When We Were Executioners (12 page)

CHAPTER XVII

I know Djoss looked for Rachel in the stockade because he met Jona there. I don’t know precisely how his feet carried him over the streets.

I know he was chasing after Rachel, but she was so fast through

the evening crowd returning home and grabbing the meat for their dinner from the butchers near the Pens and no one knew her, really, so how could he find her?

Djoss could find Turco faster than Rachel. Djoss didn’t know where she went. He walked down the road. He asked the vendors and shopkeepers if they saw his sister.

“What did she look like?”

“A Senta, about this tall, and pretty as a flower with mouse brown hair.”

He cursed when he saw where she worked. He went inside, and told the women there that they’d have to find another maid for the night because Rachel was sick and wasn’t able to get out of bed at all. He didn’t know if she’d ever come back, but if she got better she’d come by.

They shrugged. They put the sign looking for help in the window. Djoss asked if that ever really worked. The owner said that the people who worked there couldn’t usually read, but having the sign up still seemed to work.

Djoss walked up and down the street, looking for her. They hadn’t been going out together lately, and he didn’t know where she was going now. He stopped ragpickers that he knew. They didn’t even know Djoss had a sister.

Djoss tried to find the few places he had taken her when they had gone out together, but they were anonymous places, where people don’t tend to remember anything.

He stopped in at the tavern where he still bounced when there wasn’t any weed to burn and he asked around if anyone had seen his sister. This time of day, it wasn’t crowded yet. People were still home eating dinner, pretending to talk to each other, and no one had hit the streets, yet.

Yet, the boss told Djoss he needed to work later. Djoss told him his sister was missing, and he needed to work on finding his sister. The boss told him to go get somebody to cover his shift for him, and Djoss grabbed the first big fellow he saw come in the door, and Djoss offered him a few coins to pick up the shift that night. Djoss told him he could take the night’s wages for the shift, too.

The fellow shrugged, and figured he might as well. 

* * *

Djoss hit the streets, with no idea where to go, except that he had to keep looking. He walked and walked, searching the crowd, until he was completely lost. He stopped in a tavern for a drink. He didn’t have lots of money on him. He bought the cheapest thing on the menu, and he drank it fast so he could get drunk quickly. He did it until he was out of money.

He stumbled back into the street. He was drunk enough to shout his sister’s name while he walked, like seeking a lost dog. Angry men threw trash from the windows. A jar of pickles broke on Djoss’ forehead, cutting him. A woman cheered from her window. Djoss tumbled into a ditch, overwhelmed from the alcohol and the vinegar. He turned onto his side to vomit.

When he woke up, a city guardsman was poking at him with a sharp hook. Djoss groaned. He looked up at the man standing over him in the early morning light. The guard shouted something. Djoss couldn’t understand it because it hurt his head so much. He rolled to his knees, and the motion rolled his stomach into his mouth. He poured more vomit into the street.

Then he heard what the guard had said. “Get out of the street, fool. Be drunk somewhere you won’t get trampled.”

Djoss clutched his stomach and staggered into an alley. He threw up one more time. He sat in the alley for hours, waiting for the worst of the hangover to pass. He stood up and trudged towards his home. He squinted into the light and took a wrong turn.

He heard a town crier screaming about the executions slated for tomorrow. Robbers, thieves, rapists and none of them wealthy.

The town crier called out about an of-demon girl to be burned alive.

Djoss stopped in his tracks.

He turned towards the town crier, up on his little pillory. He walked closer, slowly, with a new sickness all over his face.

“Hey,” shouted Djoss, “Hey, what was that about an ofdemon?”

“I only know what I shout,” said the crier, “Ask a gossip about the of-demon. I’m an honest fellow!” and he went back to his litany of criminals.

“What’s her name?” said Djoss.

The crier ignored Djoss. The crier kept calling out new names. He had finished the executions, and was now listing the people to be locked in the saddles and ridden about town. Djoss stopped the first person he found. “Do you know the ofdemon’s name?!” he shouted.

“Toss off!” said the man. He pushed away from Djoss.

Djoss grabbed another person, a woman. She slapped him.

Djoss shouted at the crier, “Hey, you!”

“Toss off!” shouted the crier, “I’m working!”

“Where do they keep the ones they’re going to kill?”

“Don’t you know? See me there soon you keep bothering me. I’ll smash your head up. Head to the King’s Old Palace, other side of Dogsland River.”

“What’s it look like?”

“Stick around a little longer and I’ll show you.”

Djoss asked everyone around him for directions. They pointed North, across the river, and into the mainland, where the swamp mingled with the city and the wall.

Djoss ran.

* * *

Three different layers of king’s guard let Djoss through to see the girl. They didn’t even ask for bribes. Corporal Christoff didn’t look up when Djoss clumsily tried to sneak past his desk in the last room.

They were expecting some tough to rescue the girl. They assumed Djoss was their fellow.

Djoss climbed down three flights of stairs following the directions he got from the third guard. He made it all the way to the bars.

Jona was sitting next to an open cell. He looked up at Djoss. “Salvatore send you?”

“Who?” said Djoss.

“Worthless sneak thief, that Salvatore. Can’t even save his own girl,” said Jona. “Has to send someone. Right then, go on. She’s in there.”

“Who is?”

“The girl. Salvatore’s girl. You’re here for her, right? Go on in, and get her.”

Djoss had been around enough to know he’d best hop in and check the girl out, and the rest of the mystery was best not unraveled right then. Djoss set his eyes low, walked in, and aimed at the shadow weeping in the back of the room. There was a girl, long black hair and puffs of dust when her chest heaved. Her hair was black, but in this filth it could’ve been anything wrapped in black filth.

He saw it wasn’t his sister from where he stood. He went in anyway. He wanted to see the second of-demon he’d ever seen in his life.

She took a deep breath at Djoss’ footsteps behind her. Her tears dried up, and her face chilled pale. “Did Salvatore send you?” she said. She looked up at Djoss with plaintive eyes, her hand upon his filthy boot.

“He did,” said Djoss.

“He should’ve come himself. Why didn’t he come? Who are you?”

“I’m Djoss Nolander,” he said, “pleasure to meet you.” He offered his hand.

The girl looked at it like a dead fish. “Where’s Salvatore?”

Djoss sat down across from her in the straw and filth. “I don’t know,” he said.

“I want you to go find him, and tell him that he has to come for me. I know he’ll come for me. I just know it. He loves me. He would never leave me to die like this. Imam’ll find a way. He’ll save me when I least expect it. When will he save me? You have to know him. You must know him. I won’t leave without him.”

Djoss leaned forward and looked at the girl, closer. “I’ll find him,” he said. “Where can I find him?”

“Don’t you know?”

“I’m sorry…”

“I will not leave this cell. Without Salvatore, I am a dead woman, and all glory belongs to Imam. I know Salvatore’ll come for me. And if he doesn’t, I won’t…” she started to sob again, “I won’t know a body on the streets. I won’t know a soul, without him. I’ll have nowhere to go...”

“You can come with me, if they’ll let you,” whispered Djoss. He touched her face. “You’re not alone, you know. There’s another girl like you. I was looking for her when I found you.”

She threw his hands away. “Get out!” she shouted. “Don’t touch me!”

Jona leaned in at the two in the cell. “Hey, street meat, you saving the girl, or what? All I hear is talk talk talk in there, and nobody’s saving the girl.”

Djoss stepped out of the cell, his face pale. “She’s the of-demon?” he said.

Jona nodded. “Tested her blood myself, twice. Beautiful thing, yeah? Never know how evil takes in a body. Probably all rocks and brimstone inside of her. Bet she has beast guts, or all teeth between her legs.”

“I bet,” said Djoss, “You know this Salvatore fellow?”

“What’s it to you?”

“Do you know him?” said Djoss.

Jona nodded. “I know him,” he said, “She won’t leave without him. I told the girl her fellow was waiting upstairs, but she wouldn’t believe me. She won’t leave unless he comes for her. Silly thing, to burn a girl just because she was born a little evil, if you ask me. Plenty of people are born evil, right? I can walk a block and tell you every kid that’ll hang before he’s got a beard. Don’t roll ’em, before they earn the rope, right?”

“Well, the girl…”

“Well, the girl’s a dead woman if Salvatore doesn’t come for her.” Jona stretched his neck. “Look, I don’t know you, fellow. If you don’t know where Salvatore is, best to walk the job. I wouldn’t get involved in this, were I dumb like you. Nasty, nasty.”

“I’ll take her with me,” said Djoss, “I’ll take her over my shoulder and kicking, but tell me where Salvatore can take her off me.”

Jona stopped. He cocked his head. He looked up at the hulking figure of the dirty, pens-stinking bouncer. Jona stood up. “That’s your game?” He whispered, cruelly. He pushed Djoss against a wall, hard. Djoss bounced back and put his hands up. He was smart enough not to punch a king’s man in the king’s prison. Jona kicked and shoved Djoss back up the stairs. “You want to see the of-demon up close before she’s burned? You want to taste a spot of evil, just to see? See if she’ll ride you one last time? That what you think? An ugly sack of street meat like you, and you think some condemned of-demon might ride you just for kicks? Think you save her and she rides you? Take her off and have her and then let the some monkey buy her off you?”

Djoss didn’t mind getting hit by a king’s man. He stepped backwards up the stairs where Jona, muttering and striking, pushed him. Djoss was back in the streets. His body was puckered in bruises from Jona’s sharp fists. Djoss jogged away into the night, alone.

“You go find Salvatore,” shouted Jona, at Djoss’ back, “If you don’t, I’ll hunt you both down myself.”

* * *

Djoss did the only thing he could think of. He went home. It was a long walk.

When he got home, no one was there. He got water from the well. He watered the flowers and set the rest to boil some water for rice and tea. He had a few sausages left over, made with pork and some berries and lots of sawdust. He ladled out the boiling water for his pot of tea, and then he threw the sausage and the rice into the rice pot.

He ate alone, staring at the door. When he was done, he laid down in his bed. He closed his eyes, and breathed deep. 

* * *

Djoss pulled himself from the bed. He rubbed his forehead. He looked around to see if Rachel had returned. He had cooked enough rice for them both. He didn’t know how to cook just enough for one. He ate most of what was left, and covered the rest with a cloth in case Rachel came back later.

He looked outside at the street below them. He called out to one of the street vendors, and he asked the vendor if she had seen Rachel. The vendor didn’t know who Djoss was talking about.

Djoss took more money from his little stash. He hit the streets again. First he swung down to his tavern to grab another layabout to pick up the gig for just one night. The boss told Djoss that if Djoss kicked one more night, he’d be gone. Djoss told the boss off and stuff the lot of them.

Djoss hit the taverns he knew, and the cafés he knew, and the places he thought she might know. He found a few familiar faces, but that’s all. They hadn’t seen the girl.

He figured he should retrace his steps into the city. He went back to the first apartment, at the baker’s shop. He hopped inside, and caught the baker’s wife sweeping up and closing down. He asked her if she’d seen Rachel. The woman said, “Who?”

“My sister,” said Djoss, “We lived here a while ago. Thought she might turn up for some bread or something.”

“What she look like?”

“Senta, and a woman like a younger, thinner, prettier me.”

“No Senta came in today. You buying anything?”

“No.”

“Then let me finish up. We’re closing down for the night. Be open tomorrow right at sunrise. Fresh bread, then.”

He stepped out of the place and looked around. He wanted to go back further, to Turco’s crate city. The closer he got, the more it occurred to him that there probably were no crates anymore. That kind of home is ephemeral, and rain and rot and sickness swept in and melted the whole thing into the sewers. The place was probably just a mudpit now, where Turco lit cookfires at the edge of a river and a few stalwart vagabonds lingered around a fire in a muddy field.

Djoss stopped at a street vendor and tossed a coin and said the name, “Turco, the fellow from Dunn. One of them Three Kings painting three crowns. You seen him around?”

The vendor nodded. He pointed towards an alley. Djoss nodded. He walked towards the alley, and he remembered it now. This was the place where there had been crates. Now, he could see the rotten wood in heaps, fallen and covered in thick, green moss. Turco smoked a pipe against a warehouse wall. He smiled at Djoss. “Hello,” he said, “You’ve been missing, Djoss. Dog’s been counting. Didn’t know he could count, but he’s been doing fine, I think. Mudskippers help him.”

Turco reached into his pocket for an extra pipe. He offered it to Djoss.

Djoss took the pipe. “Thanks,” said Djoss, “Where’re the fellows? Where’s Dog and the mudskippers?”