sat up. Josel was lounging on his own bed, playing with an ink pen he had found somewhere.

Goldy's carefree expression changed to a grin when he saw Zdain standing up. "What are you dreaming about this time? Probably my victory in the kite fight?"

Zdain winced. Was it a good-natured joke from Josel or a desire to annoy? It didn't pay to respond to such childishness, so Zdain just snorted. Why had he been condemned to suffer with damned Sandkan? Josel was a constant tease, both awake and asleep.

Even during his pre-dinner naps, Zdain had a dream about his blond traveling companion. In the dream, he had lost Josel in the bustle of the streets of Ipalos, and had searched frantically everywhere for him until he found him lying lifeless in a ditch. At that point in the dream, Martha's servant Toma had come to wake them.

Was Sandkan angry at having to agree to support the escape plan Zdain did not know. Anyway, Josel was free to complain as much as he wanted, as long as he did as he was told.

Josel might disagree, but they were not safe in Ipalos. Isendar Vargan and his minions were breathing down their necks, of that Zdain was more than certain. Marta, on the other hand, was no help at all. With her intrusive questions, the old woman had shown that she did not trust her guests.

Zdain felt that staying in the house was pointless at best. The most sensible thing to do was to make their way to Five Hills as quickly as possible. There, at least, they would know where his parents were. Even if they could not contact the Blue Moon, there were some of his father's acquaintances living in Five Hills who would surely take Zdain in. And if the Sandkan boy would be really nice and amicable, Zdain might even arrange for him a night's lodging.

* * *

They sat in silence for a long time. Outside, the evening was fading into night, but neither of them bothered to light an oil lamp. Zdain wondered how best to slip out of the house without Martha and the servants noticing. Unfortunately, the window was out of the question, as it could not be forced open - he had tried.

It seemed the only option was to sneak down the stairs the way they had come and hope that the household were already sleeping. It was too early for that. Zdain poured himself a drop of wine and tried to calm himself. It would be a long journey tonight, for he wanted to be far from the walls of Ipalos by dawn.

Although they were ill-equipped for extensive travel, Zdain was not worried. He had kept a few banknotes safe in his trouser pocket. They could be used to buy a place to stay for the night, or even a lift in a friendly merchant's wagon. Without money, the journey from Ipalos to Five Hills would have been pure madness, but Zdain was no fool, though Josel probably thought he was.

Zdain lay back down on the bed. Rest would do him good, even if he did not want to fall asleep, lest the moment of departure slip by. He turned his head to see what Josel was doing.

There was no sound of the sleeper's peaceful breathing. It was too dim to see, but Zdain imagined angry blue eyes staring at him from the opposite bed.

The evening turned into a night without either of them opening their mouths to say anything to the other. Zdain kept mulling over the route from the room to the door and from there to the north gate of the city. Many things could go wrong, but he did not want to worry about that now.

The time had come. He got out of bed, put on his shoes and went to the bathroom. It was almost dark, but Zdain did not want to turn on a light that might attract the attention of Marta and the others.

"I'm leaving now, will you come with me?" he whispered hoarsely.

Josel had sat up in his bed and grunted: "Yeah."

"Good. Follow me, don't make the slightest noise, let's go out the front door."

Despite the darkness, Josel's expression showed a desire to argue. This time, however, the boy remained silent and, after tying his shoelaces, followed Zdain to the door.

Zdain opened the door as quietly as he could. Moonlight streamed through the skylight into the deserted, almost eerie hallway. Zdain crept forward with Josel at his heels. The dim light distorted the shadows of the furniture into creepers, but the boys made their way to the stairs, ignoring them. Apart from the faint creak of the floorboards, they made no sound. The house responded with a sombre silence.

They made their way safely to the stairs and padded down the stone steps. The oil lamp illuminating the staircase calmed Zdain a little. All that remained was to get to the door and open it. He had noticed earlier, as they had passed the front door, that the key was hanging next to the doorframe, on a hook nailed to the wall.

When Zdain reached the bottom of the stairs, he saw that the key was in a familiar place. Despite the hundreds of dangers that awaited them outside, leaving Marta's house would be a great leap towards Five Hills and safety.

He took the key and turned it towards the lock, but froze in place. Another door opened to their right.

"So my guests are leaving without saying goodbye. Luckily, the guest room you're using is well audible from my private rooms. So I knew when to come to say hello."

Zdain turned to see Marta standing in the open doorway with Toma at her side. Even in the dim light of the stairwell, the exaggerated sugary expression on the woman's face was clearly visible. Toma held a club in a threatening grip.

"Well, my dear boys. Please, go to bed. We'll talk more in the morning," Marta chirped.

Zdain tried to think feverishly, nothing was lost yet. "Good night, thank you and goodbye. We're leaving now," he said, turning the key in the door.

"You're not going anywhere." Marta's voice was cold and hard.

"You will not stop us!" Zdain barked, opening the door.

He stopped short. Outside, just beyond the door, waited two giantlike men, a grim expression on their brutal faces.

"Catch the boys! The game is over!" cried Marta.

The hulks stepped over the threshold and grabbed Josel and Zdain by the shoulders. Toma moved closer too, raising his weapon.

Zdain thought for a moment about struggling, but quickly dismissed the idea. The firm grip of the man holding him and Toma's club suggested that it was best not to fight back.

Marta's look was one of pure malice. The gentle smile had been replaced by a cruel grimace, and there was anger in her voice as she spoke. "Stupid brats, you thought you were so clever. Since you didn't like Lady Marta's guest room, I'll let you try another kind of accommodation."

She beckoned to her underlings and they began to pull the boys towards the door from which Marta and Toma had come.

They were dragged through the dining room and pushed into the kitchen behind the next door. Something smelled rotten and even in the dim light they could see flies buzzing around the food on the kitchen table.

Zdain shuddered, but a nudge on the back forced him forward. It was wisest to submit. The musclemen would not hesitate to crush a bone or two as punishment for insubordination. Silently, Zdain hoped that Josel would also realize not to resist. The blond-haired boy was so short-tempered that he could easily try something foolish.

There was a low door in the kitchen wall, towards which the men carried the boys. When it opened, Zdain guessed that it led to the cellar. Then Toma entered the kitchen, lantern in hand, and ordered the men through the doorway into the darkness.

Zdain half-walked, half-dragged down a dozen steps to the basement. His nose was flooded with a stench so disgusting it made him want to vomit.

The room was surprisingly large, and the weak flame of the lantern was not enough to illuminate it completely. A few shelves were lined with jars and bottles. On the floor were sacks that might contained coal or potatoes. The stench was suffocating, but it was impossible to determine its source.

At the far wall was an area enclosed by iron bars. The men dragged the boys towards it and then threw them inside the cage with great force. Zdain hit the wall and Josel into Zdain.

At the same moment, there was a clang behind them as one of the men slammed the bar door shut. Toma rattled his key ring for a moment. He soon found the right key and turned it in the lock.

"How long do we have to stay here?" Josel shouted.

Toma shined the cell with his lantern and scoffed. "Until you are of some use to us. After that...I wish you a quick death. She'll enjoy playing with her victims - you'll see."

The men pushed their way up the stairs. As Toma was the last to turn to leave, the light from the lantern swung into the corner to the left of the cell. Zdain saw something hanging on the wall, but he did not have time to get a clearer view as the light was already receding towards the stairs. For a moment, the servant's footsteps could be heard climbing the stairs, but then the door at the top slammed shut and they were alone in the darkness.

As soon as Toma left, Josel rushed towards the cage door and banged on it with all his might - to no avail, the door remained firmly locked. The boy cursed in frustration, turned abruptly and bumped straight into Zdain.

"Don't push," Zdain said.

"You can't even move around here," Josel said irritably.

It was true. There was barely enough room for them to lie down side by side. Although Zdain had no desire to lie down on the cold stone floor.

Worse than the lack of space and the cold was the stench. Holding a collar or sleeve up to the nose only helped for a moment, for the sickening stench soon penetrated the fabric.

Zdain could not answer Josel's question about its source. There must have been something filthy in the basement, because despite the coolness, flies seemed to thrive there. They buzzed around disgustingly, regardless of the darkness.

Slowly, the eyes got used to the darkness. The small window in the cellar ceiling was dirty or covered with something; there was hardly any light coming through it.

What's more, the window was so high that there was no escape, even if the cell door could somehow be opened. Shouting for help, the boys found, was immediately useful. No one outside would hear them, and the noise might attract the attention of Marta and her henchmen.

Josel sat down on the stone floor and, after standing alone for a moment, Zdain came to the same conclusion. He settled down to lean against the bars diagonally across from Josel. The floor was hard and cool, and the temperature in the cellar was just barely bearable. Zdain feared that they would soon be cold.

He looked at the figure of Josel drowning in the darkness and wondered aloud about Toma's statement. "What did the servant mean by someone who likes to play with her victims?"

"If that means Marta, then you were more than right about that woman."

"Who cares about being right at this point," dispirited Zdain muttered.

"At least you can brag that you beat Josel Sandkan once in your life at something," Josel said, laughing mirthlessly.

"Who will I brag to if I die here?"

Josel shifted on the floor, clearly trying to find defiance in his voice.

"I'm not going to die, and if it's up to me, neither are you."

"Admirable heroism, Sandkan," Zdain said. Then they fell back into their meditations.

* * *

It was difficult to keep track of time. Whether they had been trapped for an hour or two, Zdain no longer knew. He was very cold and sometimes he had to get up to stretch his shivering limbs.

Just when things could not have got any worse, a rustling sound came from the corner of the cellar. They listened in silence for a while, until Josel breathed out in disgust: "Rats!"

The animals had apparently been frightened by the sudden crowd in the cellar, but had ventured out of their burrows again in the darkness.

Zdain shuddered, he had always hated rats, but now he almost wished he could have seen them. The crackling that kept getting louder around them scratched his eardrums. The little creatures had clearly found something to eat in the cellar, for by the sounds of it, there were plenty of them.

The rats grew bolder. One squeaked through the prison cage, causing Zdain to jump in horror. For once, Josel refrained from taunting.

Sometimes they exchanged a few words. Zdain shivered with cold. His teeth were chattering, but he could not bring himself to get up and try to flex his muscles.

Then Josel asked out of the darkness: "Is it cold?"

"Yes," Zdain managed to say, miserably.

"Come over here next to me. It's better to stay warm," Josel asked, and the darkness could not hide the boy's embarrassment.

Silently grateful, Zdain moved next to Josel. At first, their elbows only touched. But without saying a word, Josel moved closer, right up to him.

Zdain pulled his knees up to his chest and crossed his arms over his lap. The rats were scurrying somewhere nearby and the room still smelled just as foul, but the warmth coming from Josel helped. It was not comfortable, but not as bad as it had been a moment ago.

Nothing could calm the swirling thoughts. What had Marta been after with her intrusive inquiries about the Blue Moon, the Shadow Cross - a little of everything? Was the mistress about to sell her prisoners to Isendar Vargan? Or was she trading secrets of the Blue Moon? Too many questions, but no answers.

When Josel soon let out a long, sleepy yawn, Zdain did not retreat any further. Nor did he flinch when Josel's head came to rest on Zdain's own shoulder.

The bars were pressing hard against the back of his head and the position was uncomfortable, but in the darkness of the cellar it felt safe to sit on another person's side. Even if that other person happened to be Josel Sandkan. A bitter thought reminded Zdain that he could not get this kind of intimacy from anyone these days. Certainly not from his own parents.

Rats were still moving in the cellar. The rustling of their little feet and their soft whimpering rang in Zdain's ears again, very unpleasantly. The only recourse was to concentrate on Josel's calm breathing and body heat.

Even though Josel was Josel, with all his faults, Zdain felt a strange affection for his traveling companion at that moment. He gently touched the sleeping boy's hand. It was cold, and for a moment Zdain toyed with the idea of holding Josel's hand longer.

I'm going crazy here, Zdain thought. Why did he agree to be a pillow for a bully like Sandkan? Maybe in a dark and rat-infested cellar even his worst enemy was treated like his best friend.

Or he could not really call Josel an enemy. They just did not get along, that's all. Josel was certainly not an easy person, and Zdain was not one to jump at the whims of others. However, they could not get through the current situation without understanding each other. So Zdain hoped that Josel would, at least this once, not to make things worse by arguing.

* * *