Wystwood

32. Scarlet ribbons in mud

Ada's shout pitched across the cobblestones, rolling over and over Min's wheeling feet as she sprinted down the alleyway. The Hound's boots quickened too, his eyes widening as the girl disappeared, leaving only Ada by the steps.

He ground out something else, but the Hound's words were minced by the metal mask bound across his mouth. His clothes looked long and heavy on his narrow frame, and while Ada doubted she would stand even the slightest chance of overpowering him, she thought she might be able to outrun him.

She could still hear Min's feet pattering down the alley, but the Hound's strides were closing the distance faster than Min's could sweep her to safety. If he spared a moment to turn his head at the intersection of pathways, he would spot the girl easily.

Ada's heart was a drumbeat against her ribcage. She felt her chest rise and fall in time, heavy velvet hindering her breaths and a sharp point digging into her waist. A light flickered on the shores of her mind, and with trembling fingers, she pulled her hood low over her face. At the same time, she loosened the cord at her collar and let the cloak fall open.

The Hound's eyes centred on the calendula jutting out from Ada's inside pocket, and he let out another guttural shout. It was all she needed. As Ada whirled around and started taking the steps in great leaps, the Hound's footfalls broke into a charge.

Ada crested the stone steps and stared down an alleyway that looked identical to the two she had left behind. Apart from an overhead box of petunias, nothing about the pale brick walls nor worn-down cobbles marked her position in the city's stone labyrinth.

The Hound had reached the stairs, and with each step, it sounded as though the rock was cracking beneath him. Ada took off once again, though her feet faltered as the alley began to branch out into tapering passages. There didn't seem to be any sense in the pathways, as though the streets had been knitted together in a mismatch of mayhem.

As the thought crossed Ada's mind, a strand of pink spliced her vision on the opposite wall. It was so pale that Ada was not certain she had truly seen it, but as she hurried closer she found a sticky line was painted onto the stonework. It wound back the way she had come, while also threading further down an alley to her right.

The sunlight shifted between the clouds overhead and illuminated the line with a dulled shimmer. With a pound of her heart and a jolt of her feet, Ada realised it was the trail of currant juice that Min had smeared along the walls, though it had faded in the sunlight to a ghost of its former shade. It now looked like no more than a path left by a snail; sunk into mortar and soon to be washed away by the rain.

Ada was certain Min hadn't chosen the disappearing juice accidentally. Praises for the child's sharp mind began to ricochet around her head as she entered another passage, so tight that the hem of Ada's cloak whipped against the houses on either side of her as she ran.

When she turned out from a blind alleyway, she caught sight of the compass' pavilion rising up ahead, and each fall of her feet felt lighter than air. Ada was no longer looking out for Min's trail as she raced down the final stretch towards the underground tunnel and dove into the darkness with the wings of a swallow and the heartbeat of a hummingbird.

Ada's feet only slid to a stop when she reached the muddy bank and took in the scene before her. Most of the women had left, though Solen and Diane remained close beneath the pier. Bands of shadow cut across their faces as Diane handed over a coin of gold.

The women startled away from one another at Ada's entrance, Solen's hand fisting around the coin and thrusting it under her bandolier. They both settled at the sight of her, though a bonfire began to build within Solen's eyes that was so unlike the smouldering flame that usually slumbered within them.