MY FEET HIT the ground. My legs crumple under me as I roll. I scrape my hands and knees on twigs and dry grass and pray I don’t smash my head on a rogue rock. Bruised and aching, I finally feel myself slow down. I’ve reached the bottom of the incline. When I get up, my hands are shaking. There’s nothing around me but towering barriers of ivy on either side of winding dirt pathways. It’s impossible to tell which way is out. My chest feels tight, and suddenly I realize I’m panicking. I can’t remember the last time I felt this scared. I have to snap out of it. Thinking about what will happen if I get caught isn’t going to help. When I’m safe, I can ponder things at my leisure, like perhaps why the Kayas want to arrest me for doing my job. And what they’re doing to Bo right now.
I run around one corner of hedges, then another, hurrying down a trail, but it’s just a dead end. I hear footsteps and double back. I crouch low against one wall and wait. The footsteps draw nearer. Slow, ambling footsteps. Shadows lengthen around the corner, then a young couple comes into view. They wear flowing white gowns. The young prince has a sword at his belt and a Palace crest embroidered on his sash. They walk by, and I thank the Unnamed that they can’t be bothered to notice the battered aki crouching just out of sight. I wait until I can’t hear them anymore, then hurry away, down another path.
More footsteps. And these are heavier—the distinct thud of work boots on hard earth.
Palace guards.
They whisper to each other just within earshot. They’re trying to find me. I strain my ears and can hear them agreeing to split up. I reach for my strap, then realize that I left my daga behind. It’s sitting there on the floor of King Kolade’s chambers. It takes every broken bone in my body not to mutter a curse.
I turn to try a different path, but my shirt catches on a twig. Just my luck. I pull, and it tears. The sound quiets the guards. I can hear them drawing closer. I tear myself loose, running as fast as I can.
It feels like I’m running in circles. Just when I think I’ve found my way out, I run into another green wall. All I hear now are the commands of Palace guards. They’re closing in on me. Path after path after path, then finally a light. I careen around one last hedge and find an open field. I see the Forum in the distance. There isn’t even a gate between us.
My heart leaps into my throat at the sight of the familiar shingled roofs and dilapidated columns. And I run as fast as I can.
As soon as I enter the Forum, bodies swarm around me. That familiar push. I never thought I’d feel this happy to be caught in the crowded, smelly, noisy public square, to find the alleyways I know so well, to be surrounded by all the hawkers, the jewelers, the booksellers. All is just as I left it. I take in a deep breath and smell the warm waft of pepper soup.
Heading toward home, I notice the beggars hiding in the dark and the comatose aki who have either Eaten too many sins or are simply weary of their work. The Crossed.
I think back to the heavy footfalls of the Palace guards and shudder. What would have happened had they caught me?
No. I squeeze my eyes shut, pushing the thought away. When I open them, I stand still and breathe in my freedom.
Just as I inhale, though, I hear it: the clank of armor immediately behind me. Shrieks and shouts erupt from the crowd as the guards barrel past people, cutting an arrow’s path straight for me.
“Out of our way!”
“Arrest that aki!”
“Grab him!”
I set off at a run. The crowd parts for me, even as I weave my way around bodies, around stalls, through crowds listening to the holy men.
But as much as they despise aki, the people in the Forum are on my side. I may be nothing, but at least I’m not a Palace guard. Many of the merchants and Forum-dwellers move slowly or shuffle in the way of the oncoming guards to give me a bit more time to escape.
I spot a staircase spiraling up around a house and dart up the stone steps, eventually coming to a roof from which I can see most of the city center. The Forum is laid out before me, the streets shaping quarters that look like honeycombs. From here, I can track the guards and see just which swarms they’re struggling through. I can see where they are, where they’re coming from, and where it looks like they’re going. From up here they look like streams of ants with blood-red sashes wrapped over their chests.
My clothes whipping in the wind, I get a running start and leap onto another roof, where someone’s laundry dries on clotheslines. I land hard on my feet and grab for the line, using it as leverage to swing myself over to another shingled rooftop, accidentally taking a damp tunic along with me. As I soar through the air, I can see the hill where the shanties sit in the distance, where I know the Aunties can protect me. I land on a slanted sheet metal roof and clamber over the edge, then slide down the other side. When I hit the gutter pipe, I push off, reaching for another rooftop ledge as I go flying forward.
I scramble up the side, taking a breath at the top. I look down at the streets below and try to gauge my progress. The soldiers are bugs in the distance, heading in the wrong direction. I can barely hear them barking orders. I take a deep breath, let my shoulders roll back, and feel the tension go out of my body for a second.
I turn, take a step forward, then immediately regret it. My foot slips on something slick. I hit the shingles hard and start sliding down. I grasp at the shingles, trying to stop myself, but they fall away beneath my grip. I hit the ledge hard enough to let out a grunt and fall over, hanging on to the roof by one hand. I glance down toward my dangling feet. The alley below is far. Hard as I try, I can’t swing my other arm up. I’m gonna have to fall.
My body tenses. I let go.
As soon as I hit the ground, I crumple onto my side. Dust swirls around me as I writhe in the dirt. Pain bites through my ankle. Definitely sprained. I don’t recognize the smells and sounds here. Everything feels unfamiliar. I can’t tell which dahia this is. I manage to push myself up against the wall of the building I just fell from so that my hurt leg is stretched out in front of me, straight. My clothes have torn open, completely exposing the sin spots on my arms and chest. The laundry, now dirty, falls from my hands. It’s better than what I’ve got on though. I slip the stranger’s shirt over my body. My pants are shredded, but there’s nothing I can do about that.
I lean against the wall of the house, trying to get my balance back. It takes so much energy to keep pressure off the bad ankle, but I have no idea how much longer I can go on. I don’t even know where I am. People are talking, I can hear it coming from the windows above, but the lilts are in the wrong place, and their words get clipped off after the wrong vowel. I can’t understand a thing they’re saying. The strange language follows me down empty street after empty street. I have to keep walking. I know the guards are still after me, and even the Unnamed would not be able to protect me from what they’d do to an aki. The worst part is that I have no idea how far the shanties are from here. My stomach drops. My heart thuds in my chest. Panic. I feel as though all of a sudden, there’s nothing but forever between here and home.
My shoulders dip. My knees buckle. It feels like someone’s wrapped a chain around my sprained ankle and is slowly tightening it. I keep going, but the world starts to go gray.
I collapse.