Chapter 4

Particle by particle, Rat's body knit together, and the light set him down gently. He held his breath and squeezed his eyes shut, still clinging to the swordsman's boot. But his body kept its form. The journey seemed to be over. Sand pressed against his cheek. The sound of water rushing filled his ears. Carefully, a splinter at a time, he pried open one eye.

The swordsman stared down at him in shock. They had landed on an island in the center of a lake. A multi-tiered city floated above the blue water, supported by white stone columns that glowed with blue light. Waterfalls spilled from the bridges and archways, as smoothly as the sands that used to spill from the rim of Karusa Valley. Rat was suddenly, ravenously thirsty. He licked his dry lips.

Link pulled his ankle out of Rat's fingers and squatted down to the boy's level. "How did you follow me?"

Rat started to say he didn't know, then the sun rose. Sun beams pierced the waterfalls and reflected off the surface of the lake, stinging his eyes like a thousand needles. Rat cried out. He slapped his hand over his eyes and moaned.

A light cloth settled on Rat's face, dimming the light. The swordsman shifted Rat onto his back, lifted him under the arms, and dragged him into the shadow of a giant stone.

"Don't move," Link said. "I'll be back." His footsteps scurried up a ladder.

Rat couldn't move if he wanted to. He lay where the swordsman left him, longing for his mother, trying not to cry. He pressed the cloth to his face—it was soft like a shirt, and smelled like sweat and horses. Why was he here? He should have stayed in the Depths. He never should have pulled the cannon's trigger.

A splash sounded on his left, then a rubber slap as two feet landed on stone. "Good gracious." A woman spoke, her voice fluid, like water tumbling over stones. "You poor child. Lie still, now. You're safe." She lifted her voice to the bridge above them. "I need a stretcher."

The swordsman's boots tapped down on the island, rejoining her. "I was going to ask you to come to us, but he followed me."

"How?"

Rat peeked above the shirt as the swordsman shrugged his shoulders.

"No matter. You made the right choice." The woman a green giant with the wide head of a fish. Jewelry glittered around her neck and waist.

Rat recoiled from her hand.

A red figure burst from the water, somersaulted, and landed lightly beside Link. He straightened to his full size, twice the height of a Hylian. His pointed teeth flashed with a smile in his red, shark-like face. "I felt you call, Link—" Then his eyes fell on Rat, and his jaw dropped open.

"Darling," the fish-woman said. "Link needs you to separate the gloom from this child, like you did with the sludge, then I will heal him. Can you do that?"

Rat clutched the shirt. Shivering, he curled into himself. His heart raced. Those teeth. An enormous trident hung on the fish-man's back. Rat saw himself skewered through the stomach and lifted high like a flapping trophy.

"Of course, of course I will," the fish-man said. "But what happened to him?"

Link slipped between the couple and kneeled over Rat. "This is King Sidon and Queen Yona," he said. "They're Zora." He lifted his face to the woman. "He's going back into shock. Sidon."

"You want me to do it now? Here?" Sidon glanced around the barren island.

"Yes." Link nodded. "I've moved him too much already."

Sidon cracked his neck and rolled his thick shoulders. He kneeled at Rat's side and gave the boy a hopeful, but wary, smile. "Don't be afraid, little one." He extended his hand over Rat's chest.

A growl rumbled in Rat's belly. It felt like a beast lurked deep inside him, dwelling in a sunless fortress. As Sidon's magic ignited around his hand, the beast opened its eyes. Rat gasped as a wave of pain pulsed through his wounds: a warning.

"Wait," Rat whispered.

Blue light plunged into Rat's ribs. Cool tendrils of magic wound through the boy's body, smooth as water, deliberate and focused. The gloom hissed and recoiled from the light. It bounded deeper into its fortress, and the iron portcullis crashed down.

Sidon's fingers clenched. "There it is." His magic flared as it locked on target. It slid through the cracks in the fortress wall and wrapped around the beast. Sidon tugged the magic strings.

The beast howled and thrashed. Rat's eyes flared crimson. His body clenched with pain and he cried out. His eyes fell on Link, standing in the background, arms crossed, watching from the shadows of his hood. "You," Rat hissed. "Did this…" He felt across the ground, searching for a weapon: a knife, a stone.

Yona caught his hand and gripped it between her own.

"It's really in there." Sidon grunted. "What a beast. I can't believe he's still alive." His eyes glowed blue and his hand trembled, holding the taut strings of light. "The gloom bound itself to the boy's will. He's fighting me. He doesn't want to let it go."

What? Teeth clenched, Rat's breath came quick and shallow.

"Child." Yona squeezed Rat's hand. "You're safe here. No one will make you go back to the Depths, ever again. I promise. We all do."

A tear slid down Rat's cheek. "Never?" he whispered.

"Never." Yona held his eyes.

Slowly, Rat's breathing steadied. Squinting against the light, his eyes darted from Yona to Sidon and landed on Link.

The swordsman nodded.

Rat sighed and let his head fall back.

Sidon drew the strings upward and crimson mist lifted from Rat's chest. He coughed, and black slime burst from his mouth. It splattered on Sidon's cheek. The king turned Rat onto his side, supporting him while Rat spat slime, until his hacking brought up only blood. Exhausted, he collapsed.

Sidon sat back on his heels, wiping sludge from his face with the ruffle at his throat.

"I wish you could do that for me," Link muttered.

The king shook his head. "Ganon built your curse just for you."

Yona leaned over Rat, water sliding around her hands. "My turn." Her fingers glowed blue, and she touched Rat's temples. "Sleep, child."

A cool wave floated through Rat's mind. He drifted, imagining he was in his roofless cave, floating in his hot spring, and slept.

Rain pattered on a roof. The sound revived the dryness in Rat's throat. He opened his eyes. A blue ceiling hovered over him, set with a mosaic in the shape of a star. He felt weightless, like he was lying on a cloud. A white pillow cradled his head, and he spread his palm against the silken sheets. His feet poked up under a blue silk blanket, pointing towards a wall of windows covered in white curtains. The nourishing sound of rain came through the curtains, steady and even. The rain wasn't in a hurry.

I'm free.

It felt impossible. Bracing himself, he drew in a breath. His ribs expanded effortlessly. He tried another breath, and another, convincing his brain there was no more pain. The sheets slid off his arms as he raised them and twisted his hands in the muted light. His regrown skin was whole and flawless. Some of his favorite freckles had disappeared, and the light scars from his work in the mines. All gone.

He continued to twist his hands, marveling at the freedom to see. The light was effortless. There was so much of it, coming from nowhere and everywhere, without the need to light a lantern or a candle. The light gave itself away, and Rat drank it in, assuring himself the light was here—to stay.

I never have to go back. A sob seized his chest; he clenched his jaw. Never, ever. They promised.

A faint sigh sounded on his right. Rat twisted his head and stiffened. Link was sleeping in a bed beside him. He lay on his side, messy yellow hair scattered across the pillow. Exhausted shadows darkened his eyes. Rat stared at his right arm. The skin was black, like he'd dipped his arm in night. Blocky ornaments decorated his forearm, and a medallion seemed to be glued to the back of his hand. Five bands encircled his fingers: one blank, four bands etched with curious symbols. Link sighed again in his sleep and his eyebrows pinched, like he was having a dark dream.

The curtain rustled at the entrance to the inn. Rat sat up. Light split the curtain as the green fish-woman slipped through. He slapped his hand over his eyes. A fresh headache hammered in his temples.

Bare fish feet padded across the stone. He cracked his fingers, watching as Queen Yona set a food tray down on a small table beside his bed. "Good afternoon," she whispered.

With the curtains back in place, Rat let his hand drift from his face.

"How are you feeling?" Yona whispered. She reached for his forehead.

Rat flinched, catching the sheets to his bare chest, and pressed his back against the white headboard.

The woman tucked her fins beneath her like a skirt and sat in a chair beside the table. A double eyelid flicked up over her eyes, white and translucent, like a lizard. Rat's heart hammered. Dizziness ghosted through his head. But this creature's teeth were smaller than the teeth of the red fish man. Like she ate her prey with a fork and knife, instead of devouring it whole.

"Have you ever seen a Zora before?" She kept her voice to a whisper.

Rat swallowed.

The woman lifted an ornate silver pitcher with a neck curved like a crane. She poured a stream of crystal-clear water into a glass tumbler, then offered it to Rat. Her eyes were gentle. His heart still fluttered—don't touch it—but his throat burned with dryness. He reached out and took the glass. Retreating against his headboard, he cradled it into his chest and sipped, watching the woman with wide eyes.

She relaxed against the back of her chair. "Now, now. There is no one here who would hurt you. You are our guest. And you are so very young."

"I'm almost thirteen," Rat murmured.

Her eyes widened. "Oh! So young!"

Link stirred in the bed.

Yona touched her mouth, quieting herself. She lifted the porcelain lid from the bowl on the tray, revealing creamy rice porridge. "Eat what you can," she whispered. "You will be weak for a time. Your wounds were severe. We healed everything we could, but your eyes will need to strengthen on their own."

She stood, went to a shelf across the room, and returned carrying a bundle of folded clothing and a pair of boots. She set the bundle on the chair and winked. "You ought to stay in bed, but I don't think you will. Link brought these for you. And this." She handed Rat a small cloth bag. "You may explore the domain, but please stay within the basin. Don't venture far, just yet. We don't want another healing session, do we?" She padded to the curtain, but her hand stalled before she pulled the drapes aside. "And don't wake him. He just returned with your equipment two hours ago. He was out all day yesterday, and last night, and into the morning. Let him rest."

Rat covered his eyes as she slipped through the curtains. When the light faded, he opened the cloth bag and withdrew a pair of goggles. The lenses were dark, the leather strap stiff and new. It smelled like oil. Metal shavings still dusted the rivets.

He set the goggles against his eye sockets and pulled the band over his head. They fit perfectly, like they'd been made for him. Through the lenses, the world darkened and adopted a brown hue. The last of his headache vanished.

I'm free.

Biting back a grin, Rat swung his bare legs out of bed. Someone had taken his clothing, except for his Yiga shorts. He bent and flexed his knee, then stood, testing his weight on the healed bone. He balanced on it, standing on one leg, then caught himself on the chair as he tottered. His stomach rumbled.

He reached for the porridge, then reached for the clothes, then abandoned both of them and went to the window. He grasped both sides of the curtains, drew in a breath for courage, and flung them apart.

The last of the rain fell like diamonds through the rays of the sun. Light split the rain clouds, shooting golden bars into the heavens. Water glistened on the arches and walkways of Zora's Domain. Swollen waterfalls crashed into the lake below and wind blew through the trees on the hills surrounding the basin. Their branches fluttered off the rain, like birds shaking from a bath.

Rat's chest rose and fell with heavy breaths. His legs trembled, still weak, but he clutched the curtains, holding himself up. Drinking it in. A hundred lynels couldn't make him leave.

"Do they work?"

Rat spun around.

The swordsman stood at the head of Rat's bed, tying his hair back in a ponytail. Red lines imprinted his cheek from the pillow. He was barefoot and wore a loose sleeping tunic and pants.

Rat scowled—Link was making him miss the sun—but he nodded. "They work."

Relief spread across the swordsman's face. His eyes darted to Rat's porridge. His stomach growled. With effort, he tore his eyes away.

Rat tensed by the window, waiting for the swordsman to make a move. But the man didn't seem to know what to do. His eyes darted from Rat, to the door, to the porridge, to the clothes. Then he scratched the back of his head and nodded—to himself or Rat—and hurried through a discrete door into a bathroom.

There were no weapons in the inn—none Rat could see—except his spoon on the tray. He could shatter the glass tumbler, but he should never throw his weapons away. A thrown weapon was a lost weapon.

If Link wanted to kill me, he would have left me in the Depths.

Slowly, Rat straightened. He commanded his heart to slow down, but his pulse fluttered nervously as he shook out the clothing. He pulled on a pair of loose brown pants and yanked a cream-colored tunic over his head. Simple, but soft, and new. Donning a pair of new woolen socks, he stepped into the boots. The leather boots held light creases from another boy's use, but they were in good repair.

He held open his arms, testing the flow of air through the shirt. He wasn't used to feeling his clothing—it seemed vulnerable. The tight Yiga uniform felt controlled, secure. He knew what it was meant to be.

At the bottom of the pile lay a belt with a small pouch. Opening it, Rat found a comb, toothbrush, a cake of soap, and three red rupees. He clenched the pouch and cocked his arm to hurl it across the room, but he lowered it and bound the belt around his waist. He'd take it. Four years in the Depths—he'd take whatever crumbs the swordsman's guilt threw at him.

Rat devoured the porridge. It was sweet, drizzled with honey. He hadn't tasted honey in four years. He was licking the bowl when a low voice spoke behind him.

"Does it fit?"

Rat jumped and whirled around. "Stop doing that to me!"

Link raised his eyebrow.

"Stop sneaking up on me!"

The swordsman had changed back into his traveler's garb. Red, gray, and yellow mud caked his damp boots. A cartridge with five glowing batteries hung from his hip. A short, curved sword hung on his back, with a glowing crystal swinging from the tip of the bare blade.

Rat pointed to the sword. "Is that a silver bokoblin horn?"

Link nodded.

"Why do you keep the orb on it?"

He shrugged.

"But people can see you coming."

"It's funny," Link said. He flicked the orb, tinging the crystal with his pointed fingernail. Then he lifted his eyes to Rat. "What's your name?"

The boy filled his chest and stood as tall as he could. "They call me Rat."

Link frowned. "Is that your name?"

"It's the only one I've got."

"That's not a name."

"And what kind of name is 'Link?'"

The swordsman's gaze drifted into the past. He smiled softly. "My father gave me that name." His attention snapped back onto Rat. "Do you have parents? Who takes care of you?"

The boy crossed his arms. "I take care of myself."

"Will the Yiga be looking for you?"

A smile curled up the side of Rat's mouth. "Maybe."

Ice hardened in the swordsman's blue eyes. "The Zoras have done you a great kindness. They are allowing you to stay in their domain—for now. If you steal from them, or break their laws, or harm them in any way, I will find you." He shouldered past Rat, flipped the door curtain, and stepped outside.

Rat remained frozen a second longer, then his breath exploded out of him. And do what? His hand shook as he set the bowl on the tray.

Karta's laughter echoed in his mind. You'll think it, but you won't say it.

Rat drew back his arm and swept the tray off the table. The utensils tumbled to the floor and the glass tumbler shattered. Before the crash faded, Rat was on his knees, snatching up the pieces. But the swordsman did not return.