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Mara felt nervous as he climbed down the corner of the building using the rope. When he got to the quiet alleyway below, he looked back to the roof, Favian was nowhere to be seen. He thought about running away but had no idea where he was or how many of Favian’s people lurked around.
He moved to the end of the alleyway, saw the man leant against the door, and took a deep breath. He needed a shit all of a sudden, but there was no time.
Mara ran straight for the man on the door. “Help me! Help me!”
The man stood tall and waved a hand at Mara. “Fuck off, you.” He moved his other hand onto the handle of a small dagger on his belt. He wore dirty grey clothes, but the lumps of armour stood out underneath them.
“The guards, the gu
ards are chasing me. Please help me.”
“Not my problem, fuck off.”
Mara held out the silver coins Favian had given him. “You can have ’em, please, hide me.”
The man looked around. “Alright.” He snatched the coins away and tapped the heel of his boot on the door.
“Thank you, thank you. Quickly, please, they are coming.”
A guard’s whistle sounded in the distance.
The door opened. The second man was shorter and had a grumpy, wrinkled face. “What’s this all about?”
“Let him in for five minutes. Guards are after the little cunt,” the first man said.
“Let the little cunt get caught for all I care,” said the grumpy man.
The first man held out the handful of coins toward the second.
Mara jigged up and down on the spot. “Please, mister. I’ll bring you more coins tomorrow, you’ll see. Them guards’ll string me up.”
“Five minutes,” the second man said, pulling Mara through the door by the shoulder. “If the boss comes round, we’ll be the ones strung up.” Then he slammed the door.
Mara drove his blade up through the grumpy man’s nose, right up to the handle, then slit his throat, blood spraying into Mara’s face. The grumpy man gargled as he dropped to his knees, grabbing at his bloodied throat.
Mara watched the life leave the man’s confused eyes, then strained to push him into the corner. “You’re too heavy,” he whispered through gritted teeth.
Mara opened the door. Favian immediately walked in backwards, dragging the man from outside by the arms, dropped him, and shut the door.
“You’re fucking covered in it.” Favian looked down at the man Mara had killed and smiled. “You stab him in the nose?” he whispered.
“The Shadows taught –”
“Yes, yes. I know what they teach. Now listen. Stay close and stay quiet.” Favian crouched and passed alongside a tall row of crates.
Mara followed, eyes stinging, the salty blood reminding him of the Shadow in his room. He clenched the blade tight and breathed through his nose. The warmth had returned, but there was something else. A familiar feeling deep inside. It’s the Beast. It’s close by.
They passed around the crates and paused behind a stack of rope. The front of the building had no wall, and a big ship was right in front. People carried big crates down the planks from it. Other people opened the crates and passed out big lumps of Red Mist, hundreds of times bigger than the little bits Peter used to get. There’s so much of it.
The lumps were passed onto long tables where naked people stood chained in lines on either side; their arms and stomachs red and sticky looking.
The naked people chopped up the big lumps and mixed it with brown stuff that was piled up in front of them, pressing it together and chopping it all up again. It was then passed along and put into different crates, which were hammered shut by two men that were dressed like the two Mara and Favian had just killed.
“Finally found the bastards,” Favian whispered. “Listen, boy. I’m going to the ship. Won’t be hard. The naked ones are so fucked from the Mist they ain’t got a clue what’s going on around them. You get over to those two that are packing the crates, wait ’til they drag one to the corner, and you do ’em. They’ll be fucked from the Mist too. It’ll be easy. Don’t do it where them lot by the boat can see you. Understand?”
“Do ’em?”
“Kill ’em, you little idiot.”
