6 Elms wimps are no Cats

“On the grass, scaluftard, or you’ll come a cropper!” Diver shouted to Manras.

The little dark elf took a run-up, leapt up, leaned against the wall with his boots, did a somersault, and landed with his legs bent… He lost his balance and sprawled in the mud.

I laughed loudly, but congratulated him:

“Well done! You’re starting to get the hang of it, shyur!”

And I ran, but I did not bother to go over the grass. I leapt like a cat, grabbed the abandoned beam, pulled myself up, and sat on the crumbling wall overlooking the steep rocks of the Timid River.

From there, one could see the slope of the Cats in its whole, the houses of the Black Quarter, and the wonderful chaos of the Labyrinth. Although it was still the second Youngday of the Moon of Darkness, it was a beautiful day, the sky was blue, a warm breeze from the south was blowing, and it almost felt like spring.

Diver jumped back, and although his jump was not as elegant as mine, he reached the top of the wall and sat down, looking at our companions with a small smile.

“Come on, take off your hat and jump, Priest!” he said.

Amused, I saw Rogan, below, make a gesture of refusal and retort:

“Bye, friends, I’m gonna go serve the Patron!”

“The patron?” Diver repeated, confused, turning to me.

“He goes to pray on the avenue,” I explained. “He says if he doesn’t do it every day, then he loses his touch. He’s a priest at heart.”

We huffed, laughing, as Rogan trotted away. We continued to encourage our companions. As responsible as usual, Dil sat on the rocks with Possu, Little Mouse, and Little Wolf. The others tried hard to join us, and Manras, as my faithful follower, tried harder than anyone else. And his efforts were rewarded: he finally reached the beam, and I helped him to sit astride the wall. There were already quite a few of us on top of the wall when I heard a bell ring.

“Gosh!” I exclaimed. “Half past three. I’ve got to run.”

“Where?” the little dark elf asked.

“To school, seeing a girl,” I said and smiled at the various expressions of my companions. “Oh, relax, I barely know her. I’m going to dictate a letter to her for my brother, the fly. I have to tell him something, you know, but it’s better in writing.”

That they understood quite well. Having a brother fly was not easy. I got ready and jumped. I landed rolling on the grass, leapt to my feet, and… when I saw Manras follow me and fall headlong, I froze. I rushed forward.

“Manras, Manras!” we all shouted.

He did not move at once, and for a moment, we feared the worst. Then the little elf sat up, massaging his head. As soon as I saw that he was alive and well, I gave him a smack.

“You’re a total isturbag!” I growled. “I can do it, but you can’t!”

Manras had managed not to cry out in pain, but at my lecture, his eyes filled with tears. He flinched when he saw me move my hand forward again, but this time, I did not hit him, I put a hand close to his, on his head, and concentrated. He had broken something. A thousand times isturbag. I sat him down there, said “don’t move” in a dry tone, and injected him with morjas to speed up the healing process, not only of the bones, but also of the rest. When I finished, I said:

“You’re going to have a bump so big you’ll remember it for a long time, shyur. Next time, try to think a little before you act.”

How many times had my nakrus master told me the same thing in the valley! But that, of course, I did not tell Manras. I rubbed my eyes. This type of spell was exhausting.

“Did you do magic?” a voice suddenly asked.

I looked up and noticed that my comrades had made a circle and were watching me curiously. I was not sure who had asked the question.

“Are you a magician for real?” the little Possu asked.

I shrugged, slightly embarrassed, and stood up.

“A little. I know a few things, but I don’t raise the dead,” I assured, rubbing my neck. And I added, “Dil, can you take him to the shelter? Okay, fine. Well, let him stay put and take some radrasia,” I said, sounding like an expert healer. “Well, I have to go, mates. Ayo. Ayo, isturbag,” I greeted Manras, giving him a light pat. The little elf answered me with a contrite pout.

I picked up my cap, lost among the others, put it on, and walked away. I had not even reached the top of the hill when I heard someone call out, “Little Wolf!”. I stopped and saw Diver running towards me. He was much more cheerful than the day before. Since he had paid the thieves the ten goldies, he had calmed down, we had fed him radrasia for the rest of the day, and then we had given him rodaria sticks, and Diver, like the other sokwatas of the band, had promised to stop taking karuja once and for all. Except none of us really believed him.

Far ahead of Diver, came Little Wolf. I looked at the little one, surprised, as he ran towards me on his little legs.

“Where are you going, Little Wolf!” I laughed.

The Little Wolf fell down, got up all muddy, and finally arrived near me just as Diver joined us.

“You want me to take care of him?” he offered. “Since you’re going to see that girl…”

I smiled and almost agreed, but then I had another idea.

“Let’s go together! The letter thing won’t last long. And, like that, I introduce you to her. And then I’ll invite you to the Golden Baths. It’s in Riskel. Have you ever been there? No, well, neither have I. My cousin said he went there once, and it was ragingly good. Plus, Taka said I should wash up regularly. What do you say, comrade, huh, what do you say? I’m inviting you,” I said, jumping up and down.

Diver hesitated, and then smiled broadly.

“It runs.”

“Well, off we go then!” I cried cheerfully.

We set off, followed by Little Wolf. My injured foot was almost completely healed, and it no longer hurt. Diver asked:

“Is she pretty? The girl, I mean.”

I laughed.

“Natural, she is!”

Diver gave me a mocking pout.

“And you told her?”

I opened my eyes wide in confusion.

“Pff… Nah, I didn’t. You don’t say stuff like that out loud.”

Suddenly, Diver laughed loudly, and I looked at him, puzzled, and rubbed my cheek. Still laughing, he gave me a slap and exclaimed:

“You don’t say stuff like that out loud, he says! Well, of course you can say it, isturbag. How do you expect the girl to know that you think she’s pretty if you don’t tell her? You hammer us with your songs every day and you don’t know that?”

I remained thoughtful, gave my hand to Little Wolf, and after a silence, I asked:

“Do you have a lady?”

Diver huffed, amused.

“I don’t. But I know about that stuff. These guys I work with…or used to work with,” he corrected with a grimace, “they kept talking about women. So, I know a lot about that.”

And as I looked at him curiously, he began to explain things about dating, smiles, “chivalry”, and flowers. When we got to the big staircase that went up to the Stone Park and Atuerzo, he was explaining things about male poses that made the ladies sigh. As for me, instead of making me sigh, they made me laugh in disbelief.

As we entered Atuerzo, we passed under the watchful eyes of two flies. We walked towards the temple which was right next to Elms School, not far, in fact, from the house of Frashluc—just thinking about it made me feel nervous. This temple had a clock almost as big as the one in the Great Temple. It read quarter past four. Zenira would be out in no time, so we decided to wait at the end of the street where the main school gate was. We were both chewing our black twigs with relish, leaning against the gate of the temple, when the bells rang at half past four. Then I looked up, put my twig away, and stretched my neck towards the gate, impatient.

The first students soon appeared. They were running out, shouting, free at last. Zenira arrived earlier than I expected and saw me sooner than I thought she would. She pointed to me and pulled a companion by the arm before walking towards me, her bag on her back, and wearing a pretty blue dress. I smiled. She hadn’t forgotten our date.

“Is that her?” Diver asked.

I nodded. I was about to move forward when I suddenly recognized Zenira’s companion and let out a dying breath. So this was the “best friend” who had surpassed her in geography…

“Oh, no, good mother…” I complained. And I turned my back to the two nail-pinchers. “Good mother, good mother, good mother, Diver!”

“What’s going on?” this one gasped, alarmed.

“What’s going on! What’s going on is that the one who’s coming with her is Frashluc’s grandson,” I let out through my teeth.

Diver made a stunned pout. His eyes sparkled.

“Are you on bad terms with him?”

I shrugged, thought about it, and said to myself: well, actually, I wasn’t. Frashluc had asked me not to speak to his grandson on pain of death, but that was before the theft of the Solance…

“Hello?” came a voice behind me, sounding surprised. “You came for the letter, right?”

I took a deep breath and turned around. Zenira looked like she was thinking, “That guy, what a weirdo”. Lowen looked at me with a wide smile. He exclaimed:

“Draen! I thought we’d never meet again. I saw you at the Capitol one day. I didn’t get to go say hi, because I was with my mom, but… Well, I’m glad to see you again.”

The little nail-pincher kept showing me smiling teeth. I sighed to calm myself.

“Ayo, Lowen. Ayo, Zenira. Uh… If you don’t mind, let’s make this quick.”

Zenira arched an eyebrow and nodded. She pointed to the temple steps.

“Let’s go sit over there. We’ll be more comfortable.”

“It runs,” I agreed.

And for some reason, I pulled up my scarf and covered my face. Before I could move away, Diver held me back and whispered in my ear:

“Tell her, let’s see what kind of face she makes.”

I blinked. Tell her… tell her what? Oh, I realized then. Feeling my face flush, I didn’t answer and followed Zenira and Lowen to the stoop. The half elf was already taking out a sheet.

“Who is your friend?” she asked.

Diver stepped forward, introducing himself enthusiastically:

“I’m Nat!”

He was so eager that it seemed he was going to add something, but then he fell silent. Zenira smiled at him, and her brown eyes fell on Little Wolf, who was clinging to my trousers.

“What about this one?”

“Little Wolf,” I introduced him, ruffling his blond hair. “The wolfcub of the bunch.”

“He’s adorable,” Zenira smiled. She pulled out the inkwell, the quill, and gave me a questioning look. “What should I write?”

I bit my lip. I’d already given it some thought, but… with Lowen and Diver present, I was getting a little nervous. Still, I didn’t dare tell them to get the hell out either.

“Well,” I finally said. “Write down: Ayo, big brother. Thanks for the remedy. Now, I’m going wind in the sails and… say that I’m sorry.”

Zenira half-suppressed a smile as she wrote. She frowned and looked up.

“That you’re sorry?”

“Yes. Say that I’m very sorry. That, and add the ‘very’. It’s important.”

Zenira nodded, wrote, and held her pen in suspense.

“And that’s it?”

“Yes,” I confirmed, nervously. No, that wasn’t all, I would have liked to say much more, but I wanted to get it over with quickly.

Zenira looked disappointed.

“Well, how do I sign?”

“Oh.” I frowned and finally said, “Ashig. Sign: Ashig.” And, casually, I added, “You can also add: written by a beautiful shyurine.”

Zenira opened her eyes wide, and I looked at her as if to say, “What’s wrong? Did I say something weird?” But deep down, I didn’t know where to put myself. Diver, that isturbag, chuckled slightly… A tumult of voices came to my rescue.

The four of us turned curiously, and I could see a group of students coming out of the school gate, dragging a fellow student, shoving him about, shaking him. Before they pushed him into a dead end near the temple, I had time to see a very familiar face. Samfen’s face. My thirteen-year-old brother who was studying in this very school. And the worst thing was that Samfen was the very one the others were bullying.

“Thunders and bolts!” I muttered.

I couldn’t believe my eyes. I rushed over, went to check, and weaved my way through the noisy students. The insults rained down: midget, copper, dummy, loser, poor devil! Some were reciting the blue streak like a refrain, as if they were used to doing it. Samfen—that was him—was enduring the downpour, his face impenetrable. He did absolutely nothing. The scene broke my heart, it indignantly revolted me, and… made me very, very angry.

The verbal onslaught did not last long, but long enough to give me time to pounce on the one who looked most offensive and most vile: a dark elf dressed as a perfect nail-pincher. My intervention immediately drew exclamations of amazement.

I punched the dark elf in the face, left him bleeding from the nose, landed next to my brother, pulled out my knife, and growled:

“You dare insult my brother again and I’ll cut your filthy mouths with knives, you demorjed!”

The students had run off and were shouting in fear:

“He’s got a knife! He’s got a knife!”

The bleeding dark elf soon followed them when he saw that I was watching him: he stood up and legged it, stumbling away. Within seconds, the dead end was empty of students. I let out a scornful gasp.

“Wimps.”

I turned to my brother. He was staring at me with his mouth agape. I cleared my throat, and lowering my scarf to expose my face, I gave him a half-smile.

“Ayo. You should have told me they were bothering you. With the Cats, it’s different, but with these guys, you just pull out your blade and they all run away!” I laughed.

“Sharpy!” Diver cried out. My companion entered the dead end at full speed, with Little Wolf in his arms. “The flies are coming. Leg it!”

I nodded and put my scarf back on.

“’kay. Hey. Do me a favor, brother. Give that goldy to the half elf you see over there, take the letter she wrote to me and give it to Kakzail. You owe me that. Ayo!”

And I ran off without having heard a single word from Samfen’s mouth. Perhaps he was a little shocked. I was too, but for other reasons. In reality, I thought, it would have been easier to ask Samfen for the letter service and not Zenira, natural, but there was a reason for everything, and Samfen… Well, Samfen was not Zenira. She was not a beautiful shyurine.

We had already reached a busy street in Tarmil when I burst out laughing and pulled my scarf down.

“Beautiful shyurine!” I pronounced with pride. “Hey, comrade, I did pretty good, huh?”

Diver rolled his eyes and put Little Wolf down, huffing.

“Not too bad,” he admitted. He glanced around and added, “But the rest though… that was risky. The Cats are the Cats, and Atuerzo is Atuerzo. Sure the flies are still looking for us. We should split up.”

I sighed.

“Yeah, but what about the baths?”

Diver shook his head in disbelief.

“Snap out of it, shyur. Come to think of it, didn’t you say that money belongs to Little Wolf? Don’t waste it with nail-pincher habits. See you,” he said.

I stood at the foot of a lamppost, puzzled, as Nat disappeared into the crowd. Gosh, was I dreaming or had he just indirectly called me a nail-pincher? Mmph. I looked around for Little Wolf, and saw him hugging the lamppost, circling it and licking it as if it had been a huge bone—I pulled him by the scruff of the neck.

“Let’s go.”

I took my bearings, crossed the street, went down it, and suddenly saw Samfen stretching his neck and looking around as if he were searching for something. I arched an eyebrow, and after making sure that there were no flies in sight, I approached, dragging Little Wolf.

“Are you looking for me, brother?” I asked.

Samfen turned suddenly and let out all the air from his lungs.

“Ashig! How could you do such a thing?”

I blinked.

“Uh… what are you talking about?”

Samfen rolled his eyes and instead of answering, he asked:

“Can we talk? I mean… without you running off after two seconds.”

I huffed as I heard that, but the idea of talking with Samfen excited me. I had found him friendly from the start. So I agreed:

“It runs. Let’s talk. What do you want to talk about? Wait, let me buy you a drink, and we’ll sit down like gentlemen. How’s that?”

Samfen gave me a curious look, but nodded.

“Okay. But not in the Cats.”

I laughed.

“Hell, no. We’ll go wherever you want.”

Samfen then hesitated and pointed in a direction.

“This way.”

As we set off, I realized that Samfen did not know where to go. Finally, he chose a tavern at random and told me:

“I’ve never been in here before.”

“Well, all the more reason to go in, then,” I smiled.

And we went in. The interior was rather quiet, for it was not yet the time for revellers. We approached the counter, and I bellowed:

“Two glasses of heavenly radrasia, Mr. Tavern-keeper!”

I blundered to my heart’s content: it was a lady. She looked at me with a hawkish face and replied:

“Out, you rascals!”

Samfen tried to make things right, but it was impossible. A few seconds later, we were outside. I gave my brother a pout of incomprehension.

“She even had a mustache and everything, how could I have guessed!”

Samfen could not help but laugh heartily. Finally, we entered another tavern near Tarmil Avenue, and my brother said:

“This time let me order.”

I looked at him as if to say, “Yes, yes, I’ll leave it to you”. I gave him two ten-nails, played dumb like Little Wolf, and went to sit at a table with him. My brother arrived after a while with two glasses. I examined mine curiously. It was orange in color.

“What’s this?” I asked as my brother gave me back the eight nails he had left.

“Uh… orange juice,” Samfen replied. “You don’t like it?”

I smiled broadly and nodded.

“Natural I do. Here, Little Wolf, try it. Don’t panic, it’s not carrot. Thunders! You’ve got a thing against everything that’s orange, gwak. Come on, lap the gatter.”

I made him take a sip, and then, when I saw that he was not being picky, I drank the rest. It did me a world of good. I said:

“Well, then? Do these isturbags bother you often?”

Samfen had not yet touched his glass. His face darkened at the question.

“Don’t worry about it. Bah. It’s the Elms,” he explained under my watchful eye. “At Passage School, everything was fine. I don’t know why Mother got it into her head that I have to study and become an architect.”

I whistled, impressed.

“Architect!” I paused. “And what is that?”

Samfen smiled.

“Well… an architect makes diagrams, calculations, plans, things like that, and then the workers build the buildings he says.”

“Blasthell. And you don’t want to?” I asked.

Samfen took a sip and shook his head.

“Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t. I have terrible grades. What I really want is to become a mosaicist. That is, a ceramist.”

He was smiling, as if he found it funny to share his dream with me. I looked at him curiously.

“And what does a ceramist do?”

“Oh… Well, he makes plates, vases, tiles, beautiful and useful things.” My brother made a vague gesture. “You see the mosaics they have in the Grand Gallery? Well, that’s the kind of thing I want to make.”

I smiled, imagining Samfen decorating all of Estergat with colored stones.

“And you’d do this kind of thing in the Cat Quarter, too?” I asked, excitedly. “It’d look great in my quarter. Some people draw pictures to color it, but others always come and ruin it. The other day, a friend of mine, well, actually the one you saw before, Diver, you know, he painted a whole bunch of cats on a wall in Spirit Square, and I added ‘out with the flies’, you know, because of the whole thing that’s going on down there at the moment. I know those signs by heart, from drawing them. I do it with my left hand, because my right hand is still cramping, but not as much as before; before, it was bestial. Well, as I was saying, about the graffiti, well, the next day, a fly came and erased it all with a diabolical product. After all the trouble Diver went to in drawing it! It was really beautiful! And that isturbag, in a few minutes, paf, ayo forever, cats. Well, but if they’re mo… mossics made by a ceramist, they won’t dare remove them, will they? And even less if you use that famous blue stone from the Valley that they used in the Palace. That would be so classy. And, this way, maybe they won’t even tear down the houses!”

I laughed, reached out, took my brother’s glass, took a sip, and gave it back to him, adding:

“Don’tcha think?”

Samfen merely shook his head, half-amused and half-amazed.

“Well… I don’t know. Say, can I ask you a question?”

His serious tone intrigued me, and I calmed down.

“Natural,” I said.

Samfen hesitated and seemed to think before he said:

“That day those guys that caught Hishiwa and me… in the ruined house… were they friends of yours? I mean…people died, you know? Are you still with that gang?”

I nodded.

“Natural! They are comrades of mine, bosom friends,” I assured, hitting my chest. “Honest gwaks. Swift only lets in honest gwaks.”

Samfen arched a trembling eyebrow.

“Uh… Does that mean you’re not delinquents?”

I laughed under my breath.

“That means we’re Cats of our word! The kap says it’s important. That it’s what makes us different from the Braggart, for example. That cove is an isturbag, a real first class isturbag. It’s a pity that his two youngest companions died and that he’s not the one who popped off… that night, you know, you were there with Hishiwa. I even heard that one of them was popped off by Braggart because he tried to run away instead of fighting with us, that freaking devil. Now he’s warned us that, if he catches us in his domain, he won’t ask questions: he’ll pull out his knife and bleed us. But we’re not afraid. He, on the other hand, doesn’t have the guts to enter the Labyrinth,” I said, triumphantly, banging the table.

I saw Samfen swallow. He was glancing nervously around the tavern, as if he was afraid someone would hear me. Well, what did it matter if they heard me? Talking wasn’t forbidden, and besides, there were no flies. And if there were, I’d run away and that was that.

“Okay…” my brother finally whispered. “And I… Well. I was wondering… well, anyway. Mother says you’re a… thief.” He spoke the word so low that I could only guess it from his lips. He cleared his throat. “Is that true?”

I didn’t know what to say. I shrugged my shoulders, as if to say: what if I am? I could also have told him that lately I didn’t need to steal, but then that would have been an admission that not only did I steal, but that I wasn’t content with committing petty theft.

“Bah,” I said at last. “How is the family? How’s the schoolmaster? And the glassmaker, Skrindwar? Has he recovered well?”

Samfen bit his lips at the sudden change of subject. Without losing his serious expression, he assured:

“He’s fine. In the end, it wasn’t a big deal. Everyone’s fine.”

He finished the juice and stood up, picking up his school bag.

“I have to go. From six o’clock, I must help in the shop. I’ll give the letter to Kakzail. If you want me to tell him anything else…”

I shook my head. Samfen hesitated.

“By the way, Ashig. Thanks for earlier, for trying to defend me. Normally it should be the other way around,” he smiled, and his smile twisted into a dark grimace. “I want you to understand. Pulling a knife is not right. You shouldn’t do it. It’s good for bullies. I know you meant well, but… now, they’re all going to look at me even more strangely. You don’t solve things that way.”

I gave him a look of incomprehension.

“And how are you supposed to solve them then? By shutting up? That’s when you can’t do anything else. But, against wimps, the best thing is to scare them,” I assured. “A siato that they don’t bother you anymore, you bet?”

Samfen rolled his eyes.

“I ain’t got a fivenail, so I’m a long way from being able to bet a siato,” he replied.

“Well,” I reflected, “well, if I win, after class, you come with me for a few hours, wherever I want. If I lose, I’ll give you five goldies.”

Samfen’s eyes widened in astonishment, and I saw him whisper: “Five?” In spite of everything, he seemed to be about to say no, but then he answered decisively:

“If you lose, you throw the knife away.”

I looked at him, my eyes squinted, with that face which Le Bor made when he wanted to impress. Then I smiled and stood up, holding out a hand.

“It runs.”

Samfen hesitated, shook my hand, and informed:

“Tomorrow, I leave school at half past five. When Marg and his friends corner me, you won’t interfere, will you? Wait until they leave and don’t show up.”

I grimaced but agreed:

“It’s okay. But they won’t corner you.”

“That we’ll see,” Samfen snorted. “See you tomorrow.”

“Ayo!” I replied, smiling.

And as my brother left the tavern in the direction of the barber’s shop, I sat down, glanced at Little Wolf who was playing with the Master, and whispered:

“Anyway, if they corner him, I already know who I’m going to throw my knife at!”

I caught the apprehensive look of an elf sitting nearby and felt it was time to leave. So Little Wolf and I left the tavern, and I bought a large loaf of bread, a cheese, and an orange. I gave the orange to Little Wolf to carry and said to him: “Take good care of it, Little Wolf, it’s not for you, it’s for Manras”. And that little devil understood me very well: the blond boy was mute and small, but he was not stupid.

It was already half past six when we reached the Cats, and the sky was already very dark. Absorbed in my thoughts, I recalled what had happened this afternoon. Zenira, Lowen, my bet with Samfen, the orange juice… And, with some concern, I wondered: and where will I take Samfen if I win the bet? To see my friends? No, I already knew that he wouldn’t like it. Maybe to the Golden Baths! But, as Diver said, that was just a nail-pincher hobby. So I had an idea. What if I showed him the Palace? Since he liked pretty stones, he would love the Palace!

So I was planning to drag Samfen into the biggest mess of his life when, suddenly, turning a corner and entering an alley already close to the Labyrinth, I passed by some hooded adult-sized figures, and without warning, one of them hit me, dragged me against a wall, into a corner, and, without moving his knife away from my throat, hissed at me in a cold voice:

“If you scream, you’re dead.”