Chapter 7
Pysuun leant against the bench staring without words into the dark glass of the window. Three weeks had passed since they had decided on their course of action and he had run out of things to occupy the mornings, now he just slowly tapped the stone surface with his fingernails and studied his reflection while Shaol cleaned the pots.
Raphtune had arrived to collect his boots a few days after he had left them, bringing the news that Hassa had agreed to their plan, the messages would be dropped along the far western wall into the soft earth of the inner city. The guards rarely patrolled that area so collecting the messages would be much easier.
Pysuun had met with Yor, the one with the ferret cap, in the marketplace to relay the plan. Yor eagerly agreed, desperate to return to his mountain home.
Raphtune returned a few nights later to tell the pair the Unders had been moved into the fortress. Hassa planned to make contact within the next three weeks. If she hadn’t, then Raphtune would move on and Shaol would have to find another way to retrieve the messages. Raphtune vanished into night saying he would return once the contact had been made.
Since that night, Pysuun and Shaol had woken each morning, climbed the stairs to the kitchen and waited for the four knocks to come again.
Shaol had learnt to wait and let the world pass him without concern. Pysuun had not learnt this, his short life in the city had been cluttered and busy running the Master’s house, he never had the time to think on his world like the others did. But since the father had found his son and knew he was close, Pysuun had slowly grown restless and impatient with the plan that was not moving forward.
Pysuun had become distracted in the daytime and became angry at the others for no good reason, at the same time he started to act strangely around Shaol giving him easy jobs, yelling at Faun or the others when they talked down the Shaol. The others had started to notice the change in the head of the house and they had started to mutter amongst themselves about the pair who went to kitchen each morning without reason.
Shaol had watched on but said nothing. Pysuun had a strong mind and Shaol expected Pysuun would settle himself after a week of the odd behaviour. But Shaol knew he had been wrong when that day Pysuun had returned that afternoon from the marketplace.
“The Master who runs the fattery was at the market,” Pysuun had said to Shaol with a low voice.
Shaol became looked at the face of his friend and knew the thoughts that were going through his mind.
“Yor pointed him out, the one who thinks he can beat my son whenever he feels,” growled Pysuun.
Shaol stayed quiet, but looked into the eyes of his friend, they were flicking wildly.
“He is smaller the other Orsil, he wouldn’t put up much of fight.”
Shaol left the kitchen and down to cellar without another word he would wait until he could speak to his friend freely and without interruption. Now, in dark morning that had become their world, Shaol could be the friend Pysuun needed.
Pysuun fingernails tapped against the stone disrupting the peace of the room, there was no rhythm to the slow clinks, they came when Pysuun wished them too, some were thoughtless and soft, others vigorous and hard.
Shaol took a breath.
“Sit with me,” he said to his friend.
Pysuun stopped his tapping and looked at Shaol still scrubbing a pot in the centre of the room.
“Why?”
“I need to talk to you.”
“Talk, then,” shrugged Pysuun and tapped his finger softly against the stone.
“Please, Pysuun, sit with me.”
Pysuun sighed, took the chair from the wall and sat by Shaol.
“What do you see when you close your eyes at night?” asked Shaol.
“My son,” said Pysuun simply.
“I see six people,” said Shaol.
Pysuun was quiet for a moment.
“Why?”
“There are six people who need me,” said Shaol, “I let myself see them once a day and I remember why I do what I do.”
“That’s why I see my son.”
“I know,” said Shaol quietly, “close your eyes now.”
“Why?”
“Because I am your friend.”
Pysuun sighed again with annoyance, he did not want to close his eyes, but finally he did.
“What do you see?”
“My son.”
“Why do you see him now?”
“Because he is always with me,” growled Pysuun softly as the poison came forth.
“But he is not with you, Pysuun,” said Shaol softly, “he has been taken from you.”
“I know,” spat Pysuun his eyes snapping open, they were alive with hatred.
“You cannot let yourself become sour,” said Shaol staying focused on his pots, “otherwise, you’ll not be there for your son when he needs you.”
“I won’t be sour when we leave this damn place,” said Pysuun standing and knocking the chair back.
“It eats away at you from the inside, if you let it, and there won’t be anything left when its done. You need to be strong for your son.”
“I am being strong, I’m doing this for him, I’m fighting for him.”
“You’re not,” said Shaol forcefully looking up at Pysuun with a hard look that made Pysuun stop, “it is easy to be sour, restless, angry, to give yourself up to the pain. But patience, restraint, this city, that is what is hard. Living in it as it is not as you wish it to be, that is what requires strength.
“I could have beaten the kids to pretend I had power, I could have take the eyes of my Master to believe I had strength, I could have run for the gates…”
Shaol stopped for a moment as the face of his first friend took his thoughts. Shaol brought himself back into the kitchen, Pysuun was looking at his feet.
“These are the poisonous, easy thoughts that are listened to by those who have given up. I could have become sour and I could have given in to them but I didn’t because I had something I had to do.
“On the water caravan the kids needed someone to watch them, that was what I lived for then. Here, now, in this kitchen, I have six people I need to take home.
“Rag, Cutter, Hassa, Yor, Horsuun and you.
“I want them all to go home but to do that I need to stay here, in this world, in this life. And for you to save your son, you need to be here, as well. As a servant, as a father with a son who is beaten, as one who has no power to control any of that.”
“I’m not powerless, I will do something for my boy.”
“You will do something for him and you will give him nothing. We are Unders, Pysuun, you are an Under. We are only what the Masters let us be, it is hard, it is painful but it is this life and nothing comes from pretending otherwise.”
“You’re talking a lot tonight,” snapped Pysuun as he looked back at Shaol, his face softer then it had been.
“I talk because I need too,” said Shaol looking away from one of the few friends he had ever had in city, “I hope you’ve heard me.”
Shaol went back to the pots in the grey-brown milk. Pysuun unlocked the backdoor and vanished outside.
Shaol waited, quietly, for the sun to bring the grey morning and when it did, Pysuun returned to the kitchen. He said nothing and he simply went down the stairs to wake the others as he did every morning, his old, lined eyes were blackened and tired.
Faun emerged from the cellar, he started to rearrange the pots Shaol had placed back incorrectly on the shelves.
“I need you to mince the bad meat, add some salt to it,” said Faun waving at the offcuts that had sat on the stove all through night.
Shaol spent early part of the morning mincing and then found the chair in the corner.
Pysuun arrived with a bag full of goods from the market. He dropped the bag to bench and it gave off a wet squelch.
“Did you see, Yor?” asked Shaol when Faun had gone into the cellar to find some ingredients.
“Not now,” said
Pysuun looking at him through his still blackened eyes, “we’ll talk about it in morning, only then.”
Shaol nodded and opened the bag of animal innards. Pysuun left and Shaol was left to the task of helping Faun stuff the spoilt meats into the guts of some unknown animal.
The day passed and the meals was served to the Masters. The night came and Shaol looked upon the faces of the six who needed him and fell asleep.
When Shaol woke in the early morning Pysuun was standing under the grate his blanket in hand. They ascended the steps as they always did.
“I’m going to try and sleep tonight,” said Pysuun, “you’re right. I am still here, a servant and nothing more until I free of this city.”
Shaol nodded, grateful that his friend had listened, he just hoped Pysuun was strong enough, the words were always easy to say but to fight the poison thoughts were another thing all together. Pysuun laid down on the floor and pull the blanket over his body as Shaol moved the pots from the bench to the floor, sat on the stool and started to clean.
“Yor was not at the market today,” said Pysuun from the floor, “I don't know if anyone has seen Hassa.”
“Then we wait another night,” said Shaol simply.
The morning passed Pysuun kept turning under his blanket, the poisonous thoughts were still coming for him. Silently, Shaol wished his friend well in the horrid battle.
There was no knocks at the door that morning. Three more nights, was all Raphtune had given Hassa. Shaol had much more time to give her. He scrubbed at the pot and watched himself in the dark world of the window, his hair was now long, tangled strands of red on his head.
The house woke and the next day passed. Only two mornings left.
Pysuun laid himself under his blanket and that night he slept easier. The dark rings around his eyes had started to fade and he carried himself as he did before the talk of his son and escape. Blunt, stern and focused on running the household as he once had done. He also went back to treating Shaol like he once did until the world of dark morning came, there they were friends again. Shaol was glad to see Pysuun return to man he once was, that was the father Horsuun needed.
The last night came. Pysuun put himself down on the floor as Shaol scrubbed.
“Tomorrow night?” asked Pysuun.
“We can discuss it, then.”
“Agreed.”
Pysuun and pulled the blanket over himself and slept through the last night.
Shaol wondered if Raphtune would come to say farewell. The boy had no reason to return to the kitchen and did not seem to be one to show himself unless there was a need. Silently, Shaol farewelled the boy who would now be beyond the outer wall onto some place far beyond the city Shaol knew.
The next morning came, Pysuun leant against the bench while Shaol sat on the stool in the centre of the room.
“Yor can get to the message and we still have the wagon,” said Pysuun.
“Hassa may still try.”
“Do we wait for that?” asked Pysuun with a shrug.
“We should we still need a way out.”
“I’ve been watched the tunnel when I’ve had the chance,” said Pysuun, “nothing ever comes out not guards, not Unders, not waste, nothing. I have watched the servants from the fortress and even they don’t step outside into the city, they just wait in the tunnel. The only ones that step though the gate are the guards and even they don’t go more than a few feet.”
“Do the Unders looked scared or hurt?” said Shaol.
“They look like every other Under in this place.”
There was silence between them.
“I don’t think were going to get a message from Hassa,” said Pysuun, “it was a good idea, but who knows what’s happening in that place.”
Shaol did not want to agree with Pysuun, but he did. The Masters kept their fortress locked up tight, it would not be safe or easy but the Masters would have it no other way.
There was a soft knock at backdoor and Pysuun jumped from the bench, he steadied himself and then went to the window slowly and looked out. There was another quiet knock at the door.
“It’s a girl,” whispered Pysuun looking back.
“Open the door for her,” said Shaol simply.
There was another harder knock as Pysuun found the key and unlocked the door. In the open doorway stood a barefoot child of a Master dressed in a leather dress with flowers cut into the brown material, the wide, muscular girl stood almost as tall as Shaol. Pysuun and Shaol stood silent and waited as was expected of them.
“Which one is Shaol?” asked the child quietly.
“I am,” said Shaol quickly.
“Take this,” she whispered and held out the silver chain and stone.
Shaol moved forward, took the chain as the child was looking nervously into the yard.
“You’ll take me with you when you leave,” said the child, “that is the deal I have made with the voice. You’ll honour it.”
“I will,” said Shaol with a nod.
“Who are you?” asked Pysuun.
“Jarga,” said the child, “I don’t have time and I cannot be seen talking to you.”
“Can’t you just walk out of the city?” asked Pysuun.
“No one is free here.”
“We will take you when we leave,” said Shaol.
“Good.”
“Do you know what is behind the walls of the fortress?” asked Shaol quickly.
“The fortress?” said Jarga surprised at the mention of the building then collected herself, “no one knows what is behind the black wall it is scared place no one is allowed to enter. The ones who are sent beyond are never allowed to return to the city.”
Jarga turned without another word and ran into the shadows.
“This is getting out of hand,” exclaimed Pysuun an annoyance in his voice, “now a Master’s child knows who we are and that we are planning to escape.”
“Friend does what needs to be done.”
“She risks nothing but our lives with this, Shaol.”
“She needs her treasure.”
“I want to talk to your friend.”
“She will speak to you if she chooses,” said Shaol holding out the chain, “I don’t command her.”
Pysuun quietly studied Shaol for moment as he held the chain out to him.
“Maybe Raphtune was right, maybe I following a mad man.”
“Raphtune was right about many things,” said Shaol lowering the chain and taking it in his fist.
Pysuun shook his head, frustrated.
“I do agree with you, though,” said Shaol, “this is not going well, we have exposed ourselves and we know almost nothing.”
The was a silence between the two.
“The Masters cannot enter or leave the fortress,” puzzled Shaol.
“They cannot leave the city, either.”
“No one is free here?”
“The Masters serve like us?”
The idea was ridiculous, the Masters had always did as they wished, gone where they chose, taken what they wanted. And then the thought came to Shaol.
“Could we have been thinking on it wrong?” asked Shaol to himself, “we see a city surrounding a fortress, we see the Masters of the city and we think that they are the Masters of the fortress.”
“There is no one else here, there are the Orsil and us.”
“We have never seen a Master enter or leave the fortress because it’s not theirs,” Shaol continued the uncomfortable thought, “but the true masters of the fortress, they may move as choose through the city and under the gates.”
“There is no one else,” repeated Pysuun annoyed, “no one comes beyond the borders of Gart. They are thrown in chains and made to serve, if they do.”
“There are others who command the Masters,” said Shaol, “I saw it myself.”
“Who?”
“The men in grey cloaks with the dry skin,” said Shaol, “the ones who are not burnt by flames, the ones who can make the
poison water clean.”
“The Clerics?”
“Have you ever seen the water wagon go into the tunnel?”
“No,” said Pysuun quietly.
“How does anyone survive in the fortress without the water from the lake? How could anyone survive behind the walls unless they command flames that can make the poison water safe?”
“I have never seen the Clerics walking the streets,” said Pysuun thinking he walked across the room back to the bench, “they give the blessings at the temple and then wander into the streets.”
“Do they go beyond the black wall?”
“I’ve never seen it,” said Pysuun tapping on the bench again, fast and hard with thought, “but I’ve never watched them outside the temple. I just thought they would have a quarters somewhere in the city.”
“Could they be the masters of fortress?”
“The Masters are scared of Clerics and the gods,” said Pysuun thinking, “Mistress has become convinced the gods have cursed her and since then she has never missed a blessing but how could they be the… no.”
“We must know, they may move between the city and the fortress.”
“If they do, it will be hard to see. Mistress always takes me to the temple with her and I must be by her side at all times.”
“Is Yor able to watch them?”
“No, he would be either with the goods wagon or stuck in the marketplace.”
“Then it must be me,” said Shaol flatly, “when is the next flame?”
“Three days.”
“I’ll be sick that day and will stay in the cellar when the house wakes. You leave me the key to the cellar door and when it is clear I can sneak out. I’ll get to the temple before they leave and then I will follow them. We need to have a reason for keeping everyone out of the cellar.”
“You need to be sick today,” said Pysuun now pacing the kitchen, “and tomorrow you need to be worse. That night you leave, get through the city and find a safe place to watch the temple. The morning after, I’ll check on a sack of rags under your blanket, the others won’t look and in the morning I’ll lock a sack of rags in the cellar and tell others to stay clear.
“At dusk, after you have followed the Clerics, you must wait for me in the alley across the street. I will come and bring you back in then.”
Shaol nodded as Pysuun took the blue key of the backdoor in hand.
“I hope Hassa is alright,” said Pysuun as he locked the backdoor.
“She is,” said Shaol and went to the pots waiting for him.
Pysuun slept under his blanket. Shaol cleaned the pots and placed back on the shelf, the knives were sharpened, then Shaol smiled at his reflection and became lost in the dark window and waited for the day to come.
Shaol stumbled a few times as the day passed and he started to move slower than needed and sometimes held the bench to keep his balance, making sure Faun noticed the struggle.
The next night, as Shaol was bringing in a tray of cold coals, he let his left leg buckle underneath and the coals scattered across the kitchen floor, Faun yelled at him as he stumbled forward, trying to clean up the mess. A fingertip of salt caused his eyes to water and turn red and made his nose run. Sarna, the children’s nursemaid, sent him to the cellar after looking at his face.
Shaol went to bed early and when the others joined him he was sure they heard him squirm and cough underneath his blanket. Pysuun told him to sleep away from the others under the grate, the others moved to the opposite the corner.
The next day passed, Shaol kept his eyes red and nose running with the purple salt that added fire to a meal but by the evening he no longer needed to pretend, the salts had worked into his body and he had started to feel truly ill, causing him to vomit up the evenings meal of mince into the waste basket.
Shaol woke from under the blanket and the others breathed quietly around him. Pysuun was standing by the door already holding it open. Shaol pulled himself up and moved up the through the bodies and up the stairs.
Pysuun followed Shaol to the kitchen and then unlocked the backdoor.
“Do you know the way?” asked Pysuun with a large smile.
“Well enough,” nodded Shaol, “the marketplace and then away from the inner wall.”
“Go, you must be back before dusk. I’ll come and find you in the alley across the street when it is safe to return. Good luck.”