<h1>Chapter 6 – A Message and a Gift</h1>


    We’re ready to go into the unknown. What will we find under the Ecole des Mines? Is it even the right place? What happens when we, or I, cross over? As I mull over these questions to which we have no answers, I realise I am not afraid, and it surprises me; but then I think of David pulling me to his chest, of Michelle’s warmth, of Lilianne’s unexpected bravery as she fought to protect them, and an unfamiliar feeling takes over my usual hesitations and fears. As I finish lacing up my Docs and zipping up my ripped, dusty leather jacket from the first night, I feel fierce. I look up at Axel like a soldier before a fight. He puts a hand on my shoulder, without a word, and I know he trusts me as I trust him.


    It is time to stop writing. It’s time to do.


    ▁▁▁


    A new bleak Parisian dawn greeted us as we stepped into the street, making me shiver and rub my gloved hands. Taking Axel’s arm and huddling closer to him for warmth, I let him cut through the early crowd on their way to work.


    ‘Ecole des Mines is on the right’, I said, confused, when he stirred me towards the Port Royal train station.


    ‘We’ll make a quick stop at Chatelet to buy you some equipment’, Axel explained. ‘It would be better for you to be prepared - real boots, better gloves, a better headlamp, and some other things. One is never careful enough, especially in… uncharted territory.’


    ‘That makes me feel… safer, on one hand, but also more worried’, I admitted as we took the stairs to the platform. ‘It forces me to think of what could go wrong, and how badly. On the other hand, we have no idea of what’s going to happen. Maybe we’ll find nothing. So I’m trying to tell myself that I’ll burn that bridge when I get there.’


    Axel laughed at the mix of metaphors. ‘Sounds exactly like something you would do.’


    ‘Yeah, plan not, worry later’, I confirmed.


    We stopped abruptly in the middle of the stairs, incredulous. The platforms in both directions were crammed with so many people that no one could take a step in any direction.


    ‘What the… ?!’, I exclaimed, sweeping the station from my vantage point. A rumble made the rails resonate, and a wave went through the crowd, pushing everyone forward.


    ‘For your safety, please stay clear of the edge of the platform!’, a tired, annoyed voice called from the speakers, and was ignored. The train slowed as it approached the jammed platform. I caught a glimpse of the driver, his face wary.


    ‘Are these people idiots, pushing like that?’


    ‘A rhetorical question if there ever was one’, replied Axel with a sigh. ‘And what is worse than that is that we’ll be joining them.’


    It was my turn to sigh. ‘Do we really have to?’


    ‘I won’t ever let you go without being properly equipped’, he said firmly. ‘But we can also walk to Chatelet. It’s only forty minutes or so.’


    ‘And then walk back?...’, I asked, wearily, remembering David’s ashen, frowning face lying on the crumbled pillow. ‘I can’t wait that long. I’m already stressed out, and the quicker we’re over with this expedition, the better. And also…’ My voice trailed at the thought, and the guilt awoke and gnawed at my insides. ‘Don’t you feel any urgency to do something for them?’


    Axel’s face clouded. ‘Of course I do’, he snapped. ‘Do you think I forgot? Do you think my sister has slipped my mind for the shortest moment? Do you think I’m not mad at myself for not protecting her as I should have?’


    I cowered under the wave of anger that spilled from him like a storm.


    ‘Sorry’, I whispered, looking down. ‘I didn’t mean to suggest… I just want to be doing something, whatever that is. As soon as possible. I can’t stand waiting any longer.’


    Axel inhaled deeply, forcing his fists open. ‘I am sorry.’ He laid a hand on my shoulder, and his eyes searched mine. ‘Let’s do this.’


    As we walked down the steps, the crawling train finally came to a halt. With a mechanical sigh, the doors started to open. The carriages were as crammed as the platforms, if not more, and commuters fought to step out through their peers, as well as through the crowd that already was forcing its way in. Those caught between the two human walls struggled like swimmers caught between conflicting currents: the mass who barged and shoved their way out, and the impatient mob dead-set to get aboard. I watched wide-eyed, appalled by the mindless, selfish melee on the platforms – all this to get on a train? I took a step back, repulsed – or at least I tried to. The stairs behind us were now just as packed, and we were slowly pushed forward. There was no way to oppose the inertia of the crowd; not going down the steps would only result in being shoved, and possibly breaking a leg, if not worse.


    A hand fumbled for mine through the sea of bodies. I grasped it tightly and was slowly pulled against the flow to Axel’s chest. He wrapped his arm around my shoulders, setting his jaw. I felt his body tighten as he tried to protect me from the swarm of commuters, half of which strived to reach the platform, while the other half, who had laboriously freed themselves from the train, now toiled upstream towards the exit.


    ‘What, in Odin’s sweet name, is going on here?...’, I whispered, imprisoned in the middle of the mob.


    ‘Due to a collective action, the traffic is severely disrupted on the RER line B’, answered the cheerful robot voice of the RATP announcements. ‘Please consider other commuting alternatives when possible.’ The last words were drowned by angry hoots and curses from the crowd.


    ‘We don’t have an alternative right now’, Axel commented wearily in my ear. ‘It would be more difficult to turn around now than to get on the train.’


    With a deep sigh, I let myself be carried towards the platform, trying to imagine I was floating on the sea. The next train came, and the crowd moved once more. Squashed between the bodies that pressed to get on, I was thankful to have Axel’s solid protection; images of people falling between the train and the platform were starting to form vividly in my mind. We had been pushed almost to the edge, and I felt dizzy, as if staring down from a bridge. Fearful, even. Hiding my face against Axel’s chest, I tried not to think of any accidents, to empty my mind and simply wait.


    In the animal warmth of the people all around me, I soon drifted into a state of near sleep, only troubled by the raising of a general feeling of discontent. Some kept pressing forward, even though there was no train, and those in front, at risk of falling on the rails, started to yell and push back. Angry arguments erupted over our heads, directed at everyone in general and no one in particular. The escalating irritation started to get to me, my emptied mind absorbing it like a dry sponge. It was all I could do not to shove in return, to kick some damn sense into the impatient pushers. What the hell is wrong with everyone? Anger was rising in my chest like a red tide, and I clenched my fists, ready to punch whoever would shove me again. I dare you, I thought, hands itching to hit someone, anyone.


    ‘Please step away from the edge of the platform’, the dispassionate voice said just as the rails rumbled again. I felt Axel’s body tense, his arms grip me tighter as the crowd pressed forward once more. I planted my Docs firmly on the ground and braced myself against him in an effort to help him keep us both from moving, but we were slowly, inexorably, reaching the edge. The arriving train was as slow paced as the ones before it, thankfully, since the repeated warnings from the speakers had no effect on the mass of commuters; and before we could do anything, we were swept by the tide and shoved into the carriage.


    ‘Been here nine years and never reached this level of hell’, I grumbled when we lurched into movement. With a dozen people on the square meter, the temperature became unbearable within minutes. Breathing was difficult, children started to scream, commuters’ nerves snapped; swearing and shouts shot through the air. At each stop, more people forced their way in, mindlessly and carelessly crushing feet and bodies standing in their way.


    A woman screamed: ‘I’m pregnant! Stop pushing!’


    Her plea was lost in the chorus of yelling and cursing around the doors. Those already inside, although squashed, seemed walled away in indifference.


    ‘This is incredible’, I whispered, wide-eyed by the savagery, flattened against the glass of the opposite door, and still partially protected by Axel’s viking frame. ‘People are insane.’ He only sighed, bracing himself against another wave.


    One more stop.


    I have to hold on for one more stop, and then I can get out of the madness, I told myself, and focused on this mantra, trying to take a breath, then another, of the heavy, hot air, thick with sweat and anger. It was becoming strenuous to know if my head was spinning or if it was just the swaying of the train. It was too hot, too stifling. A wave of weakness was steadily taking over me; I felt I was drifting away, unable to grasp at anything to remain conscious, unable to fight it, like a bug caught in liquid amber.


    ‘Parlays’, said someone next to me. I struggled to come back to my senses, in vain. Before my unfocused eyes, a face. A woman’s. She smiled, her golden eyes glistening with joy, pushing a chestnut curl away from her cheek. Why is she smiling in this hell? Her image fluttered, and she was screaming silently, eyes wide, pulled away, hand outstretched seeking something to hold on to. I raised mine, feebly, but she was gone.


    ‘Come to me’, I heard from nowhere.


    ‘Who… are you?’


    ‘Ru? Ru, are you alright?’ Axel’s voice, from afar.


    I tried to look up at him, but everything was moving too much.


    ‘I have something you want.’


    Three figures on the ground, blurry, surrounded by shadows. A pang. David?


    I was shaken by the shoulders. ‘Ru!’ And then, ‘Someone open a window! My friend is about to faint!’


    I clung to his familiar voice as if to a saving rope.


    A shred of cool air touched my face and I inhaled thirstily.


    ‘Ru?’


    Hands cupping my face, then steadying me upright. My eyes came into focus, my sight flickering like an old TV.


    ‘I’m ok’, I managed to whisper. ‘Thank you.’


    ‘Come to me for parlays’, repeated the voice to my left. I snapped my head around, and caught a glimpse of thick eyebrows and a dark beard.


    ‘Hey’, I called out weakly. ‘What did you say?’


    The man turned, surprised, his phone still stuck to his ear. He was dark-skinned and clean-shaved. I waved an apology, confused.


    ‘You need me and I need you’, said another commuter. I looked around, startled, searching for the one who had spoken.


    ‘In the depths of Paris I reside’, another voice continued, then another:


    ‘You could bring them back.’


    On tiptoe, I tried desperately to see who was talking to me, craning my neck to scan the crowd.


    ‘Ru? What’s wrong?’


    I raised a hand to shush him, focusing. ‘Where are you?’, I whispered, almost to myself.


    ‘Not here’, said the woman in front of me, not looking up from her phone.


    ‘Not here’, repeated a man behind her, absent gaze fixed on a spot above my head.


    ‘Not here, not here, not here’, the words traveled from mouth to mouth, all around me.


    ‘Come to me, and you could bring them back.’


    Almost a murmur, from the back of the crowd of empty eyed commuters.


    ‘Ru! Talk to me!’, Axel whispered urgently.


    ‘I’m hearing things again’, I sighed, ‘seeing things.’


    ‘What things? Is it about… what happened?’


    ‘I’ll tell you when we’re out of this nightmare’, I answered, still feeling weak in the knees.


    ‘Chatelet – Les Halles’, said the almost cheerful female voice from the speakers. The doors opened laboriously; we were propelled out by compact mass behind us and into the identical one on the platform. I showed and elbowed my way mercilessly through the mob that didn’t move to let us leave the train, indifferent to their cursing.


    ‘Watch where you’re going, you cow!’, someone yelled when my left boot squashed something underneath.


    ‘You should’ve let us pass, you damned moron’, I snapped back, without stopping.


    Once we’d reached a bit of space with some air, I groaned, rubbing my temples. ‘Freaking dumb sheep, the lot of them.’


    ‘Would you rather walk the way back, then?’ Axel asked, concerned.


    ‘Hell yes. I’m not taking the train again.’


    ‘Alright then. Let’s go get the equipment and leave this place as soon as we can.’


    The escalators and hallways weren’t much better than the trains, but at least we could move. Weary traffic controllers tried, quite ineffectually, to facilitate the flow of the commuters between the overcrowded subway and RER lines. Beyond the turnstiles leading from the main hall to the subway, I caught a glimpse of a compact sea of bodies, stuck by their own numbers and unable to turn on their heels. Hands with phones appeared above the heads like the periscopes, filming the unbelievable scene. A murmur filled the air; it had become pointless to keep protesting, or arguing. No one was faring better than their neighbour, anyway.


    ‘I’m glad not to be caught in that’, I said, indicating the scene with a tip of my head. Axel looked over his shoulder, and his face clouded.


    ‘Let us hurry’, he answered, his voice low. ‘The sooner we’re out of there, the better.’


    Just as the words left his lips, someone shoved me brutally out of the way, and sent me staggering into another commuter.


    ‘Hey, what the…?’, I started to yell after him, but a kick in the ribs stole my breath. I keeled, gasping, and looked up in shock at the man who hit me and was already elbowing his way through the crowd, shooting me angry looks over his shoulder. Axel was by my side in a second and helped me stand until I caught my breath.


    ‘We need to leave this madness’, he said, worried, scanning the swarming hallway. I grabbed his arm and he took the lead, once more sheltering me from the horde of seemingly numbed, already worn-out travellers who ambled like lost souls or simply stood, empty-eyed, in the middle of the way. Ignoring our “excuse me, sorry, coming through”, they blocked our passage, indifferent to anything else than themselves. Others, on the contrary, savagely pushed and shoved, cursing loudly as they crossed the large hall to reach the subway turnstiles, only to be caught in the paralyzed throng.


    We ploughed our way through as best as we could, fighting for each shred of space through the immobile folk who seemed devoid of purpose and let themselves be carried by the slow flow. It was maddening, like dream running, when one’s moving as if against the current in a chest-high river; the exit sign didn’t appear to get any closer. Mass inertia was weighting everyone down – but at the same time, each and every individual had visibly turned inwards, focusing only on themselves and their own route, mindless of the others. Scarce cries were heard here and there in the crowd, probably from people being violently pushed aside, but no one took notice or stopped. Clinging to Axel, I advanced in a stupor, unable to believe what I was seeing.The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    ‘We’re almost there’, he told me over his shoulder, and indeed, over the heads blocking my view, I could see the wall end and give way to an open space. Angling his body, he started to head for the exit, cutting the flow diagonally, ignoring the rude protests and curses that arose. Hiding behind him, I was following blindly, jostled by shoulders and elbows and bags, when my foot hit something soft and I staggered. The wall was fortunately close enough so I could stop my fall, although with some difficulty, as my foot got tangled into whatever I’d touched. I looked down.


    ‘Axel!’, I called, horrified.


    He glanced back and turned on his heels immediately. We both knelt by the old woman on the floor, whose long coat had tripped my foot. She lay curled up on herself, eyes closed, one arm spread lifelessly. Several boot prints stained her sleeve, and other dark smudges were visible on the white tissue of her dress, around her stomach and thighs. At the sight, a mixture of nausea and rage at my peers filled me. How could they…? I felt an urge to punch the wall and yell at everyone.


    Axel’s face hardened into a mask of icy calm. He patted the woman’s cheek gently, and his voice was contained and steady when he spoke. ‘Ma’am? Can you hear me?’


    Her head rolled on the side in response. He bent over her and put an ear to her chest, while I took my phone to call for help. No signal. Of course, I sighed, why would it work when I need it? Damned Chatelet. ‘No phone reception. Screw this place. How can I help?’


    ‘She’s breathing, and I don’t think she has any internal bleeding from the kicks she received. She’d be pale as death otherwise. So we need to prop her up against the wall to help her breathe.’


    I nodded, and we moved her into a sitting position, supporting her from either side so she wouldn’t fall over again. Passersby shot us angry looks or insults for taking up so much space, but no one stopped to help. An older man kicking me in the leg as he passed made me lose it; I dug deep into my roots and offered the richest, most varied assortment of best wishes for him, his family, and the seven generations of his ancestors in my native tongue, adding a “connard de merde” to make sure he got the message. With some of the steam blown off, I turned back to the woman, whose collar and scarf Axel had just finished loosing.


    ‘Give me some water’, he asked, his eyes fixed on her for a sign of consciousness. Understanding his intentions, I fished hastily around my backpack for the bottle, then poured a few drops in my hand and splashed her cheeks and forehead.


    ‘Ma’am?’, I whispered in turn. ‘If you can hear me, can you move something? Your fingers, or maybe a nod?’


    We watched her closely, almost holding our breaths. I realised I was completely cut from my surroundings, ignoring the people tripping on my boots, or almost walking over us. I was only focused on the woman’s chest slowly moving up and down, scrutinizing her fluttering eyelids – as if she were dreaming.


    ‘Ma’am, please, wake up’, I worriedly pleaded once more. With her soft, white hair in a loose bun, framing a kind face, she reminded me of my grandmother. She’d passed away after I moved here, and the guilt of not having been by her side was revived by this other woman, who was maybe slowly dying, too, from the savagery of others. My eyes stang, became blurry, and I felt the overwhelming need to protect her, help her. Her face and my grandmother’s blended through the tears welling up.


    ‘Please wake up’, I murmured, almost to myself, like a prayer, taking her hand.


    Axel sighed and started to stand, when a soft moan escaped the woman’s lips.


    ‘Are you alright? Are you hurt?’, I rushed to ask. She held a hand to her ribs, and grimaced. ‘What… what happened?’ Her voice was feeble, almost shaky.


    ‘Here, take a sip first.’ Axel lifted the bottle to her lips, and she drank slowly.


    ‘We think you fell, maybe someone pushed you’, he said. ‘How are you feeling? Can you please move your arms and legs for me?’


    ‘I feel… weak. I don’t think I can stand…’, the woman answered, doing as Axel asked. ‘I can move… everything.’


    ‘Are you ill? Do you take any medication? I need to know that for the paramedics, when we’re able to call them.’


    She shook her head. ‘No, I’ve always had good health. That’s how I’ve carried so many centuries on my back’, she replied, with an almost roguish smile. I laughed, liking her for being able to joke like that after being trod on to unconsciousness. ‘I’m most thankful for your help, young ones. You deserve something in return’, she added, propping herself straight and starting to go through her pockets.


    ‘Oh, no, don’t even think about that’, Axel waved his hands dismissively.


    ‘That’s the way of things, my dear. You’ve earned a reward.’


    ‘No way’, I piped in.


    ‘But you do need help’, she insisted, looking deep into my eyes. ‘Don’t you? To find what you’re looking for?’


    I froze, sensing there was something there, a meaning, just out of my grasp. Something that I knew, a long time ago, stored in the dusty depths of my memory. The woman watched me, smiling, and nodded encouragingly. ‘I see you are wondering. I am the oldest sister, who waits at the crossroads. I am the guide. I am the first one to help the lost.’


    She brought out a small bundle from an inner pocket, tied up neatly in a white handkerchief, and closed my hands around it.


    ‘Take these, and use them. You’ll know when it’s time. As for you, young man… there isn’t much I can offer. You aren’t from our lands. But even so…’ She placed a hand on his cheek, then leaned in and whispered:


    ‘May your road be straight and clear. May you find guidance on your way. And most of all… may your wounded be healed.’


    We could but watch her, astounded, as she stood up; then, nodding a goodbye, the old woman straightened her back and walked briskly into the crowd, who swiftly swallowed her frail silhouette.


    ‘How… did she just... walk away? She couldn’t even sit up straight five minutes ago! What was that about?’, Axel whispered, still gazing in her direction.


    I was staring as well, still searching for her through the swarm of commuters, and I turned my eyes away with some difficulty, staring at him instead, and trying to gather my thoughts.


    ‘Uh… I think I need some time to process this’, I said uncertainly, feeling hazy.


    ‘It sounded like she was sure you understood her.’


    ‘I know there’s something I should see, a meaning, but I can’t put my finger on it.’


    ‘Oh, well’, he sighed. ‘Let’s get going, and you can think while we walk.’


    We picked up our backpacks and headed for the exit. Axel made a way for us without slowing down or answering the insults that our passage stirred up. Soon enough, we found ourselves in the shopping centre and heading to the sports store. It was almost empty in these early hours of the morning, and finding everything we needed took less than fifteen minutes. Fisherman’s boots, harness, rope and snap hooks, abseiling gloves to make climbing easier, a compass, and a hard hat.


    ‘This will cost a fortune’, I observed, uneasy.


    ‘Maybe, but then, your life is quite priceless.’


    I raised an eyebrow. ‘Aren’t you exaggerating a little?’


    He put the equipment on the conveyor belt and grabbed my shoulders with both hands, staring into my eyes. ‘We don’t know where this path leads. Had we remained in the catacombs, I would’ve known exactly what the risks are and what we need. But we don’t know, and we agreed to take every possibility into account. So, if you… cross… to somewhere else, then we – you – have to be ready, whatever is waiting for you on the other side. I would rather be overly cautious.’


    I had rarely seen him so serious, almost worried, so I nodded and paid without further comments.


    Once outside, the chill air snapped me into wakefulness. I hadn’t realised how much energy had been sucked out of me since we’d got on the train. We walked briskly towards the Seine, and for once I didn’t complain about the wind. Axel kept silent, probably mulling over the events of the morning, and I did the same, trying to pinpoint the elusive memory the old lady had prompted. The oldest sister, helping travellers… I must have read something like that somewhere… but in which book? Vague scenes, most likely imagined memories, floated near the surface of my thoughts. Crossing the windy Pont-au-Change, I shoved my hands in my pockets, shivering, and my fingers found the woman’s gift. I stopped in my tracks.


    ‘Axel, hold on for a minute.’


    He turned, raising an interrogative eyebrow. I laid the bundle on the bridge parapet and unknotted it. We stared down.


    ‘What is this supposed to mean?’


    I picked up the long, rectangular piece of grey stone and turned it between my fingers, examining it. I had seen this somewhere…


    Axel lifted the small mirror and the comb, then shook the handkerchief. There was nothing else.


    ‘Axel’, I whispered, putting the stone down and staring at the three objects.


    ‘...and the prince fled with the wondrous bird hidden in his shirt, and the ogres were hot on his heels’, I heard my grandmother''s voice. She was sitting by the fire, smiling dreamily at the flames as she unravelled the story once more. I was by her feet on my low stool, with awe in my eyes, listening raptly. ‘And he remembered the gifts he had been given to help him on his way; he took the comb out of his bundle, and threw it over the shoulder. At once, a forest thicker than anyone had ever seen sprang from the ground…’


    ‘I think I know who she was.’


    I bundled the comb, the mirror, and the whetstone again and put them back in my pocket, then I leaned on the parapet. Watching the muddy waters of the Seine, I tried to recollect the folk tales I’ve heard, as detailed as my hazy childhood souvenirs allowed it. Axel joined me.


    ‘Don’t you want to tell me on the way?’, he suggested. There was the subtlest hint of well-contained impatience in his voice.


    ‘Sure, sorry.’ I felt guilty for getting distracted, for forgetting the main reason we were there. We set off again, Axel leading with his long strides, and I half walking, half running to keep up.


    ‘Can you slow down, please? I won’t be able to talk much at this speed…’


    Without answering, he did so, and I caught up with him.


    ‘I said I’m sorry.’ It came out a tad reproachfully. He stopped and faced me abruptly, his face clouding dangerously. I took an involuntary step backwards.


    ‘You were the one who was in a hurry to get underground this morning, remember? When you asked me if I didn’t want to do something for Lilianne?’


    He had never talked to me like this. Heat flamed in my chest and my pulse sped up. ‘Yeah, I was. But you know what? A crapload of things have happened since this morning, so excuse me if I need time to process! It’s not like hearing voices and seeing shadows is part of my normal life, alright? And as if that wasn’t enough, now there’s a damn fairytale character plopping down in the middle of Chatelet, and I’m the one who’s expected to make sense of it all’, I fumed. ‘Don’t you think I wish you could share the weight of this? Do you think I asked to become a Disney prince, or that I’m having fun?’


    Axel’s shoulders dropped slightly, but his expression was still dark. ‘I didn’t say that.’


    ‘I’ve just found myself in the middle of something that makes no sense whatsoever, been attacked by my own folklore, ice keeps appearing on my hands, and all that on top of the fact that it’s my fault for what happened. It’s my fault we were there.’ I broke up. My anger coagulated into tears, and I wiped them away furiously. Keep it together, you fragile snowflake, I scolded myself. Everyone depends on you. That thought didn’t help; on the contrary, I felt even weaker. I shivered, and hugged myself, shutting out the images that started to take shape in my mind, the possibility of finding myself alone in the guts of the earth.


    ‘I wish I could help more, you know’, Axel said, in a low voice, not looking at me. ‘I feel powerless already, and I need you to help me out. The only lead we have is completely unknown to me, and very far from everything I’ve experienced. Nevertheless, I’m willing to give it a shot, because I have no other straw to grab at. But I need you for that.’


    I sniffed and tried to steady my breath for a couple of minutes. Calm down and think. We’re a team. He counts on me, and I have to make this right. Had I listened to the ancient lore and not dismissed it as old women’s tales, everyone would have been safe right now. Everything would have been as usual.


    I made a decision.


    ‘I am going to assume that what I know about the old beliefs is true. I will pay attention to every detail I can think of as if it were true. I don’t know how much of it really is, but I don’t want to be responsible for another…’, I searched for a less dramatic word, in vain, ‘…tragedy. So I count on you to be the voice of reason in my stead.’


    Axel nodded. ‘I understand. I can do that.’


    ‘Here’s what I know.’


    We walked along the golden gates of the Palace of Justice and its greying stone walls, heedless of the hurrying passersby and the deafening klaxons of the normal Parisian morning. I told him about the Story of the Pig, about the White Moor, and other nameless tales I remembered vaguely; about Saint Wednesday, Friday, and Sunday: the three sisters that the lost traveler, man or woman, met and helped, and who offered assistance in exchange.


    ‘I think that woman was Saint Wednesday’, I concluded. ‘She usually cannot point the right way, but instead she gives advice or objects that can help. Often it’s the mirror, the comb, and the whetstone we got; they’re used to escape pursuit by turning into obstacles.’


    ‘I guess we should expect trouble, then’, he mused.


    ‘Not an encouraging perspective’, I agreed, fighting down the rising alarm.


    ‘I know it must be scary for you. Even I don’t know how I would handle a situation like this, to be honest. But keep in mind I’ll be by your side as long as I can, and do everything in my power to help you. And I trust you. I really do.’


    I looked up at him, deeply touched. ‘I don’t trust myself as much as you do’, I admitted.


    ‘You have ice gauntlets, and a wizard ancestor’, he tried for a joke. ‘Who knows what other hidden powers you possess?’


    I laughed half-heartedly. ‘I suppose we’ll have to wait and find out, huh?’


    ‘Another thing, now that this part is cleared out. What happened on the train? You’ve seemed… far away, as if in another world. I mean, besides being half fainted. You said you were hearing and seeing things that I certainly was not.’


    ‘Well… I’m not really sure what it was exactly. Remember those hallucinations I had in the catacombs, while they were taking me out? With that couple, and the woman screaming?’


    Axel nodded.


    ‘I saw them again. The same images, and three shapes on the floor, in the shadows. Then someone said “parlays” and “come to me”, and that I could bring them back.’


    He stopped abruptly and stared at me.


    ‘How?’


    ‘I don’t know. That’s all there was, and that… they, I can’t say for sure, the message came through both men and women, they “reside in the depths of Paris”, or something along those lines.’


    ‘Great. Another clear clue, to waste even more time’, he fumed and started walking again, almost angrily.


    ‘Come on, let’s think about this. What’s the deepest place in Paris?’


    ‘I have no idea’, he snapped. ‘Deepest compared to sea level? Deepest as in the longest distance from the surface? Or deepest in some other mythological way we cannot yet conceive?’


    Without even looking at him, I could feel his burgeoning anger in the sneer underlying his last sentence. Axel, as strong and patient as he could be, was cracking too.


    ‘I can imagine how you feel’, I said, patting his arm, and I felt the tension in his muscles.


    We were crossing the Saint-Michel bridge, pushing through the crowd of tourists posing with the Notre-Dame and its scaffolding, or heading to the train station.


    ‘That’s it!’, I exclaimed, an idea popping in my mind. Axel glanced at me, still brooding. ‘The subways! Some of them go quite deep underground. I remember seeing a picture from the building site here. The hole they dug to host the RERs B and C, plus the subways, was monstrous. Some stations include even more lines! Maybe that’s what the message meant?’


    I was getting excited with my hypothesis. After all, the Chatelet shopping center was mostly underground, and the transportation lines were underneath it. How deep did it go?


    ‘Yeah, maybe…’, Axel grumbled, apparently unwilling to come out of his dark bubble.


    ‘And what about Saint-Lazare? I’m pretty sure I saw a plaque on the floor of a lower level saying it was the deepest station in Paris. I should check that’, I thought out loud.


    ‘Mmhm.’


    I gave up the attempt at conversation and let myself drift away in my memories of folklore and tales that I knew from my grandmother. We walked and walked; the more it lasted, the deeper I hid in my thoughts, avoiding the real world with its aggressive people and noises. It got worse as we approached the Sorbonne and its horde of students heading to their morning classes, mixing with the usual gaping, loitering tourists. We only stopped a few minutes so I could buy a bad cup of coffee to warm my hands and keep my brain working.


    ‘Are we there yet?’, I groaned at some point, impatient to leave the crowd and get away from the harsh sunlight.


    ‘Ten minutes’, came the laconic answer.


    I sighed. ‘Can we at least talk to pass the time?’


    ‘Sure.’


    Another sigh, more audible, hoping he’d get the hint.


    ‘Sorry’, Axel finally said. ‘I can’t stop myself from thinking. About Lili, about that night, about every irrational thing I’ve witnessed. I’m trying really hard to wrap my mind around the possibility of… magic.’ The word came out strenuously, as if he had to fight himself to say it. ‘I feel foolish by simply saying it. I wish I knew what I can do, I need to know something, have a clear purpose, plan my course of action. The vagueness of all this… it’s torture.’


    He pondered for a while, then added: ‘Maybe you’re right, maybe I should busy myself with the more concrete clues. The deepest place in Paris and all that. It’s something I can actually do, with a tangible result.’ There was a smile, like a flicker of sunlight in a storm. ‘Let’s stop in the garden for a minute so you can change, shall we?’, he asked as we approached the gates of Luxembourg.


    I nodded and followed him through the thickening throng flowing out of the train station and into the park. We sat down on the first empty bench; I traded my comfortable Docs for the cold rubber boots, and shivered.


    ‘You’ll be glad to have them later’, Axel promised, stuffing my Docs into his seemingly bottomless backpack, then showing me how to fold up the extra length so it wouldn’t bother me while walking. When he was done, the fisherman boots looked much less conspicuous.


    ‘I certainly hope I won’t regret it’, I admitted, already feeling my feet turn into icicles.


    ‘We’ll be there soon, and it will be a little warmer underground.’ He patted me on the back and stood. ‘Let’s go. We have to get there at the same time with the students.’


    It was I who walked briskly this time, trying to warm up again; and soon enough, the massive girth of Ecole des Mines blocked away the sun on our side of the boulevard. I examined its fa?ade, scarred by the marks of the bullets and bombshells of the two world wars, and ran my fingers over it. It was an eerie feeling, being able to touch history, almost captivating; but it was not the time to indulge in daydreaming. Shaking my head, I turned my eyes away from the wall, and saw the large wooden doors open.


    ‘Here we go’, Axel whispered, looking around to spot the university guards. ‘We’ll blend in where the crowd is thickest and try not to be noticed and asked for our student cards. Ready?’


    A tingle started to spread along my skin. My throat was as tight as the knot in my stomach. I swallowed hard.


    ‘No.’


    Then I plunged in the middle of the chattering, fretting students, and let their flow carry me into the shadows of the hall.


    Questions for the readers</a>