87. The Gwaks’ House

“Pass, pass!” I shouted. I grabbed the ball and threw it to Manras while continuing to sing, “Welcome, oh welcome!”

I rehearsed the welcome poem which, at Miroki Fal’s request, we, the gwak boys and girls of his institution, should sing to the delegation from Yadibia which would arrive the next day. We had been rehearsing for two weeks every night before going to sleep, and although the result was very bad according to Mr. Shak the Supervisor, he could not say that we did not put our hearts into our task. He said the only passable part was when I was singing my solo in Caeldric. Coming from him, that was quite a compliment. As the former headmaster of a school in Taabia, in Raiwanian territory, Mr. Shak had the character of an old watchdog in his soul, but he was more of a barker than a biter. On the outside of the institution, he was all smiles and speeches of modernity. On the inside, he was… a man who lived off Miroki Fal’s pension and who, though he had the belt handy, would close his eyes as long as he wasn’t provoked too much.

Still bellowing, I saw Manras gently pass the ball to Little Wolf, and I changed my verse to shout:

“Come on, Little Wolf! Pass it to Little Prince, you can do it!”

Sure he could, blasthell: the little boy kicked the ball, making it fly out of the square and towards the river. For a second we stood still, and then, bawling, we ran off behind the ball, which rolled and rolled… An isturbagged man who was passing by saw it pass by him without doing anything and, splash, the ball fell in the water. I stopped on the white steps leading down to the river, in shock and beside myself.

“Blasthell, it’s going away, gwaks, it’s going away!”

I took Manras by the arm before the dark elf could touch the water and said:

“I have an idea! Don’t move!”

I had seen a long reed thrown in the middle of the square. I ran to pick it up and returned… only to see Rogan retrieve the ball with his top hat. He put his hat with the ball inside and gave me a mocking smile.

“But whatcha doing with that reed, Sharpy! You’re overdoing it: it was only a stone’s throw from the bank.”

I sighed, and seeing Little Wolf ready to go down the stairs to the river, I blocked his way with the reed.

“You, don’t go any further, demorjed.”

Impatiently, Damba, Little Mouse, Parysia, Davik, and Diver called us, and as they trotted up to us, the latter threw out:

“So? Where’s the ball?”

“Won’t be coming, it drowned!” Rogan retorted teasingly.

And he went up the stairs to the square, empty-handed. Seeing the disappointed expressions of our comrades, Manras betrayed us by covering his mouth and laughing. Then the Priest uncovered the hidden ball and threw it hard, away from the water.

“The first one who catches it doesn’t do the cleaning!” he cried.

He sprinted first, and the others followed. What the Priest meant by not doing the cleaning was to have the privilege of being a slacker while the others—there were forty-two of us—cleaned up the House thoroughly. With the arrival of the Undergrounders, Mr. Shak wanted to see the institution spotless, as if the Great Baïra and his friends were going to visit the House of the Gwaks! Actually, we were supposed to clean the courtyard, but I had found myself with the ball in my hands and… we couldn’t resist the temptation. Especially since Mr. Shak had confiscated the ball for a whole week and had just given it back to me with a promise that we wouldn’t have any more fun smashing it against the windows.

I was running fast, and so was Rogan, but Diver had wings: he caught the ball, and we all fell on him.

“I’ve got it!” one shouted.

“No, I have it!” Manras bellowed.

With so much commotion, the ball escaped us and ended up at the feet of a Little Wolf who looked at us, curious. He took the ball and…

“No, no, no, Little Wolf, no!” we all cried in horror.

This time, it was I who had wings, I gained momentum, and was about to grab Little Wolf along with the ball when I suddenly tripped—with Davik’s foot, I think—and went down on my face. A clear, childish laugh ripped through the afternoon air. I looked up in astonishment, looked at Little Wolf… and was left speechless.

The little one was sitting on the mosaics in the square and was laughing loudly at me. And, while my companions exclaimed “The Little Wolf spoke! The Little Wolf is laughing! He spoke, he spoke!”, dumbfounded, I straightened up, approached as if to make sure that it was really Little Wolf who was making that noise, and then I burst out laughing in my turn, bursting with joy.

“Little Wolf!” I hugged him and stepped aside, crying out, “Little Wolf! You speak! Speak, say something to us. Say ‘Little Wolf,’ say it, come on, please do it for me.”

Little Wolf was still smiling, but he had calmed down. He opened his mouth, and we all said in chorus: Li-ttle Wolf, Li-ttle Wolf! You see how easy it is! And so encouraged, when we fell silent in expectation, he said:

“Lidwo.”

We laughed, and with my heart pounding, I lifted him into the air and said:

“You’re one hell of a demorjed, aren’t you? The first thing you do is laugh and make fun of me!”

“Appy,” he said.

He wiggled his jaw sharply, as if something was bothering him. I looked at him, trying to understand.

“Huh?”

Manras explained with a laugh:

“He’s calling you, Sharpy!”

“Appy,” Little Wolf confirmed.

“Sharpy,” I corrected him, moved.

“Arpy.”

“Harpy, your mother!” I laughed. And I kissed him hard on the forehead. Why hadn’t Little Wolf ever spoken before? Because of a bone problem? Because of a trauma? Because of laziness? Who knows? But who cares, as long as he was talking now!

Other gwaks had come to see what was going on, and there was a whole group of us admiring Little Wolf’s progress, when Dil came, shook my shoulder, and whispered:

“Sharpy. You got a visitor.”

I opened my eyes wide. A visitor? Today? But it wasn’t Sacredday. Normally, visits were only allowed on Sacreddays. So far, I had been visited by my brother Samfen, who was about to finish his year at the Elms and then go straight to work as an apprentice ceramist. He had come with Sarova, and when they left, my younger brother clearly looked like he would have preferred to stay in the institution with me. The thing is, when I had told them that we only attended the lessons whenever possible as long as there was a willing master ready to come, his eyes had lit up with enthusiasm. But then I had swept away his illusions by saying to him: “Hey, Shyur, but the rest of the day, apart from Sacreddays, we spend it working like isturbags, and the barges on the quay! They smell worse than a vampire’s spit, and guess what, we’ve also been put to unload all the food for the animals in the Wild Garden, you know, and you can’t imagine how much those beasts swallow! I sneaked away for a while the other day to go and see them, and good mother, I wouldn’t like to get into one of those cages, and you don’t know! some of the gwaks here are such big isturbags, really, me included, bah, you wouldn’t like it here, little bro, but come and see me on Sacreddays, you bring me something good to eat, and maybe I’ll let you play ball with my comrades, runs for you?”

As a result, Samfen and Sarova had returned the next three Sacreddays, but Sarova no longer seemed as seduced by life in the Gwaks House.

My mother had come too, to bring me clothes, and when she asked me if I was happy here, I told her I was. Was I, actually? It wasn’t all rosy, and I wished I had a little more freedom, but… I had almost everything I needed: my companions, food, and… my nakrus amulet. I touched it with my hand, then stood up with Little Wolf in my arms, and stretched my neck amidst so many gwak heads. Who…?

I widened my eyes and ran off, shouting:

“Yaaal!”

My master was accompanied by Yerris and…

“Good mother!” I exclaimed, observing the small package the semi-gnome was carrying in his arms. “This is…?”

The Black Cat smiled broadly.

“This is Oraïza,” he announced. “She’s just three weeks old today.”

Oraïza? Funny name, I thought as I looked at her curiously. I assumed that she must be a girl. She was so tightly swaddled that you could hardly see her. She had a face as black as coal, like her father’s, and… I smiled with all my teeth. What little hair she had was red as fire, like her mother. Her eyes, however, were light blue like Yerris’. She had just woken up.

“Ayo, Little Black Cat,” I said to the little one.

“Ayo!”

That was Little Wolf who had spoken and who, clinging to my neck, was looking at the little newcomer with fascination. Yal snorted.

“Did the little one speak?”

“He did!” I confirmed cheerfully. “That’s the big news of the day. The Little Wolf speaks. Little Wolf! Say something to Little Kitten. She’s pretty, isn’t she?”

Little Wolf nodded and said:

“Blasthell.”

Yerris let out a slight grunt.

“Whoa, you dumb bastard. Don’t teach the little girl no fancy words.”

“Blasthell!” Little Wolf repeated cheerfully, smiling.

I rolled my eyes, very amused, put the little one down and took out his bone doll.

“Go play with the Master and tell him things, and see if he answers you.”

He did not move away, but his attention was now focused on the Master, and he began to stammer sounds and laugh to himself. I looked at Yerris and Yal with a big smile.

“Looks like things are going well for you here,” Yal observed, pleased.

I nodded.

“Well, yes. What about the rest of you? And Sla? Where is she?”

Yerris pouted.

“Sleeping. She didn’t want to part with the little one for a second, so I took advantage of the moment and… I took her out for you to see and to get some fresh air. I left a note for Sla so she wouldn’t hang me by my ears on the way back. Don’t know if that’ll work,” he coughed. “Actually, I’d better get back now. Hopefully she’s still asleep and won’t find out until later. I was just coming to see how you were doing. Looks like a lot of comrades have joined you, huh.”

I nodded vigorously.

“I tested it here for a few days and saw that I was living like a king,” I replied. “So I said to them all, ‘C’mon, guys’. And they came. Well, not all of them. Swift said that they wouldn’t accept him because he was too old. I told him he was an isturbag, and I told Hishiwa, the nephew of the glassmaker who also employs my brother Skelrog, about him. And, now, Swift has started working there. He hasn’t come back, so I guess things are going well for him. Syrdio didn’t stay, either. I have no idea where he is. At first, I couldn’t take him, remember? The punch you gave him in the face at the mine! But, actually, he’s not a bad guy. He’s a good fellow. I hope he doesn’t act like an isturbag. Anyway, there’s no more room in the beds here,” I laughed. “Charity, you bet! With all the gwaks left in the Cats, we can fill twenty houses like this, at the least. But I can’t complain. We live royally, blasthe—”

“No swearing, Sharpy, I’m serious,” Yerris interrupted me. And he smiled. “Well, I’m happy for you, shyur.”

He glanced at my companions—some of whom had returned to their cleaning duties, others who were less serious had continued playing ball—and lowered his voice, saying:

“Don’t worry about Syrdio. He’s fine. I saw him a while ago.”

I arched an eyebrow in surprise and delight.

“And did you mix it up with him?” I scoffed.

“Mmph. No. I’m not that impulsive anymore,” the Black Cat assured. “I’m a father. And, besides, it’s not appropriate to have a quarrel with a confr… Hum. Uh…”

He gave my cousin a guilty look. I blinked.

“A confrere?” I completed, stunned, in a whisper. “Syrdio?”

Syrdio, that gwak, best friend of Swift’s, that cunning, deceitful isturbag, he had joined the Brotherhood of the Black Daggers? I frowned. But… since when?

“No way,” I snorted.

Yal raised a hand and said:

“Forget it, Draen. Yerris, now that you’ve got the hang of harmonies, maybe you should learn to…”

“Yeah,” Yerris said with a clearing of his throat.

“To hold your tongue,” Yal finished.

This reminded me sadly that I was no longer part of the Black Daggers, but I pushed away the discouragement by saying to myself: perhaps I am no longer part of them, but blasthell, what a quiet life I have now.

“Uh… I better get going,” Yerris declared. “I’ll stop by some other day. And I’ll try to see you sing tomorrow on the Esplanade, hopefully I’ll have time. You guys are out in the paper, you know? The poor children, too, will give our new allies a welcome in Caeldric!” he recited. “They don’t call it Morelic any more, you noticed? Caeldric has become like the new Owram. The language of scholars. Even the Citadel’s nail-pinchers will envy you. Anyway…! I’ve got to go, but, hey, by the way, I haven’t forgotten the harmonica and the five crowns you gave me. You don’t forget things like that.” We exchanged smiles. “Ayo, shyur.”

“Ayo, Black Cat,” I answered, moved. “Ayo, Oraïza.”

I saw him walk slowly away, as if he feared that the movement of each step might disturb the girl. I smiled, turned to my master, and pointed to a nearby bench. We sat down. The sky that day, apart from a few white clouds, was a beautiful blue, and the still waters of the river sparkled and slid along with the barges. My cousin commented that it was a beautiful day, and that there were lovely views from here, and I, resting my chin on my hands and my hands on one knee, said:

“Elassar, just because I’m not in the brotherhood, doesn’t mean you can’t come to see me, right?”

Yal gave me an amused look and said:

“No, of course not. The reason it took me so long to come to you… was because I didn’t want to get you in trouble. I’ve had flies investigating me. But that’s all over now. I’ll try to come more often, how about that?”

I smiled, hopeful.

“That would be nice. I know you have a lot of work to do. I understand that, you know.”

He patted me on the shoulder.

“I’ll come next Sacredday. From what Kakzail told me, we don’t allow visitors on other days, but… Yerris was so eager to show you his daughter that we were willing to break the rules.”

I huffed, amused, and asked curiously:

“But wasn’t Kakzail off in the Underground with Yabir and Shokinori?”

“Yes, but he returned with Zoria a few days ago to escort a diplomat from Estergat. I don’t think they like life underground very much. He said he’d come visit you this Sacredday. Apparently he’s thinking of coming back to the valley and being a shepherd again, like when he was a boy.”

I took a deep breath.

“Gosh. Like Alitard.”

“Who?”

“The one in the book you gave me,” I explained. “Alitard, The Blessed Valley Man, And His Lamb Destiny,” I quoted. “He would travel all over the world to get Destiny back and, afterwards, he would return to the valley. I loved that book.”

Yal smiled.

“Well, it was the only one you had, so…” he remarked, jokingly. “How are the classes around here? Are you learning anything?”

I made a meditative pout.

“Things. Yes. Somewhat. I’m putting in the effort. Now I’m learning to write. And the teachers seem happy. They’re volunteers, so they’re always happy. Well, except when we slugbone around, but that doesn’t happen often. We gwaks are very well-behaved,” I assured under my master’s amused look. I shrugged my shoulders and, after a pause, I asked, “What about Arik? Is he doing okay?”

Yal smiled.

“Mm. The boy went with Ab to another town. We thought it was safer for him. So far, so good. By the way, he asked me to say ayo and thank you. And… I wanted to return this.”

He took out a new leather necklace with a silver pendant and handed it to me. I examined it in amazement.

“My metal plate?”

Good mother! It was the Malaxalra family metal plate, with my name engraved in the incomprehensible script of the valley. I had lost it in winter because of that isturbagged Braggart, the night he had “decorated” me. Yal confirmed with a gesture.

“I found it by pure chance at the Moon Square market. In fact, if Nael hadn’t shown it to me for a closer look, I wouldn’t have even noticed it.”

“Nael,” I repeated, smiling. “So, how’s it going with her?”

Sprawled on the bench, Yal snorted.

“Fine and not so fine. She’s a wonderful person, but she has some weird ideas…” At my puzzled look, he shrugged. “She’s a sociology student and all she thinks about is revolution and creating a better society. I told her: be careful, one day the police will arrest you and put you in jail. Well, that last moon they’ve already sent her to the station five times. The fifth time, I was so worried that I said to her: quit all this nonsense, Nael. And she got angry. She called me names. Reactionary and so on. Just the word ‘Nonsense’ is not a reason to get so upset, is it? I don’t know what’s wrong with her. Anyway. I think the best thing to do is to wait until she calms down a bit. Ah, another thing,” he said, as if to prevent me from making any comment on the subject. He pulled a paper from his other pocket, and his eyes glistened. “This, Mor-eldal, is a letter for you.”

I arched my eyebrows, dying of curiosity.

“For me? From whom?” I asked as I took the letter.

I read, «To Draen, from Sir Dad.» I filled my lungs with air and let out an exclamation. It was a letter from Le Bor!

I jumped to my feet and shouted:

“Manras! Dil! Priest! Little Wolf! You’ve got to see that!”

More gwaks approached, curious to know what was going on. I opened the letter feverishly and glanced at it generally before announcing:

“A letter from Sir Dad, comrades. That is, from the best Cat of Cats and from the Queen of Estergat. Yeah, I have such correspondents!” I boasted in an important tone.

I laughed, and the Priest pressed me:

“So? What’s he saying?”

“Coming, coming,” I said. And, standing on the bench like a town crier, I read at the top of my lungs, “Dear Four-Hundred!” I signaled myself with my fist to make it clear that he was writing the letter to me, and I barely lowered my voice as I continued, “First, a… greeting to you and the other four. I… I’m not listing names because I’m a… slacker! you know me. Damn right!” I laughed. I continued, eating up the words, “I hope the five of you are okay. Damn, damn we are!” I exclaimed. And I read on. “On our… side, my queen and I have… settled in a wonder… full city.”

“What city?” Manras leapt at once.

I shook my head.

“He doesn’t say.”

“Are you sure?”

I clicked my tongue.

“Shut up, I’m reading,” I protested. And I continued: “We make a good living! We both… miss you guys.” I bit my lip in emotion. Gosh, did he really miss me? I swallowed. “We miss you guys,” I repeated, “but, if w… if you guys were with us, maybe I would say… the opposite.” I huffed, amused, “Pfff… what an isturbag!”

“Turbag,” Little Wolf said, echoing me. The little one looked up at me with his blue eyes, clutching my pants.

“Come on, finish it off, Sharpy, there’s no end to it!” Damba protested.

“Okay,” I agreed. “It’s almost over.” And I finished, “If you ever need help, don’t hesitate to look me up in the high society of… Veli… ria. The Queen and I send our love to all five of you… The hell, did he become a nail-pincher, good mother!” I gasped.

“Napinchel?” Little Wolf tried, pulling me by the sleeve. And he shouted in an insistent voice: “Napinchel, napinchel, Sha’py, napinchel!”

“Me? Napinchel, your mother!” I replied, incredulous.

My companions laughed, and feeling like the center of all this joyful meeting of gwaks, the little one uncovered his milk teeth, happy.