AU Fic: Cracked 8
Title: Cracked 8/?
Author: Dria
Rating: PG13
Previous Chapters: One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.
Summary: Their route back to the ship blocked by a traffic accident, Tuti and his party turn off the main road and head into a maze of alleys and side roads. And that's when their problems start...
Author's Notes: Back to Daiki's PoV for this chapter and watch out for low-flying spears, bad language from Eiji and blood ^^; And cliff-hangers, sorry!
Being a scribe and, more importantly, a scribe assigned to the Crown Prince’s personal household, meant that Daiki didn’t spend vast amounts of time wandering the back streets of Egypt’s towns and cities. As secretary, Daiki spent most of his time confined to the palace either by necessity or choice. His days passed with him bent over piles of papyrus, negotiating with petitioners who wanted access to the Crown Prince’s ear, or keeping the servants in line, not out strolling around Pi-Ramesses. Even when Daiki did get out of the palace, it was to go to one of the temples, or to the barracks or other such important buildings and then his hands would be full with messages, enquiries, or His Highness.
It was, therefore, a new experience for Daiki to step off one of the main roads, for him to leave behind the paved street with its sellers and peasants and the commotion of an overturned cart, and to head into the maze of back ways and alleys. The sights, smells and sounds were all different and new and, if he were honest, a little overpowering, so that he hurried his steps to keep himself between Eiji and Takashi even as he looked around with widening eyes.
It wasn’t like the alley was a quagmire of poverty and depravity, but the walls that bordered it were high and the refuse dumped by doors and on corners had yet to be cleared away. It was darker than the street they’d left, narrower too, forcing them to make their way forward in single-file. The people they passed didn’t ignore them, and it was only when Daiki noticed the way their party was being eyed with blatant suspicion and interest that he realised how much he’d become used to the anonymity they’d had since they stepped ashore. It was quieter too, not overly so because the buildings they passed now were workshops from which echoed the sounds of tools being scraped, struck and slid over a variety of materials, but it was all noise with a purpose rather than the background hum of the street.
With so many changes, so many new and different things to notice, it wasn’t until they’d been walking for some time that Daiki realised he’d lost all sense of direction. It was a realisation that came tinged with panic and he glanced over his shoulder to whisper to Eiji, ‘Shouldn’t you be leading the way?’
‘Why’d you say that?’ Eiji replied, voice just as quiet as Daiki’s.
‘Well... you used to live here right? And... and Tuti’s never been to Memphis more than a dozen times before in his life. I know I don’t know where we’re going so -’
‘You think I would?’ Eiji interrupted. ‘I told you earlier, the scribal school’s nowhere near here.’
‘Are you saying you never explored?!’ Daiki could hear the fear in his own voice. He cursed it and Eiji together when no answer came forth to calm his panic and hoped that nothing he’d said had reached Tuti’s ears up ahead. The apparently oblivious prince hadn’t so much as broken his stride though, and he continued to march calmly deeper into the dark and dirt of the maze of alleys. What was guiding his decisions about which way to go, Daiki didn’t know but it was with increasing desperation that he hoped that Tuti wasn’t as lost as he felt.
They turned a corner, passed numerous doorways, ignored a few turnings off to their right and instead took the next left; all the time Tuti barely looked round and actually had the nerve to whistle the beginning of one of the songs Kimeru had played the night before. He stopped whistling when they reached a fork in their path, taking a few steps along the right hand one before jerking to a halt so suddenly that Takashi walked into him.
Daiki grabbed hold of Takashi’s arm more on instinct than anything else, hissing to him, ‘What is it?’ before suddenly seeing the answer to his question.
The knife flew towards them, passing over Daiki’s head which had been forced down by Eiji’s hand, to sink deep into the wall behind. The man the knife belonged to grunted as he was pushed back over a barrel, hitting the ground hard but lashing out all the same at his opponent. A cry of pain filled the air as his foot caught his attacker in the ribs, followed by a fist smashing into his knee, both men reeling in pain as the knife-owner nevertheless lurched upright again, his hand going for his attacker’s throat and smashing him into a door.
A stunned Daiki wasn’t given the chance to see anymore, Eiji had him by the arm and was dragging him back the way they’d come, Takashi and Tuti right behind them. The four of them fell over each other as they left the fighting pair behind, Daiki tripping over his own sandals as they dashed down the left hand fork instead. Eiji’s hand was still wrapped round his arm, the other was on his far shoulder, so that Daiki was being half pushed, half pulled down the alley.
‘Which way?’ Eiji called back to Tuti as they neared a crossroads, and for the first time Daiki could hear real fear in the other scribe’s voice.
‘Straight, we need to keep going straight, the docks can’t be far, they can’t be,’ Tuti panted behind them, his words only making Daiki’s stomach churn more as Eiji pulled them all on.
They went straight, hurrying and stumbling, Daiki convinced that his feet and ankles were going to be blue with bruises by the time they were done, and fervently praying that such injuries were his only concern. It was Takashi’s voice that put into words what they were all thinking, ‘Why can’t we see the Nile yet?’ before Eiji skidded to a stop and swore.
Trembling in Eiji’s grasp, Daiki stared up at the wall that blocked their path as though he’d never seen one before.
‘Dead end,’ Eiji gasped. ‘Fuck, we must have missed a turning somewhere.’
‘Hello gentlemen, you lost?’
As one, all four of them swung round to look back up the way they’d come, ignoring the rubbish, rats and graffiti when there was the more dangerous concern of eight armed men between them and freedom. Daiki wanted to take a step further back, but Eiji hadn’t let go of him; he wanted to hide behind someone but Tuti was off to his left and Takashi to his right, and both of them were as weaponless as he and Eiji were. The thugs in front though, Daiki counted two clubs, four knives, a spear and three other pointy objects he couldn’t identify between the gang; one of these men alone would have been enough to make Daiki’s knees knock together - eight of them were turning his insides to water and his legs to sand so that, if it hadn’t been for Eiji, Daiki was sure he’d have been on the floor by now.
‘You gents do look very lost,’ repeated the man who was possibly the thugs’ leader. He was taller than the others, looked passably more intelligent and held two very long knives in his hands.
‘We just appear to have taken a wrong turning, that’s all,’ Tuti answered as calmly as if he were giving Besshi instructions on what he wanted for breakfast. ‘Perhaps you can advise us as to which is the best route down to the docks?’
‘The docks, eh? You are lost. It’ll cost you gents every scrap of gold on you for us to let you go on your way. If you’re very generous, maybe we’ll point you in the right direction too.’
‘I wish I could be generous to you,’ Tuti smiled (how could he smile at a time like this, wondered Daiki). ‘But I’m afraid we’re just four travellers, all we had was given to the god, Ptah, this morning.’
‘So your satchels empty?’
‘I’m afraid so.’
‘Hand it over.’
‘An empty satchel? What would be the point?’
‘Give it to us or we’ll take it, cloak and sandals too, from all of you! You think we’re stupid? Simple travellers don’t wander around with three servants, my lord, now hand it over.’
Tuti, with his hands spread wide and a disarming smile on his face, patiently repeated, ‘Our bags are empty and these men are my friends, not my servants. You’re wasting your time with us.’
‘The bag - NOW!’ With a flourish, the leader brandished a knife at Tuti, swinging it so wide that it came within striking distance of Tuti’s outstretched hands. What the knife hit though was metal, the blade reverberating with a clang that sounded painfully loud in the cramped alley.
For a moment Daiki wasn’t sure what had happened, and neither, it seemed, was the thug’s leader. But then realisation hit them all at once as Eiji straightened up, hand wrapped tight around the short sword he’d used to deflect the blow.
The leader let out a yell, leaping forward to strike at this new enemy and bringing with him his seven companions. Takashi reacted before anyone else could, flying forward with a blow that knocked one man backwards, spinning out of reach of a second and sidestepping a third to grab the shaft of his spear and pull it from its owner’s hands. Tossing the weapon to Tuti, Daiki heard the nobleman yell, ‘You stay out of this!’ before he disappeared from sight into the confused crowd.
Daiki didn’t know if Takashi had been addressing him or Tuti, but he grabbed hold of Tuti all the same, pulling the prince back as far as he could, until their backs were against the wall.
No one was paying them any attention anyway; Takashi had grabbed someone’s knife and could just be seen striking this way and that, kicking out at anything that moved. Eiji was harder to see, but Daiki could catch glimpses of the sword the other scribe had produced from somewhere, as it sliced into limbs and sent blood splattering up the walls.
Tuti was shaking, and as the prince was far closer to him than anyone else, be they a threat or otherwise, Daiki found himself paying more attention to the shudders running through the prince’s body than the cries, thuds and crunches up ahead. For all that the air was warm and Tuti was wrapped in a cloak, the skin under Daiki’s hands was cold and covered in goosebumps. Daiki could feel Tuti’s blood racing through him from where Daiki had his left hand clasped tight onto Tuti’s shoulder and the breaths that rushed past his ear was ragged and desperate. But the hands that held the spear were steady, Tuti’s knuckles might have turned white and his fingernails might have been digging into the wooden shaft but they were the only signs of fear, anger or whatever emotion it was that was affecting Tuti like this.
Daiki didn’t want to speculate on the cause of Tuti’s tremors, didn’t think he accurately could when he’d never taken up a weapon before in his life and had only seen battles from afar. He was frightened, yes, but he had faith in Takashi’s abilities as a fighter and, for some reason, in Eiji’s skills too. This had so little to do with grammar and the world of language, that Daiki couldn’t even begin to take in what was going on. He couldn’t assess how strong Takashi and Eiji’s opponents were, whether they were good, indifferent or appalling fighters, couldn’t follow the movements or understand why a blow there produced that reaction. Everything was blurred to Daiki’s eyes and so the only thing he could focus on was Tuti, at least until Takashi darted forward with a hand outstretched and cried, ‘Now’s our chance, come on!’
The command made it easier for Daiki to get his feet to move, and with him clinging onto one of Tuti’s arms and Takashi hauling on the other, the three of them stumbled up the alley. Most of the gang were either unconscious or pretending to be, one groaned when Daiki accidentally stepped on his arm and another whimpered as he clutched at his leg that was bleeding freely, but for the most part they were silent. Eiji followed them, his sword gone again so that his hands were left hanging empty and innocent by his sides, leaving him free to apply one last kick to the only attacker who tried to reach for a weapon as they left.
They were back at the crossroads before Daiki could quite believe it, Takashi forcing a pause so that he could wrench the spear out of Tuti’s hands, snap it in half over his knee and drive both pieces into the nearest mound of rubbish. Then, with one hand closing tight round Tuti’s elbow, he pulled them down the right hand path.
Still in some kind of daze himself, Daiki was barely aware of where they were going or whether it was really Takashi or Tuti who was leading them now. Regardless of which of them it was, it felt to Daiki as though they were only stumbling around in alleyways for a few moments before they suddenly fell back out into a main road.
It was like his gaze had been clouded by a veil that had just been lifted; at least, that was how the transition felt to Daiki. Stepping back out into unhindered sunshine, into clearer air and a crowd of people who were so busy going about their own business they didn’t bother looking twice at the four men, enabled Daiki to take what felt like his first properly deep breath since they’d turned off their planned path. The noise around them, the mingling scents of spices, cooking meat and living animals and the bursts of colour from dyed cloth all combined in a happy riot that Daiki drank in with a huge, relieved smile.
His companions didn’t appear to share his relief though. Takashi was frowning, worried gaze fixed mostly on Tuti who, though looking far more composed now than he had done, still looked slightly ill. And then there was Eiji... at first glance he looked much as he done earlier, but there was a smear of blood that wasn’t his running down his right forearm and a scratch biting deep into his left shoulder. Those two small signs combined with the memory of the sword he’d produced, and together they made Eiji look a lot more threatening than he had done until now.
Takashi, at least, seemed to be worrying about something other than mysteriously appearing swords. His voice was low but Daiki still caught the hushed question Takashi put to the prince, ‘Are you okay?’
‘Yeah, yeah, I’ll... I’ll be all right,’ Tuti replied, equally quietly. ‘I just... after what Washio said, I should have expected something, should have been more prepared and... and I can’t believe I just froze like that!’
‘The guy practically stuck his knife up your nose; I’d have done the same.’
‘But you didn’t.’
‘Did at first. My reflexes aren’t that good, Tuti.’
‘But still... I shouldn’t have -’
‘Have what?’ and now Takashi sounded angry, even though he was still whispering. ‘Shouldn’t have relied on me to do my job? I’m your subject and your servant, and, in Washio’s absence, I’m your only defence against stuff like that. You think you should have taken them on? Daiki did the right thing in holding you back; I only gave you that spear so that you could hold off anyone who got past me or Eiji. Re’s beard, you still don’t get it, do you? You’re not like everyone else! Now pull yourself together because we’re almost back at the Isis and you’re going to have to tell Washio something about why we’re all in such a state!’
Tuti didn’t make a verbal reply, but as Daiki looked past him to the fleet of masts and sails he could see raising above the buildings ahead of them, he noticed that Tuti seemed to be walking a little straighter than he had been.
Down one last side street, round a cluster of sailors loudly discussing how to spend the wages they’d just been given, and they were there, back beside the untroubled Nile and her colourful cargo of mismatched vessels. The group wound their way between merchants and sailors, stopping to allow heavily laden men past them to reach the cart they were loading, and skipping out of the way of other vehicles carrying various wares and supplies. Every step they took along the dock felt lighter than the last to Daiki, relief buoying him up so that it felt like he was walking on a cushion of air. Soon they’d be back onboard the Isis where he could wash and eat and take a cool drink of wine, where there were no gangs with knives or grumpy priests scowling at them or overturned carts blocking their way.
Their jetty was near, they passed the large vessel from Nubia that had been blocking their view of the royal ship and Daiki took in a deep breath to hail Kimeru, Souta or whoever happened to be on deck waiting for them.
The cry died on Daiki’s lips, Takashi demanded ‘what the -’ but broke off before he could say anymore and Eiji simply stopped dead in his tracks, disbelief draining his face of all colour.
Tuti was the only one who kept moving, his feet carrying him forward another a few paces before he too staggered to a halt. One hand reached up to run through his hair and he looked this way and that for a moment before turning back to his companions and demanding with understandable anger, ‘Where by all the gods is my ship?!’
Because Tuti was right, the Isis was gone.
TBC
Author: Dria
Rating: PG13
Previous Chapters: One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.
Summary: Their route back to the ship blocked by a traffic accident, Tuti and his party turn off the main road and head into a maze of alleys and side roads. And that's when their problems start...
Author's Notes: Back to Daiki's PoV for this chapter and watch out for low-flying spears, bad language from Eiji and blood ^^; And cliff-hangers, sorry!
Being a scribe and, more importantly, a scribe assigned to the Crown Prince’s personal household, meant that Daiki didn’t spend vast amounts of time wandering the back streets of Egypt’s towns and cities. As secretary, Daiki spent most of his time confined to the palace either by necessity or choice. His days passed with him bent over piles of papyrus, negotiating with petitioners who wanted access to the Crown Prince’s ear, or keeping the servants in line, not out strolling around Pi-Ramesses. Even when Daiki did get out of the palace, it was to go to one of the temples, or to the barracks or other such important buildings and then his hands would be full with messages, enquiries, or His Highness.
It was, therefore, a new experience for Daiki to step off one of the main roads, for him to leave behind the paved street with its sellers and peasants and the commotion of an overturned cart, and to head into the maze of back ways and alleys. The sights, smells and sounds were all different and new and, if he were honest, a little overpowering, so that he hurried his steps to keep himself between Eiji and Takashi even as he looked around with widening eyes.
It wasn’t like the alley was a quagmire of poverty and depravity, but the walls that bordered it were high and the refuse dumped by doors and on corners had yet to be cleared away. It was darker than the street they’d left, narrower too, forcing them to make their way forward in single-file. The people they passed didn’t ignore them, and it was only when Daiki noticed the way their party was being eyed with blatant suspicion and interest that he realised how much he’d become used to the anonymity they’d had since they stepped ashore. It was quieter too, not overly so because the buildings they passed now were workshops from which echoed the sounds of tools being scraped, struck and slid over a variety of materials, but it was all noise with a purpose rather than the background hum of the street.
With so many changes, so many new and different things to notice, it wasn’t until they’d been walking for some time that Daiki realised he’d lost all sense of direction. It was a realisation that came tinged with panic and he glanced over his shoulder to whisper to Eiji, ‘Shouldn’t you be leading the way?’
‘Why’d you say that?’ Eiji replied, voice just as quiet as Daiki’s.
‘Well... you used to live here right? And... and Tuti’s never been to Memphis more than a dozen times before in his life. I know I don’t know where we’re going so -’
‘You think I would?’ Eiji interrupted. ‘I told you earlier, the scribal school’s nowhere near here.’
‘Are you saying you never explored?!’ Daiki could hear the fear in his own voice. He cursed it and Eiji together when no answer came forth to calm his panic and hoped that nothing he’d said had reached Tuti’s ears up ahead. The apparently oblivious prince hadn’t so much as broken his stride though, and he continued to march calmly deeper into the dark and dirt of the maze of alleys. What was guiding his decisions about which way to go, Daiki didn’t know but it was with increasing desperation that he hoped that Tuti wasn’t as lost as he felt.
They turned a corner, passed numerous doorways, ignored a few turnings off to their right and instead took the next left; all the time Tuti barely looked round and actually had the nerve to whistle the beginning of one of the songs Kimeru had played the night before. He stopped whistling when they reached a fork in their path, taking a few steps along the right hand one before jerking to a halt so suddenly that Takashi walked into him.
Daiki grabbed hold of Takashi’s arm more on instinct than anything else, hissing to him, ‘What is it?’ before suddenly seeing the answer to his question.
The knife flew towards them, passing over Daiki’s head which had been forced down by Eiji’s hand, to sink deep into the wall behind. The man the knife belonged to grunted as he was pushed back over a barrel, hitting the ground hard but lashing out all the same at his opponent. A cry of pain filled the air as his foot caught his attacker in the ribs, followed by a fist smashing into his knee, both men reeling in pain as the knife-owner nevertheless lurched upright again, his hand going for his attacker’s throat and smashing him into a door.
A stunned Daiki wasn’t given the chance to see anymore, Eiji had him by the arm and was dragging him back the way they’d come, Takashi and Tuti right behind them. The four of them fell over each other as they left the fighting pair behind, Daiki tripping over his own sandals as they dashed down the left hand fork instead. Eiji’s hand was still wrapped round his arm, the other was on his far shoulder, so that Daiki was being half pushed, half pulled down the alley.
‘Which way?’ Eiji called back to Tuti as they neared a crossroads, and for the first time Daiki could hear real fear in the other scribe’s voice.
‘Straight, we need to keep going straight, the docks can’t be far, they can’t be,’ Tuti panted behind them, his words only making Daiki’s stomach churn more as Eiji pulled them all on.
They went straight, hurrying and stumbling, Daiki convinced that his feet and ankles were going to be blue with bruises by the time they were done, and fervently praying that such injuries were his only concern. It was Takashi’s voice that put into words what they were all thinking, ‘Why can’t we see the Nile yet?’ before Eiji skidded to a stop and swore.
Trembling in Eiji’s grasp, Daiki stared up at the wall that blocked their path as though he’d never seen one before.
‘Dead end,’ Eiji gasped. ‘Fuck, we must have missed a turning somewhere.’
‘Hello gentlemen, you lost?’
As one, all four of them swung round to look back up the way they’d come, ignoring the rubbish, rats and graffiti when there was the more dangerous concern of eight armed men between them and freedom. Daiki wanted to take a step further back, but Eiji hadn’t let go of him; he wanted to hide behind someone but Tuti was off to his left and Takashi to his right, and both of them were as weaponless as he and Eiji were. The thugs in front though, Daiki counted two clubs, four knives, a spear and three other pointy objects he couldn’t identify between the gang; one of these men alone would have been enough to make Daiki’s knees knock together - eight of them were turning his insides to water and his legs to sand so that, if it hadn’t been for Eiji, Daiki was sure he’d have been on the floor by now.
‘You gents do look very lost,’ repeated the man who was possibly the thugs’ leader. He was taller than the others, looked passably more intelligent and held two very long knives in his hands.
‘We just appear to have taken a wrong turning, that’s all,’ Tuti answered as calmly as if he were giving Besshi instructions on what he wanted for breakfast. ‘Perhaps you can advise us as to which is the best route down to the docks?’
‘The docks, eh? You are lost. It’ll cost you gents every scrap of gold on you for us to let you go on your way. If you’re very generous, maybe we’ll point you in the right direction too.’
‘I wish I could be generous to you,’ Tuti smiled (how could he smile at a time like this, wondered Daiki). ‘But I’m afraid we’re just four travellers, all we had was given to the god, Ptah, this morning.’
‘So your satchels empty?’
‘I’m afraid so.’
‘Hand it over.’
‘An empty satchel? What would be the point?’
‘Give it to us or we’ll take it, cloak and sandals too, from all of you! You think we’re stupid? Simple travellers don’t wander around with three servants, my lord, now hand it over.’
Tuti, with his hands spread wide and a disarming smile on his face, patiently repeated, ‘Our bags are empty and these men are my friends, not my servants. You’re wasting your time with us.’
‘The bag - NOW!’ With a flourish, the leader brandished a knife at Tuti, swinging it so wide that it came within striking distance of Tuti’s outstretched hands. What the knife hit though was metal, the blade reverberating with a clang that sounded painfully loud in the cramped alley.
For a moment Daiki wasn’t sure what had happened, and neither, it seemed, was the thug’s leader. But then realisation hit them all at once as Eiji straightened up, hand wrapped tight around the short sword he’d used to deflect the blow.
The leader let out a yell, leaping forward to strike at this new enemy and bringing with him his seven companions. Takashi reacted before anyone else could, flying forward with a blow that knocked one man backwards, spinning out of reach of a second and sidestepping a third to grab the shaft of his spear and pull it from its owner’s hands. Tossing the weapon to Tuti, Daiki heard the nobleman yell, ‘You stay out of this!’ before he disappeared from sight into the confused crowd.
Daiki didn’t know if Takashi had been addressing him or Tuti, but he grabbed hold of Tuti all the same, pulling the prince back as far as he could, until their backs were against the wall.
No one was paying them any attention anyway; Takashi had grabbed someone’s knife and could just be seen striking this way and that, kicking out at anything that moved. Eiji was harder to see, but Daiki could catch glimpses of the sword the other scribe had produced from somewhere, as it sliced into limbs and sent blood splattering up the walls.
Tuti was shaking, and as the prince was far closer to him than anyone else, be they a threat or otherwise, Daiki found himself paying more attention to the shudders running through the prince’s body than the cries, thuds and crunches up ahead. For all that the air was warm and Tuti was wrapped in a cloak, the skin under Daiki’s hands was cold and covered in goosebumps. Daiki could feel Tuti’s blood racing through him from where Daiki had his left hand clasped tight onto Tuti’s shoulder and the breaths that rushed past his ear was ragged and desperate. But the hands that held the spear were steady, Tuti’s knuckles might have turned white and his fingernails might have been digging into the wooden shaft but they were the only signs of fear, anger or whatever emotion it was that was affecting Tuti like this.
Daiki didn’t want to speculate on the cause of Tuti’s tremors, didn’t think he accurately could when he’d never taken up a weapon before in his life and had only seen battles from afar. He was frightened, yes, but he had faith in Takashi’s abilities as a fighter and, for some reason, in Eiji’s skills too. This had so little to do with grammar and the world of language, that Daiki couldn’t even begin to take in what was going on. He couldn’t assess how strong Takashi and Eiji’s opponents were, whether they were good, indifferent or appalling fighters, couldn’t follow the movements or understand why a blow there produced that reaction. Everything was blurred to Daiki’s eyes and so the only thing he could focus on was Tuti, at least until Takashi darted forward with a hand outstretched and cried, ‘Now’s our chance, come on!’
The command made it easier for Daiki to get his feet to move, and with him clinging onto one of Tuti’s arms and Takashi hauling on the other, the three of them stumbled up the alley. Most of the gang were either unconscious or pretending to be, one groaned when Daiki accidentally stepped on his arm and another whimpered as he clutched at his leg that was bleeding freely, but for the most part they were silent. Eiji followed them, his sword gone again so that his hands were left hanging empty and innocent by his sides, leaving him free to apply one last kick to the only attacker who tried to reach for a weapon as they left.
They were back at the crossroads before Daiki could quite believe it, Takashi forcing a pause so that he could wrench the spear out of Tuti’s hands, snap it in half over his knee and drive both pieces into the nearest mound of rubbish. Then, with one hand closing tight round Tuti’s elbow, he pulled them down the right hand path.
Still in some kind of daze himself, Daiki was barely aware of where they were going or whether it was really Takashi or Tuti who was leading them now. Regardless of which of them it was, it felt to Daiki as though they were only stumbling around in alleyways for a few moments before they suddenly fell back out into a main road.
It was like his gaze had been clouded by a veil that had just been lifted; at least, that was how the transition felt to Daiki. Stepping back out into unhindered sunshine, into clearer air and a crowd of people who were so busy going about their own business they didn’t bother looking twice at the four men, enabled Daiki to take what felt like his first properly deep breath since they’d turned off their planned path. The noise around them, the mingling scents of spices, cooking meat and living animals and the bursts of colour from dyed cloth all combined in a happy riot that Daiki drank in with a huge, relieved smile.
His companions didn’t appear to share his relief though. Takashi was frowning, worried gaze fixed mostly on Tuti who, though looking far more composed now than he had done, still looked slightly ill. And then there was Eiji... at first glance he looked much as he done earlier, but there was a smear of blood that wasn’t his running down his right forearm and a scratch biting deep into his left shoulder. Those two small signs combined with the memory of the sword he’d produced, and together they made Eiji look a lot more threatening than he had done until now.
Takashi, at least, seemed to be worrying about something other than mysteriously appearing swords. His voice was low but Daiki still caught the hushed question Takashi put to the prince, ‘Are you okay?’
‘Yeah, yeah, I’ll... I’ll be all right,’ Tuti replied, equally quietly. ‘I just... after what Washio said, I should have expected something, should have been more prepared and... and I can’t believe I just froze like that!’
‘The guy practically stuck his knife up your nose; I’d have done the same.’
‘But you didn’t.’
‘Did at first. My reflexes aren’t that good, Tuti.’
‘But still... I shouldn’t have -’
‘Have what?’ and now Takashi sounded angry, even though he was still whispering. ‘Shouldn’t have relied on me to do my job? I’m your subject and your servant, and, in Washio’s absence, I’m your only defence against stuff like that. You think you should have taken them on? Daiki did the right thing in holding you back; I only gave you that spear so that you could hold off anyone who got past me or Eiji. Re’s beard, you still don’t get it, do you? You’re not like everyone else! Now pull yourself together because we’re almost back at the Isis and you’re going to have to tell Washio something about why we’re all in such a state!’
Tuti didn’t make a verbal reply, but as Daiki looked past him to the fleet of masts and sails he could see raising above the buildings ahead of them, he noticed that Tuti seemed to be walking a little straighter than he had been.
Down one last side street, round a cluster of sailors loudly discussing how to spend the wages they’d just been given, and they were there, back beside the untroubled Nile and her colourful cargo of mismatched vessels. The group wound their way between merchants and sailors, stopping to allow heavily laden men past them to reach the cart they were loading, and skipping out of the way of other vehicles carrying various wares and supplies. Every step they took along the dock felt lighter than the last to Daiki, relief buoying him up so that it felt like he was walking on a cushion of air. Soon they’d be back onboard the Isis where he could wash and eat and take a cool drink of wine, where there were no gangs with knives or grumpy priests scowling at them or overturned carts blocking their way.
Their jetty was near, they passed the large vessel from Nubia that had been blocking their view of the royal ship and Daiki took in a deep breath to hail Kimeru, Souta or whoever happened to be on deck waiting for them.
The cry died on Daiki’s lips, Takashi demanded ‘what the -’ but broke off before he could say anymore and Eiji simply stopped dead in his tracks, disbelief draining his face of all colour.
Tuti was the only one who kept moving, his feet carrying him forward another a few paces before he too staggered to a halt. One hand reached up to run through his hair and he looked this way and that for a moment before turning back to his companions and demanding with understandable anger, ‘Where by all the gods is my ship?!’
Because Tuti was right, the Isis was gone.
TBC