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PADG SCREAMED. DUN had heard so many screams. This one was not Padg’s last, Dun could still feel him move behind him as his chest rose and fell. Screams didn’t have to be final, though Dun had heard enough of those too, but as the sound waves smashed against every wall and harmonics interfered to create a new symphony of pain Dun thought this scream was the end of something. The screams were so loud and so long, it seemed the whole of the Dark was screaming. Padg’s open mouth became the embouchure for the whole world. But if it was a requiem, what for?
The screaming had gone on for so long that Dun found no comfort at all when it stopped. When he cocked both his ears and strained. There was now no noise at all. No soldiers, no interrogators, not even any fans. Once the scream had stopped, it seemed like the air had stopped with it. What the hell had happened? The whole thing was bizarre. Dun was obviously one of the people for whom the Grey Duchy ritual experience didn’t work and so he was still none the wiser as to what had afflicted Padg. He’d sat on the same floor as him, back-to-back. They’d both heard the guards leave, the weird emergency klaxon and then the curtain open. And... for Dun nothing. For Padg—everything.
Dun contemplated talking to break the silence, but then the slow lift of shoulders, of breathing behind him became more ragged, then sharper. He heard gasps escape his friend. Sobs?
“Hey Padg, it’ll be okay. We’ll get through this—”
The sobs got louder and more insistent before Dun realised they were between laughs. Was that worse? Dun wasn’t sure. He leaned his head back against Padg in a gesture of comfort, the best he could think of with both hands tied behind him, then pricked up his ears again, trying to filter out his friend’s voice. Was there any other noise there at all? Dun didn’t think so. Maybe now was the time to go. The doors seemed in place, but there was only so much Dun could tell from his Air-sense from this far away. While his head was still back, he tried to whisper to his friend. The morass of sobbing and laughing was drowning him out. He untangled a claw from the bindings tying both of their hands and jabbed Padg in the side. The noise stopped briefly.
“Come on buddy, work with me,” Dun whispered.
The muttering and sobbing continued. Shreds, what had they done to him and why hadn’t it affected Dun in the same way? No time to worry about that now, Dun thought. Time to get the hells out of here if there weren’t any guards about. He bum-shuffled as far as his bindings would let him and poked Padg again to indicate he needed some participation, and hoped for the best. Padg began to follow. Dun heaved and bum-shuffled, and Padg was slowly dragged along. They were twenty strides from the door when Dun smelled strongly scented air. That new racta hut not far outside the gates of the Grey Duchy. Oh, Gods what wouldn’t he do to get a cup of that right now. But if he could smell it, then the airtight doors to this room must be open. Where there was scent there was hope. Didn’t Swych say that to them endlessly when she’d drilled them on how to fight all those eons ago back in Bridgetown. The laughing resumed. Dun sighed and bum-shuffled towards the smell of racta and freedom.
Dun lost all track of time in his focused state of drag, poke, sniff. It could have been five hundred clicks or five thousand, but he got his giggling gasping friend as far as the door. Good, step one. He extended his leg, there was a breeze on it. Not strong, with the door at the opposite end of the corridor-room closed and no fans on, there was nowhere for the air to go, but it was definitely cooler, the door wasn’t sealed. So now how to get level with a door handle or find a way to get the thing open without leaning on it from this side and pushing it shut. Okay, think. The hinge was the same side of the door as the crazy curtained glass wall, so there’d be enough blank wall between door and wall for them to get themselves on their feet. If they worked together. If Padg could manage that. His friend seemed to be off on a particularly involving spree of giggling, getting faster and higher-pitched. Dun shook his head and struggled along the door-wall, pushing Padg towards the glass. He seemed reluctant to get any closer.
“Come on Padg,” Dun whispered, hoping his friend would hear, “I’ve got a plan here.” Whether he heard or not, five hundred clicks later Padg was sitting knees to the wall where the glass was, or rather where the curtains that hid the glass bunched in the corner when they were open.
“Hey on three we’re gonna try to stand, okay?” No reply, but at least no maniacal laughing. “Come on buddy, we got this. Two... three...” Dun clenched his leg muscles. Padg seemed to be tense in his upper body only, as if his shoulders and neck were in lockdown. Dun held both up for one... two... three... then crashed back to the floor where they were before they’d started. At least they hadn’t fallen sideways.
“Padg, mate, I can’t do this on my own. I can’t lift both of us. You need to lift with your legs. Let your shoulders go, okay?” That triggered a state of whimpering. “Look whatever it is, I’ll protect you, okay? We need to get out of here before any of those smug bastards come back.” Dun thought it was the worst pep talk he’d ever delivered but it seemed to work. With a groan and muscles shaking, they pushed up to standing. “Okay, good. Let’s take a click and catch our breath.” At those words Dun felt Padg wobble. “Y’know what, let’s not rest, let’s just—” He tugged Padg towards the door. Feeling along the surface at the level of his hands, he couldn’t find anything to grip onto. Figured, for a prison-cum-torture-chamber room, that all the handles and locks would be on the other side. But still there was that scent of racta, so not locked and not sealed. Getting to the door’s edge where the faintest draft was easing round the seal, Dun stretched his claws into the gap. The seal was a type of rubber, which kept the noise in, he supposed. But as he scrabbled for purchase there was just enough of an edge to the seal for him to pull on. So, he pulled. His claws strained in their nail beds. He flinched as he heard one snap, but had the door moved at the same time? He reached back in, there was more room. Could he just feel round the edge? Yes, there was the outside edge, something to pull against. Not a moment too soon as warm blood welled at the tip of his finger where he’d just snapped that claw off. But the door was moving. The smell of the racta was divine. He checked in with OneLove inside his head for a route out, and the voice came back loud and clear.
Straight ahead five hundred paces, sharp left, mind the guard post.
When the guard rounded the corner to investigate, Dun met him at the corner and delivered a head-butt straight to the guard’s nose. He didn’t wait to assess the damage.
Straight across the lobby, you’re clear. An alarm had sounded deep in the bowels of the Grey Duchy compound. It seemed to be drawing guards away from them and not to them as some outside sentries rushed past them on the last steps to the entrance.
Dun’s nose led him to the smell of the racta, as if his nose was the only part of him still functioning. He drag-stumbled his way to the source of the smell and then his knees and Padg’s buckled and both fell at the jasmine-scented feet of a customer at the stall.
“Gods, what happened to you two?”
