Rainmills were so calming at night. Their sound reminded him of the days when he had sailed below, the creaking of the mast, sails full of wind. They said you couldn’t hear them from where he stood because of the Dome, but he knew better. He heard them as clearly as the muffled grunts of the tied person nearby.
Well, he couldn’t stay here all night. Stretching a little, he hauled the body onto his shoulder. No sense in making them wait.
He slipped through the unlit narrow passages, avoiding the main street and keeping out of sight of the patrols. Not that it mattered if he met someone; it was just a habit at this point. The body started struggling again. It didn’t bother him much—he’d dealt with worse—but the noise was annoying. So, he casually knocked the captive's head against the corner during a sharp turn. Instead of grunts, the man let out a low moan. At least he’d stopped thrashing.
Philosopher quickly made his way to the meeting point. As promised, there were no patrols near the rainmills tonight. He wondered briefly why they needed those mills in a flying city. Then again, nobody paid him to think about such things.
From one of the alcoves, three figures emerged. "You're late," said the contractor, his voice trying for authority but undermined by the profuse sweating. "I can't be late," Philosopher replied calmly, "the patrols haven't even finished changing shifts." And why do they need them on the wall, anyway? he thought.
He dropped the body in front of the trio. Two bulky men immediately began inspecting it. They looked at the face the longest, noting the bloody scrape on the forehead before shooting him a dirty look. "It seems that’s the one we need," one of the bodyguards confirmed to the sweating man, who was still fidgeting. Maybe that’s why he was so thin?
"E-excellent. Your payment is in the alcove," the contractor stammered, pointing to where they had stood before. "So, Philosopher, if you wouldn't mind, t-t-there is one more t—wha, where are you going?"
"Home," Philosopher said, already halfway to the stairs. "But your p-payment, and one more d-deal?" "I'll grab it later. It’s not going anywhere, and I’m not interested in more contracts right now. Clear skies to you." Philosopher waved off the thin man’s objections as he descended the stairs.
The contractor wiped his brow with his scarf. "F-fine, we don’t need him to drop the body over the wall. You two, do it. Hurry up, I want him gone." The man’s voice trembled. His patron needed this done, and quickly. The person they'd captured had helped them too much with formulas—dangerous formulas. They couldn’t let him leave the city. At least it wasn’t him going over the edge.
Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
Philosopher descended the stairs, then immediately turned in the opposite direction. There was another entrance to the wall nearby. He quickly made his way to it and slipped through, following the outer walkway until he was close to the alcove. He peered through a small opening in the door. The three men were still there, struggling with the body.
They were trying to figure out how to get the corpse down the rainmills’ maintenance catwalk. One of the bulky men squeezed himself through the hatch, calling for the body. The thin man, sweating and shaking, only got in the way with his clumsy attempts to pass the body down. Philosopher smirked. Time to go.
He moved silently along the wall, his bare feet barely making a sound. He could already see the small sack. Why do they need guards on the wall, again? he mused.
Oh, right. The rainmills.
Suddenly, a terrible high-pitched whistling sound cut through the air, followed by the sound of many boots rushing from both sides. Philosopher dove into the alcove, grabbed the sack, and quickly pulled out a small tube from his holster. He slammed it against the ground, triggering a reaction between two compartments inside. Thick black smoke billowed out, swallowing him and a small part of the corner near him. He crouched, holding his breath. There wasn’t enough smoke to cover him fully or for long.
"T-this is wrong! You d-don't know who I work for!" the thin man screamed as the guards dragged him away. His two bulky companions limped behind, one nursing a broken ankle. He had fallen down the hatch, and the tied-up body had tumbled on top of him, thanks to the thin man’s clumsy hands.
The officer in the high hat gave a nod to the scribe. "So, you don’t remember much?" "I’ve told you, I was finishing my work in the workshop, and then I came back to my senses halfway into that hatch! Look, see this bruise from the attack?" "Right. You’ll need to come back to the post later to give a full testimony about the man who abducted you. For now, go straight home and stick to the main street. Should we notify your patron?" "No need. I’ll handle it tomorrow." "Alright, but be careful, Alchemy Master. This is unprecedented, and we’ll be questioning the wall patrol thoroughly when we find them."
Once everyone left, Artsy stood up, rubbed his bruise, and walked to the alcove. The corner was especially dark. He kicked the darkness.
"Oomph."
"Everyone left," Artsy said.
Philosopher emerged from the shadow.
"Why would you do that?"
"That’s for my bruise, Phil, and for diverging from the plan. You were supposed to stick to the main road so you could be followed, remember?"
"Big open spaces give me anxiety. Besides, the bruise makes the story more convincing, doesn’t it? How can you kidnap someone without a few bruises?" Philosopher, his legs still obscured by the unnatural darkness, handed the sack to Artsy. He picked up the small tube near his feet. "This thing’s useful, but space is too cramped, and the lack of air makes it hard to use.""It’s a test model," Artsy said, fishing a small purple crystal from the sack and tossing it back to Phil. "Let me guess—compensation for the bruise?" "They don’t call you ‘Philosopher’ for nothing. Consider it an investment in, uh, Shadow in a Tube?" "You’re terrible at naming things, Artsy. But you owe me at least five more of these. I’ll gladly test them further."