We Leave Together, стр. 26
Jona said nothing to that. He stood there until he thought he was probably dismissed. The night sergeant had already fallen back into the paperwork in the candlelight. Night shift scriveners always had bad eyes. Night shift desk sergeants had bad eyes, too. Jona didn’t want to ruin his eyes like that.
***
I worry when you don’t make it home.
Ma, I’m fine. Worry when you hear something bad.
What were you doing?
I was working, Ma. Sometimes I have to work to the long hours.
You should’ve sent a note, at least. You should’ve sent a boy with a note.
Ma, I’m fine.
You come home like you’ve been rolling in the mud without a coin in your pocket and bruises on your neck and you want to tell me that?
If I’m on a fellow hard like I was, I’m not stopping to write a note. I might as well stop to shout my name and what I’m doing to the whole wide…
I hate…
Ma, I know. This is how it is. If I can send a note, I will. That’s all I can do.
Did you catch anyone bad tonight?
Yes, we did. We caught a king’s man in a hookah pit more cheese than alive. We ran the whole place down. Did you hear the riot bells from here? That was us. That was us bringing down one of our own who went as bad as it gets. That was me hunting him and finding him, and he was on my crew.
Oh. Did you know him well?
I did, Ma. Been running with him since I don’t know when. I rang the riot bells, and now he’s walking to the noose. His head’s going to be on the wall and I was the one sent him to it. I knew him since I was just starting out. I knew him so long, Ma, and I was the one finding him and ringing the bells.
I’m sorry.
I’m sorry, too, Ma. I’m sorry I didn’t send a note. I know you worry about me.
CHAPTER 7
Bricks and rotting wood and the oily dandruff of the paint that had bubbled and cracked and fell like tiny, dirty snow from the wet heat.
Rachel ran her fingers along the edge of her own room.
She couldn’t sleep. Every time she closed her eyes she dreamed of Djoss grabbing a good man in the dark, throwing the good man against a wall and shoving a knife into the good man’s stomach. She dreamed of Djoss snatching ragpickers by their ankles and lifting them upside down to shake out all their coins. She dreamed of Djoss slipping his hand into an open window and grabbing anything he could fence. She dreamed his hand found a neck and he squeezed off the skull to sell with his big hands.
She dreamed of Djoss in a pink pit, his eyes glazed over like he was dreaming of Rachel dreaming of him dreaming of Rachel dreaming of him dreaming of Rachel dreaming of him dreaming of Rachel dreaming of him…
Where did the dreamcasting end, and the dreams begin?
He came home, when he came home, with no food. He opened the cupboards looking for food. He ate what he found, raw. He slept with his back to Rachel if he stayed long enough to sleep.
They had stopped talking to each other.
Silence is a word, too. Silence is a terrible word. Silence is the sound of bridges crumbling in the dark, of flowers wilting, of dead tongues.
***
Once he knew where to look, it was so simple. Jona took Geek with him into the Pens. They passed the feedlot where animals were droved into pens marked with their owners. They came in on ships, and overland, and sometimes they were just pulled in one at a time from someone who had an animal on his own and wanted to sell it. All the killing happened here. Animals were pushed and prodded into narrow stalls, smashed with hammers or cut across the throat to bleed out. The House of Sabachthani owned the building, and pushed the law through that made all butchers licensed, all meat passing through these walls. And, Jona knew where to look.
“I see it there, Geek,” said Jona. He pointed at Havala Veriki, prodding at a large wagon crate with a prybar. It was the kind of crate that came on galleons, big enough it was too big to move overland, too big for carts and wheels. It would come up from the bowels of a ship on a crane, land there, and stay there. Havala Veriki was the man at the gate with the crowbar, waiting for them. As soon as Jona and Geek came in, he knew. He didn’t pretend he didn’t. He saw from across the room. He grabbed a crowbar and stepped up to the right crate. Havala Veriki was resigned, pale.
“It’s a sheep shipment from a boat. It sits around a few days. Pull the numbers off the lot and go get the paperwork. I want to know who owns the shipment. Move fast. We got to move fast before anyone knows what we’re doing.”
“You sure this is a good idea?”
“It’s a terrible idea, but do it anyway, Geek. If it’s good enough, you can take the bars for it in the write-up. Move fast.”
Havala Veriki was there, and said nothing to Jona. Havala wouldn’t even look up.
“Go on, then,” said Jona. “Go to the business, man.”
Havala pressed his ear against the door. “I don’t think it’s ready,” he said.
“Crack it, or give me the crowbar. Doesn’t matter to me.”
Havala looked down at the crowbar and thought about it. He pushed it into the wood and half-heartedly worked it.
“The sheep come in, and we don’t open it,” he said. “Comes off