Eist left Thomas on the bed and slipped to the door. The man crouched down, extracted a narrow steel plate from a hidden pocket of his vest, and slid it into the keyhole.
"When the door opens, we need to grab our friend and get out of here. Will you be able to run?"
"I will," Thomas uttered. He tried to stand, but the gold chains on his ankles clinked again, so he set about removing the jewelry.
Eist carefully opened the door a couple of inches, peering into the empty corridor. The guard left by the Madam to watch the floor stood a little further away.
He threw the door wider and stepped into the corridor with the most nonchalant air. The guard started, shifting his weight onto his feet, but didn't even have time to open his mouth. Eist closed the distance between them. With his palm, he covered the man's mouth, and his other hand drove the blade of a knife into his neck. Eist caught the heavy body by the armpits and dragged it into the room, laying it on the carpet behind the door.
They slipped out into the corridor and stopped at the opposite door. Eist gave three short knocks.
Inside that cage, Anastas was already practically throwing himself at the walls. The measured knock on the door made his head snap up. The door opened. Eist stood on the threshold, and behind him...
Thomas.
Anastas took a step forward, nearly knocking the mercenary off his feet, and grabbed Thomas by the shoulders. His gaze slid over the youth's pale face and... Eist's cloak, in which Thomas was wrapped. For a second, that same sharp, painful feeling of jealousy stirred in Anastas's chest again, but he suppressed it.
"Thomas... God, Thomas," the man whispered, pulling him close.
"It's time to go," Eist interrupted them. "No time for family scenes."
Anastas forced himself to pull away. He turned and looked at the guy who was sitting on the bed watching them, then pulled the purse of gold he had shown the Madam earlier from his pocket and shoved a few coins into his hand.
"Sit here and keep quiet," Anastas ordered. "When the panic starts in the house, run. This will be enough to get you out of here and cover your first few days."
The guy was confused, not expecting to be offered help.
"Let's go," Eist commanded.
They had thought through their escape plan while still outside. Going down the main staircase was impossible; fortunately, at the very end of the corridor, there was a narrow staircase for the workers, so they wouldn't flit around in front of important clients.
Eist led the way, his weapon at the ready. On the second floor, they were lucky—the corridor was empty, with only muffled groans and drunken laughter coming from behind closed doors.
But on the first floor, right by the exit to the backyard, their luck ran out. They ran into a guard. The man's hand immediately slid under his frock coat for his weapon.
"Halt!" he barked.
But Eist was faster; he knocked the weapon from his hands and incapacitated him with a blow to the head.
"Move!" Eist ordered.
They rushed to the door leading to the inner courtyard. Anastas threw his shoulder heavily against it, busting the latch.
The saving night air of London hit their faces. A thick, gray fog instantly enveloped their figures, hiding them from prying eyes. Behind them, inside the mansion, shouts, guards' whistles, and the stomping of dozens of feet were already echoing.
They burst into a dark, abandoned alley. Anastas and Thomas ran in front; Eist followed slightly behind, constantly looking back.
The sounds of the chase behind them gradually died down, dissolving in the labyrinth of streets, but they couldn't relax.
"Faster," Eist threw out without looking back. He walked half a step behind, constantly ducking and peering into the darkness behind every corner.
None of them had planned on staying in this cursed city anyway. From the very beginning, London was supposed to be just a short stop on their journey, but it had turned into a trap. Their travel bags, weapons, and horses were waiting in an inconspicuous rented stable on the outskirts of the district, just a few miles from here.
It was a half-abandoned carriage shed, where for a couple of silver coins, the old local caretaker guarded their belongings.
"We leave through the northern exits while the city outposts are still asleep."
Anastas didn't answer; he was already tightening the girths. When he finished, he walked over to Thomas and looked at him.
"Can you get in the saddle?" he asked quietly.
Thomas stood up. The clothes were uncomfortable, and there was no time to change. He pulled the belt of the cloak tighter and, with Anastas's help, mounted the saddle.
"Ready?" Eist slightly opened the doors of the shed, beyond which lay a dark, fog-drenched country road leading away from the outskirts of London.
"Forward," Anastas responded, lightly touching the horse with his spurs.
The horses took off in unison, breaking into a trot. Their hooves thudded dully against the wet, rain-soaked earth. Left behind them was the massive city with its dirty secrets. Ahead was only the nocturnal unknown, the cold wind beating in their faces, and the endless road.