The Blue Kingdom

The aroma of rat stew had remained embedded in the carved walls of Kumar’s room. Again, Macha had not tried it. Not because of its ingredients, since it does not matter to whoever is famished, but because of a state of despondency making him sick.

Nothing really mattered anymore. For everyone else there, life in the mines of the Black Rock was a day’s survival waiting to see if tomorrow was the last. For him, who since the accident had only been a continuous stay in bed, it was a comfortable torture. The daily torment of feeling worthless. A daily punishment of seeing himself crippled.

The miner who had brought him dinner returned to the chamber, moving like a frightened rat. Just like he had done every time before, he moved silently to take the pot and leave, although this time he didn’t even wait to get to the door before sipping the untouched food. Some time after he left, Kumar entered. Just as silent, the manager of The Falls sat in a chair next to the bed and placed an overflowing file on his lap.

Macha’s stomach growled. “If you want to get that scrawny ass up again, you better eat,” Kumar said. “Or do I have to ask Gerdar to feed you again? ”

“I prefer to stay in bed,” Macha muttered. “And Gerdar company is not appreciated, thanks.”

“What happened, happened. You can’t change it, neither whining will fix it. So, get over it as soon as possible and move on. Anyway, it’s time for the lesson. I have to teach you something important today. Also, we have to prepare for the construction of tunnel four. We have found the way to a new chamber. It’s going to be a slow and complicated job, but Uparbali says that’s the way. Finally!”

Macha moved his right forearm. The stump tightened the bandages and the whole arm hurt. It was a strange feeling to still notice the weight; to notice how your fingers itched or your hand moved, even though there was nothing but a few bits of bone and flesh after the elbow. “Why are you doing this?” Macha asked.

“Doing what?” Kumar said with a hint of annoyance. “Letting you lie in my bed doing nothing?”

“Give me food and teach me things.” When Macha tried to get up, a sudden dizziness sent him back to the straw mat. “I didn’t save your life. You owe me nothing.”

Kumar took out papers from the leather wrapper, inspecting each one of them with a brief glance. Then, he chose one and put it on Macha’s lap. “We will not agree about that, no matter how many times you repeat it. Now… let’s talk about liabilities.”

Macha boiled from within. A recent memory nullified his first reaction; to crush the paper and toss it away. He wanted Kumar to leave, but challenging his frail temper and having to endure an endless reprimand was not what he needed. Instead, he took the sheet delicately and put it back in front of Kumar.

“I really appreciate the bed and the food, but I’m not really feeling well.” Macha lied. Not only in his condition, but in his appreciation. The bed, although more comfortable than the floor, was a prison from which Kumar’s guards did not let him escape. And the food, although often the servants enjoyed more, Kumar requested time to time to push it down his throat with a funnel. The mine admin was not only grateful for having saved his life, He was forcing him to receive the reward.

Kumar put aside the file to cross legs and arms. “What could make you feel better? Freedom? A new arm? All right, granted. Now, I need you to learn all what I know, not for any filthy gig on this useful dump, but for the job I need you to do outside for me.”

Macha shook his head and blinked. “Pardon me?”

“Do you think everything I do here is to rot among all those miserable scum? Uparbali is opening a route to the mountains. We have been planning to escape since day one.” Kumar stood, grabbed all the papers, and dragged his feet to the door. “If the maps that cost me a fortune are correct, we will appear in the Pena Valley. Southern route towards Bandanii. The way to your freedom and maybe with luck, one of those metal arms they make in that damn city.”

Without words to express, Macha could only move his lips. Out of a sudden, there was hope. Dreams, future. The mere thought he might have an arm again brought shivers from head to toe. Once his freedom returned, he’d return to Em. What would the old wolf think of his new arm? He might be shocked to see the hardships he’d have had to endure, but at the end, he’d be proud and happy to reunite with him. Both of them being now wonders of the Red island. He’d teach him how to take care of the prosthetic. How to shoot again, how to sail. As he did with the Ballerina during the best times in Macha’s life. The childlike day dream filled his belly with butterflies.

“In exchange,” Kumar continued. “You must help me with certain bureaucratic needs once we are in the city: a job to help me disappear with the very little wealth I have left. Do it well, and you may end up not only free and whole again, but wealthy as well. It’s the best deal you will strike in your miserable life, but to close it, you’ll have to prepare thoughtfully and put all what you have into it. So, start eating, stop crying, and find me when you’re ready.”

Macha contorted his body to reach the bed’s edge and sit. No pain, no dizziness could stop him this time. He took a glass of water from the table and drank it all. Then, with a huff to control the shaking of his legs, he stood. “I am ready.”