“Tonight,” said the deacon. She looked at Otto and he nodded, though his hands clenched.
“Tonight?” asked Anna in a whisper. “So soon—?” Impulsively she darted forward and clasped her arms round Otto’s body. His clothes hung on him, a once stout man made thin by privation and grief, yet still he felt sturdy to her. He held her tightly against him, and she felt his tears on her cheeks.
“We must move immediately,” said the deacon. “You might be discovered any day. It is indeed a miracle you have not been found before this.” She frowned, and the moonlight painted her face in stark, suffering lines. “We know not if some fool will betray us all, thinking to gain favor in the eyes of the Eika. But there is no favor to be gained with the savages. They are no kin to us. They have no mercy for their own kind, and less than that for us, and so shall we have no mercy for them. Now. Make your farewells, children. You will not see Otto again.”
Anna wept. It was too hard to leave him behind, the only person besides Matthias who had shown her kindness since her parents died.
“Take news,” said Otto. He still held Anna, but she knew he spoke to Matthias. “Take news to others that some are yet alive in this city, that we are made slaves. Tell them the Eika are massing and building their strength, that they are using us to forge weapons and craft armor for them.”
“We’ll come back for you,” said Matthias, his own voice choked with tears. Anna could not speak, could only cling. Otto stank of the puering pits, but they all of them stank of the tannery; it was a good scent to her now, a familiar one that promised safety. Out beyond the tanning pits lay the great wide world which she no longer knew or trusted.
“Ai, Lady,” whispered Otto. He kissed Anna’s hair a final time. “Perhaps it is worse this way: that you have given me hope. I will wait for you, as well as I can. If you live, if I survive, if we are reunited, then I will be as your father.”
“Come, children,” said the deacon, taking their hands after gently prying Anna free from Otto’s grasp.
Anna cried as she was led away. She looked back to see Otto staring after them, hands working at his sides, opening and closing, and then his face was lost to her, hidden by night and distance.
The deacon took them to the edge of the fetid trench where the slaves relieved themselves. “Wait here,” she said. “A man will come for you.”
She left and returned to the building where the slaves slept. Somewhat later, the young man they had met before arrived.
“Come,” he said, hoisting Anna onto his back. “We must run all the way to the forge.” So they ran, hiding once for the man to catch his breath and a second time when they heard the howling of the dogs nearby, but they saw nothing. Only ghosts walked the city at night. It had been so long since Anna had ventured out into the ruined streets that the open spaces and angular shadows, the simple emptiness, made chills crawl like spiders up and down her skin.
The young man left them, quite unceremoniously, by another trench, this one equally filled with the stink of piss and diarrhea. But it was yet a good, decent, human smell, not like the dry metallic odor of the savages.
A woman found them there. She stared at first, then handled them, touching their lips, their hair, their ears.
“You are real,” she said. “Real children. They murdered mine. Come. There is no time.” She led them at a loping run farther into the labyrinth of the city, on to another trench, another group of slaves. By this way, from trench to trench, they passed through the city.
“That is our only freedom,” said the man who took them at last within sight of the cathedral even as they saw the first stain of light in the eastern sky. “They are savages, the Eika, but they cannot stand the least stink of human piss or shit near them. I’ve seen a man killed for loosing his bowels where he was not meant to, though he could not help himself. So we may come out to relieve ourselves, one by one, and if we say we are having the cramping, then we are allowed a little more time. Now. This is as far as I or any of us can take you. Hide here, under these rags next to the trench, for the Eika never come near these trenches. Do not move, do not stir, even if you hear the dogs. Perhaps they will discover you and kill you. We all will pray that they do not. Be patient. Wait out the day. You will know by the light and by the horn they blow and by the great size of the procession when they go down to the river. Be careful, though, for they do not all go; some remain behind to guard the slaves who sleep in that building across the way, which they call the mint. For all I know, some may remain behind here in the cathedral as well. What is inside the cathedral I do not know. That you must discover for yourselves. May God go with you.”
