Discordant Note | TBATE

Chapter 39: Misdirection

Toren Daen

I approached the distillery building carefully, jumping from rooftop to rooftop. The shadows masked me well this high up, the darkness cloaking me like a friend.

I'd left Hofal behind. My speed allowed me to outpace any pursuit he tried, so I didn't know if he was trying to follow or not.

With luck, I'd be back to the meeting spot in a few minutes.

Every now and then I checked my surroundings, a part of me hoping I'd spot some sort of patrol. That would banish my fears.

I found nothing. No hide nor hair of man or woman rewarded my search. The streets remained quiet, creating an eerie feeling when combined with the persistent fog. I felt like I was being watched from the haze, but no eyes met my own. The mist was pervasive and ever-present, and where before I had viewed it as an ally for this heist, now I watched it with wary caution.

Anything could hide in the fog.

My anxiety ratcheted up a notch as I finally spotted the building I knew was a facade for the underground factory. A long street led up to it, with smaller buildings on either side. Right past the building was a winding canal, the water drifting along lazily. A bridge connected the street from one side to the other.

The banks were steep, nearly a sheer ninety degrees. Unlike most waterways, the banks were also tall. If anybody fell in, they'd be stuck without magic or assistance. The fog gave the water in the canal a wide berth, something I didn't quite understand. What could cause that?

My actual target was a mostly wooden structure. It was short and quaint, looking like a canalside cabin rather than the front for drug mixing operations. I could almost imagine myself relaxing outside on a Saturday morning, sipping coffee and watching the sunrise from the nice wrap-around porch they had.

I dropped to the stones, muffling the sound I made as I landed. I couldn't use my normal roof-hopping methods anymore; the distance was too great.

As I approached the building, I thought over all I knew. There wasn't any human presence nearby and I couldn't sense any mages. Wade's investigations were all I had to go on regarding this place, but everything he had told us–minus the actual physical description of the building–had turned out to be false. No heavy presence of people; no covert guards that kept him away.

Had he been wrong?

No, I didn't think so. Which left few other options.

Was I acting impulsive on purpose? Part of me wondered. I was so close to my goal. Was I simply finding an excuse to rush the last few feet to my vengeance, like a sprinter pushing themselves once more near the end of a marathon?

The handle of the cabin door taunted me, like a dancer holding out their hand. Would I accept their waltz? Stride into the abyss?

I stared at it for a moment as the reality of the situation sunk in. The absence of presence could only mean that the Joans had expected an eventual assault on their distillery and had moved it. There was no way they would wait for the Rats to attack them here.

I sighed inaudibly, the constant sound suppression I kept up masking the noise. The Rats would have to start another game of cat and mouse, scrambling after leads blindly and trying to pin down a foe with far more resources than they had.

The destruction of the warehouses would make the Joans far more cautious. They'd go underground, and there would be no telling how difficult it would be to uproot them once again.

I turned around, planning to go back to the nearby rooftops. Hofal would receive depressing news. Maybe he'd tell me a story about how the construction of a building always had its pitfalls to cheer me up.