The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea (boyxboy)

CHAPTER 4

Varez | Present Day

There's a collective roar of protest.

They're so close, Az feels hands scrambling to grab him, but he's able to slip free before they can get a good hold on him. With one hand clutching the rolled-up map, he vaults over Enriqué's table and into the narrow wynd. He trips but is still too fast for the people who give chase.

He sprints through the tight gaps between buildings, taking lefts and rights without really thinking about it. He doesn't know these streets like he knows Albahri. By the time he makes it back onto a main road, there's a stitch stabbing at his side. It's been way too long since he's had to run like this. Has life at sea made him lazy?

Diving between people, he tries to blend in. But there's only one of him, and four of them. They've split up, and he can already see one of them further up the street making a beeline for him, and another emerging from between a different set of houses than Az had. His eyes dart around, and his only out seems to be back into the main square. Not desirable; Slade might actually crack for good if he causes too much of a scene now. What other choice does he have, though?

Darting down the road, he can hear the miffed grumblings of people he brushes past a little too hard. When his foot lands on a particularly uneven cobble, his ankle rolls and snaps loudly. His pace slows. He continues to run, but it's with an awkward and noticeable limp now. One of the men giving chase shouts for people to stop him.

The main square is still packed to the walls, and a quick glance around tells him there is no straight way out. He'd have to slip back into the alleys and risk getting turned around, or worse, caught.

Unless...

His injured ankle throbs with sharp pain when he jumps headfirst for the market stall. Earthenware, both glazed and unglazed, unpainted and intricately decorated, scatters when he lands awkwardly on the table. Pieces roll to the stone ground and shatter.

"What the fuck?" the vendor yells.

Her customers jump back in shock, crashing into people, who in turn crash into more people. Someone stumbles into the fabric of one of the stalls. The entire thing clatters down in a tangle of swearing people and twisted textiles.

Az doesn't wait. He scrambles along the first table to the next, crawling with speed he didn't think people could crawl. Wares clatter, delicate items shatter, coins fly when he accidentally elbows a paying shopper's hand. Positively giddy, he can't help but smile.

He reaches the end of the line of stalls and finally falters enough to cause him panic. As soon as his two feet hit the pavement, his ankle gives out entirely with a yelp from his lips.

Not one, but two of his pursuers are tearing their way through the tables and between the vendors. They're much faster than they look.

He's already caused a massive commotion. A little more isn't going to change anything now. With an almighty kick to one of the rickety wooden poles holding the nearest stall up, the tent begins to collapse, enveloping the nearest chaser before he can reach out and grab Az.

Heart in his throat, chest burning with exertion, he gingerly starts to pick himself up and test his weight on that ankle. He wobbles.

A large hand lands firmly on his shoulder. Az tenses, ready to turn and bite his captor, but the hand guides him harshly away from the mess of the market and towards another narrow side street. He tries to pull away.

"Keep walking, brat!" Oh. It's Paver. "You draw any more attention to yourself, I'll break your other ankle."

What a strange day indeed. He just happens to overhear useful information, Enriqué tells him everything he needs to know with little prompting, and Paver is removing him from what Slade would describe as "an awkward situation".