6 I don’t take money from snakes

The music of the harmonica floated in the warm summer afternoon air, quiet and serene. Lying flat on the dry earth in a corner of a square deep down the Cats, I listened to the music as a pleasant torpor gradually took over me. Whenever Yerris took out the harmonica, I sighed with relief, for it meant that he would stop talking for a while. Really, his verbiage was impressive, he didn’t know how to keep quiet. I listened at first, and if he gave me a second to get a word in, I would say “yeah,” or “sure,” or “yes, yes,” but after a while, if his chatter was not particularly interesting, I would end up giving him a saturated look, I would look away, and his words would become a buzz of bees to me. He didn’t seem to mind, and one day when I told him he was more talkative than the turtle-doves in the morning, he mockingly replied: ‘How could I let the turtle-doves beat me to it, shyur?’. And he went on talking and talking. He talked about everything, about famous musicians, about stories that had happened in the Cats, about things he’d been told here and there about a certain thief or certain employer… The semi-gnome was a torrent of information. Fortunately, over time, just as Slaryn, I had learned to recognize his different tones and to know when it was important to listen to him and when I could relax a little.

I yawned… and a scream suddenly broke the serenity of the afternoon.

“Yerriiis!”

Startled in mid-yawn, I looked up, blinking from the light, and saw a panicked silhouette appear, running across the square, with her long red hair loose floating behind her. It was Slaryn. I hadn’t seen her for a week, because her mother had just gotten out of prison and taken her back home.

“Yerris,” the dark elf repeated, stopping beside us, panting. “I finally find you.”

“Slaryn?” Yerris said, puzzled, pushing the harmonica aside. “What’s the matter?”

“It’s Korther,” Slaryn explained. “He says you have to go see him at once, he has a job for you.”

Yerris’s face darkened as if he had been told that he had been sentenced to hard labor.

“Hold on a sec,” the semi-gnome said. “What’s this all about? Korther never gave me any job. Normally, it’s Alvon who—”

“Precisely, it’s about him,” Slaryn muttered, crouching down. “Your mentor is behind bars.”

I sat up with a start, bewildered, while Yerris, for the first time since I had known him, stammered:

“Al-Alvon? It can’t be. Al, behind bars? But Al’s the best Black Dagger in—!”

“Keep your voice down, you idiot!” Slaryn hissed. She glanced at a group of children dawdling a little further away and then continued in a low voice: “He’s in the detention center in Menshaldra, and they gave him a hefty fine because they caught him with a forbidden magara. And apparently he can’t pay it.”

The semi-gnome grunted something unintelligible.

“Yerris!” Slaryn snapped impatiently. “Korther will explain. Get a move on, come on. You’re not going to let your mentor down, are you?”

Yerris pouted.

“Of course not,” he protested. “But, what an idea, to let himself be captured by flies, he, the thief of the Pearl of Aodance, who has travelled half the world in his youth and is always bragging about it. And now it turns out that he can’t pay a fine! Surely his mania for dressing like an eccentric has turned against him, I warned him: never, Al, never should an old Cat dress like a buffoon, beware that the clothes might rub off on the soul, and he wouldn’t even listen to me! He never does, he’s…”

“Why don’t you stop blabbing and go!” Slaryn cut him off.

At times, Slaryn’s tone of voice was so commanding that it would have made a seasoned mercenary waver. The semi-gnome and I exchanged glances, and he reluctantly stood up.

“Is he at the Hostel?”

“He is,” Slaryn confirmed.

The Hostel was more or less like the headquarters of the Brotherhood. It was a bit beyond the Grey Square, according to Yerris. I had never been in there, but my companion said that it was better for me never to go in there because, according to him, every time you did, you came out older, with more responsibilities and more worries.

As if reluctantly, Yerris took a step… and stopped, looking at Slaryn curiously.

“And what were you doing at the Hostel?”

The dark elf huffed.

“Just some issues about my mother. Go ahead, or Korther will pull your ears.”

Yerris rolled his eyes.

“I’d like to see him try.” And he smiled at me. “Be good, shyur. Sla, do you know that, this noon, that shanty boy found a ten-nail coin on the ground there on the Esplanade? Literally. We shared a dish of hot rice at The Ballerinas and you don’t know how good it felt! A treat! And—”

“Yerris!” Slaryn exclaimed, losing her patience.

“Whoa, I’m going, princess, don’t rush me. You’re worse than Al. You’d make a good Black Dagger kap, you know? You’d make us go straight as a command staff,” the semi-gnome scoffed. He raised a soothing hand under Sla’s exasperated gaze, placed the harmonica between his lips, and zigzagged out of the square, playing his instrument.

I heard Slaryn’s sigh loud and clearly.

“One of these days Alvon’s going to wring his neck. Unless I do it first. Tell me, Draen. You’re going back to the Den, aren’t you?”

“I am, I am,” I said.

“Well, then go. I’m going home,” she declared.

She was about to walk away when I jumped up and said:

“How much money are the flies asking for?”

Slaryn smiled wryly.

“Thirty siatos. Nice sum, huh?”

I scratched my head, worried.

“Is Yerris going to steal them?”

“I don’t think so. If I had to bet, I’d say Korther has a job lined up and he’ll send Yerris to pay the thirty goldies if in exchange Alvon does what he says… Our kap is very pragmatic,” she grinned. “Ayo, brat.”

She gave me a friendly pat on the cap and walked away in a hurry. I saw her disappear in the direction of Tarmil Avenue, and I bit my cheek thoughtfully as I put my cap back on. Thirty siatos, or goldies as they called it in the Cat Quarter… That was a lot of money. I hoped Sla was right and that Korther was willing to pay up and get Alvon out of the slammer. I had never seen the mentor of Yerris, but after hearing my companion talk so much about him and his exploits and eccentricities, I almost felt as if I knew him, and knowing that he was in Menshaldra so close by, I was excited to finally see this mysterious, unsociable character in the flesh. During those three moons he had been absent, off doing who knows what, stealing or hunting treasures… As Rolg would have said, even the Spirits couldn’t know what the Black Daggers were doing when they wandered in the wild. As Yerris had explained to me, the Black Daggers were a rather loose brotherhood. Although they had kaps in many of the major cities of Prospaterra, their members often worked independently of each other and, as fellow members, they were committed only to helping and keeping the brotherhood going by donating a portion of their earnings and, from time to time, seeking out new recruits.

I headed for the Den and trotted up the street. However, halfway up, I changed my mind and turned back. There were still a few hours to go before it got dark, and besides, I wouldn’t have any lessons this afternoon because Yal was in the middle of exams, studying harder than a mage, he said, and he couldn’t lose focus because, if he failed, goodbye graduation. I didn’t quite understand why he cared so much about the diploma; all I knew was that I missed his quiet, friendly lessons. I was saddened by the thought of not having them for half a moon, although I didn’t stay idle. During the day, I followed Yerris everywhere, and when the half-gnome left me in the Den to attend to “personal business”, old Rolg always found some task for me to do, such as fetching water from the well, washing clothes, or delivering a letter to someone. At night, I slept so soundly that, if a bell had rung over my head, I wouldn’t have heard it.

So, fleeing Rolg’s tasks, I went down the hill and through muddy streets, zigzagging to get around a few passers-by and avoiding two ladies who were hurling insults in each other’s faces with such vivacity that they reminded me of those actors at Scion Theatre where Yerris had taken me one afternoon.

At last, I came to a narrow staircase, stopped, glanced around and, without further hesitation, began to descend. Yerris had already told me about the Labyrinth. He said that it was a real kingdom in the city, that there were streets that passed over the houses and houses over the streets, that it was, in short, a chaos, a wonder of the sajit nature, a jungle full of mysteries, that there were lots of people and that spending even one or two hours in this den made you a Cat for all your life. And as I wanted to check if this was true—and as my nakrus master had told me that in order to learn how to live, you need courage and bravery—I left aside Yal’s warnings and entered this world with the discretion of a cat and the curiosity of a pup.

The streets were even narrower than the rest of the Cat Quarter, many of them mere corridors with a sea of hanging laundry floating over them, and from which one could barely see the sky. I passed an elf walking with his hands in his pockets, wearing a huge cloak and a wide-brimmed hat that hid most of his face. Then I saw a very small girl sitting on the threshold of a house, she looked at me with very large blue eyes, and I smiled, ruffling her hair as I passed.

“Ayo, little one,” I said.

I walked on with a light step. I went up and down stairs, crossed bridges over alleys, and on the way, I passed sajits of all sorts and races, old and young, ragged and well-dressed, and everything in between.

I was passing through an alleyway which was a little less narrow, when suddenly a door opened and a drunkard came out singing and walked away, leaving the door open. A white square was drawn on it. And inside, there were noisy tables and a counter on the left held by a burly, smiling dark elf. A tavern! Hearing a thunder of laughter, I approached, curious, and was about to enter when a hand grabbed my arm and I turned to face a young dark elf with green eyes much taller than me. I recognized him immediately: I had seen him talking with Yerris a few times.

“Warok!” I said, surprised.

“I wouldn’t advise you to go in there, shyur,” the dark elf told me calmly. “The Drawer is no place for innocent saints.”

He spoke in a mocking tone, and I gave him a bold pout.

“I am nothing like an innocent saint,” I replied.

Warok gave a crooked smile.

“Did Yerris send you?”

I shrugged and said:

“No. Why?”

Warok grimaced.

“Do you know where he is?” I shook my head and heard him mutter, “The Darble knows what’s that cove up to. Hey, shyur,” he said loudly. “If you see him, tell him to come by my hideout and tell him I’ll give him his share, will you?”

“Natural,” I said.

He smiled, patted me on the shoulder and was about to walk away when I asked him:

“Where is your hideout?”

Warok arched an eyebrow and shook his head.

“That’s the kind of thing you don’t say out loud or to strangers.” I looked insulted, and his eyes smiled. “But maybe I can show it to you. Come.”

Enthused, I said:

“Thanks!”

And I followed him briskly through the alleys.

“Why does Yerris say the Labyrinth is wonderful?” I asked.

Warok huffed.

“He says that? Well… I guess it’s because the Black Cat is a crazy Cat, plus a musician,” he joked.

I cocked my head to one side, thinking, and after a silence, I asked:

“And why do others say it is dangerous?”

“Hmm. Because it is, but not so much if you know how to protect yourself,” the dark elf assured. With a nimble movement, he pulled out a dagger and showed it to me more closely. He smiled. “That kid… It doesn’t even scare him. Well, it should, you know?” he said, putting the weapon away. “Only the cautious survive in the Labyrinth. That’s why I’ll only tell you that my hideout is near here, a few meters away. If you find it, I’ll give you a nail.”

Well, a challenge, eh? I spun around, looked up, and pointed to a hole between a terrace and a house.

“There?”

Warok looked at me with an annoyed pout.

“And on the first try,” he murmured. He tossed a nail coin, and I picked it up with a big smile. He rolled his eyes. “Don’t believe everything the Cats say, shyur. My hideout is not here. And now go back to yours: if the night catches you here, you may well turn into a spirit.”

Before walking away, he poked my head, and I watched in disappointment as he disappeared around a corner. After a few moments of indecision, I followed him silently. At one point, he turned, and I had to crouch down hurriedly. I even managed to cast a harmonic shadow spell to perfect my hiding place: Yal said I was quite talented. But then again, I already knew a lot about jaypu controlling; I think I knew more than he did.

Hidden as I was, I saw the dark elf pass under a gate, and I followed him to see him slip through the gap in a palisade and…

“Well, well, well,” Warok said. I stopped short. “You look like you’ve been running like a demon, shyur.”

I breathed a silent sigh of relief that he had not discovered me and approached the stockade.

“Bad news, right?” Warok went on.

A snort answered him, then a:

“I need your help.”

My eyes widened as I recognized the voice. Yerris? His voice sounded so fearful and pleading that I convinced myself I was wrong.

“I’ve been helping you for three moons, remember?” Warok replied. “What do you want now? Goldies? If you think I’m going to give them to you just for your gnome face—”

“It’s not that,” the other one cut him off. It was Yerris, I thought. “It’s… Korther. I went to see him two hours ago.”

“Very clever of you,” Warok scoffed. “Didn’t you say he suspected you?”

“I wouldn’t have sworn to it before… but I do now,” Yerris sighed.

“Fool. Why on earth did you go to see him?” Warok questioned in a curt tone.

“Demons, and what do I know, I didn’t want to,” Yerris assured. “It was a trick of his. He let me know that my mentor was in the slammer. And that was true. But Korther had already sent someone to pay the fine. He wanted to talk to me alone. He told me that… if he finds out I’m involved with the Labyrinth mob, he’ll fire me.”

“So you told him everything?” Warok said indignantly.

“No, of course not!” Yerris protested. “He has his own informants, Warok. And anyway, what could I have told him? I don’t know anything about the Black Hawk. And I’d rather not know anything about him ever. Please, Warok. You gotta help me. I want… to put all this behind me. I never wanted to be a spy, and I never wanted to steal for… for him. I’m not a traitor. Tell the Black Hawk I’m giving up his money. I don’t want it, tell him that, Warok—”

“Unbelievable,” Warok muttered in a scornful tone. “Yerris the Black Cat growls and bolts away like a coward. You know that? The Black Hawk hates cowards. Remember, you didn’t become a Black Dagger on your own. You did so thanks to us. Now that you’re an accomplished little magician thief, you think you have the right to speak your mind, but it’ll only bring you trouble, you hear me? Whether you like it or not, you’re gonna have to explain it to his face.”

“No, no, please, Warok, don’t do this to me,” Yerris gasped. My heart was beating faster and faster. Something serious was happening. Something that smelled very bad. “Please,” Yerris repeated. “I swear I won’t talk. I won’t say anything about you or the other Ojisaries. I’m even willing to swear that I’ll leave the Black Daggers if the Black Hawk asks me to. But I will not betray Korther again. You have to understand me, if he catches me working for the Black Hawk, I’m dead.”

Suddenly, I heard a noise behind me and I turned around, just in time to see, horrified, a big hand grabbing my neck. I screamed. Another hand tried to gag me, and I bit and kicked until arms lifted me up and slammed me against a wall.

“Don’t move!” my attacker bellowed.

I received a slap, and stifling my mountain kid instincts, I refrained from defending myself by releasing mortic shocks and stopped struggling. The blue eyes of my attacker were watching me, displeased. He was a fairly young blond caitian.

I heard Warok sigh.

“That’s all we need… Tif! Get him in.”

Without a word, Tif pushed me through the palisade, and I staggered back, my heart pounding. I had never been hit by a sajit before, and I could see that it hurt, both physically and mentally. Warok’s hideout was a small muddy courtyard with a sort of canopy and a rocky corner with straw pallets.

“What are you doing here, shyur?” Yerris threw at me in disbelief.

He had just got up from one of the pallets. I rushed to him and shouted:

“Yerris!”

I did not say another word and clung to him tightly, wanting to forget Tif and Warok. Now I didn’t find the dark elf sympathetic, quite the opposite.

“Calm down, shyur,” the semi-gnome whispered to me. “They won’t hurt you.”

“You assume a lot,” Warok replied, a crooked smile on his lips. “The brat is a Black Dagger too, isn’t he? He’s been listening to us. And he knows what gang we belong to. He’s a walking danger.”

I watched in terror as he pulled out the dagger.

“Don’t you dare do that!” Yerris stepped in, appalled.

Warok shrugged.

“It would do you a favor, though: if the kid talks, you’re dead.”

“He won’t talk,” Yerris asserted, panting. “I swear he won’t talk. Right, Draen? You won’t say anything about what you heard, right? Because, if you do, you won’t see the Black Cat or the musician again, you hear me?”

I nodded and said:

“I’ll say nothing. Not even if they rip out my bones one by one. I swear it, Yerris.”

The semi-gnome ruffled my hair and said:

“See, Warok? This kid is a treasure. Take a cue from him and tell me you’ll try to convince the Black Hawk to forget me. Forever. Please.”

Warok looked at me, looked at Yerris, then pouted wearily.

“I’ll talk to him. But he’s not gonna let you off the hook, Yerris. Not until you do… what he asked you to do and you haven’t done yet.”

The semi-gnome was now holding my arm, and I felt him tense up.

“It runs,” he muttered. “He’ll get those documents. But, after he does, he’ll have to leave me alone.”

Warok smiled, stepped forward, and placed a small bag of money in the half-gnome’s hand.

“Get the hell out and go back to your Den. Don’t set foot in the Labyrinth again until you get the documents. Send the brat if you have any news, and he’ll give you the money. Don’t worry: I won’t do anything to him as long as he behaves. And now, get out of here,” he repeated.

Yerris glared at him, but he silently walked away without letting go of me. Once at the fence, I turned to glower at Warok, pulled out the nail he’d given me before, and tossed it into the mud. The dark elf gave me a mocking expression in return, but I didn’t care: I didn’t want to take money from people like that snake. Yerris pulled at me, and I followed him under the gate and through the corridors.

Certainly, the conversation had shocked me, but not as much as the semi-gnome’s silence on the way back. We were already leaving the Labyrinth when I blurted out:

“These guys are worse than lynxes. They smile and then attack.”

Yerris sighed heavily, and giving him a worried look, I asked:

“Do you have to steal documents?” I saw him nod, distracted. “Is that dangerous?”

Yerris sighed again.

“It is, shyur. It’s dangerous. Because the documents… it’s not those nasty nail-pinching evil swells who have them. Korther has them.”

My eyes widened. Yerris was going to rob the Black Dagger kap of Estergat?

“But… who is this Black Hawk? Why—?”

“Shut up, shyur,” Yerris whispered. “Please. Don’t ask questions.”

I bit my lip, walked beside him and, after a silence, said, a little disappointed:

“The Labyrinth is not all wonders, eh?”

Yerris shook his head and gave a smiling pout.

“When this whole Ojisaries thing is over, I’ll show you the Labyrinth properly. You’ll love the Wool Square: every afternoon, a guy called the Breaky-Hand comes and starts telling stories. We gwaks give him nails, and he lives on them. You don’t know what great stories he tells! And there are taverns that you’ll love too. At first, some of the guys may impress, but once you get to know them, you see that they actually have a heart as big as a castle. And…”

And he kept talking all the way to the Den; when we arrived, we heard voices inside. The door was ajar.

“He’ll be here soon, I’m sure,” old Rolg’s voice said.

“I think I heard something outside,” a deep voice said.

The door opened further, and I saw a tall, pale human in a long blue cloak. He wore a strange red hat and green boots. “Eccentric”, Yerris had said… I smiled. Even I thought the way he was dressed was strange.

“Al!” Yerris exclaimed, and he climbed the wooden stairs, “It’s been ages! Still, to think you let yourself be snaffled by the flies just for a little magic lantern. I’ve missed you, especially since you said you’d be back for the Celestial Moon and we’re in Wells, and like, you know, everything you gave me has long since run out, and I had to pawn even my ears to stay honest, mind you—”

“Silence,” Alvon thundered. He wrinkled his nose, looked down at his sari, and pouted. “You haven’t changed a bit. Rolg, thank you for taking care of him. I’m taking him back. Come, Yerris.”

He passed by him on his way down the stairs, and when he passed by me, I smiled, but he did not even glance my way. The semi-gnome looked at me with a worried expression, and as he came closer, he whispered to me:

“Don’t worry, shyur—I’ll see you soon. Al can’t stand me more than two days in a row. I’m a compulsive talker, but don’t tell anyone,” he joked. And I understood, from his eloquent look, that with these last words, he was trying to remind me of my oath of silence.

“Yerris!” Alvon growled.

I gave Yerris a pout of complicity, and he took off running behind his mentor. After watching them disappear from the courtyard with some disappointment, I glanced up at the darkening sky and, yawning, entered the Den. Old Rolg was sitting at the table eating a plate of porridge. I too sat down, rested my chin on my crossed arms, and after listening for a moment to the elf’s slow chewing, I asked:

“Do I have to do something, Rolg?”

He looked up, smiled slightly, and shook his head.

“No. I already went to get water.”

I felt a little guilty, because, with his lame leg, it was not good for old Rolg to walk with a heavy load.

“Tomorrow, I’ll go and get it, don’t worry,” I said. And after a silence, I added: “Rolg, did you steal precious things when you were young?”

“Mm… Of course I did,” Rolg replied while swallowing his porridge. “Beads, jewels, magaras, relics… and items you can’t even imagine.”

I smiled at his comically mysterious pout and hesitated.

“And… why did you decide to become a Black Dagger?”

“Ah!” the old elf smiled. “Well, this is going to sound odd to you, but, unlike other veterans like myself, I don’t talk about the past. I’m too practical to get lost in eras that have long since ceased to exist.”

“Gee,” I muttered, surprised. “But… if you don’t talk about it, is it because you don’t want to or because you don’t remember?”

Old Rolg rolled his eyes.

“Both. No, seriously, kid, of course I remember. I’ll just tell you that, when I was your age, I was such a shy kid that I didn’t even dare to leave my house alone. At that time, I lived in the country, and at night, you would hear terrible wolf howls. When I heard them coming closer, I would get up and run to my parents’ room shouting: daddy, mommy, the dragon is coming!”

I returned his smile, amused, and asked:

“And why did you leave the country if you had a family?” The old man darkened, and I with him, thinking I understood. “Did they chase you away?”

The old man shook his head.

“No. One day, the dragon came for good in the form of murderous bandits and… I was left alone. You see. And like you, I made the journey to Estergat, crossed the Arkolda Forest, and arrived in the capital as ragged as you. And I ended up becoming a Black Dagger… exactly like you.”

His eyes shone, smiling, and I stood there thinking, trying to imagine the old elf, young like me, walking lost among dense trees, lynxes, poisonous mushrooms, and snakes…

“Did you have dinner?” the elf asked me. As I shook my head, he pushed the plate of porridge towards me. There was still a quarter of it left. “Here you go. Enjoy your meal. I’m going to sleep. And don’t let anyone disturb me, eh?”

I saw him get up and walk away to his room, and I hastened to say:

“Hey, Rolg. Thank you. For the dinner and for the story. And don’t worry. The past is still the past. My master used to say that, if you had to remember everything, you’d go crazy. He didn’t talk much about when he was… uh… young either.”

That is, neither about when he was alive nor about when he was a young undead, I added mentally. The old elf looked at me with a slight smile.

“Good night, kid.”

“Good night, Rolg!”

As soon as the door closed I took the plate with both hands, and leaving aside the sajits’ habit of eating with a spoon, I swallowed the porridge in a “peace-and-virtue”. Then, I took my yellow feather, went to the window, and looked up at the night sky, convinced that my nakrus master must be looking at them at this very moment. Softly, I whispered:

“Good night, Elassar.”