The road, a thin ribbon of reddish earth, wound for miles along the edge of the plateau at the top of the green hill that sloped down to the sea. At its base the waves rhythmically crashed against the rocks, churning the water white. The gulls’ cries, carried by the wind, accompanied the sight of vessels in full sail on the sunny waters of the bay.
Kyra sighed, throwing a last look at Mirna’s roofs, already far away, and hoping with all her heart to see them again as soon as possible. She smiled to herself, thinking about the strange turns of fate. A month earlier, on her way to Dekka, she had stopped at that same crossroads, and just one night spent at the village had seemed to her a waste of time. Now she felt the exact opposite.
She had no illusions about the outcome of her mission. To find Ethan so many days after his disappearance, and to bring him back home safe and sound would be a difficult, if not impossible task. The thought of returning empty-handed or worse still, with bad news for Ezer, troubled her, but it was a possibility she could not close her eyes to. Whatever the case though, she was determined to do everything within her power to save the young man.
In truth, she felt a debt to Ezer. The fisherman, without even realizing, had helped to restore the serenity and balance that she had so desperately needed after taking her leave from the Wayfarer’s Company. With his dedication and his gruff friendship, he had worked a miracle in her life, a kind of rebirth.
She would repay him in the best way she could.
“We will meet again soon...” she whispered.
Then she turned her back to the village, and walked away.
It was a pleasant morning. The sea breeze caressed her skin, and the road in front of her stretched to the horizon, full of promise. She walked without a hitch for the whole day, crossing the flat green plateau at a good pace. To her right, the shimmer of the sea kept pace with her along the entire route. On her left, the plains stretched unchanged as far as the eye could see, an uninterrupted horizontal line.
She met few travelers along the way. The season was not favorable for trade, and would only be so in a few weeks. Countless merchant caravans would then leave Dekka heading towards the borders of the Princedom, their wagons laden with fabrics and articles of all sorts. From the east, in the opposite direction, the trappers would come to sell their wares in the big city. If she came across one of these along the way, on her return from Dekka, she would buy a nice bearskin for the old man. Winters in Mirna were reputed to be very hard.
She spent the first night in a small but comfortable inn halfway between Mirna and Dekka. She ordered a generous portion of grilled fish with vegetables, a regional specialty, accompanied by an overflowing mug of limpaq. After calming her hunger and thirst, she was overcome by a great weariness. She chose the best room at the inn, a rare luxury for her. She could not remember the last time she had enjoyed so much comfort: she took a hot bath by candlelight and brushed her straight brown hair with all the calm in the world, until the bed seduced her with the lure of its feather mattress. She slept a peaceful and dreamless sleep until dawn.
The second part of the trip was not so pleasant: it rained from early morning onwards, a fine, stinging drizzle which quickly turned into a downpour, soaking her from head to toe. The dirt road turned into a quagmire, forcing her to slow her pace. At one point she stopped to help a couple of merchants with their wagon that had been caught in the grip of the mud. She succeeded only with great effort, and with such curses as to shame the young merchant’s wife. As a result, apart from the gratitude and appreciation of the two, she soiled herself with mud cap-a-pie.
As the day ran its course, she realized she would not be able to reach Dekka before sunset, and that there was no inn in sight along that stretch of road. She came across a barn and crept in, moving nimbly to avoid arousing the cattle; she lay down on a heap of straw and closed her eyes. This time, because of the stench, and her concerns as to what the future held, she did not fall asleep so easily.
A half-day’s journey still to go, and she would be standing before the city gates, ready to begin her mission.
------
When Dekka finally appeared before her, it was an amazing and disturbing view.
From the top of the hill, Kyra could take in the whole of the city; it reminded her of a huge insect with its gray legs stretched out into the sea. A dense expanse of buildings occupied the entire stretch of land in front of the bay - the largest of all the bays of the Inland Sea, according to Ezer - and inland the houses went as far as the hill slopes, clinging on to them and looking as if they could slide down at anytime.
Near the port, a huge construction stood apart from the mass, a giant monolith surmounted by tall chimneys that were churning out clouds of black smoke. Kyra shivered when she saw the building: the Factory, in all likelihood. It was ominous, even at that distance. An alien thing, foreign to everything she knew.
“Think positive” she said to herself. Nobody was going to force her to go near the Factory. Now that she had seen it, she was even more certain than before that she did not want anything to do with it.
She glanced towards the port, which was surrounded by frenetic activity. Never in her life had Kyra seen such a concentration of boats: ships, rafts, fishing boats, lean merchant vessels, and a host of rowing boats and wind-propelled catamarans. She was surprised that they were all able to move around without constantly colliding. The skippers must have known their trades well though, to be able to navigate within such chaos.
The docks were overcrowded: sailors, fishermen, porters, merchants, soldiers, and countless other characters moved like ants along the rickety wooden piers. Some carried pots filled with oil and wine, others dragged nets and rigging, while still others patrolled the docks. A few men and women were likely making a living by slipping their hands into others’ pockets. She could even make out a couple of drunks hugging their bottles to them: If they were not careful, they would soon end up as food for the fish. She smiled. The life of Dekka’s harbor was even more hectic than she had imagined, especially in comparison to the gentle pace of Mirna’s wharf.
But despite her initial wonder, she did not gloss over the less attractive details: to begin with, the water looked dark and murky, the same color as the smoke that was pumping from the chimneys not far away. At times, the surface of the sea seemed oily. Even from that distance she could see the heaps of garbage, piled up like mountains at the back of the piers. She narrowed her eyes: what were those dots, huddled on the waste slopes, fighting over the meager remains? Were they men or dogs?
From there, in the bright afternoon light, Kyra’s first impression of Dekka was of a city of many shadows and many secrets.
Before beginning her descent towards the gates, she looked at the colossal tower that stood at the center of the tangle of buildings. The Government Palace, no doubt about it. Was it her impression, or was the Palace hunched over Dekka like a vulture? She shook her head to dispel the image. She was becoming too affected by the stories she had heard. Perhaps the Governor was not as bad as he was painted.
And who could tell where Ethan was, lost in all that confusion? It would be like trying to find a snake’s tooth in a wheat field. She had to make haste.
She strode down the hill impatiently, almost slipping on the treacherous mud that the earlier rain had left. She came across a wagon in difficulties on the steep slippery slope, but this time she decided to press on: she had already received her share of mud-caked hair. Enough even perhaps to ensure that the guards at the gates would throw her out like a tramp.
She swallowed tightly as she approached, and the gates of Dekka rose higher and higher in front of her. They were made from massive tree trunks lashed together with rope and armored with thick plates of burnished metal. They wouldn’t hold back an invading army for long, but they certainly honored the authority of the City Watch.
As she approached, Kyra felt a twinge of apprehension. The guards were carefully checking everyone going in and out of the city. Wha
t if they did not let her in? Worse still: what if, once she entered, she was no longer able to leave? Big cities always gave her a sense of claustrophobia. She had spent too long outdoors with the Company to be able to get used to it.
As she passed under the wide arch of the gates, she held her breath. And just when she thought she had got through with no trouble...
“Hey, you! Stop!”
She suppressed the impulse to run, and stood where she was, turning to smile at the guard who had given the order.
“Is there a problem?” she asked, trying to sound innocent.
“Let me decide, woman!” said the guard, standing in front of her with one hand on the pommel of his sword. He stared at her grimly, and Kyra felt the tension in his body.
“Your face... I don’t like it at all” continued the soldier, studying the scar running across her cheek “Who are you? What brings you to Dekka?”
A knot of curious passersby formed around the two, all eager for some action. Kyra ignored them and focused on her answer. Just as she had done a thousand times in the past, she again cursed the hateful scar that furrowed her face, drawing unwanted attention at every inopportune moment.
“I am looking for work” she explained, trying to look convincing “I come from Mirna, and things aren’t going well there, not at all. I hope they have use for my skills here at the docks...”
The guard kept staring at her suspiciously, digesting her words while caressing the handle of his sword. Kyra hoped that her cloak properly concealed the presence of the twin daggers.
“It may not seem so, but I do well at sea” she improvised, with a forced smile “This scar was made by a terlick, if you really want to know. An awful beast that is!”
The terlick were among the most feared creatures of the sea: up to twenty feet long, they had a sharp horn with which they knew how to defend themselves all too well. Dozens of reckless fishermen over the years had been left crippled after an encounter with one of those huge fish, and anyone with an ounce of common sense knew to keep their distance from them.
By invoking the name of the terrible creature, Kyra got the effect she had hoped for: murmurs of surprise and admiration ran among the people crowded around her, and even the soldier was taken off-guard. Kyra saw a grudging respect emerge in his eyes, along with the menace. He continued to study her for a while, then stepped aside, opening the way. Her act had been a success.
“Now, be careful what you do. We don’t like strangers coming here in search of trouble!”
“Yes sir” said Kyra.
She gave him a quick bow of gratitude, then walked away briskly, blending in with the crowd. She kept the fast pace up for a few hundred yards, turning first one way and then another, without paying attention to where she was going. Once sure she had made it, she stopped. She leaned her back against a wall, and breathed a sigh of relief.
However, before she had time to collect her thoughts, someone yanked on the leg of her pants. She looked down and saw a beggar trying to get her attention. The poor man, with both legs reduced to stumps, was lying on a rough wooden board with wheels. Part of his face was bandaged, and he breathed heavily through chapped lips. It was an unpleasant sight, so much so that Kyra moved away instinctively, kicking off the man’s hand.
“Why?” he complained “Are you afraid I may attack you?”
“You scared me, damn you!” she responded, with a hint of remorse.
“I am sorry, it wasn’t my intention” said the man, showing a shy smile “Unfortunately, I often go unnoticed, in my sad condition...”
“No, I owe you an apology” said Kyra, a little confused “I shouldn’t have reacted that way. I was thinking of something else...”
“Mmm, I understand. Yet you don’t seem one to be easily frightened.”
“How could you possibly know? Anyway, what do you want?”
“Well, I’ve never seen you in these parts before, and I was wondering...”
“You were wondering if you could rip me off, right? I don’t think so!”
“No, no, you misunderstand me! I would just like to make myself useful!”
Kyra looked at him with doubtful eyes. How could he be of help to anyone, in that condition? The man caught her look, and looked down like a beaten dog.
“Oh, yes, I forgot! Legless Otto cannot help anyone! Poor fellow, he cannot even move! Why would they call him Legless, otherwise?”
He spat on the ground with contempt, and used his hands to slowly turn his support around.
“Silly, useless Otto, always bothering people!” he said aloud, theatrically. Then his hands slipped on the pavement and he struck his forehead on the ground with a groan.
Kyra sighed, feeling a surge of compassion. She did not like the man at all - he made her shudder - but she couldn’t judge someone only on their physical appearance. Didn’t she hate it when someone judged her because of her scar?
“Wait” she said.
Otto stopped instantly, and turned his head towards her, watching her out of the corner of his eye.
“You do not have to pity me, woman. Just let me go, I won’t bother you again...”
“No” she said “After all, I think you may be able to help me.”
At these words, Otto raised his weight on his arms and swung the board back with a fluid movement, totally different from the clumsy efforts of a little earlier. He gave her a sleek smile, and Kyra instantly knew that she had been duped.
But she wasn’t going to waste any more time playing games and so she got straight to the point:
“I suppose you know the city well...”
“As well as my own pockets, ma’am” he said groveling “I mean, if I had any real pockets, eheheh!” he added, shaking the edges of his ragged clothes.
Kyra fought a new wave of disgust, and continued:
“I need you to guide me to the docks. I am looking for the store of a cloth merchant named Leon. Do you know him?”
Otto’s lips parted in a grotesque, toothless smile.
“Ahh, Leon! Yes, sure I know where to find him! But it’s a long walk, to the other end of town...”
He winked at Kyra, letting her know that he would not help her through sheer altruism.
“Have no fear, I will be quite grateful to you.”
“You are very kind, ma’am!” replied Otto, bending down to touch the ground “As I said, it is a long walk. Follow me!”
Having said that, he quickly started to slide down along the busy street that cut the city in two from North to South, slipping between the legs of passers-by and pushing them out of the way unceremoniously. A big woman with a basket of vegetables balanced on her head almost tripped over him, cursing. She tried to kick him, but Otto dodged the blow and hissed at her like an angry snake. Then he smiled at Kyra, and beckoned her to hurry.
“Come on, ma’am!”
She reluctantly followed the strange figure, hoping she wasn’t making a mistake. But she wouldn’t have known where to begin without him: Dekka was a maze of streets, large and small, twisted around themselves like an incompetent tailor’s tangle of thread. Otto skidded in front of her on his four wheels with the energy of a lion, constantly turning back to make sure he had not left her behind.
In the effort of not losing sight of him, Kyra was not able to examine her surroundings calmly, but what she saw confirmed the impression she had had of the city from high above. Dekka was a busy place, and full of life, but not idyllic at all. For every store that overlooked the street, with a rich selection of products displayed on the counters - brightly embroidered fabrics here, or appetizing-looking food there - there was at least one blackened run-down hut, where children sat in the doorways with hungry eyes and empty stomachs. The street occasionally opened out into a magnificent tree-lined square, adorned with statues and fragrant flowers, but more often it was the stench of open sewers that attacked her nostrils. Filthy water ran in rivulets down the roadside, offering an unhealthy environment for children and stra
y dogs to play in. There was little she could do, but she felt ill at ease among such contrasts, more so as they did not seem to allay the indifference of those she met along the way. Everyone went on their way with their heads down, oblivious of what was happening around them. The rich on one side, the poor on the other. Two distinct worlds, not touching each other, but entwined in the meshes of the same city.
“This may be one of the Kingdom’s largest centers” she thought to herself “but there are some serious issues with the distribution of wealth...”
Being used to the communal lifestyle of the Wayfarer’s Company, she had difficulty understanding a society in which only a few thrived on the suffering of many. Not that she had any pangs of morality: she did not have the right to, she pondered, with a hint of regret - not after plundering the spoils of the fallen in battle. It was rather a matter of logic: flaunt your riches at every step, while half of the people are starving, and sooner or later those same people will turn against you and snatch it all away.
“It is part of human nature” she thought, as with a sideways glance she caught two emaciated little children in the act of wrestling over the purse of a richly dressed lady.
“If it is not too intrusive on my part, ma’am, what brings you to Leon’s?” Otto asked, interrupting the course of her reflections.
“Simple business.”
“Of course. You are not the first person who has come to haggle over Leon’s cloths. His store may be small, but his products are of the best quality. You will be able to negotiate a good price, with my help!”
“I’ll think about it. But for now, I just need you to guide me to him.”
“Yes, ma’am, don’t worry! We are close now.”
They proceeded side by side in silence. The district they were crossing had a quieter appearance. The streets were narrow and silent, surrounded by gray-walled houses. The sounds and colors of trade faded in the distance, as they ventured into the maze of buildings. The road suddenly came to a crossroads. Otto sped up, casting nervous glances to his right.
“Faster, ma’am. It is not good to stay long in this place!”
Kyra did not understand the reason for such fear. Then, she realized: not far from them, beyond the stinking waters of a canal, a square-walled colossus loomed. A thick plume of smoke spread outwards from its chimney-stacks, which perched on its roof like a row of gargoyles. The Factory was the size of a small mountain, occupying an entire neighborhood. Not a soul was around. There was some movement only at the far end of the building: wagons went in and out in slow procession, empty in one direction and loaded in the other.
Kyra gasped at the ominous and surreal appearance of the complex. She looked at it from side to side, fascinated, trying to absorb as much as possible. Otto pulled at her hem.
“Come on, ma’am, please! There is no need to stop right here!”
She ignored him and continued to examine the monstrous building, until something caught her eye: a solitary figure was standing before the Factory walls, perfectly still. At first Kyra thought it was a guard in impressive looking battle armor. But, after a better look, she realized that there was something wrong: even at that distance, the figure seemed to be far taller than anyone she had ever met. And what kind of helmet was he wearing? It had a bizarre look, like it was too narrow and elongated to contain a man’s head...
While she was considering these anomalies, something happened that made the hairs on her neck stand up: without warning, the two dark circles inside the soldier’s helmet lit up like embers, and his head turned quickly in their direction with the cold hostility of a bird of prey.
Kyra jumped back, and almost ran over Otto.
“Accursed Automaton!” groaned the man, making a sign on his forehead to ward off its evil “Will you listen to me now? We’d better leave before that damn machine pays us a visit!”
This time Kyra listened to him: her fear was stronger than her curiosity. She looked back just once as they walked away: the Automaton was still staring at her from a distance with those infernal eyes, red like lava. She shuddered and hurried after Otto, who was already slipping down the road using the full strength of his arms.
As they continued, she couldn’t stop thinking about that encounter. Not a close encounter, to be sure, but enough to make her feel the aura of fear and mystery that surrounded those creatures. She hoped she would not have to meet other Automatons during her stay in Dekka - not closer than that, at least.
But inside her heart, she feared the exact opposite.
------
It was late afternoon by the time they neared their destination. Kyra could sense the docks in the brackish air, clogged with the stench of fish, wet rigging and rotten wood. The walk had been longer than she’d expected, even though Otto had warned her at the start it was not close. From the top of the hill, the distance from the gates to the docks had not seemed so great, but she had underestimated the deviousness of the path.
Otto pressed on swiftly, giving her a nod from time to time. He seemed to know by heart the path that led to Leon’s store, and if his enthusiasm was anything to go by it did not seem to be far. Kyra followed him mechanically, her mind already projecting her forthcoming meeting with the cloth merchant: what kind of man was he? And – something that had crossed her mind more than once during the trip - was he really who he said he was? Or had the letter merely been bait to draw Ethan’s father into a trap? Striking a dissident’s family was common practice when politics were involved...
Lost in these thoughts, she didn’t realize her danger until the last moment: a stone, thrown with force and precision, hit the pavement a few inches away from her feet. She instantly stopped, her fingers tightened around the hilts of her twin daggers under the cloak. She assessed the situation with a quick glance.
“Damn!” she said.
She was surrounded by a swarm of ugly thugs armed with slings, chains and sticks. Each wore a brightly colored handkerchief wrapped around his forehead, a symbol of belonging to what was in all likelihood a criminal gang from the Dekka slums. They had formed a circle around her, popping up from the dark corners of the street. They stood looking at her, grinning and taunting.
She scanned the circle for Otto, and her fears were founded when she saw him hiding within the circle behind the first row of men. His lips were curled into a mischievous grin.
“Curse you! I should have known better!” Kyra yelled, the veins on her neck bulging with anger.
“Sorry, ma’am” said Otto, mockingly “A poor man like me has to make a living...”
“You made a big mistake” she replied, in a tone that betrayed neither fear nor hesitation.
“Stop joking around, woman! Give us everything now, and I swear you’ll walk away without a scratch! We won’t hurt you, unless you force us to.”
Kyra didn’t believe him for an instant: the criminals had already exchanged unequivocal glances, grinning at the prospect of having some fun with her. She had to find an escape route, and quickly.
She tried the card of diplomacy first, although she knew she could not count on it.
“I have nothing with me except my bag. I will give it to you, if you let me through...”
Otto grimaced.
“Don’t even think of it! Let us see under your cloak, instead! Do you think I haven’t noticed how you clutched it all along the way?”
He undressed her with his eyes, blinded by greed, while several of his comrades advanced.
Kyra knew it was time to act.
“Do you really want to know what I hide, you wretch?” she challenged “Here you are!”
She got free of her cloak with a wave of her arm, flinging it against the closest two of her attackers. At the same time she threw herself to the ground and rolled forward, drawing her twin blades. After a full turn, she was between the two men tangled in the cloak, and she severed their knee tendons with a double stroke. They collapsed to the ground with howls of pain, while Kyra pirouetted away with a da
ncer’s grace. Three other men crumpled to the ground clutching their chests, mowed down by the whirlwind of her moves.
The aggressors’ circle was broken. Kyra dived into the gap, about to flee into the shadows before the effect of surprise wore off. But at the very last moment a chain coiled around her ankle, causing her to stumble. Whoever had thrown it was not about to let her escape: with a violent jerk he pulled her down to the ground, forcing her to loosen her grip on the daggers. Before she could recover them, Otto intercepted with his wheeled board, splashing mud in her eyes. Kyra cursed him as the chain dragged her back inside the circle of men.
She turned to see her opponent’s face and exclaimed in surprise. The man standing in front of her - the one who was dragging her with his own brute force - was one of the most repulsive figures she had ever laid eyes on. His mouth was wide and deformed, gaping in a demented smile. Behind his lips were two thick rows of metallic triangular teeth, pointed like those of a shark. Two almond-shaped eyes, small and close together, studied her with the same amused curiosity as a cat toying with a mouse.
Drooling from the corners of his mouth, the man kept pulling the chain towards him, oblivious of Kyra’s desperate resistance. In his other hand he waved a fearsome club.
“Mwahahaha!” he laughed, making a gurgling sound. He muttered something unintelligible, but the excitement in his eyes belied the need for words. The other men cheered him on, enjoying the scene. No one paid attention to their wounded comrades lying moaning on the ground. Kyra realized that any attempt to resist his overwhelming force was useless. From one step to the next, the distance between her and those monstrous jaws inexorably lessened.
It was then that an old memory, sealed within her for many a year, rose to the surface...
She had been little more than a child at the time, and a younger Dorian had been teaching her the basics of melee fighting. Every time she dashed against him, trying to hit him with a punch or a kick, he didn’t just dodge the blow, but followed it through with his own strength, making her lose her balance. After several minutes of unsuccessful attempts, more frustrated than ever, Kyra had stopped fighting and had slumped on the ground on the verge of tears. Dorian had approached her with a smile, and while ruffling her hair he had revealed to her one of the simplest and most important secrets of the martial arts:
“When you fight against someone stronger than yourself Kyra, do as I have shown you. Don’t fight against his force, rather follow it, and use it to your advantage. At that point, you will have taken hold of his most precious weapon, and victory will be yours.”
It was time to turn that old lesson into practice: she stopped yanking the chain in her futile attempt to oppose the giant’s strength, and instead focused her efforts on finding a foothold. Once she succeeded, she used it for leverage and took a great leap forward. Her attacker, caught off guard by the sudden imbalance of forces, staggered backwards. In the blink of an eye Kyra was on him and landed a violent head butt on his nose. The thugs grunted in surprise, but no one dared to intervene.
Kyra retreated to what she thought was a safe distance, but he didn’t let go of the chain still wrapped around her ankle, and he yanked her back to him. Before Kyra could find a new escape route, he had whipped her across the face with a backhand strong enough to turn her around.
Even at such a disadvantage, Kyra was able to put into practice what she had learned through her years of hard training alongside the best warriors of the Kingdom: ignoring the pain of the blow, she took advantage of its force to pivot on one leg, then she made a leap worthy of an acrobat, and landed behind her stunned opponent. She grabbed a loose section of chain and wrapped it around his neck. The huge man, infuriated by this unexpected resistance, gave another tug on the chain: the metal rings tightened around his own throat, digging into the flesh. He fell to his knees, his face flushed, and Kyra dropped the chain.
The giant took the opportunity to break free from her grip, but he lingered just a moment too long on the ground, choking. Once he had recovered, he found himself staring at the very same club that he had dropped, and that was now firmly in the hands of his opponent.
“Sweet dreams!” said Kyra, before hitting him in the temple.
He fell headfirst to the ground, unconscious. Helpless and sprawled with his belly up and his grotesque mouth wide open, he looked like a huge fish out of water, in every sense.
And where a moment before the air had seethed with shouts and threats, there was complete silence. No one moved as Kyra walked around the circle like a wounded beast, even more dangerous than before. She sought out her faithful twin daggers and retrieved them, letting go of the club.
There was still no movement on the part of the gang members. They merely stared in silence, as if waiting for something to happen. It seemed to be a stalemate. The right move could save her life. The wrong one, however... It was better not to contemplate it.
She decided to play for all or nothing. Surely it was hard for things to get any worse. She raised her head, straightened her back, and stared into the criminals’ eyes, one by one. Then she approached the inert figure of the gang leader, and knelt beside him. With a precise thrust, she cleanly extracted one of his artificial teeth.
She clasped the gruesome trophy between her fingers, then stood and raised it skywards so that everyone could see it.
“And now let’s see what happens...” she thought, praying she had done the right thing.
That course of action too, had come into her mind when thinking about Dorian’s lessons:
“What would you do, Kyra, if a pack of wolves surrounded you? No ideas? Let me tell you then. You should face the leader of the pack, knock him down, and cut his head off. Only then will the other wolves fear you and let you live.”
It was the same with that sorry bunch of delinquents, even though she had settled for a tooth instead of a head. Beheading unknown people was not really her style.
Seconds passed in a tense silence. She could feel the sweat dripping down her face onto the ground.
Then, one of the men moved. And another. And another.
One by one, the criminals knelt before her, bowing their heads. They took off their colored handkerchiefs and held them out towards her.
Kyra swallowed, her throat dry. What was happening?
One of them, a skinny fair-haired man with a thin face like a ferret’s approached her. He looked at her slyly, then said in a shrill voice:
“Nice to meet you, boss!”
“Boss?” stammered Kyra, more puzzled than ever.
“That would be you, from now on” continued the man, embracing all of his fellows with a gesture of his arm “The fearsome Dock Rats, at your service!”
Her arms fell to her sides, and she found herself speechless.
“Long live the new chief!” someone yelled.
“Viva! Viva!” chorused all the others, shouting, clapping their hands and throwing their colored handkerchiefs to the sky.
“What a bizarre dream!” thought Kyra “From today, I’m done with limpaq at lunch!”
She closed her eyes, and gave herself a firm pinch.
However, when she looked around again they were all still there in front of her. The fair man stared at her with a look of concern.
“Everything all right, boss?”
XI - Leon