The Lost Puzzler Page 22

  “We, the Keenan guild, found each and every one of you, sometimes when it was almost too late. We saved your lives, brought you here, gave you food and shelter, and taught you how to use your special abilities. Where your families and friends showed you fear and violence, we gave you acceptance, understanding, and respect. We will always support you. We will never abandon you, unlike the people who you once thought of as family. The Keenans are your real family now, in action and virtue instead of just blood.

  “Look around! You are surrounded by brothers and sisters, closer to you than the blood kin who betrayed you. Sitting behind me are your guild mothers and fathers; give them the respect, love, and obedience they deserve. And most of all, our leader, Master Keenan himself.”

  As if on cue, everyone bellowed the word “Respect!” in perfect unison, and the word echoed among the walls and columns. Only when it finally died down did the speaker continue.

  “Soon you will be called to serve the guild, to repay your debt. Remember, you are the new humanity. You are the future, the representatives of the civilisation we once were and what we will one day become.”

  The man would have continued his speech if not for a boy who spotted them lurking in the shadows. He immediately sprang to his feet and shouted, “Mistress Furukawa. Respect.”

  The entire room rose to attention and turned to face the woman, who walked slowly and deliberately to the centre of the room. With a light touch she made sure Rafik moved with her. The man who was speaking turned as well. His eyes were the brightest shade of green Rafik had ever seen. He focused his gaze on the woman and then stared at Rafik. Slowly, as if doing something against his better judgement, he bowed to Mistress Furukawa, and the room followed suit. He climbed carefully down from the dais. He was limping heavily, like Grandpa Suhd from Rafik’s village, but without the walking stick Grandpa used to hold. When he came closer he declared out loud, “Welcome, Mistress of the House of Keenan,” but even as his words echoed throughout the hall, and with his back to everyone else, he hissed under his breath, “Are you insane? What have you done?”

  “I trust the representative of the merchant guild arrived before me, Master Goran?” Mistress Furukawa answered in a loud, clear voice and tilted her head in the direction of the “mothers and fathers” who were watching the situation intently.

  The man nodded and whispered, “Three of them came, with several carts. I sent a courier to the auction house to check that the sum they were asking for was genuine. How could you do this? We never gave our consent, and now we’re almost depleted of coin.” He looked down at Rafik. “And look at him. A lifetime of wealth—a year’s worth of supplies, for an untrained boy!”

  Rafik was standing next to Mistress Furukawa, but his eyes darted around the dining hall. With the exception of the game in New Denver, Rafik hadn’t seen children his own age since leaving his village. Newport was a hub for truckers and gangsters, he was only in Regeneration briefly, and then he’d been locked in a room since he arrived in the City of Towers. In the previous few weeks Rafik had experienced battles and violence and had escaped death several times. But facing this large group of boys and girls, all looking at him with open curiosity, made him nervous in a way he hadn’t been in a very long time.

  He heard Mistress Furukawa speaking under her breath: “. . . decision was for the good of this guild. It is not your place to question my judgement.”

  She turned and addressed the room. “It is a good day for the Keenan guild. Please welcome the newest member of our family, Rafik!”

  “Rafik, Respect!” they shouted, and the sound left his ears ringing.

  “I’m sure there’s a lot of gossip about him already, so let me be the one to dispel the rumours. Rafik is a genuine, certified Puzzler.”

  People moved excitedly in their places, exchanging meaningful looks.

  Mistress Furukawa locked stares with Master Goran as she continued, “For the first time in years, the Keenan guild has a Puzzler of its own. It is a sign of our rejuvenation and growing strength. It also means that sooner or later, all of you will be called to serve your Keenan family in deep runs.”

  Another audible commotion of excitement swept the hall, but it quickly subsided as the Mistress continued her speech. “I want you to double your training. Learn more and work harder than you ever have before, because deep runs are as dangerous as they are rewarding. In a few days we will be honoured by a visit from Lord Keenan himself.”

  “Keenan, Respect!” the shout filled the hall.

  “He will be inspecting our progress, personally.” She let the implication of her words sink in before adding, “And now, let us eat. Then you will all resume training. Please be seated.”

  There was a sudden commotion in the room as everyone sat down. Rafik was told to sit at the end of a faraway table. He complied, filling his plate with food while trying not to catch anyone’s eye, which was difficult because everyone was ogling him.

  He lowered his eyes and as he uttered a blessing over the meal in the softest of whispers, he heard a girl’s voice, “Look, he still prays, how cute!” A few sniggers followed.

  “Hey you, Puzzler!” someone called.

  “His name is Rafik,” it was the girl’s voice again.

  “Whatever. Hey, Puzzler, look at me.”

  He had no choice but to turn his head in the direction of the voice. The boy who was talking to him was sitting a few seats away. He was big, grossly muscled, and sporting a shaved head with clear tattoos marking his arms, chest and neck.

  “Show us your hand,” he said, chewing a mouthful of meat.

  “Stop bothering him, Kurk,” said a girl with red hair tied back in a long braid. “Can’t you see he’s scared?”

  It might have been an alien place in a strange city, but Rafik’s instincts told him the rules here where the same as his home vilage. He was the new boy, and had to show that he was not afraid. Failure would mean future bullying. He raised his hand and spread his fingers.

  Kurk looked at the symbols on his hand, then smiled broadly at another boy.

  “Yes! We finally got one, a rusting Puzzler, praise Keenan! We are going deep!” He turned back to Rafik. “Don’t be afraid,” he said in a high-pitched voice, as if talking to a baby. “We won’t hurt you. You are our key, we need you.”

  Rafik did not understand, but his hand acted on its own accord, turning itself around and slowly lowering all his fingers but the middle one, to create a gesture that he’d learned from a drunken trucker in Newport. He was rewarded by a burst of laughter.

  Kurk’s condescending smile turned into an angry smirk. “Watch it, boy,” he sneered. “We only need one of your hands to open doors.”

  There were a few more sniggers at the table. Rafik still didn’t understand what Kurk was saying about doors, so he kept quiet and chewed his food. Kurk’s honour seemed to be satisfied, though, and the rest of the meal went smoothly.

  Dinner was concluded with yet another loud pledge to the Keenan guild, after which Rafik was invited to meet the rest of the Keenan leaders. Mistress Furukawa was obviously in charge; only her conversation with Master Goran indicated there was any kind of discontent within the high rank of the guild. The rest of the grown-ups were too numerous for Rafik to remember by name, especially since he was practically exhausted from the events of the day. They all looked at him like owners checking a newly acquired, prize racing dog. One of them even wondered out loud how soon Rafik would bring a return on their investment.

  By the time the introductions were over the rest of the kids were already gone. Rafik was led to the dormitories by House Master Prushnik, a balding man who was fond of his pipe. Rafik’s cot was at the end of a long row of twenty. The beds were Tarakan built—they floated in the air with no support whatsoever and adjusted themselves to the knee level of the person standing next to them.

  “Nice, eh?” the House Master relit his pipe, puffing energetically. “You won’t get that in Tarakan Valley. Over here yo
u can store your clothes and any other items you need. When you receive your trainee pistol, make sure you place it in weapons storage every night. Are you ready to hear the rules for staying here?”

  Rafik nodded; he was hardly in a position to argue.

  House Master Prushnik took the pipe out of his mouth and pointed the chewed end at Rafik. “You need to remember only the most important rule: do as you’re told. No more, no less. Fail and you’ll spend the night in a rat-infested cellar below. Not something I would recommend, though it does build character. If you don’t believe me, ask some of the boys—they can show you the teeth marks.”

  Rafik promised to obey. The House Master nodded with satisfaction and placed the pipe back in his mouth. “Good. Now, give me your arm, no, not the one with the mark, the other one.”

  House Master Prushnik locked a thin silver bracelet over Rafik’s right arm. The bracelet was incredibly light and adjusted itself in size to fit perfectly.

  “Leave your belongings here and let’s go to the common room,” he said. “The other trainees are probably eager to get to know you better.”

  Rafik could not tell by the House Master’s tone if this was a good or bad thing.

  They walked together to the common room, which was yet another large hall. It was the hub of social activity for the trainees. Everyone turned and stared as they entered, except Kurk, who was busy doing one-handed push-ups as another boy sat on his back counting loudly. Now that he was wearing the silver bracelet on his arm, Rafik noticed that everyone was wearing bracelets.

  “This is it,” House Master Prushnik said as he patted Rafik on the shoulder. “You may stay here when you’re not training or doing chores, so you probably won’t be seeing much of this hall in the next few months. Enjoy it while you can.”

  As soon as Rafik was alone a mob of trainees accosted him, firing questions from all directions:

  “Show us your hand again!”

  “Can you do something else?”

  “Did they tell you what your training is going to be like?”

  “I can feel his mind; it’s full of weird symbols and numbers.”

  “How weird!”

  “Do we have to do what he tells us?”

  “Of course not, rust brain, we’re just supposed to protect him.”

  It was actually Kurk, shouldering his way through the crowd, who came to the boy’s rescue.

  “Stop bothering the puppy,” he barked loud enough for everyone to hear. “Leave him be, can’t you see he knows nothing?”

  That was a challenge Rafik could not let pass. “I know more than you think,” he spat back, “and I’m worth ten of you in auction.”

  There was a collective gasp at this, and Kurk walked slowly over to face Rafik. Even with the knowledge that the young Troll would probably not dare hurt him, it was an intimidating moment. It took all of Rafik’s courage not to back away.

  “You may be worth a lot of coin, puppy,” Kurk mocked, “but you ain’t good at anything other than opening doors. You’re just a key. And we”—he gestured around to the boys and girls, who were obviously only a few months from becoming full Trolls—“are the ones who need to keep the Lizards off you on a deep run.” He leaned forward, towering over Rafik. “Show some respect, or I will let them chew on your face a bit, just to teach you a lesson.”

  Rafik shuddered. No one had told him anything about deep runs or Lizards or face chewing. It seemed as if everyone knew who he was and what he was supposed to be doing, but Rafik knew nothing. His emotions must have been plain on his face, because Kurk laughed and turned away. Everyone else dispersed, and Rafik was left alone. No one approached him anymore, but everyone kept glancing in his direction and whispering among themselves, to the point that he felt uncomfortable and left the hall.

  There was a new set of grey clothes waiting for him on his cot with the Keenan insignia stitched onto them. They felt rougher on his skin than the garments he was wearing, and were a size too large, but Rafik felt relieved to change into them, as if stripping away his old clothes meant he was changing from a miserable past into a better future.

  With nothing else to do, and nowhere to go, Rafik lay down on the only spot that was marked as his. To his surprise, the mattress moulded itself to him, and he immediately felt waves of warmth caressing his body—it was the most comfortable bed he’d ever slept in, and it raised his spirits a little. As Rafik shut his eyes, recent events began playing in his mind. Being examined in the lavish tent, the auction, the scribe’s comment about breaking a yearly record, the signing of the contract between Mistress Furukawa and Jakov—the merchant didn’t even bother to say good-bye when he left the room—arriving at the Keenan guild house, hearing Master Goran’s whispered admonition, and, of course, meeting the other boys and girls. Rafik tried to make sense of it all. Like the great wall of his dreams, he could sense there was a pattern lurking in the background but it was too complex for him to understand.

  Before sleep finally claimed him, Rafik comforted himself with the thought that even if he was just a key for the Keenans like Kurk said, he was a very expensive one. The guild would want to protect their investment, just like Khan and Jakov did. So right now, he was safe, and that would have to do.

  34

  “Are you ready, young Puzzler?” House Master Prushnik smiled at Rafik while still holding the pipe between his yellowing teeth.

  Rafik nodded, as he checked his appearance one more time, making sure all was in order. He ran his hand over his neatly shaved head.

  “Good, I suggest we make haste then. Master Goran does not like waiting. Here, take this coat with you.” He handed Rafik the garment. “You’ll need it where we are going.”

  House Master Prushnik led the way through the guild’s premises, occasionally greeting a passerby with a nod or a word, and stopping to check that household duties were done.

  They crossed the courtyard, where the rest of the Keenan trainees were going through morning drills. As they passed by, many eyed Rafik with a mix of curiosity and envy, for it was announced during morning meal that Rafik would be exempt from all drills as well as chores. This did not make the rest of the trainees friendlier towards Rafik. Kurk, going through the motions of one of the drills, sent him a dirty look, and after he made sure no one else saw, accompanied it with a rude gesture.

  “Here, we are,” House Master Prushnik declared as they reached the stairs leading to a heavy door. “Let us descend to Master Goran’s lair.” He chuckled to himself, choosing a large iron key from the enormous key ring he carried on his belt and unlocking the door. “Only Master Goran and myself have the key for this door,” he said proudly, opening the heavy door. “Master Goran is a stickler for privacy. He has a room on the top of the guild house, of course, but if you want to find him at any time, even at night, he will most likely be down here.”

  As they entered, House Master Prushnik picked up an oil lamp and lit it before closing and locking the heavy door behind them. He took the lead, walking down the set of wide steps as he rubbed his hands together for warmth. “There are actually working Tarakan lights here,” he explained, “and heating too, but Master Goran likes it this way. Keeps visitors at a minimum, he tells me.”

  Walking down the stairs felt like venturing deep underground, though House Master Prushnik reminded Rafik that they were still walking inside a Tarakan-built plateau, which was suspended in midair. They passed through several dozen large rooms containing everything from furniture covered in cloth to chopped wood, neatly piled up, then they climbed down even farther until they reached another door leading into a large hall, which was lit up so strongly Rafik was momentarily blinded.

  The House Master hung the oil lamp on the wall and patted Rafik kindly on his shoulder, signalling for him to follow.

  It turned out to be not one hall but four, each filled with all kinds of machinery and metal piled on rows of shelves and sometimes just on top of each other. Rafik followed the House Master, carefully naviga
ting past, around, and sometimes under until they reached a slightly more spacious fifth hall, where Master Goran was bending over a large table clogged with wires and metal, his arm deep within a silvery looking orb.

  House Master Prushnik took his pipe in his hand and cleared his throat, “Master Goran, I have brought you the young Puzzler.”

  “Good, thank you, House Master.” Master Goran didn’t bother to lift his head from the table. “That will be all.”

  Despite the fact that Master Goran was not paying attention, House Master Pushnik bowed slightly, but as he turned to leave Master Goran spoke again.

  “Oh, and House Master?”

  “Yes?”

  “Leave your key with the boy. I trust he will be able to make his way by himself from now on, as well as keep the oil lamp full.”

  The House Master looked stunned. He opened his mouth to speak but closed it again without saying a word. Finally, he turned, took Rafik’s hand in his, and slapped the iron key into his palm. “Don’t lose it, or I’ll have your hide,” he growled and stomped away. Moments later, there was a distant sound of a door being slammed.

  Master Goran straightened up and turned around, removing a metallic visor he was wearing over his face with only a small slit allowing him to see. “Ah, the new talent,” he intoned and gently laid the visor on the table. “Follow me.” He beckoned with a hand enclosed in a semitransparent white glove, then turned and limped away.

  Rafik hurried after Master Goran until they reached a metal door at the far wall.

  “This is the first thing I want you to see.” Master Goran peeled the glove off his right hand and positioned his palm above a small metal plate at the side of the metal door. The plate shone blue and the metal door slid open, revealing a shaft with enough space to hold several people.

  “This is a lift,” Master Goran said as he donned the transparent white glove again. “It can take you up to several key locations in the guild house, including my private chambers on the top floor. It makes coming and going much, much easier.” The metal doors slid shut and Master Goran looked down, locking gazes with Rafik as he slowly said, “You . . . will . . . never . . . use . . . this . . . lift.”