Page 65 of The Wind Dancer
“Fine, today we’ll gut some vermin then.”
She sounded almost playful, but her fingers tightened around the hilt. I couldn’t help but notice this contradiction.
***
I was looking at the old pavilion at the Seven Bridges. A place full of bastards of all kinds. Technically, it paid a cut to old Yun, but the guild had no influence there. As was the case with most places in the Middle City. The guild’s strength lay in the Lower City, where it had the support of both regular people and officials.
I had counted a dozen guards. And those were just the ones outside. That was too many for a regular opium den and meeting place. That gave weight to the theory that the warehouse was also located there. That would make things way more fun.
Mei Lin and I went back and forth about how best to carry out this mission, but in the end, she agreed to me being bait. Despite the short prep time, her people found tunnels leading to the basement of the pavilion. And the most unpleasant part was that they turned out to be more inhabited than we expected.
Her agents were stationed in the neighboring streets, ready to intercept reinforcements or stop people fleeing if necessary. After the Fu Shang mission, the Claw Lord decided not to take any chances, so we had sharpshooters and several backup teams on the roofs of nearby buildings.
I had a heavy jade earring in my ear, the same as Mei Lin’s. As it turned out, it was a dragonblood artifact. It allowed us to communicate over a distance of a mile.
As she had told me, the Chancellery has developed a special code language for them, and I had only learned the basics so far, and didn’t need more. Tapping the earring once meant “everything is fine.” Two meant “urgent help is needed.” Three meant “things went wrong, I’m doing what I can given the circumstances.”
Taking a deep breath, I tapped the earring and started the mission. The stench of mold, rotten wood, and low-grade opium assaulted my nose the moment I stepped into the alley. The mud clung to my boots, and the air was thick and heavy. For a moment, I wondered how the guards haven’t checked thisplace yet? One or more of the patrons had to be highly influential people who could make the guards turn a blind eye to this mess.
In the twilight, the old pavilion looked like the mouth of some horrid monster. As I got closer, two thugs stepped out of the darkness. One was massive, his neck as thick as a bull’s, and his pig-like face showed signs of years of drunkenness. The other one was much smaller, but he moved sharply and quickly, like someone who was accustomed to fighting. Both of them had metal batons on their belts.
“Who are you?” The big man growled, getting in my way.
“A person you don’t want to stop,” I replied calmly.
“Strangers aren’t welcome here.” The idiot grabbed me by the back of my neck, raising his baton. He actually decided to show he wasn’t all bark and no bite.
I smiled widely. This particular smile was well known on the streets of the Lower City. It was the one I wore before I stabbed idiots. Following the movement of the big guy’s hand, I took another step and found myself almost face-to-face with him.
“Leave. While you still can,” the other guy said.
I nodded. Then, with lightning speed, I grabbed the big guy’s wrist and twisted it. I jerked it down, while moving to the side and...
A crunch echoed in the alley, followed by a scream. The big guy dropped to his knees, and I drove my knee into his face, silencing him.
The smaller guy froze for a second, then pulled the baton from his belt, but I was already rushing him. I drove my elbowinto his Adam’s apple, quick and hard. He wheezed, clutching his throat, and I stepped forward, pinning him against the door. His fingers scratched at the wood, but he no longer had the strength to fight.
“You’re... a dead man... Do you even know whose place this is?” he croaked, gasping for air.
I moved closer, looking into his teary eyes.
“I don’t care,” I whispered. “I’m giving you one chance to live, so shut up. Otherwise, I’ll break your bones, one by one.” I gently moved my dagger over his cheek.
His breathing was labored. I could see understanding in his eyes. So I let go, letting him collapse onto the muddy boards.
I didn’t look back as I pushed open the door and stepped inside. Behind me, groans and muffled curses mingled with the horrid smells.
When I crossed the threshold, I found myself in hell. I never understood drug addicts. Living in eternal delirium, ready to give anything just to get another hit. I’d rather choose death.
My mentor explained the ins and outs of this kind of business to me, but he considered it low even for the Shadow Walkers’ guild.
The nauseating, sweet smell of drugs, sweat, and people wasting away was simply disgusting. You could practically cut the air with a knife, how thick and stuffy it was.
Dirty lanterns cast a dim light over the tangled, sweat-soaked bodies. Someone was moaning, another was laughing hoarsely, and somewhere a person stopped breathing. The wind whirling around me told me that this place needed to becleansed. The Distorted were born in such places. We couldn’t allow that.
The bodies were everywhere, so it was hard to even walk through the room without touching anyone. They hardly reacted, trapped in their sweet dreams. One of the unfortunate men let out a faint groan when I stepped on his fingers. And glancing at him, I realized he was practically a corpse. His face was haggard, skin gray, and his eyes rolled back so that only the whites were visible. Another day or two and he’d become one with the filth on the floor.
A sharp metallic scent cut through this stench. The smell of blood, which had become so common in my life over the past few days. Another body was in the corner, and judging by the fact that he was still dressed, he hadn’t had time to get up to the things the others here were. And he never would. Thick dark liquid was slowly oozing from his slit throat. And no one cared about it. The corpse collectors would pick him up, and they’d pay only a couple of coins for him.
