That went reasonably well. He had suspected that Calder’sbusinesswas smuggling after mulling over the events for many weeks, but it was good to get this confirmation. He met up with Valir afterwards, who had bought a new cloak for him in the meantime, and told him the news.
“In three hours? Let’s hope that’s soon enough then. I’ve seen more orderkeepers on the streets than usual. I would guess they’re searching for you.”
Valir stifled a yawn, and Kraghtol also felt the effects of the sleepless night weighing on him. Still, he felt somewhat optimistic considering the circumstances.
“I just have to hide for three more hours. And then sneak onto that ship. It’ll work.”
“Right. Straight as a guild line.”
Kraghtol could almost hear his eyes rolling. There was a brief pause.
“Well, I hope you make it, Kragh. I wouldn’t love the thought of you getting punished for a crime you didn’t commit.”
The tone of the noble’s voice was almost apologetic and sounded genuinely nice. As he watched the noble disappear around the alley corner after a short, courteous nod, Kraghtol couldn’t help but wonder if he had misjudged Valir when they first met. He certainly had not expected him, of all people, to support him like that. Just thewhymade little sense.
The next three hours were among the longest he had ever experienced. His first idea had been to hide in the clock tower building, butthat was probably one of the first places Roderic would look for him. So, instead, he opted for one of the derelict ruins in the Oldport, the old buildings only rats lived in these days. It was a constant struggle against his own tiredness. He knew he couldn’t sleep or he would miss his ship, or worse, the sound of an orderkeeper approaching. At the same time, whenever he sensed someone on the street or the rodents made an unexpected sound, he jumped, his veins burning with danger. It was exhausting.
There were thousands of doubts invading his mind whenever he was not on high alert. What if Calder had lied to him? What if the ship would be checked? He had not said goodbye to Mrs. Brott!
For some inexplicable reason, the last thought haunted him almost more than the others. Mrs. Brott was easily one of the friendliest people he had met in the city, and even though she had turned him away when he first entered Winterstone, he had grown to like her a lot.
Now that he thought about it, it became less and less likely his landlady had not noticed his transformation happening over the last few weeks. She was nearly deaf, not blind, after all. He didn’t know for sure, of course, but if she had noticed, she hadn’t said a word. It felt unfair to repay her kindness by disappearing without a trace. Then again, doing exactly that was probably the best thing he could do. The bloodjackets would no doubt interrogate her, and the less she knew, the better it would be for her. Poor Mrs. Brott.
He punched the solid wall next to him, careful enough not to produce too much noise, but hard enough he felt it in his knuckles. Dust trickled down from the ceiling, and he left it at that one punch.
Finally, the clock tower bell rang ten times, and he knew it was time to go. Hiding had been the straightforward part, but now he needed to leave the relative safety of his hideout and the Oldport district and mingle into the crowd of one of the busiest places in the city: the river docks in Newport.
He stuck to the dirty alleyways of Oldport for as long as he could, but once he stepped out of the shadowy slums into the busy sunlight of the docks, he realized just how difficult this part would be. There were orderkeepers everywhere. The red color of their jackets dotted the crowd far more frequently than he had ever seen, and although they didn’t appear to be actively checking every passer-by, it was clear they were on the lookout. For him.
Kraghtol felt his heart beating in his throat. Three ships were docked at the quays, and two of them looked almost ready to depart. There were many people going about their business, and stacked crates blocked sight here and there, but Kraghtol had no illusions. Crossing the plaza without anyone noticing would be more than difficult.
Pulling his cloak deep over his face, he walked over to the first one, looking strictly to the ground. Should he walk quickly or slowly? Hiding in a crowd had never been something Kraghtol had been good at, and now his mind was racing with ways this could go wrong.
He settled on a pace he thought fitting for someone minding important business and walked up to the first person near the first ship who looked like a sailor.
“Sorry, is this the Copperfin?” he mumbled, looking strictly at the other person’s shoes. He didn’t even know if it was a man or a womanhe was speaking to, and he hated his low and rumbly voice. What if it gave him away?
“What did ya say? Copperfin? Na, she’s over there.”
Of course, she was. Kraghtol risked a quick look up in the indicated direction. He would have to cross the whole plaza. Not risking any more words, he departed, sweat dripping from fear. All around him was a cacophony of voices, and he desperately tried to make out any words directed at him, while simultaneously dodging the never-ending flood of legs hurrying his way.Just don’t look up…
After about two-thirds of the way, and at least half a dozen almost-collisions later, the double pair of legs suddenly appearing in front of him was clad in red.Fuck.
“Watch where you’re going, citizen.”
The voice was female and not overly enthusiastic. Kraghtol mumbled an apology and tried to evade, but that proved to be a mistake.
“What did you say? Look at me when talking to an orderkeeper.”
His blood froze. He would need to look up. They would recognize him, green skin and tusks. There was no way they would not. They would arrest him. Incarcerate him. Press him into service. Or perhaps just execute him.
But if he didn’t look up immediately, it would end the same way. He felt the blood rushing in his ears. Run? Fight?
Suddenly, another voice broke the suspense.
“Excuseme. I have a ship passage to catch, and you are standing in theway. At least make yourself useful and tell me where my servant can bring my luggage.”
Kraghtol had almost looked up right there and then. The voice was Valir’s, but dripping with pride and arrogance, like he had not heard it for weeks. What washedoing here?
