“How did you—”
“Yún told me about the emperor—”
He and Lian both stopped and stared at each other.
“Yún told me what happened,” Quan said. “I ran—I came back at once. The passageway doesn’t—”
“—stay open for very long,” Lian said.
“Yes. Exactly.”
Quan reached for Lian’s hands. She clasped his tightly. Both of them let out a long sigh of relief. Then they seemed to remember that we were trying to escape from a very angry emperor. We sidled through the gap and ran down the corridor to the ladder. From afar, I heard a distinct click as the gap closed once more.
Our tunnel went arrow-straight for a li or more. We passed one ladder and half a dozen side tunnels, but Quan ignored them. “Different route,” he wheezed. “Longer. Just. In. Case.”
In case the emperor sent his soldiers into the streets to fetch Lian back to the palace. Best to keep underground until we got closer to the Beggars’ District.
Lian’s mouth was set in a grim line. She understood, too. We jogged in silence, while Quan counted under his breath. After six or seven intersections, Quan veered to the left. Things got complicated for a while. A couple more li, and we stopped at another metal ladder.
The hatch opened into a private yard with a dirt floor. We were somewhere close to a blacksmith, I guessed, hearing the clang of a hammer on metal. Quan motioned for us to hurry. We followed back alleys into another district, then boarded a rickety tram that dropped us near the Beggars’ Quarter. By the time we entered the shadowy lane behind the university kitchens, the sun was slanting toward late afternoon.
The lane was empty. The scent of moldering leaves hung heavy in the cool, damp air. My heart shrank. Then a shadow moved. Yún emerged from a doorway, carrying the griffin in her arms. Her gaze zapped to mine. She smiled faintly, and the terrible tightness in my throat eased.
More men and women appeared from behind half-closed doors. Quan’s smugglers. Several carried bulky packs slung over their shoulders. One, a lean and weathered older woman, studied us. Her gaze flickered over me, then settled on Lian.
Lian held out her hand. “Thank you for helping us.”
The woman’s teeth showed in a thin smile. “I did it for him.” She tilted her head toward Quan. “He’s tended our sick when no one else cared. We cannot delay,” she said to Quan. “It’s best if you’re outside the city before twilight.”
Quan nodded. “We go at once. Lead on, Feng.”
Feng took the lead with another woman. Both of them were armed with knives and spiked clubs. So were all the other smugglers. Two of them, short, ugly men as stout as bears, guarded our rear as we traversed a maze of lanes from one part of the university to another.
In the middle of a lonely alley, the whole crew stopped while the bear-men levered a metal grate from the road. More s
ewers, I thought. Down we scrambled, into a gray-lit tunnel. A few moments to replace the grating and we took off at a run.
Feng took the lead. Evidently she knew the way by heart, because she never paused at any intersection. Left and right and left and left. The tunnel took a sudden slant down at one point. We splashed through muck and mud and worse, but instead of slowing down, Feng urged us to run faster. The bricks vanished. Now the walls were nothing more than hard-packed dirt. I smelled a watery scent, unlike the stink I’d been breathing the past hour. Feng slowed, then motioned for us to stop.
A faint gray circle of light showed ahead. The two largest smugglers squeezed past us to deal with the next grate. Feng motioned for us to keep quiet as her minions clambered out. We all waited several tense moments before the younger one poked his head into the tunnel.
“All clear,” he whispered.
“Right enough,” Feng said. “Now—”
“One moment.” Quan turned to Feng. “You remember our agreement.”
She shook her head. “You have given us enough already. You are the reason my granddaughter lived through the sweating sickness, and why old Guang over there survived last winter. Go in peace, you and your friends, and may the gods of your ancestors watch over you.”
Quan ran his fingers through his hair. He looked like he wanted to argue, but he also knew we didn’t have time for that. “Very well. But remember, if you need care—”
“—we go to Xin Tao and his clinic. Yes, we know. Now hurry.”
One by one, we crawled through the narrow opening. The smugglers handed over the bulky packs. One went to each of us—the gear and provisions Quan had promised to provide. I shifted mine to a more comfortable position and tightened the straps around my waist. We were well outside the city gates—at least four or five li away. The skies were purpling, smudged with inky clouds. The air smelled of wet dirt and imminent rain. Nearby I heard the rill of a stream. In the distance, I saw the brilliant lights of Phoenix City.
Quan touched my arm. “Come quickly. We should reach a good shelter before full dark.”
16