KAZ
It doesn't take long for everyone to fill the small space. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Wylan glancing about with a pained look on his face. There simply isn't enough room for everyone on the paths. I have no doubt that the beauty for which he's toiled will be severely damaged before this endeavor is over.
Despite the size of the group, the volume is low. All leaders were instructed to inform their members that silence is mandatory. Hand signals will be given for necessary communication. Unless otherwise specified, we follow the route, look for supplies, and return with as few whispered words as possible. It's a solid plan. I wish I could say my plans usually go well. However, Ketterdam isn't a forgiving place, especially not to those of us who inhabit the Barrel. I'll be pleased if we make it back with most of our members and a decent amount of supplies.
I nod at Jesper and motion to Wylan. He steps forward to join me next to the wall that enables easy roof access. I haul myself up and begin the climb, not looking behind me. My men know how to follow my lead. If they don't, it's best that they get left behind. The only sounds are the soft scraping of shoes against the roof tiles. I reach the halfway point and glance down, scanning for threats - Grisha or otherwise. The alley below is empty. I turn to look and motion for everyone to fan out to neighboring roofs. I don't want everyone jumping the same route. It'll cause too much noise in one area and increase our potential of being discovered. Hopefully, with the groups traveling across multiple roofs we'll be able to be quieter and pass through undetected.
If only it could be that simple to remain invisible. Unfortunately, with the sun high in the sky and the streets deserted, the chance of being missed has dwindled to the single digits. If I was going to choose a day to pray to Inej's saints, today would be a good one. Not only for my groups but for hers as well.
Mostly for hers. I look forward and judge the distance to the next roof, trying to focus on the route, the plan, anything but how concerned I am about her potentially suicidal mission. I glance behind me to see how well-spread the men are.
Remember that you decided there wasn't anyone to spare. Looking at all the Dregs behind me, I briefly wonder why I insisted I needed everyone. Surely, I could've spared someone. However, we've reached our separation point now. My group looks significantly smaller after the break. As my men begin to dip below into houses and stores, I acknowledge just how few true leaders I have with me.
I really did need all of them, I think as I swing down into a small alleyway. The houses are so close together, there's barely any room to squeeze into, which has its benefits and disadvantages. It's simple to scout but it doesn't allow an easy escape if necessary. The windows of the house on my right are open and I carefully peek above the sill, keeping low in case there's something in there that I don't want to attract. It appear empty but it also looks as though it's already been ransacked. Drawers and doors are hanging open as though previous occupants headed out in a hurry.
What if all the houses look like this? What if another group beat us to this? However, I know it would take a group larger than mine to have hit every house in this vicinity and there aren't very many groups as large as the Dregs. I slip in anyway and glance around, looking for leftovers. I find a bag of flour in the back of a cabinet next to some salt. I grab them both and throw them into the small bag I tucked away in my back pocket. Thankfully, we managed to find enough bags for everyone although most are small. There are four large bags per group and I can only hope we return with them all full.
The next house is in a similar state. This time I only find a couple packets of dried berries that are more for taste then sustenance. I grab them anyway. I know what it's like to live on tasteless food everyday. In desperate times, flavoring can do a lot for moral. There's something encouraging about a little flair in your food.
I open the back door and carefully step out into a small street. The house across from me looks promising, the shutters are closed and, I try the handle, the door is locked. Either the occupants are still at home or they took a little more care than their neighbors. I knock softly, once, twice, and a third time. There aren't any sounds from inside. No shuffling or hastily retreating footsteps. I pull out my picks and have the door open in less than ten seconds.
This time, I find a virtual treasure trove of food. Salted meats, rice, and some vegetables. I leave the most perishable and least substantial items like milk and bread. I open one last cupboard and find two jars of honey. While I'd normally leave anything sweet, I grab them quickly. Honey never goes bad and doubles as an antibiotic. I've seen it do wonders in wound care and a variety of internal and external infections.
My bag full, I make my way to the second floor and exit via the window, easily pulling myself onto the roof. Some of the group has already moved forward a good ways but the men with the big bags are still fairly close. I approach, pour my findings in quickly, and then scan for the next entry point.
We make our way steadily south, keeping the harbor in view. I don't find any weapons or ammunition for almost an hour. When I finally do find some, it's paired with a grisly sight. I can smell death from the outside and contemplate not entering but decide to risk it. I'm glad I did. The man must've been some kind of weaponry dealer. He had more knives in his reach than most traveling merchants carry in total. Unfortunately for him, it didn't appear to do much good. I breathe through my mouth as I strip the room of every kind of weapon I can find, from the smallest pocket knife to my personal favorite, a short, double barrel shotgun that looks like it'd take the paint off the walls and ceiling before it ever reached the intended target. Perhaps it's wrong to enjoy the idea of taking out everything in a twenty foot frontal radius but I'm nothing if not a little reprehensible.
Maybe more than a little. This time when I reach the roof, I don't immediately climb back down. The streets are familiar here in East Stave. We've nearly reached the Barrel. As men return to the rooftops, I motion for them to gather. I look through the bags while I wait. Our food bags are well-stocked but munitions are sorely lacking. It shouldn't surprise me as the majority of our course has been through residential areas. Still, I was hoping for a little more than this. In about five minutes, the entire group has assembled and stands silently, awaiting my commands. Ryare and Anika approach just as Wylan pulls himself back onto a roof. I motion the three of them close.
"The food run has gone well," Ryare starts. I nod.
"Yes but we have almost no new weaponry or ammunition." I glance at Wylan. "We're going to have to make the trip to the morgue." Although he tries to hide it, Wylan looks pained. I doubt a year luxuriating in the Van Eck mansion has done much for his physical fitness.
"We'll-" sudden a round of gunshots rings out in the distance. I glance in the direction of the yells and far-off sound of fighting. The harbor. It's probable that Jesper's team has run into trouble. I look back at Ryare and Anika.
"You two need to get this group back as quickly as possible. If the other groups don't make it back, we'll be short food and men. Be as quiet as you can but I want you at a run the entire time. Understand?" They nod and I look back at Wylan.
"We have to move, now. Start that way," I point toward the Barrel. "I'll gather a couple more men." Wylan doesn't even acknowledge he's heard, just takes a running start and leaps to the next rooftop.
"Ryare." He turns back to me. "Don't let them take you. If they catch up with the group, do what you can and then get out. I don't care if you leave them behind. I need you alive and un-addled." I don't wait for his confirmation. I turn and assess the Dregs. I choose four men who look the least winded. There's only one large bag left now. I grab it and motion them to follow. We hurry, silently, across the roofs. Each jarring jump steadily increases the pain in my leg. I push forward harder.
The faster we're done. The faster we're home. Despite his head start, I catch up to Wylan easily and take the lead. We make good time and reach the morgue in a little under twenty minutes. I climb down and pop open the door. The men file in and I close it quietly behind us. The smell that greets us is beyond foul. Bloated bodies are lined up against the wall. They were probably ready to be processed when the panic hit. Now, they're overripe and destined to decay untended and unburied.
A flash of Jordie's bloated body flits through my mind. I blink and it's gone.
"Where would the chemicals be?" I ask Wylan between breaths, trying to only take in air through my mouth. He looks around.
"It would have to be a backroom, probably attached to where they keep the bodies." I nod to the door where the bodies lay. He nods. I point to two of the men.
"You two check that door," I point to one across the room that is most likely the waiting room for family and friends of the deceased. I direct the other two to the door next to it. They nod. I walk purposefully toward the door. Even breathing through my mouth, the smell overwhelms me. I falter as a memory overtakes me.
The barge. The water. The stink of death all around me, over me, on me. Jordie's face, pale and still.
I shake my head. I will not be bested by this. Not now. Wylan moves a step ahead and I push myself forward, using my cane for leverage. Wylan opens the door and I train my eyes onto the darkness ahead of me, not on the bodies beside the doorway. The light is already dim in here but I shut the door anyway, trying to block some of the smell. I feel along the wall for the switch I know will flood the room with light. The morgue was one of the first places in the city outfitted with lights.
Because nothing needs strong light like the dead. I move toward the boxes along the wall. Wylan starts on the other side. I see the bleach first. Stacks and stacks of bleach. I pull one box and nearly stumble. There's no way we can get the entire thing back. Not over all those rooftops. I place it on the floor and continue. We'll see what we can carry once we're done.
"Kaz," Wylan whispers my name so softly that I barely hear him. I look at him and raise an eyebrow.
"I found formaldehyde and glutereldehyde. Both of them will be helpful."
"Grab a box of each and put them on the floor. We'll see how much we can carry once we've found everything."
"There's really only one more chemical that will be helpful."
"And that would be?"
"Methanol. It's like the deadly brother of ethanol."
"Perfect." I begin to scan the shelves, not bothering to read more than one letter of each word on the labels. Two rows over, I see it. It's set apart from the other chemicals and on a different kind of shelving unit. These are bolted to both the wall and the floor.
"Found it." I place the box next to the others and Wylan quickly scoots it away from the others. I give him another questioning look.
"Methanol is a polar liquid at this temperature. That's why it's on a separate shelving unit. It will dis-" Apparently, my face gives away how much I don't care about why it needs to be separated.
"Let's just make sure it's carried separately." I nod as I turn back to the door. It opens before I reach it and I fall back into a defensive posture. It's only my men and I motion them in.
"We need to take as much of these as we can. Is there one that you need more of than the others?" I ask Wylan.
"Probably the Methanol."
"You two will carry as much Methanol as you can. The rest of us will divide up the bleach, formaldehyde, and glutereldehyde." We set about dismantling the boxes and testing the weight of the bottles. Knowing my jumping capabilities, I decide I can only carry three bottles. It seems small and I'm frustrated that we can only take a little but there's simply no other way to carry them. The bag will surely break if we put more than three in it. Wylan is holding two bottles of formaldehyde and I wonder how far he'll be able to manage that before he leaves one behind. It's going to be a long, back-breaking return trip.
Bottles divided, we head out. I look away from the bodies for one step, two, and then they're out of my line of sight and I only have to cope with the smell. We cross the room quickly, all eager for fresh air. I crack the door and check the street in front of us. It looks clear but I still open the door cautiously. We are out and hauling ourselves upwards in seconds. The large bottles make it nearly impossible to climb and I have to move from window to window, balancing each one on a window sill before moving to the next. Once we're on the roof, we all pause, breathing hard. Wylan looks like he's about to pass out.
"Move," I mutter the command after a few seconds. My men stand and follow without a sound but Wylan whimpers softly as he stands.
We move steadily east toward the Financial District, using the river to our right as a guide. Once we reach the Geld canal and turn north, I begin to look for a boat or other method of travel that will take us safely across the next canal to the Exchange. It will be the largest expanse of water we've traversed thus far and all the others were crossed via a bridge. I'm not sure whether or not the Council of Tides will be able to detect someone crossing the water via boat this far inland and I'm not particularly keen to find out. However, there aren't any bridges across this canal until you reach the Zelver District and there's no way we can make it that far.
When we reach the Y-shaped juncture of canals, I hold up my hand.
"Everyone rest. I'm going to find a way across." Wylan nearly collapses onto of the bottles as he sets them down. Now, jumping roofs unhindered feels like flying - that is, until the impact causes my leg to recall just how hard I've pushed myself today. I take brief breaks between jumps, trying to balance time with the necessity of rest. I glance over the edge periodically, looking for a way across. In this area of town, someone should have boat stowed away under their house. It's simply a matter of finding it.
Finally, I see what looks to be a partially-underground garage - perfect for a personal gondola or other elegant craft. I do my best not to clamber down but my muscles are somewhere between shaky and tight and I nearly stumble when I reach the street.
Luck is with me and the garage does, in fact, harbor a boat. It's fancier than I expected. No simple rowing boat for these people. This one looks to be self-powered. A wave of concern flows through me.
What if it requires something to work? Something like a key? I step down into it, looking for whatever it is that powers it. There is a large hulk of metal in the back that looks like it may have something to do with powering it. I take a deep breath.
I climb out and leave the garage, quickly climbing the house and onto the roof. I can see the group, sitting several blacks away with their backs to the setting sun. It'll be night soon and I have little desire to be on these streets when the sun goes down. I wonder briefly if Inej has returned from her rescue mission but sweep that though aside. I have to focus. I make my way back to the group. Everyone looks to be in considerably better shape than when I left. Wylan even manages a half smile.
"There's a boathouse down there. It has some kind of luxury boat in it. Let's go." The men follow silently.
"A luxury boat?" Wylan asks. "What kind?"
"You'll see when we get there." I don't need any of them to know I'm ignorant of this kind of craft unless necessary. I shoulder the bottles again and we're off. I look for the red roof tiles that mark the halfway point. From there, it's only two blocks. Already, the bottles feel like lead weights. Even before we reach it, I can tell the men are tiring easily and I begin to worry that we may need to find shelter for the night.
No. We have to get home. The last thing I need is someone launching a search party. That someone most likely being Inej, who will undoubtably be exhausted from her own cross-city trek. I drop down into the area behind the house, which hosts a garden that puts Wylan's to shame. The men follow me as I find a way through the house to the boat. When we arrive, Wylan's sharp intake of breath lets me know he's aware of exactly what we're dealing with.
"I've never seen one in person."
Perhaps not so exactly.
"It's a Riöden. I didn't think- how did they even get it here? It's illegal to import them."
"You speak as though legality has ever been a consideration in Ketterdam where trade in concerned." Wylan looks affronted.
"I'll have you know-"
"Save the lecture on the ethics of Ketterdam's business practices and help me work this thing." Despite his obvious desire to verbally contradict me, he follows my orders. We load the bottles into the small holding bay and Wylan joins me at the back of the boat.
"I'm not sure- let me look at it closer. Like I said, I've never seen-" I let him continue to mutter instead of cutting him off. Hopefully his stream-of-consciousness will produce something useful.
"There must be a key," he announces after a couple minutes. I nearly groan aloud. We do not have time for this. The daylight is fading fast.
"Alright, Wylan, search the boathouse. The rest of us with search upstairs." I unlock the door that leads into the house.
"Keep an eye out for weapons. One of you take the kitchen and scout some food. We spread out, searching in the dim twilight that filters through the un-shuttered windows. I'm nearly through the office when Wylan appears in the doorway.
"I found it." I nod.
"Get it started. I'll be right there." I gather the men. An ornate pistol and a veritable mountain of food greet me as I enter the living room.
"Good job." We manage to gather it all up and dump it into the boat in one trip.
"Ready?" Wylan nods and, with a slightly maniacal grin, turns the key. If it wasn't for the slight rumbling beneath us and the gleeful look on Wylan's face, I wouldn't have believed it was running.
"Let's get out of here." I jump out of the boat and pick the lock on the door. I hold up my hand. I exit via the above ground door and take in our surroundings. Nothing seems to be moving on the street or in the canal but with evening taking a firm hold, it's difficult to see beyond a few blocks. Knowing I can't scout what I can't see, I re-enter and push open the doors. Wylan moves a lever and the boat lunges forward, nearly knocking me into the water.
"Sorry. She's got a lot more thrust than I was expecting." One of the men chuckles.
"More than you're used to, Wylan?" He shoots me a glare. I ignore it as I search for some rope.
The air outside was chillier now that the sun had departed. Suspended somewhere between the disappearance of the sun and the rising of the moon, light is hard to come by. The water has lost its clarity to the night and, just now, appears as though it is a fathomless, unknowable beast - ready to swallow us whole.
And perhaps it is. Part of me wants to - plans to - push Wylan, make him move across as quickly as possible. However, something tells me that a lazy trip across the canal will draw less attention. The other side is in sight when I have a sudden, reckless, most assuredly foolish though.
"Go right."
"What? I thought we were trying to cross. That's back the way we came."
"Do it." It was either a testament to his commitment to the team or the desire to stay silent and possibly live that made him turn us back east. In the moonlight, the ripples twisted, as if the water was trying to shake off the faint light. Upon reaching the Y-juncture, he makes the left turn without instruction. I carefully wind the rope through a gap in the railing across the hull, tying it off with a clove hitch.
"Stay close to the land on your left. Close as you can." He nods and we continue farther in silence. I watch the water, waiting for any ripple that would indicate it's about to destroy us. As we steadily crawl up the canal, I can see the Church of Barter shimmering in the distance. Funny how in all of this it still manages to stay decently well-lit. We are nearly to Wylan's house when I feel it, the rise in the water.
"Dock. Now."
"But there's n-"
"Now, Wylan!" I hiss as forcefully as I can. Our boat bumps against the edge of the canal and I begin throwing our supplies on land. The men jump out easily. They don't have far to go. By now, the water has risen to level with the land, a good five feet in just a few seconds. We jump out in time for the water to spill over. I grab the rope and motion to the men.
"Two of you get over here and help me pull it onto land. The rest of you, move the supplies." Carried by the water, the boat slides relatively easily onto the shore. Once she's up, I tie her to the nearest lamp post and pull the men next to me back. The water is already retreating and I can feel it, like little hands, trying to pull me over the edge. I retreat several more steps, just in case it decides to come back for me, but it slips away as though it was never there. All that's left are a few puddles and slick stones. We stand there, looking at our shored boat for a moment, before I turn.
"Let's get the supplies and move. Wylan, can you lead us home from here?"
"Easily."
"Do it."
All I want is to see Inej, safe and whole. Then, I can rest. Then, I'll be home.
The wall to Wylan's garden is in sight so quickly I almost laugh. We were nearly there. I pull myself up onto the wall, motioning for Wylan to join me. Once he's beside me, I point to the other side.
"Get ready." I have the men hand me the supplies and I carefully pass them to Wylan. We're done in under a minute and I jump down. The men follow me to the door. I pick it and we're inside. Finally. Finally inside. It felt like we'd never make it back here. The men take off with the supplies and I wave them on, leaning heavily against the wall.
"We made it," Wylan states. Heaving a sigh, I move past him with several bottles of bleach and formaldehyde. I'm not even halfway down the hallway when I hear running feet coming toward me. I pause, unsure what to do. I'm putting the bottles down and reaching for my cane when Anika skids into view.
"Sir, we-" Polian nearly tumbles into her.
"There was-" Fen's frame jumbles into view.
"Kaz, you-" several more people stumble in behind them.
"Stop. All of you. What's-" And that's when I see Jesper entering slowly behind them. Somehow, his long, mournful face stands out and I push toward him.
"What's happened?"
Remember-
"It's Inej."
"Where is she?"
Remember this conversation if Inej doesn't come back.
"She's gone."
"What do you mean gone? Has the group not come back yet?"
Remember-
"They're back."
"And?"
Remember that you decided there wasn't anyone to spare.
"And she's still out there."
Author's Note:
Yay for miserable cliffhangers! Don't worry, there's another chapter on the way! I'm working on it (although not tonight). It should be up by the end of the weekend but it's- there's a lot going on in the next chapter. I'm also working 20 hours in the next 3 days and I have to sleep so, you know, I'll do my best