No Mourners, No Funerals

50.✓

Inej would find her own ways. She was the Wraith, the only law applied to her was gravity and sometimes she defied that too. The building was an old windowless dump, but she managed to locate a drainpipe to make her way to the roof. 

Inej checked her knives, silently reciting their names as the night could end in trouble. It was a practical habit but also a comfort, too. Her left foot found the ridges in the stone giving her enough balance to hoist herself higher. It was just a two-story building so the climb wasn't tough except for the greasy pipe that was making her nauseous.

As she reached the boundary wall she noticed the scattered pieces of glass on the floor. Smirking to herself she thought, smart, just not enough. She took a leap almost like a dancer, reaching the other end of the roof. Avoiding the pieces of glass gracefully.

After two attempts she heard the satisfying click as the door flew open. Suddenly, the initial days of Kaz teaching her about lockpicking came to her mind and she rolled her eyes and went inside. Pulling the hood over her head, she passed a room and then went down the floor where most of the noise was coming from. 

The place was well maintained with lights and better flooring, the exact opposite of the outside of the building. She was a floor above when her eyes found the bald man sitting with three other men, laughing and drinking. "It's going to be big money." He said to the man on his right. Inej inventoried the look of the people present there and the markings of wealth in the room. 

By the looks of it, she could bet that some of the objects held high mortgage value. "When? And how did they manage to get away?" The slender one asked. "In about a week's time. They found one of that bitch's spiders and gave him the right reward." She flinched as she realizes what was happening. 

They were talking about her people who used to provide information about any new ships or slavers. Inej closed her eyes and prayed for the man who died working for her. "The estimate is about 75-80 young slaves who'll be later shipped to different areas according to the need. The money is going to be good, can cover up at least a year's expense." 

She felt like killing the man right there. Suddenly a voice startled her, someone was jogging up the stairs from the other side. There was no other place to go except back on the roof. 

She rushed back but managed to catch the last sentence, "It won't be around Fifth harbor."

The cold night air greeted her as she went back on the open roof. She had to go back now, there was so much to do. Before entering she had no idea that it could lead to something like that. 

She needed to take action, and soon too. She had to inform Caden about the whole shipment and plan out a way to save the indentured people. 

But before all that, she needed to go back to the mansion as soon as she could.

***

Vlam had made it down into the harsher parts of the Barrel, simply mapping the area out in his head. He rested his hand on his brass knuckles in his pockets. He knew he stood out like a sore thumb, he had gotten enough shit for looking like a 'farm-branded pigeon' back at the Slat and the Crow Club to be painfully aware of every mistake that he was making.

 To soothe his worried nerves, Vlam reached down and ran his free hand through Oiche's fur. Though he wasn't dumb enough to turn down an alleyway, he stuck to the main ways, hoping that could at least lessen his odds of getting jumped. Soon, Vlam realized he didn't recognize the territory he was in anymore. 

It wasn't neutral turf, and it wasn't under the reign of the Dregs. The duo stopped dead, Oiche snarling at seemingly nothing, the Grisha slowly slipping on his brass knuckles. Someone was following him and had been since he hit the new territory.