He jammed the tip of my knife into the lock to hold the tumblers steady while he inserted the needle for the more delicate work inside. I was never sure how he did it. Every time he tried to teach me, I ended up breaking the needle.
Sure enough, only seconds later, the lock snapped apart, and he handed my knife back, then slowly pushed our cell door open. The metal hinges creaked louder than I would've liked, but we paused for several tense seconds and nobody came.
We tiptoed out of the cell and back into the wide courtyard, which was surrounded with a few useless lamps that barely gave any light. Our wagon was still parked where we'd last seen it, though the horses were already unhitched and had been moved elsewhere. I motioned to Weevil that we should look for their stables. I was good on a horse. I could get us away. But Weevil shook his head, which probably was the right decision. A locked-up cell wasn't worth guarding. Nobody wanted to be within miles of anyone suspected of having the Scourge. But horses in Keldan were extremely valuable.
Beyond the courtyard were a few small shops on the road, all closed for the night. Past the road was a wooded area, one that seemed dense enough to give us shelter until we found a river.
We had only just gotten to the worn dirt road when our absence was discovered. An alarm bell sounded, and then men began shouting.
"Run!" Weevil and I yelled to each other.
We darted across the road toward the field, but quickly found ourselves in thick underbrush that tangled at our legs, slowing our escape. Frightened as I was in this unfamiliar darkness, I reminded myself to focus and get through this. I was often out at night and had run through dense underbrush before, though never with an injured ankle, or so much at stake if I were caught. I heard horses galloping toward us--how had the wardens collected that quickly? I turned back, checking whether I could see them, but the brush was already too thick to see much of anything.
"This way!" Weevil hissed, but when I turned to find him, his voice became lost in the darkness. I followed as best I could in the way I thought he'd gone, but didn't dare call out to him and give away our position. Beyond that, my ankle was throbbing and slowing my run. Where was he? Did he realize we had become separated? If so, was he panicked too?
Finally, I pushed through the underbrush and came out on another road. I had no idea where I was now, but at least I'd escaped the wardens. This road was lined with rows of houses, set back behind long yards that were lit with bright lanterns the government courtyard should have had. These weren't like the log shacks where my people lived, with gaps between the logs wide enough for mice to crawl through, or to leak in winter rains.
No, these homes were made of stone and cut lumber, put together for style and beauty rather than our inexpensive, practical methods. I checked behind me again for any sound of the approaching wardens. Hearing nothing, I stopped for a moment and stared at the homes, wondering what it must be like to live in such a fine place. Were they just as beautiful on the inside?
"Help me!" a voice called from up the road.
I headed that way before I could think better of it, before I realized it wasn't Weevil calling for me, or anyone who sounded even remotely like him. This was a girl's voice, with the accent of the pinchworms. With their fine breeding and manners, why was one of their daughters out so late?
"Help!" the girl called again.
The voice came from below a bridge. This was surely the same river where Weevil was headed. If I went upstream, maybe I could find him again.
I slid down the slope, expecting to see someone in danger. Instead, I was greeted by the funniest of sights, illuminated by the moonlight. A girl with auburn hair and a dress made of silk, lace, and snobbery was standing in a small wooden boat under the bridge. Not only was she standing, but she was holding the bottom of the bridge with both hands, trying not to let the boat drift any farther downstream. She was probably two or three years older than me, but clearly didn't have the good sense of a River Person half my age.
"Thank you," she said as she saw my approach. "You have no idea how long--"
I couldn't help but laugh. "What are you doing?" I asked.
"Oh!" Her tone was immediately condescending. "What is a grub doing in Marisbane?"
"I can go away if you'd like." In fact, I'd be happy to do that. The only thing keeping me here was the likelihood of finding Weevil near this river.
"No! You're just the person to help me. Grubs are used to getting dirty, aren't you?"
"Not really," I answered. Though of course we were, almost as a rule. If there was another way to live, I didn't know it.
"Can you help me get this boat to shore? I missed the ramp, and the next exit is quite a ways down."
My eyes narrowed. "What are you doing out here so late?"
"None of your business. Can you help me?"
The Scourge hadn't come to the river country, but it was in the towns and probably was an infestation here. Whether I endangered her, or she endangered me, I started back up the shore. "I'm sorry, I can't."
"Please! I can't hold on much longer, and if I let go, I'll be in so much trouble!"
I sighed. "Okay, but slide back in the boat as far as you can." As far away from me as possible. Then I hiked my skirt and waded in the water toward her boat. I knew full well that the wardens were still somewhere on the road searching for me, but I had just gotten an idea. It involved this girl's boat after she got out of it. River country was upstream, but the wardens knew that, so they would search that way as well. Once I found Weevil, he and I could get away very quickly if we went downstream for a few miles, then went home another way tomorrow.
I said to the girl, "For your future escapes or whatever pretend reason you're out here, you don't need a ramp to dock your boat. Steer it into any thick patch of weeds, and it's just a short splash of water and you're out."
"Look at my dress," the girl said, holding out her skirts. "Silk ribbons are worth a fortune! Tomorrow morning, my father would surely notice even a short splash of water."
I nearly splashed her, just for saying that. But instead, I asked, "Why did you sneak out?" This girl was more interesting than I had expected. Not a typical pinchworm.