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Part #4

‘I hear Knight are on the move again,’ Vast said. ‘Whispers in the underground.’ His tone was flat when he said it, and I couldn’t tell whether he agreed or disagreed with whatever rumours he had heard. ‘What do you think of their exploits? I never hear you talk about the world beyond you.’

‘I don‘t really pay attention to that stuff, so I don‘t know much about who they are.’

‘Terrorists. Or activists. Depending on whose side you are on.’ He laughed at this. It would take a while until I understood why, but now I still laugh at it whenever I hear it. ‘They guard farms and blow up city gates, hunters of thieves and assassins of nobles.’

I jumped up on the counter beside him. The place was starting to look good, now that the shelves were no longer bare. Their colours were reflecting and I couldn’t wait to gt the front sheet down to see what it looked like. My eyes were adjusting too much, and every time I went home it would always seem like dust because the red in my eyes made everything else look blue. After a while it didn’t effect me so much.

I hadn’t even thought about how he had got up there. He was looking straight ahead at the shop, as if at nothing in particular but still he seemed intent on staring at it. Without loosing his gaze he thrust a cup of something in front of me. It looked and smelt like water but it had a different taste. The water in those parts tasted a little like dirt because it mostly came from underground wells not far beneath the surface. This water tasted like the dew you scrape off plants in the morning.

I chucked back a cup thirstily and leant back a little.

‘We’re doing good,’ I said, surveying the store. He nodded a little.

‘Are you okay?’ He asked. I frowned and nodded.

‘A little tired, but I’m fine.’

He pointed over to the big box. He had left it there, never to be emptied. Every morning he asked me if I could pick it up, I didn’t understand. I even offered to get Bere to do it but he said no. I jumped down and walked over to the edge of it and squatted down.

This time I managed to get my fingers under the wood at the edge and tilt it up a little, then drop it back down. ‘No, sorry. There’s nothing breakable in there is there?’

He didn’t answer. I went back to jump up beside him and he maintained his thoughtful stare on the box. ‘You’re getting stronger, because you’re moving a lot.’

‘I guess. That’s what hard work does.’

‘Are you sure you’re okay? The air is dusty. You‘ve been eating strange food, and working hard all day long.’

‘I’m fine,’ I assured him. ‘It’s good for me to stay busy and work hard, and I’m learning a lot from you. I think, even when we’re done, can I come and help you sometimes anyway? I kind of like it here. It’s growing on me.’

‘Perhaps,’ he said, though it sounded like there should have been a not following close behind it. ’Are you happy?’

‘Yes?’ I said. It was a simple question, perhaps too simple. He handed me another cup and I drunk back half of it and kept hold of the other half.

‘Treasure these times.’

I turned to him. There was the blue again. His eyes were always blue, that was undoubtable, but at times they were sharper, like he was thinking more, or staring more. Whatever the reason was, sometimes they were bluer than the red tinted room.

‘Because dark times will come.’

‘Mum says that. She says there is a time for light and a time for darkness, a time for peace and a time for chaos.’

He stared again. No, there isn’t, he thought. But then there was a contradiction. Maybe he just didn’t realise before. Maybe he took too long to learn his lesson and forgot anything great that happened before. Either way too much time had past, now things were calm and quiet and he was happy for that. He drew a slow, shallow breath before speaking again.

‘Remember the good times well, everything you can. When the dark times come those memories will be all you have. The stronger the memory, the stronger you will be.’

It sounded like the kind of thing mum would say, and I thought about it for a while before deciding that it was one of those things that I would understand better when I was older, maybe even when I was as old as Vast.

However old that was. I dared not ask.

‘You live alone, don’t you.’ I said, not a question. He nodded and made a noise of agreement. ‘You can come back for dinner tonight, if you want. Mother likes to have guests over.’

‘No, but thank you. You’re a good hearted child.’

‘Maybe,’ I said. ‘Though I suppose being alone isn’t such a bad thing.’

‘No? Then you don’t know what it’s like to be alone.’

We sat in the shadow of the room and counted away the hours. It had been about two weeks. Sometimes we were stacking things, or moving them round, sometimes we were cleaning or labelling or just sitting and laughing about things. I got used to him being around, but the way he talked sometimes made me feel like soon we wouldn’t see each other for a very long time.