A Land of Salt and Stench

"You know, they say there are some underground gangs around here."

"I've heard that. I've also heard there are drowned corpses that escaped from underwater prisons, and man-eating sea monsters that crawl out of the ocean at night."

Not far beyond Elm Street, they soon found themselves in front of a cluster of unpleasant buildings. Just seeing them from a distance brought decay and rot to mind.

Most of the buildings were made of dark-colored planks. They grew out of damp hollows, multiplying like colonies of fungi and spreading densely in every direction.

They seemed less like human constructions than some disorderly, alien life-form. It constantly absorbed more small creatures, driving them to bring in more materials, accepting whatever came its way.

From shapeless chunks of reef rock to oddly shaped, unidentified lumber, all the leftover and discarded materials in the city gathered here, stacked and pieced together haphazardly.

Their only purpose was to create spaces just large enough for people to live in. There was no energy left to think about anything else.

Over the course of months or years, the already poor-quality wooden structures slowly but inexorably changed in the damp air, bending and breaking under illogical forces.

The homeowners had to find new materials and repeatedly repair the damage. They covered holes with planks and propped up leaning walls with supports. Neighbors often built their homes close together, linking them with short wooden beams so they could lean on each other and form a more stable whole.

Since long, thick lumber was scarce, houses had to be packed closer together than the width of a strong man's shoulders, joined by a dense array of additions like centipede legs, out of all proportion to the main structures.

Even so, on land softened by seawater and lacking stable foundations, every effort was doomed to fail in the long run. Sooner or later, the buildings would lean under their own weight and collapse to one side.

Whatever parts remained usable were salvaged, and another short-lived building grew atop the ruins, doomed to repeat the same fate.

With this kind of planning, there was no point expecting any normal roads. Anyone entering had to make their way through the winding, filthy gaps between houses. In the narrowest places, they had to turn sideways to avoid brushing against the sticky planks on either side.

Lucius ducked under a slanted piece of wood that jutted out, its bark still partly attached. Kraft stopped at the fork ahead and looked back to see if he was keeping up.

"How are we going to get back later?"

They had only just entered the Salt Tide District, but after turning a few corners, Lucius had already lost his sense of direction. They had run into several dead ends and changed direction repeatedly.

If he had come here with Liston, they would have been frightened by this maze by now and wisely turned back to avoid getting in any deeper.

"I remember the way." Kraft pointed to his head. The route behind them was clearly imprinted in his memory. He traced their path in his mind, forming a map. "This should be about the right spot. Let's ask someone first, then keep going farther in."

After circling a heap of jumbled scrap, the two found the front door of the building before them and knocked on the damp door.

A gaunt man with a displeased expression opened the door. Seeing the strangely dressed visitors, he rubbed his eyes, wondering if he was hallucinating.

"Hello, we're doctors. Have you or any of your family members been sleeping longer than usual lately, or been difficult to wake?" Kraft asked.

The gaunt man stared in confusion at the bird-headed person who claimed to be a doctor, unable to understand why he was asking.

Wanting to get rid of them as quickly as possible, he answered anyway. "No. I live here alone, and nothing like that's ever happened. If you're trying to sell some kind of medicine, you've come to the wrong place. Nobody here would buy it."

"Have you heard of anyone nearby sleeping longer and longer?" Kraft crossed this lead off in his mind and pressed for other clues.

The gaunt man grew impatient with the aimless conversation. He tossed out a dry "I don't know," hoping the two strangers would leave on their own and stop bothering him.

Kraft sensed his impatience and reached into his purse for two copper coins. He held them out in his palm. "I don't make a habit of asking people for help without paying them. Could you think it over a little more carefully?"

The man reached for the money, but the black-gloved hand quickly turned over and clenched into a fist, making the coins disappear from sight.

"Please do think carefully. Any bit of news will do, as long as it's even slightly related."

He could feel the eyes behind the red glass watching him. Kraft wouldn't hand over the money until he got an answer.

The gaunt man scratched his face with his long, black fingernails, racking his brain for some rumor that might earn him the promised reward. There was no reason to pass up two copper coins practically being given away.

Besides, Kraft's approach reminded him of the strange tastes he'd heard rich people had. They were willing to pay for things ordinary folk considered completely useless. Maybe he could get even more money out of that purse, which looked heavy enough to be full.

"I think I did hear something like that a few days ago. Someone over by Red Algae Well overslept and lost a job they'd lined up. Does that count?" He licked his dry lips and stared at the fist holding the coins.

"Thank you. That's very helpful." Kraft opened his palm, allowing the gaunt man to take the two copper coins and tuck them into a strange part of his clothing. "Would you be interested in earning a few more? I need someone to take me over there so I can have a look."

"But I've got work to do today."

Picking up a little extra money was one thing; giving up a job that could keep him employed for four more days was another. Even without knowing any math, he understood which mattered more.

"What if I offered you a black silver coin?"

"Two. I've still got four days of work waiting for me." His blunt counteroffer convinced him that Kraft was one of those "rich people with strange tastes," and that he could squeeze more out of him.

Kraft didn't know whether the price was fair, but his gut told him he might be getting taken for a fool. Now that he knew the place name, he didn't mind shopping around for a guide.

"Fine. Then someone else can earn this silver coin." He made to leave, tugging Lucius along with the case.

"Wait!"

They had barely gone a few steps when the man called after them. "One silver coin will do. You're so stingy. I'm giving up a whole four days of work for this."

Their local guide led them through the crooked alleyways, farther into the Salt Tide District.

As they went deeper, the tangled alleys grew even more tangled and cramped. The jumble of supports sticking out from the shacks became more complicated and cumbersome.

The farther in they went, the longer the buildings had been there. Like the granulation around an old wound, they wrapped around and joined together, regrowing to a size larger than before just to approach their former strength. Repeated injuries had caused more and more overgrowth.

Kraft had the strange impression that he was moving through capillaries into the heart of a tumor. Outside, the place was still more or less tolerable, but deeper in, the tissue had begun to die from lack of blood. The discarded scraps and household garbage were the pus it produced.

It accumulated here, dumped haphazardly into every available space. The congested passageways grew even narrower, worsening the decay in a vicious cycle.

The sun climbed higher. Its warming rays squeezed through the crisscrossing structures, filtering into the gaps. Moisture rose from the ground and the mixture of garbage, carrying with it the smell of salt, rot, and excrement. The hot wind swept it into their noses.

Even with several layers of incense stuffed into his Bird-Beak Mask, Kraft could still smell it. The stench grew stronger and more penetrating whenever they passed large piles of garbage, making him consider turning back several times.

Their guide seemed completely unaffected, breathing the foul air freely. Perhaps he was used to it, or perhaps his sense of smell had been utterly ruined.

The short distance on the map meant nothing here; the passage of time seemed to stretch without end. After a long ordeal, the view suddenly opened up, and they stopped in a small clearing.

"Are you sure this place is Red Algae Well?" Kraft asked, looking at the pile of rubble before them.

A disorderly heap of stones sat in the middle of this rare patch of open ground. It was impossible to connect it with a well.

"It used to be a well."

"Used to be?"

"Just like the name says, the water was as bitter and salty as seawater, and there was red seaweed in it." The gaunt man kicked a stone on the ground. "The water was completely useless. After someone fell in one night, they sealed it up?"

The explanation made sense. The low-lying district was close to the sea, and seawater had flooded it for years. It would have been strange if Salt Tide District had any normal wells.

"So, can you give me the money now?"

Kraft took out a black silver coin and handed it to him, ending their brief employment.

Now he had to search this area, whose size he didn't know, for the suspected cases. Dilapidated, moldy buildings surrounded them, and for a moment he had no idea where to begin.

He reached out to steady Lucius. Even through the heavy mask, he could hear Lucius breathing hard. "I'd say this is the worst place I've ever seen."

"Who could argue? Want to find somewhere to sit for a bit before we carry on?" Kraft took the case from him and patted him on the back, helping him catch his breath.

The Salt Tide District was a terrible place, but this spot made him feel even worse. An indefinable sense that something was wrong had appeared at some point, and he still couldn't figure out what it was.

At first, he thought the worsening surroundings were overstimulating his senses. But even as he gradually adjusted, the feeling refused to fade. Stopping hadn't made him feel any better. If anything, it had grown stronger.

"How much longer do you think it'll take us to find someone?" Lucius bent over with both hands braced on his knees, his bird beak nearly poking his chest.

He heard no reply from Kraft.

Kraft fell silent for more than a minute. He had figured out what felt wrong. It wasn't that his senses were being overwhelmed; it was that something was missing.

The sun was now well above the rooftops. Even without the Clock Tower's reminder, they knew it was already around eight or nine in the morning. Yet they stood amid an unnatural silence, without even the faintest sounds of collisions or conversation.

[I work as a laborer at the Dock. I have to go there every day to look for work, and I usually get up really early...]

"It's not early anymore."