CHAPTER XX

What do you want to do?

I want to go to bed. I’m tired. I’m so tired. I worked all night.

Do you think your brother will be there?

No. I haven’t seen him for two days. He’s running with gangers now, you know. I don’t think he bounces anymore.

Everyone’s in with the gangers these days but you and me. Nothing to do. Maybe he’ll turn around on his own.

Maybe. We need some lemons. We’re out of lemons. Go buy some lemons.

* * *

The lazy sun, falling slowly through the sky while clouds rushed past, reached one sleepy finger through the window and onto the bed. Rachel curled closer to Jona to escape the hot sun. Jona stared at the ceiling. They had made love. They had talked. Rachel had fallen asleep. Rachel had woken up when Jona tried to move to escape. Rachel pressed into him. Her warm scales funneled Jona’s sweat into her mattress like tile roofs guiding rain to eaves. The scales nipped at his damp skin when she moved. If she pressed hard enough she might scrape him.

Jona ran a hand over her face. He could see that her eyes were open, looking down his naked body.

“The hottest part is almost over,” said Jona, “Dogsland’ll start cooling off soon.”

“Good,” said Rachel, “I’m so hot I can’t move.”

“When it cools off, the rains’ll come. Places’ll flood. People will drown in their own homes. Not really, but it’ll start to rain a lot, again. No one will drown. They’ll just wake up wet if they didn’t get their house ready. Roofs might cave in. Foundations carved bad might bust. Won’t stop the city. We’ll walk around with parasols and go on like there’s no rain. We’ll scrape out boots at our doorways and pretend there’s no mud. Ships’ll come just the same. Ships’ll go just the same. Things will go on until Adventday, about when the rain lets up a bit. Then it’ll come back, but it won’t be as strong. Then the rain will fade until it’s just the sun. But it will rain a while first.”

“When it rains everyone will be all muddy,” said Rachel, “and the stinking meat and blood will wash away so fast that the Pens won’t stink at all.”

“Oh, the Pens always stink. But you get used to it.”

“You should go. My brother might show up sometime.”

“I should. Let go of me, and I will.”

“I can’t let go of you, Jona.”

“I’ll stay, then.”

“But I should.”

The sun patch slowly crawled over the thin sheets. Rachel crawled with it, deeper into Jona’s skin.

The walls leaked the noises of the people in the building. Unconnected clanging of pots or boots or the creaking of footfalls or the chairs. Muffled voices—mostly women—spat gossip from window to window. Children in the narrow street, banged cans with sticks and sang songs.

A key in a lock.

Rachel’s eyes opened. Jona grabbed at his pants below the foot of the bed, but he was too late.

A giant stepped in from the street. A cloud of alcohol sweat spilled into the room behind him.

Rachel had the sheet pulled over herself. Not even a hooked toe peeked out from the edge of the bed. She looked up at her brother, her face pale. “Djoss,” she said.

Djoss took one step closer to the bed near the window. His fists clenched.

Jona grabbed for his boot. He had a knife in his boot. He jumped down to the floor, grabbing for his boots. He found one. He jumped up with the boot in his hand.

Djoss took one more step. He raised his fist. His face was blank as death.

“Don’t hurt him,” said Rachel.

Jona jammed his hand into his boot. He quickly felt around for his knife. “Tell him to stop and I won’t,” he said. No knife. He had the wrong boot.

“I wasn’t talking to you!” said Rachel.

Djoss took another torpid step. His lip curled.

Jona grabbed his other boot. He shoved his hand inside for his boot knife. He grabbed the handle. He whipped it around between him and Djoss. The knife was still stuck in the boot. The boot waved in the air. Jona flipped the button that held the knife down. He threw the boot at Djoss. Djoss knocked the boot away with his fist. He raised his fist.

Jona knelt down low with his knife in his hand, ready to lunge.

Rachel snapped her fingers. Fire spread over Djoss’ face.

“I said don’t hurt him!” she shouted.

Ice followed the fire, encasing Djoss’ head like a helmet. He punched at his head. A wind blew him back, through the open door into the hall. The door slammed shut.

“Jona, get dressed,” she said.

“Will he…”

“Jona, just get dressed. He won’t hurt you. Just get dressed and go.”

“What about…”

“Do it!”

Jona grabbed at his uniform. He put his boots on first. Then, he took them off, threw his pants on. He grabbed his uniform shirt.

The door opened again. Djoss stood there, burning. Tears welled up at the edge of his eyes.

Jona stood, looking at him in the doorway. Rachel shouted at Jona to go. Jona looked up at Djoss’ red eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said. He stepped into the hall.

The door slammed behind him.

He stood in the hall, listening at the doorway in case Djoss attacked Rachel. Rachel said, through the door, “Where have you been?”

He couldn’t hear Djoss’ answer. Then he heard a deep bass voice, like a human bear, “I’m going to get some sleep. Burn those before somebody gets sick. Is he sick from you?”

“No. He’s like me.”

“He says he is.”

“He is. I know he is. It’s all right. We’re careful. We’re more careful than you.”

The sound of a giant falling into a mattress. Leather pulling over skin. The sounds of the rest of the building overwhelmed the sounds from Djoss and Rachel’s room.

Jona walked down the hall. He pulled his shirt and jerkin over his shoulders. He realized that he had left his knife back in her apartment. He couldn’t go back for it.

He found half a small lemon in his pocket, still fresh and leaking bitter juice. He sniffed it. He bit it. He walked down the stairs, sucking on the lemon. In the street, he threw it into the gutter. He looked up at her window. He saw lines of laundry drying, dancing in sea breeze. He heard the street. He heard the wind blowing in from the ocean.

He waited, looking up at her window. Then, he walked away.

* * *

Jona was sitting on the fence again, waiting for her to come out with the wash. He sat there, waiting, and when he saw the night maid come out with the wash, it wasn’t Rachel. It was this other woman, with fat arms. She looked up at Jona, sneered at him, and went to work. “Nothing to steal round here, king’s man. Even the women are too cheap to steal.”

“I wasn’t trying to steal,” he said, “Looking for Rachel Nolander, the maid. She’s Senta. She here?”

“No,” said the woman, “She’s off.”

“Oh,” he said. He swung down from the fence. “Tell her I was looking for her.”

“I ain’t saying nothing to nobody,” said the maid.

“Yeah,” said Jona. Jona tossed her a coin. “Well your kind don’t count as somebodies, so you tell her.”