by T. A. White
She hacked away at the floor where the chain was connected. It wasn’t easy. The ax was too small for what she was using it for and kept getting stuck. They were making headway, but slower and a lot louder than she would have liked.
Finally after what seemed an eternity, she placed the ax down. She’d done enough damage to the wood surrounding the bolt that she thought she could pry it up.
Placing both feet on either side, she grasped the chain and pulled with all her might. With a snap and crack of wood, it tore loose. Tate fell back onto her ass when the chain suddenly went slack.
“I can’t believe that worked,” she said looking at the hole she’d created in the wood.
Water sloshed just below, the waves a gentle swish, unconcerned at the stress Tate was currently under. During storm surges, the smuggler’s hole would be underwater.
A sudden cry rose above them, attracting Tate’s attention. She had a feeling they had discovered she was here. Good thing she was ready to leave.
Tate thrust the chain into the boy’s arms. “Hold that.”
She climbed the ladder and was about to open the trap door when heavy footsteps rushed into the room. They circled the room before pausing in front of the smuggler’s hole. Tate held her breath as the floor creaked above them, her eyes trained on the trap door.
In a flash she had stuck a thin piece of wood in the tiny holes where a bolt used to be. No doubt in times past whoever had used this place could lock it from the inside. Seconds later the trap door rattled as whoever was outside pulled on it.
“Guess we’re not going out that way,” Tate told the boy, jumping down.
She crouched down as she considered what to do next. Shouts rose outside and more men ran towards the trap door. There’d be no exit that way. They’d have to hack their way through the floor and hope there was enough space down there to crawl or swim out.
“Stand back,” Tate warned.
The boy stepped back until his back met one of the flimsy walls. There was already a decent sized whole in the floor where Tate had pried the chain up, and it wasn’t difficult to pry the surrounding boards up with her ax. Finally she had a hole big enough that she could fit through.
The floor above them splintered and dust rained down on them. Looks like they’d found another ax.
“Let’s get you out of that robe,” Tate said. “It’ll be easier to swim without it.” She jerked when the floor splintered even more. “Now hold on tight to the chain and don’t let there be any slack in it. The last thing we want is for it to get caught somewhere. Nod if you understand me.” She was rewarded with a firm nod. “It doesn’t look like there’s a lot of head room down there so we’ll probably have to hold our breath to swim out. Can you swim?” He nodded again. “Good. I’ll go first then help you. Hold onto my belt the entire way. I don’t want you getting lost.”
She tried to put confidence into her gaze even though that was the last thing she was feeling. The entire situation could go wrong with one bad decision. What they were about to do was dangerous. She didn’t see any other alternative though. The boy was in danger if she left him here.
Taking a deep breath, she jumped down into the hole, flinching at the cold water lapping against her legs. The tide hit her around her hips, which was better than she had hoped. She squatted down until the water was right below her mouth, and taking a deep breath, she sank totally under. The boy’s entrance caused ripples and strands of her hair floated in a cloud around her head. She cracked her eyes open, steeling herself against the immediate stinging of the salt water. There wasn’t much to see, just darkness.
Little hands fumbled against her shoulder, and she guided them down to her belt. Once assured he had a firm grasp, she kicked off towards the harbor, placing one hand against the wood above her head. It wasn’t long before her hand met open air. She surfaced with a gasp and pulled the boy up with her. They were still under the warehouse, which shook with shouts. She paddled towards open water, wanting to get out of the immediate area.
Right before they left the dubious safety of the warehouse’s shadow, she took a deep breath, nudging the boy to do the same. Once again, they sunk below the water’s surface, gliding through its depths. It surprised her how well the boy kept up. Instead of her having to drag him, at times it seemed like he was slowing down to match her speed. Never once did he release her belt, though.
Her lungs felt like they were about to burst from lack of air, and she was forced to the surface. The boy gliding at her side surfaced moments after her. Her lungs heaved as she sucked down some air.
She chanced a glance back to see if anybody had noticed their escape. Her eyes widened. The warehouse was on fire and shadowy figures writhed next to it. Their shouts echoed over the water.
“Where is he?” a woman suddenly shouted in rage.
Tate looked again at the shadowy figures as they danced furiously, outlined against the bright orange of the fire. They weren’t trying to put out the fire as Tate had first assumed but were instead fighting each other.
“Umi,” the little boy said. It was the first words he’d spoken. His voice was calm and fluid, but the undertones seemed grief-stricken.
Tate didn’t know what to say. In the end, she didn’t say anything and instead pulled him through the water.
Revelers were beginning to make their way to the warehouse on boats in a haphazard attempt to stop the fire. The noise grew, echoing over water as Tate breast stroked in the opposite direction, tugging the boy behind her.
Chapter Fifteen
Dewdrop was waiting in the agreed upon place, watching as the flame’s reflection danced along the wave tops. Tate breathed a sigh of relief and breast stroked the last little bit. He gave a shout when he saw her sleek head next to him and bent to help Tate when she grabbed the side of the little boat.
“There you are,” he said. “I was beginning to get worried. What took so long?”
Tate handed him the boy. “There were complications.”
He looked from her to the boy with an arched eyebrow but pulled him into the boat. “Why is it that whenever you go somewhere you come back with a lost waif?”
“That’s not true,” Tate said. Dewdrop leaned against the other side as she climbed on board. The boat rocked under her weight.
“You came out of Lucius’ with Night,” he pointed out as she shook water from her hair. The moisture created a small pool in the bottom of the boat, but Tate didn’t care. It was great to be out of the water. He picked up the paddles and handed her one. “You came out of the Red Lady’s with me and the cubs. Now you steal this guy out from under Jost’s nose. If this is going to become a habit, I might have to rethink our arrangement.”
“I think he’s the fulcrum.”
Dewdrop cast an incredulous eye on the kid sitting in the bottom of the boat with little expression on his face and his hands folded precisely in his lap. “Him?”
She nodded.
“I thought it was supposed to be an object.”
She shrugged. So had she.
“What are we going to do now?” he asked.
“I don’t know. Obviously we can’t give him to Lucius, and we can’t use him as leverage to find the key.”
“Why’d you take him then?” he asked as he helped her paddle for one of the docks.
“What was I supposed to do? Leave him there for Umi to find?” she asked. “You know who she’s mixed up with, and you know what that person is willing to do. Even to children.”
He sighed knowing she was right but not liking it.
“You’re causing us a lot of trouble, kid,” he said over his shoulder.
The boy didn’t answer, instead leaning over the side and peering down at the water with an all-consuming absorption. It was as if Tate and Dewdrop didn’t exist. He nodded a few time and tilted his head as if listening. Tate paused mid stroke, a bit startled, especially when the boat picked up speed and glided into a dock where other revelers had already tied up their
boats before heading back to the festival. Their rowboat floated to a stop and rested there, not moving despite the gentle waves.
Dewdrop looked uneasily back at Tate. “Why do you always have to find the weird ones?”
Tate shrugged, denying what had just happened. It seemed better that way. Less confusing. Less weird. She turned to stare at the little boy as he carried on his conversation with the water and sighed. Pretending might not work if he continued to act in a way that continually challenged her perception of the world.
First the feline with the human-like intelligence and now a boy who could talk to water. Dewdrop was right. She really did pick up all the weird ones.
The boy nodded one last time, offering a faint smile before sitting back and regarding the two of them with a blank expression.
“-out?” a man said from the dock.
“What was that?” Tate asked, not taking her eyes off the boy. Where’d all the facial movements go from when he’d been conversing with the water? He’d actually looked normal for a moment.
“Are you going to get out or sit there all night?” he asked impatiently.
Tate and Dewdrop’s boat was one of the last to be returned, and the man wanted to lock up his merchandize before heading to the festival. Tate looked down at the paddle in her hand.
“Of course.” She reached down and helped the little boy onto the dock. She clambered up next before holding her hand out to Dewdrop and then the child, pulling them up. The man grumbled before hoping down into the boat and rowing it to its slip.
“Did you really have to let him come with us?” Dewdrop asked, leaning into her.
“So he can control water,” Tate said, waving his words away. “Your scream can rupture internal organs. I have no past and Night is a monster cat. We’re not exactly in a position to cast stones.”
Dewdrop muttered under his breath as Tate took the little boy by the hand and merged with the crowd heading into the city. She made sure they stayed surrounded by lots of people as she put distance between them and the harbor.
“Oh look, our friends from the harbor,” a female voice said delightedly next to Tate’s shoulder. The woman grabbed Tate in a hug before she could stop her, not even seeming to mind the water that soaked into her shirt from Tate. Next she hugged Dewdrop. He shot Tate a wild-eyed look over the woman’s shoulder, probably asking for help. She shook her head back at him. She did not want to be hugged again. It was the woman from the floating raft, with her friend standing just behind her.
“We looked but couldn’t find you after the lantern release.”
Tate thought quickly. “Yes, well, I’m afraid I got too excited and fell in,” she said pointing to her wet clothing.
They made sympathetic sounds while Tate tried to look regretful.
“And who’s this?” the woman asked bending down to say hi to the boy.
“A friend of the family,” Dewdrop hurriedly explained.
“Why, he’s wet too,” she said touching a strand of hair that clung to his neck. He leaned away, backing into Tate.
She placed a hand on his shoulder in support. “Yes,” she said smiling down at him. “This little guy loves to swim, and when he saw I had taken a dunking he just jumped right into the water.”
“We’d better find you a change of clothes before you catch a cold then,” the woman said in sympathy.
Tate was already making their excuses when the woman took her by the arm and pulled her along in her wake. “Oh no, I insist. How are you to enjoy the festival in those wet clothes? No, no, just leave it to us. We’re renting rooms near here and have some great costumes you can use.”
“That’s very kind of you, but I just couldn’t,” Tate began.
Dewdrop interrupted quickly. “Really? That’s just too kind. I’d always heard people in Aurelia were rather rude, but now I see that just isn’t true.”
What are you doing? Tate mouthed at Dew Drop.
He tilted his head to the right as if he wanted her to look. She glanced over. Ryu and three men with the dark hair and golden complexion of the Kairi were cutting through the crowd. She ducked behind the woman and chanced a quick glance back. It didn’t look like she’d been seen as Ryu was glancing around as if searching for something.
“It’s Donza,” the man said as if in explanation which Tate took to mean that the mood of the festival inspired people to a degree of friendliness they wouldn’t normally have.
“We’d appreciate any help you could give us,” Tate said. “Should we go now?”
She ushered the couple from the square, keeping an eye on Ryu and his companions. Only when they were out of sight with no one following did she release the breath she had been holding.
The woman was chattering away while Tate only half listened, making the appropriate noises during pauses in the conversation. The rest of her mind was on Ryu and why he’d been in that square at that precise moment. The city was enormous. Even with all her walking around in the past three days she couldn’t have covered more than a quarter of the area. The chances of running into that particular person right when she found the all-important fulcrum were slim to nonexistent. Had he been following her?
“Here we are,” the woman said in a chipper voice.
Tate looked up at a plain brick building much like Colton’s Place. On the inside, stairs led up to a decent sized apartment complete with kitchen, common area and two bedrooms. The open windows led onto a balcony, and the sounds of revelry floated in on the night’s breeze.
The room was in a bit of disarray with linen scattered over the floor in piles. Several had been rolled up into little bundles. It looked like several people had been crashing in the apartment over the past couple of days.
“I have a couple of costumes that might fit you,” the woman said disappearing into a room.
“Anything you have should be fine,” Tate assured her.
The little boy at her side gazed around with a placid curiosity. He hadn’t said anything since he’d seen Umi and had been more than willing to hide from the Kairi and Ryu.
“Forgive the mess,” the woman said walking into the room with several sets of clothes draped over her arm. “Several friends are in from the country for the festival, and this place always gets a bit messy during the festival season.”
Tate nodded and smiled, taking the clothes when they were handed to her. The little boy took his without a word, staring at them curiously. He seemed particularly fascinated with the way the thread felt against his skin, running his hands up and down it several times.
“You can get changed through there,” the woman said, pointing to two separate rooms.
“Thank you,” Tate said. Turning to the boy, she asked, “Can you change your clothes by yourself?”
He didn’t answer, remaining absorbed in the fabric. Dewdrop stepped up saying, “I’ll make sure he puts them on properly.”
The boy taken care of, Tate closed the door behind her before peeling off her wet clothing. She’d taken her boots off before jumping into the water, but they were still slightly damp. They’d have to do because she simply didn’t have anything to replace them. Hopefully they were dry enough that they wouldn’t give her blisters.
She stepped into the pants surprised at how good the cloth felt against her skin. It was cool and silky, reflecting the light with a glossy sheen. Golden, they almost matched her hair and fell to just above the floor in a loose fit. She took a few steps and loved how they moved with her.
She donned a beige undershirt tucking it into her pants and then a formal looking tunic, which fell to just above mid thigh. Her full sleeves widened the closer they got to the cuffs and ended at her knuckles.
The base fabric of the garment was a rich topaz that was highlighted by beautiful embroidery using threads of silver, gold and a pale rose. Tate whistled silently, twisting and turning to admire the fit. The garment’s coloring complimented Tate’s perfectly.
When the woman had offered to let Tate borrow clo
thes, Tate hadn’t thought they’d be so fine or fit so well.
A cry of approval greeted Tate when she walked into the common area causing a light blush to grace her face. She executed a turn when asked so they could see the back as well.
“I knew they would fit,” the woman said clapping her hands. “They look beautiful on you.”
“Now, you look ready for Donza,” the man added with an appreciative glint in his eye.
Tate ducked her head. “I can’t believe you found something that would fit me so well.” She held up one arm admiring the sleeve. “I’m not sure I should accept something that is so obviously well made. These must be expensive.”
“Your praise is payment enough,” the woman said blushing slightly.
“Sheila’s the maker of those clothes,” the man said proudly. “My sister’s an apprentice to a dress maker right now, but one day she’s going to be making clothes for all the Upper City ladies.”
“That’s amazing,” Tate said impressed. It was too. She wished she had an honest goal to work towards. That there was some skill that she could do better than anybody else. Preferably of the noncriminal variety. “Still, I feel bad for taking all your hard work without payment. I don’t have much money on me, but perhaps I can pay you back.”
Sheila flapped her hand at Tate. “Don’t even think of it. This is Donza. It’s bad luck to take payment for services freely offered.”
Tate was interrupted when Dewdrop and the boy stepped back into the room. The boy entered with a remote expression on his face and a rigid posture made more evident by the fitted clothing on him. His outfit was a mirror of Tate’s with loose pants and a tunic fitted across the chest with loose straight sleeves that fell to his fingers. He ran the fingers of one hand down one side over and over again, his face remaining emotionless the entire time.
“Oh my, so cute,” Sheila gushed going to kneel in front of him. She tugged on the tunic checking its fit.
Tate examined him with a critical eye. While he was less noticeable now that he was out of his robes, his hair would be an instant giveaway to anyone who knew what to look for. Her hair was too, for that matter.
