21 Hope does not die in hell

Murmuring more than singing, I left the three beads in the bowl by the gate, and no sooner had I straightened up than I heard a:

Bong!

I was startled and frowned. I had just returned from fishing. It couldn’t be lunchtime. Were they bringing in new miners? It had been about two weeks since the incident with the three missing pearls, and in all that time, we had only seen the Masked One. Now, however, other people were coming. I saw four figures coming down the back stairs. They were not recruits, for recruits always arrived asleep, carried by the Ojisaries. They came down the tunnel with a lighted torch. Two of them were adults. And the other two were children. My heart leapt as I recognized them all. It was Warok, Tif… and my cronies.

“Move along,” the dark elf growled at his little brother.

He gave him a heel, and Manras let out a plaintive moan. I stepped away from the gate, looking very pale. They weren’t going to put the little elf and Dil in the Well, were they? Warok was Manras’ brother… he wouldn’t dare, would he?

As I backed away, I hit the edge of the platform. My companions, who had also returned from fishing, seemed as attentive as I, but seeing me so cautious, none of them dared to approach. After all, it was clear that they were not going to give us any bread or tell us any jokes like the Masked One.

At last, they came to the gate, and with a brutality which inflamed my hatred, Warok slammed his little brother against the bars.

“Look at them, you wretch!” he cried in a terrible voice. “Look at these gwaks and tell me now if you really want to condemn them to death! You stupid brat! How could you be so stupid! Do you want me to leave you in there with the little monsters like you? Huh? Tell me, do you want to rot in this hole?” He slammed him against the bars again, dropped him, and in horror, I saw him pull out a dagger. “Open the door, Tif!”

The blonde caitian took out the keys, undid the lock, and opened the gate. It was only the fifth time it had opened since I’d arrived, and it was the first time the Ojisaries didn’t bring their dogs. Warok pushed Dil inside, and Little Prince hit one of the rock columns before turning and stammering:

“Don’t hit Manras, don’t hit him! I was the one who wanted to open the door for the alchemist! It was my idea!”

Warok looked at him with contempt.

“Your idea, my eye. You’re as brainless as a sparrow, Dil. Stay there and bring us three pearls. It’s the only useful thing you can do.”

Tif was already closing the gate. Manras shouted:

“No, no, no! Diiiil!”

He stretched his little bluish hands between the bars, desperate to see his friend locked up in that infernal cave. I did not dare to move, but at that moment, when I saw Warok grab Manras by the neck and order him to be quiet, I rushed to the gate without even thinking about it and shouted:

“Get off him, isturbag!”

Manras stopped shouting and looked at me, dumbfounded. Dil looked no less astonished. I met Warok’s gaze and repeated firmly:

“Get off him.”

Warok arched an eyebrow and lost interest in Manras.

“Well, if it isn’t the little Black Dagger. How’s your miserable life?”

“Wind in the sails,” I said.

He did not seem to like my answer. The Ojisary said to me:

“Come closer.”

I had stopped near Dil. I did not move.

“Come closer or you’ll have nothing to eat! Do you hear me?” he barked.

I gave him a mocking look of defiance. The presence of my cronies made me do foolhardy and stupid things. At my rebellion, Warok’s face changed to a mask of irritation. This time, he raised his dagger. I opened my eyes wide, turned my head to my companions, perhaps seeking help, and watched their nervous expectation. Rogan was deathly pale.

“Watch out, brat,” Warok said to me with calm. “If I wanted to, I could throw this knife at you and pierce your heart. Nobody would care, and I least of all. Come closer, I said.”

I was only three or four steps from the gate. I took a step. I took another step. I found myself near the bars, and to my surprise, Warok did not hit me. He did not even touch me. When he spoke, his voice sounded merely condescending.

“Tell me, human boy. If I remember correctly, you came in here in mid-Celestial. Do you know how long you’ve been here?”

I glanced at Manras, who was watching the scene with silent commotion. I shook my head and replied:

“A moon?”

Warok smiled, mockingly.

“More than that. We’re already in Redmoon. Do you remember what the sun was like? Well, try to remember and not forget, because you won’t see it again.” He beckoned me to get as close as possible and whispered softly in my ear, “You’re smart, look for more pearls, keep them and don’t tell Lof, and if you work well, I’ll set you free one day. Besides, since you seem to care about my little brother, I, in your place, would obey, and maybe like that, you prevent me from putting him in this hole too, hmm?”

Under my rather hostile gaze, he stepped aside, pushed Manras, I don’t know whether to conclude the lesson or to get him to react, and went off into the tunnel with Tif. Manras, however, did not move: he gazed alternately at Dil and me, as if he were asking for help. And that he should ask for help from gwaks locked behind a black steel gate broke my heart. Before Warok could turn and call out to him, I hurriedly made a gesture like a long, thin object and pointed to the lock. The keys, I meant to say. And I whispered:

“Be careful.”

“Manras!” Warok barked.

Breathing rapidly, the little elf hastened to follow his elder brother. But when he reached the first step of the stairs he turned and with a sign like the ones we used to use when we sold newspapers, he said to me, “It runs,” And he disappeared up the stairs.

I breathed in and clutched the bars, tense and anxious. It took me a moment to understand why I felt so nervous. And it was because, before, despite the Black Cat’s best efforts, I had never had much hope of ever getting out through some mysterious tunnel to the surface—even he didn’t seem to believe it. On the other hand, having Manras bring us the keys… it wasn’t infallible, but it was more believable. Much more believable than having Warok free me. Blasthell. That elf must have really taken me for a fool.

When the bong of the metal door sounded, I suddenly thought of something. Manras had waved at me at the end of the tunnel, when the torch was already almost gone, as if he had no doubt that I could see him. Probably because he knew that, from my place, he would have seen himself through the shadows. And not because I was a mutant or a sokwata or anything, but because he was one too.

I widened my eyes at such a horrible suspicion and turned abruptly to Dil. The little devil was staring at the cavern and the platform. But he didn’t seem stunned by the energy either, merely shocked by what he was seeing.

“Little Prince,” I called to him. I approached promptly. “Hey, Little Prince! Is it true you tried to save the alchemist?”

Dil looked at me darkly and nodded. I insisted:

“What happened?”

Biting his fingers, he confessed:

“Mr. Wayam has deceived us. He is the alchemist,” he explained. “We used to work with him. We cleaned his machines and put a black paste in the bread. We didn’t know it was meant for you. We didn’t know anything about it, I swear, Sharpy…”

I touched his arm to comfort him and to encourage him to continue. He went on:

“He gave us poison candy every day. In fact, inside, there was the same dough that we used to put in the bread. But we didn’t know it was bad…” Dil looked at me guiltily and added, “Yesterday, Wayam convinced us to help him escape, and he said… we would escape with him, because if we didn’t, we would die. But Adoya caught us.”

“The one with the dogs?”

Dil nodded. I winced and let out a curse followed by a sigh of relief. At least the Ojisaries hadn’t lost the alchemist. Which was very good news, because without the alchemist, we were doomed.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw movement at the entrance to the cave of light and turned to see Yerris appear. He had probably heard the bong, for he headed straight for the gate. I couldn’t help noticing that at the same moment the Priest slowed down, and instead of approaching, he remained on the platform, watchful. Rogan felt a certain fear of the “Mysterious Wanderer”, as he sometimes called him. I guessed that, before I came to the Well, they had had some disagreement.

“Who is this gwak?” Yerris inquired as he joined us.

“Dil the Little Prince,” I introduced him. “A comrade of mine.”

“And they brought him conscious?” Yerris observed, quizzical.

I hesitated, then told him what had happened in a few sentences, admitting that Dil and Manras had worked for the Ojisaries, but not mentioning that they had been directly involved in our ensokwatation. After a silence, I left him deep in thought, took Dil by the arm and led him to the platform.

“Don’t be discouraged, you’ll see, we’re not so bad here,” I said and thundered, “Priest! Meet Little Prince. The most slackerish gwak in Prospaterra,” I said. I nudged Dil’s head with an affectionate hand, stole his cap, and put it on, straightening like a band kap. “Let’s greet our new brother in the Brotherhood of the Miners of Salbronix! Sit down, sit down. This is Rogan the Priest. And this one is Guel the Soothsayer: she guesses things in the future, and according to her, we’ll be out of here in a week.”

“It’s always in a week,” Rogan laughed.

The Soothsayer, though exhausted from fishing, gave him a look that was both haughty and defiant.

“It will be in a week,” she affirmed.

I continued with vivacity:

“That one over there is Natorg the Mole. He’s from the north, and a year ago he was a breaker in a coal mine, so, you see, he’s an expert. The big snoring nose is Draen the Sweeper. Another namesake of mine. He used to sweep up Tarmil Avenue and earn his keep. That one over there is Parysia the Venoms. Ah! And that one is Natorg the Diver. He knows more about picking pockets than all of us put together. He’s a friend of my namesake Swift. And this one is Syrdio the Galloper.”

I continued to give the names of all the companions. After Warok’s departure, all had become quiet and were already half or completely asleep—only Rogan and the Soothsayer were trying to stay awake—so when I shut my mouth, there was silence, and for a moment, only the slow gurgling of the spring could be heard. I frowned.

“But what the…!”

I stood up on the platform and spun around. I counted the heads. Twenty-seven, twenty-eight. Twenty-nine with me. And thirty with the Black Cat. Someone was missing.

“What’s going on?” the Soothsayer asked.

In response, I said:

“Where’s Slaryn?”

Rogan and the Soothsayer looked for her in turn, surprised.

“That’s odd. She was here before, we came back together,” the Soothsayer asserted.

“In the past or in the future?” Rogan replied mockingly. He lay back on the planks to peek under the platform, the only place in the cave that remained out of reach of a panoramic view. Unsurprisingly, he announced: “Nothing.”

Frowning, I stepped off the platform and trotted towards the Black Cat. He was standing and clutching the bars with both hands. I stopped short when I heard him speak. And my eyes widened as I saw a figure on the other side of the gate. It was Slaryn.

“Good mother,” I let out in a stunned whisper. I ran over to her.

Slaryn was saying:

“It’s the only way out; you said so yourself: you found nothing in the other tunnels.”

“It’s dangerous,” Yerris gasped.

“Staying here isn’t any better: I’m already out,” Slaryn replied. “Don’t worry, they won’t catch me.”

“Sla!” I interrupted, clutching at the bars, overexcited. “How did you do it?”

The Black Dagger girl gave me a mysterious smile.

“With dark magic, shyur, and a touch of talent. Those two scoundrels were so distracted, it was a breeze. I promise I’ll get you out of this. I don’t know when, but I’ll get you out.”

“Without sokwata, it’s no use, Sla,” the Black Cat reminded her.

“Trust me,” Slaryn replied.

Her gaze went to something to my right, and only then did I realize that Dil, Rogan, and the Soothsayer had followed me. Surprised, I noticed that the dark elf’s eyes were fixing Little Prince.

“Hey. What’s your name, shyur?”

The boy shrugged before answering:

“Dil.”

“Dil,” Sla repeated. “Tell me, Dil. You saw the tunnels, didn’t you? Do you know how long it took you to get here?”

Dil gave her a wary look. I became excited at such a sensible question.

“Dead round! Dil, answer Sla, it’s important.”

“Did it take you long to come?” Sla insisted.

Little Prince shrugged again.

“A little, not too much.”

Despite Dil’s hesitant answers, Sla and the Black Cat managed to work out the reverse route: stairs, the metal door, a slightly long tunnel, and another door that led right into the Ojisary refuge, into the Labyrinth. From there, Dil said there were almost empty rooms and that the door to the lab was on the other side of the outer corridor, in the building across the street. Finally, Slaryn ruffled Dil’s hair through the bars and said:

“Thank you, shyur. You just did me a great favor.”

I saw Dil return a faint smile; as Slaryn took a deep breath and prepared to walk away, the Black Cat called to her in a strained voice:

“Sla.” The dark elf turned around. After making a muffled sound, Yerris cleared his throat and adopted a light, familiar tone as he said, “Be careful, princess.”

Slaryn rolled her eyes, waved a hand, and went away. We saw her go up the stairs, and even after she was gone, we stood by the gate and waited for the sound of the bong. We heard it, but not as loudly as we had expected. Slaryn must have cast a silence spell. I glanced at the Black Cat. And, sensing his concern, I whispered to him:

“Don’t worry, Yerris. Sla is a Black Dagger. The Ojisaries won’t see her.”

The semi-gnome swallowed and nodded slowly.

“If she can’t do it, I can’t do it either anyway. I’ve never been very good at harmonies.”

After a moment’s silence, Rogan, the Soothsayer, Dil, and I left the Black Cat lost in thought and returned to the platform. The possibility that Sla would escape filled me with hope. I didn’t know how she was going to get us out of there, but… it was always a consolation to know that someone out there was going to try something. Seeing all my other companions sound asleep, I realized my own exhaustion, and soon my thoughts were overwhelmed by one desire: sleep. We sat down in a corner of the platform, and I heard the Soothsayer murmuring.

“In a week.”

Rogan and I exchanged a mocking but hopeful pout, both wishing intensely that the Soothsayer’s prediction would come true. And as Rogan murmured a prayer to his unknown ancestors, I nudged a slightly dazed Dil to lie down on the boards and said:

“Go to sleep. When the bong rings, we’ll eat and go fishing together, won’t we?”

I laid my head on the wood, closed my eyes and heard Little Prince whisper:

“Sharpy… I don’t like it here.”

I rolled my eyes, ran a hand over my young friend’s head, and before I could think of seeking an answer, I fell sound asleep.