We Leave Together, стр. 65

Jona shoved his knife into a chunk of wood. “Checking for water,” he said, “You keep these dry?”

Private Ginoa turned back to the hills. “No, the fat one does that.” Ginoa yawned. “You bring us anything?”

Jona stepped up behind Ginoa. “No,” he said, “You like it here?”

Ginoa scoffed. “What do you think,” he said, “but I sit a bit and maybe I get to do something else later. Better than scriveners or stock boys, right?”

“I was a scrivener. I never sat a watch tower or walked the roads before,” said Jona. “You’re right about it being better out here than scrivening. It’s easier work.” Jona pointed out at the dead valley. “That’s a strange thing to see,” he said. Ginoa shrugged. He stared across the red sands, with Jona’s hand.

“As long as nobody’s crossing it…” he said. “They come once a year, and we light the torch and we make a break for it. My partner does it every year. Says he has a great hiding spot on a hill below one of the bluffs.”

“What bluff?” said Jona. “Can we see it from here?”

He turned to point.

Jona’s hands left the scenery. He snatched Ginoa’s hair. Jona sliced Ginoa’s neck as fast as a hawk crashing into a pigeon.

Ginoa breathed in. He clutched at his neck. He held a hand in front of his face, with all his blood. He tried to breathe in again, but he couldn’t breath.

Jona slid the knife down Ginoa’s back, looking for a crevice in the ribs. Jona pushed the blade into a lung.

It was so quiet now, on that tower.

Ginoa clutched at Jona’s leg with one hand. His other flailed in the air. Jona had a strong arm on Ginoa’s shoulder. Jona held Ginoa where he was on the roof, bleeding. Ginoa’s legs struggled to fall forward, away from the knife.

Jona held on, careful to keep the blood off his uniform.

When Ginoa stopped struggling, Jona gently placed him back on the roof. Jona wiped his hands off on a dirty handkerchief. He tossed the handkerchief into the wind. He signaled down to Salvatore.

Salvatore nodded, and walked to the edge of the cliff. Salvatore waved at the cliffs, and then clamped his hands together over his head. He repeated this until he saw a small cloud of dust on the edge of the red valley.

Jona went back downstairs to Calipari.

Down below he found Calipari standing over the corporal. Jona caught Calipari’s eye and pointed at the elderly corporal. Calipari pulled out a sword. He placed it against the corporal’s throat.

“You sure?” said Calipari, to Jona.

Corporal Belari leaned back in shock at the naked blade. “What the…?” he said.

Jona sighed. He walked around to stand behind Calipari. He placed a hand on Calipari’s shoulder. “No doubt in my mind,” he said. “The other fellow was a rookie right off the training ground. You think he has time to build up a network when this fellow sees the raiders come every summer to skirmish a little?”

Calipari frowned. He held the blade up to Belari’s throat. “You been betraying the city?”

“What?!” he said.

“Have you?” said Calipari. “Because the captain tells me someone here is betraying the city. Lord Joni, who is a lord and nobleman come to investigate, makes you the birdy to the north.”

“It’s not me,” he said, “It has to be Ginoa.”

“Why?” said Calipari.

“Because it’s not me!”

“It’s him,” said Jona, “Private Ginoa don’t even know what the word ‘birdy’ means yet. He’s only been in a bit. You’re the one been here forever, wondering what to do with yourself when you retire.”

“It ain’t me.”

“I’m with Jona here, Corporal. My gut is telling me it’s you. You been a leach on the city for years.”

“Prove it.”

“Captain’s word is all the proof we need. It’s either you or… what was the kid’s name?”

“Ginoa,” said Jona.

“Right,” said Calipari, “So did you ever slip anything to anybody? Maybe you look the other way when a fellow crosses the dead valley. Maybe you keep a record of the boys you meet passing through and pass the info along.”

Corporal Belari leaned back from the blade. “You already made up your mind? Why don’t you push the green boy on the roof a bit? Why don’t you give that a shot? I’m going nowhere. Where would I go?”

Jona shrugged. “I know a good boy when I see one. That’s what it’s like when you’re as bad as me. I come up out of the Pens like Nicola, and we’re bad men, Corporal. Captain sends us to do bad things.”

Calipari pulled his sword back. “I’m already sick of this assignment,” he said, “so hold still while Jona ties you up. It’s time we have a faster conversation.”

Jona pulled a rope from the supplies. He wrapped it tight around Belari’s arms and chest. He kept wrapping it in one long bind down to the legs against the chair.

Calipari put his sword away.

Jona picked up a hammer from a pile of tools in a sack in the corner. “Which hand you want to start with, Nic?”

Nicola rolled up his sleeves. He looked down at Belari’s trembling hands. The man’s mouth was clamped shut, whimpering. The sergeant shrugged. “That one ain’t shaking so much,” he said, pointing at the left.

“Right,” said Jona. He swung the hammer hard, smashing Calipari on the back of the head. He did it again, quickly, before Calipari could register the hit.

Calipari fell forward. He blinked in shock. He reached around to his head, his eyes rolling. His knees wobbled. He tried to turn.

Jona hit him again.

“Thank Imam!” said Belari, “Thank you. He’s crazy. I’m no bad bird!”

Jona looked down at his friend on the ground. He looked around for more rope. He saw none. Belari had all the rope in the building around his wrists and feet. Jona needed it for Calipari.

Belari still hadn’t deduced what was occurring. “I swear to Imam, to Erin, to anybody you want, I’m no bad bard,” he said. “Please, believe me,” he said.

Jona sighed. He placed a