A plan matured in Saigo's head, cold and clear as a blade's edge: reach the wall on the opposite side of the capital, where they wouldn't be expecting him, throw a rope, and dissolve into the night beyond the hated city.
One problem there was no rope. But he knew. Somewhere here, in the rotting heart of the slums, there had to be a Kotto stash. And there a good rope would definitely be found.
Night had fallen, black and starless, his only ally. His internal clock, ticking beneath his skin like imaginary grains of sand, counted down the last moments.
Time...
He dove into the icy belly of a drainage ditch. A hundred meters underwater, in pitch darkness, where the only sound was the frantic beating of his own heart.
He surfaced by a lopsided shack, in a niche piled with rotting refuse. The stench hit his nose immediately an acrid mix of rotten fish, human waste, and decomposing organic matter. His eyes watered, and a spasm began to tighten his throat. Saigo really wanted to dive back into the dirty, yet more merciful, water.
Quietly, like a ghost, the guy climbed onto the bank. Pressed himself against the wet, slippery wall of the shack. The street before him... teemed with the chance of discovery.
As he had suspected, they were looking for him. Two patrols, marching steadily from one end of the street to the other, with guard posts holding torches on the flanks. The guards were positioned to see each other, blocking all approaches, and he desperately needed to get to the other side.
Saigo froze. His scanner-eyes caught the rhythm: step, turn, pause. The chance was tiny, like the eye of a needle. Only in the moment when the patrols turned their backs to the posts, blocking their own line of sight and creating a blind spot.
"Have to move right after they turn."
– Waaaah... – a loud, hearty yawn tore the silence. The voice belonged to a stocky guardsman. – How much longer?! Two hours already, like pendulums, back and forth in this stinking hole! The last rat knows it's empty here!
His partner, tall and gloomy, clanked his halberd against a cobblestone.
– Shut your trap, seriously, shut it! – But his partner continued.
– Man, the one who took down the dragon he's not an idiot. Of course not! So, he's either sitting quieter than a mouse, or he's long gone to the middle of nowhere! And we're here... – he waved his hand contemptuously.
– Knock on wood! – the tall one snapped. – We're the ones who have to look! And I don't wanna roam all the surrounding fields from morning till night!
– Ha! – the stocky one snorted sarcastically. – As if they ask us...
The patrol drew level with their colleagues at the post, exchanging only a silent nod. And the turn. Saigo saw their backs. The torchlight from the sentries momentarily lit up the backs of their heads.
"Now!"
Saigo shot forward. Not a run—the flight of a shadow. A light gust and he was already behind piles of garbage on the other side. Soundless and invisible. Only a breeze stirred the hem of a guard's tattered cloak.
– Uhh... – the stocky one stopped, looking around warily. – Did you hear something?
The tall guard lazily scanned the dark alley. – You're hearing things, – he grumbled. – A rat, or the wind. Let's go, or they'll skin us alive.
And Saigo was already dissolving into the labyrinth of slums, going deeper into the embrace of night and chaotic construction. Left behind was only a ghostly trace and the fading hum of footsteps.
Ahead lay the stash, the rope, the wall... and freedom, or death, but that remained to be seen.
Saigo weaved between shacks like a shadow through cracks. The slums grew like a formless growth against the capital's walls a chaos of planks, rot, and human hopelessness.
Every turn seemed a trap, every shout behind him: "He's here!" Patrols teemed here too, the torches in their hands darting like mad fireflies.
An hour and a half was spent on this dance with death before he reached his goal: "The Velvet Coffin" read a faded sign adorning a miserable building cobbled together from rotten boards. From an observer's perspective, the name sounded like a mockery, written with unconcealed irony.
One thing oppressed Saigo - the silence, a deathly silence at that. No drunken laughter, no moans from behind thin partitions. Unnatural for a nighttime establishment.
Saigo circled the building, merging with the gloom. No ambush, no traces of the guard or watch, only rats rustling in the garbage.
"Suspicious... but no time."
SWOOSH!
He flew through a curtained window into the utter darkness of the back rooms. Right at his feet, on a dirty mattress, a girl slept.
Gaunt, with bruises under her eyes. Even in her sleep, her fist clenched the edge of a dirty, worn copper coin. Saigo stepped past her without disturbing her, but something grabbed his leg. He looked down; the girl had grabbed his leg no, she hadn't woken up, she was squeezing his leg the wet pant leg that stank like a pile of garbage as if it were a plush toy.
With quick, careful movements, he pried her fingers open and laid them next to her head… making sure she didn't wake, he moved on.
The stash, as far as he remembered, was at the end of the corridor. The air buzzed with snoring and stank of cheap wine. There weren't enough beds bodies lay on the floor like sacks.
The familiar floorboard by the wall was found fairly quickly. He lifted it noiselessly underneath: blades in oiled cloth, a bundle of clothes, flasks... And it! A rope of braided silk stronger than steel, lighter than feathers. He grabbed it, stuffed it inside his shirt. His hand reached for a fresh shirt...
WHOOSH! The air stirred behind him. To Saigo, it felt like a needle had been driven between his shoulder blades; he turned around instantly.
At the end of the corridor stood that same girl. Her eyes huge and empty stared right at him. A robe hung on her like on a hanger, and in her hand that same coin he'd noticed when he entered. She was squeezing it like a talisman.
There was no fear, no scream. Only a question in her silent gaze: Who are you?
"Kill her?" The thought flashed, cold as steel. "No."
The reason was simple: The brothel was, albeit a hidden one, Clan property. Spilled blood here would lead to no good.
And also... She... looked similar. Too much like Mari - the slender body and big eyes… An icy shiver ran down his spine at the thought.
He raised a finger to his lips: signaling the need for "Silence."
With his other hand, he took out a purse and pulled out a gold imperial a fortune here and tossed it at her feet. The clink of the coin echoed loudly in the silence. She didn't even flinch, just squeezed her copper coin tighter.
WOOF-WOOF! GRRRR!
A dog's bark tore through the night outside the walls. Saigo turned. "Close. Very close."
The respite was over. Saigo grabbed the rope and dashed forward. Past the girl - she didn't even stir.
Noise erupted behind him: waking voices, a frightened screech. Outside stomping, barking, the clang of weapons. He flew out through the same curtained window into the alley.
Marking the start of a new chase. The dogs were already charging, thirty paces away, the leashes on their necks taut as strings.
He darted into the labyrinth of slums, pressing the rope to his chest.
But a gaze pressed on his back, intent yet without malice… The guy glanced back for a moment that same girl stood at the window, her silhouette dancing against the torchlight. In her hand she clutched two coins: copper and gold.
Her eyes followed him. Without fear. Without hope. Just... watched him go.
He turned his head forward again. "In an hour, I'll be beyond the wall," the thought beat in time with his run. "And then, Akino... it's your turn. I'll get to you."
The cold fury at his own failure, which had landed him in this situation, gave him speed.
The slums swallowed him, and the barking of the hounds sounded like a funeral march for someone's death tomorrow.