//------------------------------// // 30 - Premeditation // Story: From Dusk to Night // by KuroiTsubasaTenshi //------------------------------// I tried to get some rest myself, so that I could align Diligent Duster’s and my waking hours. I still didn’t trust him, but it’s not like there was anyone else I could get information out of. If those cursed doors were alive, I’d say that they were contributing to the cause in the most cheeky way possible—every one of Diligent Duster’s arrivals and departures left me startled and awake. This happened at least three more times over the next twelve or so hours. Each time he returned, he was slower, more ragged and went to sleep without a word. By the final time, his hooves were dragging and his back sagged. He didn’t even look at me. I thought back to what he’d said yesterday, that before the end, he wanted to talk about his dead lover. Given the state of his body, I had to assume he knew he’d be doing something more dangerous. Perhaps he didn’t expect to come back. One generally doesn’t call something ‘the pit’ because it’s nice. After about an hour of lying alone with my thoughts, Diligent Duster’s voice cut through the silence. “They do it on purpose, y’know.” “What?” “They want us to know they’re coming. To feel that dread. That’s why this place is so empty. They sit in their little guard post, gambling. I used to laugh at it. How could it bother anyone? Then they put me in here.” His words sped up as he continued and I instinctively pulled away from the wall. He was definitely some level of unhinged, but a nagging feeling told me that wasn’t the whole story. Regardless, if Diligent Duster’s condition was the result of leaving someone to rot, I hated to imagine what was in store for me. I had to move quickly, to press him for more details. “Really? So they just hang out at the end of the hall all day?” “Pretty much.” “Sounds lazy.” “Doesn’t matter if they are. This place is huge and full of Cartel. They could leave our doors wide open and we’d still be screwed.” I frowned. “It’s really that big?” “Yeah. Place is a paper distribution plant. Lots of equipment and ponies so it looks legit.” “And they’re all loyal?” “Wouldn’t be here if they weren’t.” I wasn’t so sure about that one. Full-fledged Cartel agents being used as decoys like that would just tie up all their good resources. It would be a gamble, but if I could get out, perhaps I could mingle with the average workers as they left for the day. Regardless, Diligent Duster didn’t need to know. “So this whole thing’s a front?” “Yep.” “And… they felt a need to cram a conspicuous prison into it?” “Eh, guess so. Not like the Guard’s gonna be wandering around up here, anyway. Boss has got an understanding with them, if you know what I mean.” “I see.” I could already picture Blaze’s scowl. Then the details caught up to me. Up? There were two sets of stairs, so assuming no basements, that puts me on the third floor at worst. If I go down, anyway. “So we’re in some kind of forsaken prison tower.” I tried to play up the dramaticness of the impromptu title, but it was hard not to overdo it. Diligent Duster let out a bitter laugh. “Would be a good way to describe it. If we weren’t on the third floor…” Bingo. I smiled inwardly. “... and the thing didn’t go up at least another four.” The wind immediately left my sails. Seemed the roof would be no less questionable than the ground floor. He spoke again. “You aren’t from around here, are you?” “No. How’d you know?” “There aren’t many plants around here and they’re pretty obvious on the skyline. You’d know ‘em if you lived here.” “I suppose that makes sense.” There was no point in insisting otherwise. “So where are you from?” His question was something I saw coming a mile away and this time, I was prepared. “Nowhere.” The silence stretched on for what felt like a minute. “What do you mean? You gotta have a home.” “I’m a drifter. Home goes where I go.” He tapped the floor a few times. “Is it because of them?” “Nah, I’m just restless. But even if I wasn’t, they certainly wouldn’t encourage me to settle down.” Another chuckle echoed down the hall, though it quickly turned into a hacking cough. “You okay over there?” I tried, in vain, to peer around the wall. “Yeah, yeah. Day’s just catching up with me.” “What does a paper plant—even a fake one—need with a pit, anyway?” “They’re building some kind of big, voodoo room or something.” I blinked. “I… what?” “Hell if I know. I don’t ask questions unless I wanna get whipped. I just know they’re doing some kind of unicorn mumbo jumbo to the bricks I bring in.” “Magic?” “Yeah! That!” “Right.” That nagging part of my mind pushed long-forgotten research back to the front of my mind. It was ancient magic, the kind referenced and highly exaggerated by Daring Do. None of it could really destroy the world or enslave everyone in Equestria, but still. I tried to laugh it off, joking, “Hopefully that don’t use it to summon a demon or anything.” There was another long silence and I started to feel bad. When he spoke again, there was a hint of fear, leaking out from beneath the fatigue. “Is… is that a thing they can do?” “No, no. Sorry, that was just a bad joke I was making about a novel I read.” “You sure it’s not telling the truth?” “Well, no,” I replied. Nothing I had found even came close to doing what the novel described, and yet, I wasn’t exactly a magic expert. “But it was a fantasy novel. Chances are it’s all made up.” Diligent Duster let out a sigh. “If you say so.” By now, I’d worked myself up too much to stop thinking. I didn’t know much about the magicks—none of the techniques to actually cast the spells were ever in the books and probably with good reason. At least I hoped they were all locked away in Canterlot’s secure archive; the listed effects may not have been fiction-level of gruesome, but I wasn’t too keen on anyone having the ability to drain me of my magic or sacrifice my life force to power a magical device. As I came to recall just how many of these forbidden spells vaguely made mention of a live or recently live victim, a chill ran down my spine. It couldn’t be coincidence: this was why Summer Leaf was keeping me healthy. I had to get out—and soon. --- I couldn’t get much more out of Diligent Duster. At least, not without giving myself away. I still couldn’t be certain he wouldn’t just sell me out. Of course, even what meager knowledge I had would be totally useless if I was still stuck in my cell. I searched the room again. I hadn’t missed any debris and the plumbing wasn’t going to be any more useful than last time. Even if I found a way to detach some part of the piping, it was too big to do anything with. With a sigh, I flopped down on the bed. It let out a metallic creak. Despite the frame being clearly made of wood. I rocked back and forth. Creak. My eyes flitted to the hall. Once I was certain no one was there, I slipped down onto the floor, peering around as best I could in the dim lighting. There, where one of the legs intersected the bulk of the frame, a glint of metal caught my eye. Straining my eyes, I thought I could make out two thin, steel brackets on each of the legs—thin enough that they might just do. Assuming I could get them off without any tools, of course. I climbed back on to the bed and jiggled it with the fervour of a restless five-year-old, keeping my eyes on the hall the whole time. After a few minutes, I stopped and listened. Not so much as a single hoofstep. My ears twitched as I strained them further. Still nothing. Finally, I allowed myself to relax, to push that rush of blood away. Huh. Maybe Diligent Duster was telling the truth. Returning to the floor, I prodded at each of the legs. They seemed loose, although it was entirely possible it had come in that way. But if the guards really were so lazy, odds were that I wouldn’t be strapped for time. Guess I’d better get started… I couldn’t help but smirk at how dumb this was going to be. --- I was too anxious to rest, which was a problem. If I was high-strung all day, there was no way I’d have any energy by the next nightfall. I tried distancing myself from the bed, meditating, pacing, even just staring up at that little strip of darkened sky. None of it could make me forget that my plan hinged on one excruciatingly obvious possible point of failure. After a couple hours, I’d worked one of the legs within what I hoped was breaking point. I didn’t dare risk going further because breaking the bed now would most definitely alert them the next time they either brought food or escorted Diligent Duster. Not only did this mean I’d have to minimize time spent on the bed, it also meant that I had no way of knowing it would work. What if it wasn’t as close to breaking as I thought? Even if it was, what if I couldn’t get the lock open? Or the noise was enough to finally draw the attention of the guards? Beyond that, should the plan work without a hitch, another part of it left a heavy weight on my shoulders. That is, I planned to make my escape while Diligent Duster was away. I still didn’t trust him and he was clearly unstable. There would almost certainly be more ruckus if he saw me trying to escape, whether it would be him insisting he come too or the still-very-real danger of him selling me out to simply buy his freedom. Further, while he was gone, there was a minimum window where the most frequently present guards were guaranteed not to walk in on me. However, there was always the possibility that the next night would end up like this night, without Diligent Duster being called upon even once. If that were to happen, then, well, I’d just have to improvise. After that came the ‘easier’ part. With more information on the lower floors, I’d decided to try to get out at ground level. After some thought, I’d realized my initial idea of mingling with the crowd was too risky. If what Diligent Duster said was true, the workers would likely give me up in a heartbeat. No, the fewer people who saw me, the better. I would sneak down and disappear into the night. Then I’d have to sneak out of the city and fly as far as I could, preferably to one of the smaller towns. By that point, I’d likely be in dire need of supplies. It would be difficult to procure them without bits, but I’d just have to figure something out and hope the Cartel didn’t have too many people there on payroll. With even a nominal set of supplies, I could lay low and forage in the wild, slowly working my way home. Granted, if I made it that far, I had no idea what I’d do. I’d hardly be any safer, maybe even less so. I supposed I could get lucky, that the Mob would decide to make their move and keep the Cartel’s attention. I couldn’t help but chuckle to myself. Counting on a criminal organization unknowingly saving me from another—I had truly reached the furthest depths of desperation. As the first rays of daylight clawed their way through my tiny window, fatigue finally caught up with me. All my tension was gone, consumed by the darkness. There was the clank of an iron gate, but I hardly heard it.