4 The Black Daggers

I spent the day marking the territory without straying too far from the square of The Wind Rose, for, with so many streets, I did not yet trust my sense of direction. With my sharpened stone in hand, I drew signs at every corner, to create some recognizable landmarks, until a tall dark elf called out to me:

“What are you doing, you little devil?”

His tone reminded me so much of that of the owner of the house who had chased me and my companion with the missing tooth, that I had the prudence to run away and continue to mark the streets in a more discreet manner.

As evening fell, I returned to the square, sat on the edge of the fountain, and watched the sajits. I heard bits of conversation, but I understood little. At one point, not far away, an elf sat with a large pile of papers. From the way his eyes darted back and forth, I knew it was some sort of book. Curious, I went over to see what was written and… I only had time to realize that I did not understand the signs at all before the sajit growled:

“Give me some space, brat.”

I did: I went all the way round the square and waited for the elf to go away before returning to the fountain.

When night fell, the square was still crowded. Obviously the sajits were not like the squirrels, which disappeared with the sun. That night the full moon was shining, and that soothed me. My Master said that, as long as the Moon, the Gem, or the Candle were shining in the sky, one could always find one’s way.

‘The three Moons are the sun of the night,’ he said, ‘and the stars, their rays.’

On warm nights, we often went out to count the stars. Well, I don’t know if he counted them, but he would ask me to count them, multiply them, and share my calculations with him. ‘Learn, Mor-eldal. Even squirrels can count their acorns!’ he would tell me.

I was playing with my yellow feather, distracted, when a human sat down next to me on the edge of the fountain and commented:

“Nice feather.”

I cocked my head to one side and watched him carefully. He was young, dressed in a dark cloak, and something in his eyes told me that he had not sat there by chance.

“Yalet?” I said, questioningly.

I saw him smile and nod.

“Himself. And I suppose you are Mor-eldal.” I confirmed silently, looking at him brazenly, and he observed, “A strange name. Did your parents give it to you?”

I shook my head.

“I have no parents.”

Yalet nodded quietly.

“You are not the only one, rest assured. Tell me, do you know why Rolg sent you to see me?”

I assumed Rolg was the old elf. I shrugged.

“He said you were going to teach me and buy me good food.”

Yalet smiled.

“Absolutely. If you behave well, you’ll be my sari, and I’ll be, like, your mentor and teach you a lot of things. Do you know what it means to behave well?”

I nodded. My master had told me that. I explained to him with application:

“That means I must not disturb, I must not speak when I am told to be quiet, and I must not do anything foolish like eat mushrooms I don’t know or go near snakes.”

He smiled broadly.

“I couldn’t have said it better myself. Try not to forget this, and we’ll both get along fine, okay? Come on, follow me. I’ll show you something.”

He rose nimbly from the edge of the fountain, and I did not hesitate: I put my yellow feather in the bag and followed him curiously. Yalet led me through the streets, and I had to trot to keep up. Finally, he stopped at a blind alley and turned to me with a laughing face.

“Can you climb?”

I smiled.

“Of course! I am a great climber. Whenever my master saw me on a tree, he said I was a reckless fool. But I can count on one hand the times I’ve fallen.”

I saw him raise an amused eyebrow.

“Well, here, you’d better not fall, because where I want to take you is much higher than a tree. Now watch and learn.”

He climbed onto a barrel, gained momentum, and clung to a beam of the lowest roof. In a few seconds, he was perched on it and looking down at me through the shadows, seemingly waiting for me.

My eyes widened in amazement, and even more so when I saw him wave his hand. Uh… Really? I had to do the same thing? Okay, I thought. Go ahead. You can do it, great climber. I took a deep breath to give myself courage, climbed the barrel and tried to reach the beam, but it was too far. Well, this way was not possible. I climbed down and found a slightly large metal log that went up and up to the top. I grabbed it and started to climb. It was almost like climbing a tree, but less convenient, because there were no branches. I reached the roof, grabbed the eaves, and… slipped, and if Yalet’s hand hadn’t caught me at that moment, I would have taken a good fall. The Black Dagger helped me up onto the roof, and despite my dubious performance, he smiled and said:

“Not bad for a first try. Remember: the important thing is to always hold on to a good grip. If you can’t climb on one side, be patient: you’ll find another way. What you mustn’t do, of course, is jump off, right? Come on, follow me and be careful.”

I followed him on all fours over the tiles to a higher roof. Yalet did not separate himself from me, as if he feared that at any moment I might slip and fall. We climbed balconies, crossed terraces cluttered with junk, and climbed over facades. This was definitely not the same as climbing trees. It was fun, yes, but it was… well, different, and more unsettling: instead of birds and squirrels, we came across rats and bats.

Finally, after climbing and climbing, we came to a very high terrace, and Yalet patted me on the shoulder.

“We’ve arrived. Welcome to the classroom of Master Yalet and his disciple! It’s a bit messy, but that’s okay: we don’t allow visitors anyway. And now turn and gaze upon the city, Mor-eldal.”

I turned and let out a muffled gasp. I gazed at the night city, transfixed. It looked like an ocean of fireflies. Or an ocean of stars, I thought in wonder.

“Nice, isn’t it?” Yalet raised his hand. “Look. That, over there in the distance, is the Esplanade. See that lighted dome? That’s the Great Temple. And right next to it is the Capitol, with the parliament. The quarter just after that is Riskel, the merchants’ den, and all that is Tarmil, the craftsmen’s quarter. This is the river. And beyond that, there are the factories of the Canals. Ah, where you can’t see the light, that’s the Wild Garden, do you see it? There they keep the strangest animals of Prospaterra. And, well, behind us are the two rich districts. Atuerzo and the Harp.” He indicated the upper part of the city with a vague gesture. “I work in a tavern in the Harp. And believe me, I make more from the customers’ tips than I do from what that cheapskate tavern-keeper gives me. What you see over there, grand as a palace, is the Conservatory, where magicians study. And behind that wall is the Citadel. The city of the Untouchables. The nobles. And that,” he added, turning his back to the Rock again and looking at the houses directly in front of us with a solemn expression. “That, Mor-eldal, is the Cat Quarter. This is where I grew up, and this is where you will live.”

I arched my eyebrows.

“On this terrace?”

I pronounced the word carefully, for I had just learned it. Yalet laughed under his breath.

“No. Not on this terrace. That is a secret refuge that only you and I know, Mor-eldal. You will live with old Rolg. His house is that way,” he said, waving his hand vaguely. “I’d gladly put you up with me, but I live in a boarding house in Atuerzo and can’t get you in. Don’t worry, right now there are two other saries living with Rolg too.”

“Are they children like me?” I asked.

Yalet glanced at me, perhaps amused by my keen interest.

“Yerris is thirteen and Slaryn… I think she’s thirteen too. Sla is the daughter of—well, of a Black Dagger who got caught in the guards’ nets… Mmph. Look, as soon as we get back down from this terrace, I’ll take you to Rolg’s place and you can get to know them both. Okay?”

I nodded and rested my elbows on the wall, gazing at the city, fascinated. I was beginning to think that my master had been right to drive me from his cave. I had so much to learn! So many new places to explore! I held up a hand and pointed to the tall, tightly packed buildings with terraces standing out in the Cat Quarter.

“And what’s that over there? The Cat Quarter too?”

Like me, Yalet was leaning against the wall. He looked up to see what I was pointing at, and the moon lit up his face.

“That… is the Labyrinth. It’s part of the Cats, it’s the center of the neighborhood, but…” He hesitated. “You’d be better off not going in there. It’s a dangerous place. Like those mushrooms and snakes, you know?”

I rolled my eyes.

“Sure. And that over there?”

I pointed to an area on the left, full of small, low houses.

“That is the Black Quarter. And further down the river is Menshaldra, the town of the boatmen. See those lights over there? Those are the lights of the Valiant Bridge. And there, straight ahead, even if you can’t see it, is the untouchable forest of Estergat. Everyone calls it the Crypt for some reason. No one is allowed to cut down a single tree in the forest. It’s the property of the Fal, a noble family.”

He was pointing his finger at a place engulfed in darkness beyond the river, and I tried to see, but saw nothing. A forest, I thought. It was comforting to know that there was one so near.

“What does crypt mean?” I asked.

“Huh. It’s a place where… well, where they bury the dead. Don’t worry,” he added in a light tone. “No ghosts or anything like that come out of there. At worst, there might be some bear or wolf. Last year, a red nadre came out of there, one of those little dragons that run really fast and burst when they die, have you ever seen one? No? Well, I must still have a print I cut out of the newspaper. I’ll show it to you.”

“What’s a print?” I asked.

Yalet was left speechless.

“A print is a drawing.”

“Ah. And what’s a newspaper?”

“Spirits, well… A newspaper is a… a bunch of papers with information written on them,” he replied, clearing his throat.

“Okay. Thanks,” I said. “And what are spirits?”

“Thunders…” Yalet muttered, massaging his forehead. “Spirits are… Look, Mor-eldal, that’s a better question to ask a priest, okay?”

I bit my lip and nodded. I decided not to ask him what a priest was.

“So, the forest is dangerous?”

Yalet shook his head and smiled at me.

“Not as long as you stay here in the Cats.”

I pouted and looked away at the countless buildings of the Cats. The wind was cold and I shivered. I broke the silence.

“You said before that a Black Dagger got caught in the guards’ nets. Who are these guards?” I asked.

I saw him roll his eyes and stifle a laugh.

“No kidding. You know what a policeman is? No? Dear Mother. In the Cats, they call them flies. Does it ring a bell with you? No? Well, sari,” he breathed in, looking at me intently. “The guards are the ones who watch and arrest those who do things that shouldn’t be done, and they put them in jail, a place with bars that you can’t get out of. Do you understand?”

I nodded.

“Yes.”

More or less, I added inwardly, but I kept that to myself, because I felt that my supreme ignorance was making him a little desperate.

“Rolg told me you were from the valley,” Yalet resumed after a silence. “He said… that you were living with an old man.”

“That’s right. But he drove me away,” I admitted, suddenly glum. I rested my chin on my hands, my eyes on the city, and explained, “He wanted me to go live with you people, to learn things. I miss him,” I confided in a quiet voice. “But he doesn’t want me to come back until… until I find a ferilompard.”

Yalet arched an eyebrow.

“A ferilompard? Hold on,” he said suddenly. “Rolg told me that your master was dead.”

I opened my mouth, closed it again, and pouted.

“Well… the thing is, he’s not really dead.”

Yalet raised his eyebrows, and as I said nothing more and looked away to the distant street lights, he ruffled my hair and said cheerfully:

“Come on. Don’t be sad. If you and your master really lived alone in the mountains… well, you know? I think he did you a great favor by chasing you away. If he hadn’t, you would never have seen Estergat. And you’d never have seen this,” he added, gesturing broadly towards the night landscape. “Let’s go, I’ll show you your new home. But first: be careful on the way down.”

I saw him go over the wall to the roof below and smiled. I thought this sajit was quite nice. And besides, it seemed that it was mutual. And even better: he was my new master. I bit my fingers, still smiling.

“Hey, Mor-eldal! What are you doing?”

Oops. I hurried over the wall and made my way back down the roofs. When we finally reached the blind alley, Yalet observed:

“You know? You should change your name. Mor-eldal is too… strange. Everyone would notice. What do you think if we change it into…?” He pondered for a few seconds under my quizzical gaze, then blurted out: “Draen. There are lots of them in Estergat. And it’s a good name. Do you like it?”

I smiled. My master didn’t usually ask my opinion. When he’d called me Survivor, at least he hadn’t asked me if I liked it. I nodded, feeling that Yalet had just given me a gift.

“Yes. I like it. Yalet is a good name too,” I added.

He glanced at me mockingly.

“Call me Yal and I’ll call you Draen, okay?” I nodded, and he smiled at me. “Come on, let’s go.”

I followed him through the alleys to a narrow courtyard full of junk. The house on the right was in much worse shape than the one on the left. Yal went to the latter, climbed some wooden stairs and pushed open the door.

There was light inside. When I entered behind Yal, I saw a room more or less like the one in Hishiwa’s house. There were four straw mattresses, a table, some stools, and some other piece of furniture which I could not name.

“Well, it looks like Yerris and Slaryn aren’t here,” Yal said, frowning.

“Lately, they hardly stop by,” a voice muttered. I turned and saw the old elf come out of the next room. He pushed aside the muffler that protected him from the cold, and the light from the lantern shone on his wrinkled, serene face. He smiled at me. “Welcome to the Den, lad. I’d tell you about all the chores and rules of this house, but I do believe there’s something more pressing to do.” He set a pile of clothes on the table and pointed to a huge bucket full of water. “Wash yourself in the tub, you have a soap and sponge right there next to it. I want you to scrub until we see your skin, okay? And then put this on,” he said, patting my clothes. I nodded, without a word, because I wasn’t sure I understood everything. I saw him roll his eyes. “Yal, boy, I need to talk to you for a moment.”

Yalet smiled at me to encourage me to do as Rolg asked, and I walked over to the tub. I stopped in front of it, glanced to the next room for help, just when the door closed. Right. Well, I’ll have to manage on my own. I took off my rabbit skins, picked up the soap and sponge and looked at them for a moment before dipping them into the water. My eyes widened as I saw the white foam. I licked the soap and…

“Ugh…” I let out.

I spat, and cleaned my mouth with the water, and then I thought it would be easier to get into the tub, so I went in and began to scrub as the old elf had said. When Yal came out of the room, I was scrubbing a foot. He looked at me and smiled.

“Well, sari, I think you’re on the right track. Now you’re starting to look like a human. But you know, we also use the sponge. Look, I’m going to scrub your back, it’s not easy on its own. Pass me the soap and get up.”

He took the sponge and soap and began to scrub.

“Hey. You’ve got a nice scar here on your arm,” Yal observed.

“A lynx did it to me last summer,” I explained.

“A lynx?” Yal gasped. “And you made it out alive?”

“Well…” I fidgeted, embarrassed, because I had just remembered that I couldn’t talk about that incident. After all, if I had escaped the lynx, it was because of a necromantic spell: I had thrown a mortic discharge at the feline, and it had become frightened. After a silence, I said, “I was lucky.”

“You sure were,” Yal snorted as he continued to scrub vigorously. “Anyway, at least in Estergat you won’t have to fight lynxes. Well, Rolg wants me to explain a little about how his house works. There aren’t many rules, but you have to respect them. You listening?”

“A lot,” I assured him.

“Fine. First rule: don’t let anyone in who isn’t a member of the brotherhood. Second rule: Do whatever Rolg tells you. Third rule: Don’t go into his room. And that is all. See how easy it is?” He took a few steps away, lifted a small bucket full of water and, without warning, threw it all over my head. I squealed, and he laughed, “You enjoy baths as much as I did at your age. But it was a must, believe me. I told you about the guards earlier, remember? Well, they would have taken you off the streets eventually, sent you to one of their shelters, and you wouldn’t want to be there, even dead, believe me. Now dry yourself off with this and get dressed. Tomorrow night, I’ll come here to get you, so make sure you’re here. Try to get along with Yerris and Slaryn, hmm? They’ll probably teach you a lot, so listen to them. Good night, sari,” he said, patting me on the shoulder.

I don’t know what excited me more: the prospect of getting to know these two saries or the prospect of seeing Yal again the next day. I replied, smiling:

“Good night, Elassar.”

Already near the door, Yal looked at me, surprised.

“Elassar? What does that mean?”

Oops. I shrugged and explained:

“Master. Can I call you that? It’s just that… my master, I always called him Elassar.”

Yal arched an eyebrow and smiled.

“Hmm. Suit yourself. See you tomorrow, sari.”

“See you tomorrow, Elassar!”

His smile widened. He closed the door behind him, and I hurried to get dressed because it wasn’t exactly warm in the room, let alone with wet hair. I was putting on the shirt when Rolg limped out of his room.

“How do you like your new home, son?”

“Very pretty,” I assured him. “It’s bigger than the one I had before. But it’s cold here, too.”

“That’s why I brought you a blanket. Here.” Rolg handed me the blanket and indicated a straw mattress with a gesture. “This one is for you. You don’t mind if I throw these skins away, do you? They smell worse than a sewer. Even the shabbiest beggar would throw them away. Come on, lie down and sleep, you’re probably tired, and if you’re not, whatever you do, don’t make a sound: I warn you that, if I’m woken up before sunrise, I always get up on the wrong side of the bed, and you don’t want to know what that means, do you?” He smiled mockingly at me. “Good night, kid.”

“Good night, Rolg,” I replied cheerfully. “And thank you very much for… for the soap. It tastes horrible, but it’s very nice. And thank you for the clothes and the blanket. And for the straw mattress, it’s better than the one I had in the mountains.”

The old elf’s eyes sparkled with amusement.

“Well, I’m glad.”

I wrapped myself in the blanket and saw Rolg take the lantern to his room. I closed my eyes, and then opened them again, and looked about the room in the faint moonlight coming through the window. I could hear the distant sounds, the strange rumors. I heard the creaking of wood under the lame footsteps of the old elf in the next room, the sound of voices in the courtyard, and… Suddenly the door opened with an almost inaudible whisper and two figures entered. It was two children.

“That’s the last time I’m going to the theatre with you,” the girl whispered to the boy.

“You’re overreacting,” the other replied in a whisper.

They said no more. They lay down on their pallets, and I hesitated to say anything to them. Finally, I decided not to, because Rolg might be asleep already and I didn’t want to wake him. So I listened to the breathing of Yerris and Slaryn, calmed myself by convincing myself that I was sleeping in a friendly house, and remembering those promised snacks, I fell asleep peacefully.