'But?'
'Your actions have shamed one of my favourite apprentices, you have shamed us all by eluding my reach for as far as you have. So here I stand at your tail.'
'My queen, I just got lucky.'
'No, not lucky. How did you know which stone to knock up?'
'I... I was told the square shaped stones were once used to lower down and to light chandeliers. The city is old, older than time. Which is why those stones now lie hidden in the cellars and on the streets of the city, at least sometimes.'
The rat throne moves closer, until the Queen-rat stares right into Pan's eyes. 'Yes, I remember now. Men used to wear exceedingly puffy trousers, always getting tangled with the smallest of hooks or spikes.' She chuckles. 'I am surprised to hear lazy Sus remember such a detail of intrigue he was so uninterested in. Such a strange detail, when his usual tricks consists of nothing but favours and debts.'
'I just did what I was told.'
The rat shakes it head back and forth. 'Who do you really serve?' The boy tries to answer, but the rat just motions him to remain silent. The whiskers wave and shake as the rat tries to recognise a familiar scent on the boy. 'Oh that is an old scent, but what is it?' The queen ponders before her eyes focus with undeniable clarity. 'Where have you found dandelions? How?'
Pan gulps and closes his eye. 'I got the seeds from a king.'
'What king?'
'The one hidden in his forgotten palace. The king of this city. The king of wights. He gave me a bag after I poured him a glass of wine.'
'And you planted the seeds?'
'I get hungry, perhaps the seeds grow to tree bearing fruit. But it is just some stupid yellow flower that tastes sour and sticky.'
'And how did you end up in the wight king's domain?'
'I got lost. Wrong turn. Fell down.' Pan waits for the legion of rats to devour him alive, but only silence follows. A silence so deep that he hears his own heart beat louder than the drums of Agavean slave ships. 'Wait!' He cries out.
'Yes?' The rat queen smiles wryly.
'You want the seeds.'
'Oh, such a clever little thief you are. Yet I wonder if you even know why?'
'Why?' The boy utters after blinking for a while more.
'Oh the seeds come with a puffy little white umbrellas, if you pluck them off and grind to fine soft powder, you can mix it to the finest of sand grains, and with the right trick...' The rat chuckles.' 'What you have before is nothing else than...' The rat queen pauses for the boy to finish the sentence.
'Slightly softer sand?'
The rat rolls her eyes with a barely audible groan. 'Pixie dust. Quite handy when it comes to learning new ways of using magic, almost required to ensure that the spawn of the magisters grow skilled enough to follow their parent's footsteps.'
'So the magisters have a lot of pixies and dandelions to make the dust?'
'Oh no. It is Lepus who grows the dandelions and supplies the magisters with what they need. The pixies of the city grew quite obsolete thousands of years ago when the magisters figured out how to make the mixture of dust and dandelions transform and sparkle by themselves.'
'Do you mean that pixies are dead?'
'Oh few are still around. Half of which are in some kind of jars as far as I know.'
'So... let me guess... you have your pixies and what you need is... dandelion seeds. My seeds.'
'Exactly.' The rat grins and licks its lips.
'So what happens when you... When I give you the seeds?'
'My product enters the black market, thus undercutting Lepus' profits in the production. He'll curdle his tails and wage some petty skirmishes for a decade or so, but the House of Carpa will be better off in the long run. Far more coins for all my sons and daughters.'
'Are you not afraid that Sus discovers you here? That he causes the sewers to collapse, forcing you to devour upon yourself to survive?'
The rats surrounding the boy all join into the wicked laughter. 'I am not like lazy Sus who covers with his tails knotted within the boundaries of his nest. I am but one of many. One of a legion divided and my death here will not affect or hinder the larger whole. Not to mention how today the attentions of Sus' and the others are entirely spent on how the magisters manage to deal with rise of the wight king's new court.' The piercing stare watches over the boy's every reaction.
'Hulking misshaped undead monstrosities?' Pan asks remembering the shape that rose from the tapestry of flesh.
'No. They are human and skilled magisters too no doubt. The wight king has send them out here and there, acquiring eyes and servants to reach beyond his cold palace. I would say the magisters are not pleased with this recent development. Thus my ten fellows are getting involved and meddling to determine who wins the dominance over the next status quo.'
'And you are not?'
'No, I prefer siding with the winning side when things are done. And these things happen once every few centuries. Nothing truly changes whether it is the old dead king or the council of magisters holding the upper hand. Only the distance and direction travelled fluctuates for favours as neither side can live without the other.'
'Why are you being so talkative?'
'I am just an old lady who likes to chat, and perhaps you like to chat too? In any case, I do want those dandelion seeds you have stumbled on.' The rat-queen's glare tightens just enough to intimidate. 'Preferably without screams of agony, as I quite abhor Draco's crueller tendencies.'
Pan gulps. 'What happens to me, what should I do?'
'You are going to fetch your seeds and deliver them to me. Not a word, not a peep, just a simple delivery. What happens to beyond this minor task is entirely up to you yourself.' The rat pokes the boy's nose.
'You are not afraid that I'll go to Sus?'
'You should be if you do, he only knows how to hide within his own nest. And who knows, perhaps you can earn some gold as my occasional eyes and hands in lazy Sus' domain.'
'What if I do not have any seeds to give?'
'Then just bring the whole pot you planted to the corner of Alchebar's theatre within two days tome. You will know who to give it to, once you get there.' The rat smiles.
'I...'
'You have been given a chance to achieve something, boy. A chance to make friends. A gift so very few receive before Sus' believes you are no longer of use to him. Before he presents a task that is simply impossible. Before you, little boy, find yourself stuck in the salt mines or with a fate far worse.'
'And what makes you any better?'
The rat smirks. 'At least I provide daggers and cloaks to those who follow me.' A path clears before the boy, and the rat-queen shifts aside with her throne. 'Do not forget, two days, Alchebar's theatre – or I will find you instead.'
Rats all around smile towards the boy. Pan does not need further encouragement to run away as fast as he can. His steps race through the narrow path set aside for him, until eventually he is clear from Carpa's vermin followers. A quick glance over his shoulder, and he sees the wave of fur vanish before his eyes, scatter to every small crack on the walls.
Pan sighs in relief. But he is not foolish enough to think he is alone. At least he thinks he can hear the tiny claws against the stones and feel the pairs of eyes stare at his back.
The weight of the coins in his pockets finally encourages him to move onwards, to head back home. Pan knows the route ahead of him, so he does not need to listen to the streets above for guidance any more. To him it is nothing but familiar passages, pathways, and canals rushing below. Some distant voices echo from the tiny hubs and markets of Sus' domain. The places where he waited for the Merchant and the Monk to arrive for whatever task they had in mind. Until finally, Pan stands directly underneath the only hatch that matters.
He looks around to see a glimpse of any rat. But what greet him is nothing but the bricks and stones. If something hides in the cracks or behind the shadows of darkness, he knows of no way to out them. He can only trust the illusion of the house
above holds true even below its foundation. His hands grab the usual spots, and so he rises, and begins to push and jerk the hatch aside.
Warmth and light oozes from the cellar. Warmth and light. He pulls his body up and finally rests next to the closed hatch. He takes a moment to breath heavily in and out, a moment to cast aside the chilly dankness of the sewer and the Rat-Kings who call it their domain.
Pan's eyes dart to left and right, and he sees stacks upon stacks of strange piles of wood. He scratches his head. 'I guess they brought the things down while I was gone.'
With careful and slow steps the lone boy climbs up the stairs until his head just barely peaks over the ground floor. The furnace brims and glooms with unnatural heat. The group of four boys strike out sparks as they work around the anvil. The metal they work with moans as it plunges into the cold water, and shrieks as it is shoved back into the burning inferno. They are all soaking wet from their sweat and steam.
Pan raises his hand to wave a greeting, but as his quiet gesture goes unnoticed his hand falls back down. Thus he simply sneaks past the backs of the other boys and climbs ever higher along the stairs.
On the second floor, the siblings Pallene, Mimas, and Enceladus stand before the giant pigeon of cloth. They wave their hands and shout instructions as the beast just moves its head from left to right until it finally does what the three children had tried to make it do all along. The pigeon spreads its wings far and wide, and on that very moment, Pallene conjures and awakes a hurricane within the room.
The wind whips and tears, shaking everything as it spins with an ever growing howl. Mimas laughs manically as Enceladus covers against his sister's leg, clinging onto it. The oldest sibling does her best to maintain the storm, as the pigeon slowly begins to flap its wings up and down, twisting its tail and neck in an effort to stay aloft.
Mimas' laughter turns to joyous screams how the pigeon can fly, how it can fly, how she will fly on it across the world under starry skies. The youngest clings harder with his eyes closed, and finally the oldest of the three runs out of strength to maintain the storm. Her hands fall limb to her sides, and the raging wind disperses, allowing the pigeon to settle back down to its feet.
'See, see. It can fly.' Mimas points and chants to her older sister, who can do nothing but shrug and pat her sister's dress back down, before insisting that she cannot take it out for flight yet. Exemplifying how it should first try to carry something within the house, when there is not hundreds of meters to fall down. Pan sneakily takes it as his chance to climb upstairs, and he gets there almost unnoticed. As Enceledus finally opens his own eyes, he did manage to see a glimpse of Pan's patchwork cloak vanish past the last few steps.
On the second floor, things are quiet. Pan wanders around taking glances at the rooms both in neat order and complete mess. Quite a change since he first step his foot inside the house, there is a lot less dust covering everything. Books and orbs adorn the walls of some of the rooms. Writing desks and soft chairs in others.
The paintings on the wall remain faded even though the frames seem polished and new. Thus the paintings do not capture Pan's eyes for too long as darkened blotches of paint are just darkened blotches. But there always is an exception to any rule. The boy looks around to make sure no one is paying attention to him, and then Pan moves one of the chairs so he can gaze right towards the painting in the darkest corner of the entire floor. An old painting, its frame nothing but old bent wood and under the layers of dark he sees a shape with a face he thinks he can almost recognise.
'Who is he?' As question shoots out of thing air, Pan jumps and falls on his behind. It seems Bergelmir had lingered on, hidden from sight as usual.
'Don't do that.' Pan shouts while his face turns red out of embarrassment. He scratches his sore behind and turns his gaze back to the painting. 'I am not sure. With some more flesh on the bones, and a beard... maybe Surtur when he was young. With more shrivelled skin pulled and drained against the skull, perhaps the Wight King.'
'I, thought you would say something like a cousin or a grandfather.' Bergelmir pats his own clothes and pulls out a transparent pebble. 'Here take this.'
Pan turns to stare at the glass pebble on his hand. Almost hemispherical in its appearance, and too large to be a misplaced piece of cheap jewellery. 'What is it?'
Bergelmir grins. 'My great-great-great grandfather's glass eye. It was buried in my attic. No one will miss it.'
Pan gives a faint smile and flips his eye patch up, raising the large glass eye over the scar and the empty eye socket. 'Thank you, but it is too big for me. I am not an adult. I cannot take it.' He would have handed the glass eye back, but the roll of Bergelmir's eyes and the sigh that follows stops Pan in his tracks. Stops him long enough for the younger boy to suddenly jump up and slam that oversized glass eye into the empty eye socket.
Pan shouts out in pain, stumbles backwards as he desperately tries to to gouge out the glass eye. Franticly his fingers trail the surface of the glass sphere, and the scar that surrounds his eye. Until what had happened truly dawns to Pan, as he sees Bergelmir's smirk grow ever wider.
'It is magic.' The younger boy adds, as Pan closes and opens his eyes one after another. 'It is kind of like the glass hearts, one size fits all.'
'I can see... with my both eyes?' Pan opens and closes his hands before his face. 'I cannot accept this…'
Bergelmir groans ever louder. 'You saved Pandora. You deserver it. Plus no one else I know needs a glass eye. It is yours.'
'Fine... How does it look?'
'It glows with some kind of blue-green flame.' Bergelmir goes around and grabs the nearest reflective object, an orb, and hands it to Pan. 'It kind of sticks out...'
'Yeah...'
'But I know of a book which tells how to change appearance.' The other boy leaves Pan to stare at his own reflection as he himself proceeds to conjure a little flame from his index finger to have look at the books on the shelves. The tomes shift in and out, until Bergelmir finally runs into the book he was looking for. A tome with dark green scales and leather as the cover, tarnished brass corner plates, and thick yellow papyrus pages.
The two boys look at the tome, as the younger shifts the pages under the light of his finger. One after another, until about one third in he stops and points to a page filled with drawings of eyes and arcane runes alongside images of prisms. Bergelmir goes on about practising against a mirror on how to make one colour appear as another. He exemplifies that it would be the starting point in trying to make that burning glass eye appear as something else, and to prove his point; he waves his hand before his own eyes making them change in colour with every swipe. Bergelmir giggles, before finally blowing out the little flame on his index finger. 'See you tomorrow.' He says before heading down the stairs.
Pan stares at the open book. A moment before he closes it, he reaches to his forehead and slides down his eye patch. Pan releases a short abrupt snort. Seeing with two eyes felt strange.
With the book under his arm, Pan continues his climb upwards. On the third floor Pan sees how Yarnsaxa is sitting alone under eerie lanterns, waving and striking her hands towards a small piece of bone resting on a pedestal. She groans commands ever louder. And looks away in frustration as the piece of bone refuses to change or shift.
She grabs something else and playfully turns the yellowish powder into solids and liquids on her palm, before turning it back into what it was and returning it back into its jar. She pulls her sleeves high, stands up, raises her hands high, and brings them down to the piece of bone. The air buzzes and the pedestal underneath twists and transforms wildly, but the piece of bone shows not a single change.
Pan thinks it is best if he does not disturb her, so he just decides to climb higher. One step after another, he creeps towards the fourth floor where bedrooms circle the open area before the stairs. And like before, he stops by the stairs and finally catches the sight of Loge who is in company of Pandora and Dione.
Of the three girls P
andora is fencing against shadowy figure controlled by the squeamish Dione. Pandora's twin daggers plunge and swing forth with wild brutality, piercing holes and cutting pieces away of the shadowy figure.
Although Dione flinches and averts her eyes with each attack done towards her shadowy figure, she still somehow manages to make the shadow move ever onwards towards Pandora. Somehow the fight is not as one sided as it first seemed to Pan. The shadowy figure punches and kicks, forcing Pandora to back down and to think where else to strike.
The pair of silver daggers and the shadowy shape continue their dance. They circle before Loge who just claps her hands once here and there as the two clash against each other. Loge's back rests against the wall few steps away from the covering Dione.
As Pan continues to watch the performance, a smile slowly creeps over to his face. He takes a deep breath and relaxes his mind. He closes his visible eye, and when he reopens it Pan can no longer see his right hand. Thus he gets up and just decides to sneak past in the very open. Inside his mind, Pan chuckles as he finally understands why little Bergelmir is so keen on sneaking everywhere invisible.
Eight quiet steps, and Loge stops Dione and Pandora in their tracks and the shadowy figure manages slaps Pandora's cheek and to knock her over before dissipating into thin air. Pandora jumps back up to shout towards Dione, but as she notices their pointing fingers, she turns to look as well.
'What?' Pan finally asks, and the three girls just utter the words; ' Head, most of your legs, left arm, book, and shoulders.' Pan looks towards his left arm, and sees how his own invisibly was not as transparent as he had thought it was. The air appears to distort more and so the fledgling illusion of invisibility shatters. The boy groans as he stands before the three perfectly visible.
Pandora of course throws out her challenge for a duel and Dione sighs out relief and falls down to her back, panting exhausted. But before Pandora can wave her daggers too much, Loge just places her hand on Pandora's shoulder to calm her down. Thus Pan just silently picks up the coins from his pockets and piles them to Loge's open hands. The two other girls raise their eyebrows briefly but do not really say much.
Skull of Oghren Page 16
