CHAPTER XIX

Jona scrubbed his uniforms in the basement. He brought hot water down from the kitchen, and poured it into his own private tub. His father used to sleep in the basement, alone.

When Jona’s father slept, he walked in his sleep. All the urges of his darkness took over his body, and his dreams were of being trapped inside of a monster, looking out from this monster’s terrible eyes. The monster was chained down, in the basement.

Two strong stone pillars with many heavy chains kept the monster locked in the basement.

Sometimes the man had drifted off to sleep somewhere, alone, and he woke up covered in blood with a full belly on the grounds. Servants were warned about the Lord’s sleepwalking, and they were urged to wake the man up with loud noises and slaps.

Jona stripped his uniform off his body and ran it over the washboard. He scrubbed it and scrubbed it until it was mostly clean. He had a couple spare uniforms, but they were down here, too, tossed over the stone pillars and stained with mud and blood.

Jona had to wash them all. When he was done, he poured the water over his father’s mud grave. Jona collected his wet uniforms in a basket. Then, Jona walked naked up the stairs, to the roof.

Jona stopped in his tracks. He moved the basket in front of him quickly.

Lady Sabachthani stood up, bowed gracefully, and turned her back to him. She looked at naked streets, devoid of life at this late hour.

“Good evening, Lord Joni,” she said.

“Ela,” said Jona, “I wasn’t expecting you.” Jona quickly pulled wet pants on. “May I offer you something to drink?”

“No, thank you,” said Lady Sabachthani.

“I’m wearing pants,” said Jona.

Lady Sabachthani turned back around. She sat on the edge of the roof, again. “I’ve seen men naked before, Lord Joni. I thought you might show up,” she said.

“Did my mother let you in?”

“Oh, I found my own way. I had hoped there might be some news about my suitors.”

Jona sighed. “I don’t know who the killer was,” he said, “but I know who ordered the killing of the Chief. Someone didn’t like the idea of a commoner on the throne.”

“Who?”

“A friend of Lord Elitrean,” said Jona, “but not a friend of his son. This fellow is best left alone. I may buy the blood monkey’s heart for most, but this fellow is untouchable for all but the king. Oh, and Young Elitrean didn’t know a thing.”

“And have you heard anything about my other suitor?”

“Well, rumor says…”

“I’ve heard plenty of rumors already,” she said, “for instance, that we were in love. What do you know?”

“I know nothing,” said Jona. Jona pulled up a uniform shirt. He threw it over the line. He reached back into the basket for more clothes. “Elitrean’s boy seems to have dropped into the water. Best I can figure is he was in disguise and he got rolled. They tossed him into the river. I don’t know what disguises he liked to wear, but that’s the best I can figure it. He isn’t smart enough to hide this long when people are really looking. Think about it. Rumors sound good, this time.”

“Please keep looking for him, Lord Joni,” said Lady Sabachthani, “and when I am queen, tell me who ordered my friend’s death. No one is untouchable to the queen. Not even the kings of great nations are untouchable to the queen of Dogsland.”

“I will, milady.”

She stood up from the edge of the roof. She walked towards the stairwell.

Jona kept putting his uniforms up on the line. He didn’t turn around to watch her leave. A hand touched his naked back, where his back was scarred from the demon wings that had been cut away. For a moment, it felt like Rachel, but Jona knew it wasn’t Rachel. He turned around. Lady Sabachthani was close to him, looking up at him.

“Thank you,” she said. Her hand remained on Jona’s shoulder. “When this is all over, I won’t forget you. You can dance in the finest balls with me, and then you can dance in the worst of the sailor pits like you belong there, with no mask or hired guards or fears. You know how to find murderers and thieves, and you know how to make people talk. My throne will need men like you in the days to come.”

Jona looked away. “It isn’t your throne, yet, Ela.” He stepped back, into his own wet clothes. “I don’t help you because I want something from you. I’m doing it because you asked me to help you. That’s all. I don’t want a thing. I do just fine by my own. If you want to do me a favor, just forget me. That’s the only favor I want. When you’re queen forget me. I’m happy just living my own quiet life.”

A cool breeze washed over Jona’s naked back. He shivered. Ela smiled, mysteriously. She backed away. She stepped into the stairwell. She closed the door behind her.

* * *

A pub—any pub—full of people covered in the remains of their professions. Dock workers drenched in sweat, sea spray, and splinters. Factory workers stank of stale wool. Sometimes musicians played if they weren’t too busy drinking or pinching after the girls. The two genders mingled freely after the inspector’s bell. Women flocked to a corner to have their fortunes read by a man with tarot cards.

Rachel’s breath stopped. She grabbed Jona’s collar. “We should go,” she said. She leaned into him, to hide her jerkin’s red X on charcoal grey.

“What, why?” said Jona.

Rachel gestured where only Jona could see. “There’s a Senta telling fortunes in the corner. I don’t want him to see me.”

Jona looked over his shoulder. “What’s he doing down here? Sentas don’t usually come down here except for you.”

“Let’s go, Jona.”

“No.”

“Please,” she said, “I just want to go.”

“He won’t do a thing with me. If he tries to do something, he’ll get bounced or I’ll arrest him. Besides, if he’s down here, he’s probably just faking. He’d make better money by the city walls.”

“Jona…”

Jona sighed. “Fine,” he said. He drank the last of his rum. He drank the last of hers, too. “We’ll go somewhere else, then.” He tossed some coins at the barman, and grabbed Rachel’s shoulders. “Where do you want to go?”

“Anywhere but here,” she said.

Jona and Rachel had to pass the Senta’s corner to maneuver through the crowd. Jona stopped Rachel right next to the fellow. Jona looked over his shoulder at the old man flipping cards.

“Hey, Senta,” said Jona.

Rachel’s fingers tightened on Jona’s hand.

Jona sneered. “I’m looking at you, foreigner. You hear me?”

A seamstress, in the middle of her fortune, scowled. “He’s busy, king’s man. You got your own Senta.”

“Yeah, and I’m taking that one with me, lady. Your Senta looks suspicious to me.”

The Senta looked up at Jona.

“Come with me, old man. We’ve got business outside.”

“I have no business with you.”

“Take your cards and come with me. You’ll make more money with me than you will with her.”

“I am not a greedy man.”

“Never knew a Senta that didn’t turn a card for the right coin. Well, finish up with the lady and meet me out front. I won’t hurt you. I promise.”

Jona walked to the door. Rachel’s nails dug hard into Jona’s palm. Jona ignored her.

“Look,” said Jona, “you can’t live in fear of these folks. Let’s test them. Let’s see if they can really see us for what we are.”

“They can. Let’s go home, Jona. We can just leave.”

“He’ll get here, else I’ll send a bouncer after him. He’s a faker. I’ll show you what I mean. Lots of grinders find the clothes somewhere, and they run a little grind at the docks where nobody knows better.”

The Senta didn’t come out; Jona tossed the bouncer a few coins, and told him to fetch the old fellow telling fortunes for a king’s man.

The bouncer returned quickly, with one hand on the old Senta’s shoulder.

“Thanks,” said Jona.

The old man folded his hands. “You need something, king’s man?”

“Yeah,” said Jona, “Thing is, when fellows show up down here in a dive like this and start reading fortunes, they’re usually a grinder in someone else’s clothes. So, I want you to show me that you are what you say you are. You got any fire, or ice, or wind?” “I have studied the koans,” said the old man.

“So, show me.”

“No,” said the man.

“So, you’re a faker. I’ll toss you in the tank, and you can think about what you’re gonna wear when we strip those clothes off you in the morning.”

The old man pulled out his cards. “A student of the koans came to an old Senta,” he said, “A Senta older than I am. The student asked for the old woman’s assistance with some of the more difficult teachings. She hit the student over his head, and hobbled away from him. She shouted ‘I will do what I like.’ The young man, thinking on her words until he understood them, looked down at his hands, and saw that he had aged, too, even older than the old woman had been. He became one with the Unity not long after.”

The old Senta turned back towards the pub. The bouncer blocked him. The bouncer looked up at Jona.

“I’ve never heard that koan before,” said Rachel. Rachel snapped her finger. A flame jumped into the air. She held the fire in space, like a floating ball of burning paper. She called the winds to carry the fire to the old man’s face. Rachel, concentrating hard, wrapped the fire in a ball of ice that spread inward. The ice snuffed out the fire, and fell into the mud, lifeless and melting.

The old man didn’t blink.

“I told you he was a grinder,” said Jona.

“Would you like your own fortunes read?” said the man.

Jona laughed. “If that’s all you got, you’re going to be sleeping in the tank tonight.”

The old man looked at Rachel. “I can read your fortunes if you like, just as I have read the fortunes of the poor folk in this blighted tavern.”

Rachel nodded. “Fine,” she said, “but not here. Jona, do you know somewhere we can go that will be private?”

Jona looked down at Rachel. He huffed at her. “Sure,” he said, “We can go to the Old Brewery. It’s big, it’s mostly empty, and I don’t think the rats will pay us any mind.”

* * *

The Old Brewery was open to the night. The street doors, unlocked let in the animals and homeless drifters collected in the corners, mostly sleeping, like bits of paper blown in off the street, accumulating in damp piles. In the center, the huge crane, leaned over the water like a limp fisherman’s pole.

Jona led Rachel and the old Senta to the center of the brewery, near the crane.

“We’re mostly alone,” said Jona, “but eyes are watching us here. Try anything funny and word will get back to the people that can do something about it.”

“This spot will do just fine,” said the old Senta. He pulled his cards from his belt and shuffled them in the dark. “Funny thing, the future. So strange, yet so easy to see. People don’t see the patterns of their own life. Do we even need the cards or do we use them to help the one who seeks the future? What do you seek, young one?”

“I am not your pupil, do not address me like one,” said Rachel.

“You can call upon the sound in the air, but you cannot call what connects them. I shall draw a card for you.”

The man pulled a single card from the center of the deck.

Rachel snapped her finger and the card burst into a ball of flame. “I’ve changed my mind,” she said, “I know my future. Do you know yours?”

“I shall remove my clothes and give them to you. I shall walk away. I’ll die in these streets. I have embraced my place in the Unity. What have you embraced, young one?”

“I am not your pupil,” said Rachel. She turned away from the man. “Do not address me as one. Now take off your clothes. I need them.”

Jona, confused observer, said, “Rachel? You think his clothes will fit you?”

“I’ll make them fit when I get home.”

The old man stripped. He folded his clothes, ceremoniously. He placed them on the ground in front of him.

“Let him go, Jona,” she said, “And don’t ever do this to me again.”

* * *

Jona’s mother stirred the porridge for her breakfast. She hummed to herself while she stirred. Jona was on the roof, listening to his mother through an open window. The street had only just awoken, and Jona leaned over listening for his mother.

His uniforms were all on the roof, drying in the winds. He had washed them last night with the rest of the clothes, naked and standing on the roof with the night breeze running over him.

He didn’t tell his mother about Lady Sabachthani’s visit. The uniforms took forever to dry in the wet air. Jona leaned against the chimney. He stood up, went to the uniforms, and tested them with his fingers. Still wet. He went back to the chimney.

He gave up waiting. He snatched a uniform from the line. He pulled it over his body, still damp.

He went downstairs, where his mother stirred porridge. She daydreamed a little, she sang to herself the songs of her youth, and she stirred porridge. She wasn’t singing because she was happy, but because she was trying to push something away from her mind, and Jona knew it because he knew his mother.

“Ma,” he said, “what’s wrong?”

“Stay safe out there, Lord Joni,” she said, “I’ll see you later tonight.” She placed the bag with her sewing needles over one shoulder. She walked out the door.

Jona looked at his porridge on the table. He poked at it. It tasted terrible.