He laughed. “In my opinion, yes. But I’m sure
they have an explanation.” He pointed again into the city. “You’ll
see the bell tower over there. That’s one of the only temples your
priestesses have here.”
“So most people worship the Duo?”
“I’d say most people here follow the Way of
the Four, but their sanctuaries tend to be small and simple, not
big showy things that stick up into the sky.”
“The Four,” I mumbled, wracking my brain for
information and coming up empty. “I don’t know much about that one
either. Something about the points of the compass?”
“Four directions, four seasons, and each one
encompassing certain elements. North is the King of Winter, who
rules war and death. South is the Summer Queen, ruler of light and
healing. East is the Princess, the patroness of spring and birth
and motherhood. And west is the Autumn Prince, the giver of harvest
and plenty.” He shrugged. “It’s more complicated than that, but you
get the idea. There are other religions here too, but those are the
main ones.”
I wasn’t even sure I believed in the Goddess
I’d been raised under, but at that moment, I wanted to pray to any
deity who might hear me that my friends back in Davlova were still
alive, and that Ayo’s determination to reach some wretched arch
wouldn’t get out of hand.
A few minutes later, Jenko steered the boat to
the right, toward a series of docks sticking out like teeth on a
comb into the river. “Gather whatever you’re taking with you,” he
told us. “We’ll be ashore soon.”
***
Ayo shoved his few belongings into his canvas
bag. Besides the clothes on my back, the only possessions I had
with me were my money, which I tucked away in my clothing, out of
reach of nimble fingers, and my knives, which I strapped to their
usual places — one at my belt, one in my boot.
“Will you need those?” Ayo asked
quietly.
“I hope not.” But better to have them and not
need them than the other way around.
The stench of the docks made my eyes water.
Whether Deliphine actually smelled that much worse than Davlova, or
whether a few days on the open sea had warped my sense of smell, I
didn’t know. Jenko appeared to be used to it, and Ayo seemed
unfazed, but by the time we were tying up the Miredhel, I was
having to breathe steadily through my mouth to keep from
gagging.
“A lot of waste drains into the river,” Jenko
explained.
“So it’ll get better as we move farther away
from the water?”
“Oh, no,” he laughed. “It’ll get
worse.”
The Miredhel’s private dock exited onto a
small side street with very little traffic.
“This way,” Jenko said. “We’ll be passing
through a market, and it’ll be packed, so stay close.”
“I will.” I turned to Ayo, wondering if he’d
push for us to take him to his arch, but he said nothing. Only
slipped his hand into mine.
I followed Jenko down the lane, Ayo trailing
behind me. The smell didn’t abate. “Don’t they have indoor
toilets?” I asked.
“Mostly,” Jenko said. “But only for those who
have homes at all. There are plenty of people living on the
streets.”
Just like in Davlova, but the problem here was
obviously amplified by the enormity of the population. And of
course, human waste was only a small portion of what made Deliphine
so foul. There was also waste from any number of animals, and I
noticed most of the alleys held enormous piles of rotting garbage.
Dogs growled at us as we passed, and cats darted into the shadows.
I was intrigued by the varying sizes and shapes of the canines, and
the fluid grace of the felines. It had been years since I’d seen
either in Davlova, but here, both were prevalent, trying to find
their place amid the predators and the prey.
Half a block later, we emerged into the chaos
of the market.
The first thing that struck me was the noise —
the normal sounds of a plaza where folks attended to business, and
yet it was utterly foreign. In Davlova, I’d rarely heard other
languages spoken, but here, I understood only about one fifth of
what I heard. The bedlam of the market seemed more threatening,
simply because I couldn’t comprehend the words of the men and women
who bartered and sold there.
The second thing I noticed as Jenko led us
east along the periphery of the plaza was the diversity of the
people. In Davlova, nearly everybody had dusky skin and dark brown
hair. My black hair and green eyes had been enough to set me apart,
even if my skin tones were the same as the majority. Ayo, with his
golden hair and pale skin, was an anomaly, easily labeled a
foreigner on sight in Davlova. I’d always imagined Deliphine to be
full of pale, light-haired people like him, but I couldn’t have
been more wrong. In reality, there was no such thing as a norm in
this city.
I examined person after person as we walked,
trying not to stare, but unable to stop myself. I hadn’t even
realized hair could come in so many shades of blond or red. I
caught glimpses of eyes that were blue as the sky, and others
nearly as green as mine. But the variety of skin color surprised me
most of all. Some people paler than Ayo. Many who were somewhere
between his light tones and my dusky ones. And a full array of
shades deeper than mine, some with hints of olive, and others so
dark, they almost seemed purple.
Jenko turned to make sure we were following,
and when he saw the shock on my face, he laughed loudly. “Never
realized how small and backward Davlova was, did you?”
My cheeks burned. In Davlova, I’d considered
myself street smart, but here, I found myself ashamed of my
ignorance. “I guess not.”
“Deliphine is one of the biggest cities in the
world. Maybe
the
biggest, depending on how many of her
suburbs you count. And she’s something of a melting pot when it
comes to culture and religion. A hub for every trade on the planet.
If you go over to the north side of the river, you’ll
find—”
We were crossing a narrow side street as he
spoke, and my attention was suddenly pulled from him as Ayo’s hand
slipped out of mine. I turned to check on him, but he was gone.
“Ayo?” I called in alarm. And then, “Jenko, wait!” because our
leader was still walking, probably still taking too, oblivious to
the fact that we were no longer following.
Jenko glanced around in confusion as he
backtracked to where I stood. “Where’d he go?”
“I don’t know.” I spun around, searching
frantically, my heart pounding in alarm. Finally, I spotted him,
only a few yards down the road we’d just crossed, heading south.
“Ayo!” I called, but he didn’t turn. I ran after him, moving as
fast as I could, all my years of working crowds coming into play as
I dodged through people, doing my best to avoid the biggest piles
of manure and the foulest puddles of unidentifiable scum. I called
his name, but he seemed oblivious to everything. I grabbed his
shoulder once he was within reach, turning him to face me. His eyes
registered surprise.
“What?” he asked.
“Where are you going?”
He blinked at me and pointed in the direction
he’d been walking.
South.
I silently cursed the Dollhouse. “We’ll go
there later, remember? Tomorrow. For now, I need you to stay with
me.”
“I know,” he said, clearly confused as to why
I was telling him again. Clearly unaware that he’d ever left
me.
I took his hand and led him back to the
corner, where Jenko stood waiting. We started again, the same as
before, heading east. Jenko in front, me following, and Ayo behind
me, holding my hand. The next time we reached a cross street, Ayo’s
hand again left mine. I anticipated it this time, though, and I
caught him before he’d gone more than a few steps.
“Ayo,” I said, my hand on his elbow. “I need
you to follow me.”
“I am,” he said in confusion.
Jenko caught my gaze over Ayo’s head. He
raised his eyebrows in a question. I shrugged. But this time when
Jenko turned to lead the way, I put Ayo between us. Each time we
reached a cross street, that vile chip in his brain told him to
turn south. I had to use both hands on his shoulders to keep him
moving east.
We passed out of the business district, moving
into narrow lanes that were mostly residential, with an occasional
bakery or tavern wedged in. The dogs and cats here seemed less
feral, the former panting eagerly at us in hopes of a scrap or two,
the latter watching us from atop trash bins with wary
disdain.
The buildings were taller than I was used to,
built shoulder to shoulder, with few gaps between. The few passages
I spotted were barely wide enough for a person to walk. Two abreast
could never make it, and passing somebody coming the other way
would have been awkward. The buildings were mostly of wood, with
thatched roofs.
I thought of the fire that had undoubtedly
destroyed the fourth quadrant in Davlova. A fire here would be even
more devastating.
“Look up,” Jenko said, over his
shoulder.
I did, and I had to stop for a moment, still
holding both of Ayo’s shoulders, while I puzzled out what I was
seeing.
At first, I thought they were laundry lines,
strung from building to building, cutting the hazy sky into wild
triangles. But there were so many of them, crisscrossing this way
and that. Some were high. Some were lower. Some were at odd angles,
one end near the street and the other attached to the top of a tall
pole. Not a single one had clothes hanging from it.
“Electricity,” Jenko said.
“It’s legal here,” I marveled. I’d known this,
and yet until now, I hadn’t thought much about what it
meant.
“Legal, yes. Not very reliable, though. Too
many people trying to use it, and not enough to go
around.”
“What happens then?”
“Used to be blackouts. The whole city’d go
dark. Sometimes it’d take them weeks to get it going again. Now, we
have intentional blackout periods. They only feed electricity to
certain parts of the city at certain times. Each section has two
days a week without.” He waved his hand to the northeast. “Well,
not those rich pigs up by the capital. They can use as much as they
want.” He smiled mirthlessly back at me. “We have greedy, rich
bastards in this city too.”
I laughed as we began walking again. “I guess
some things are universal.”
“So it seems.”
“Davlova doesn’t have wires like these. Not
even in the upper city.”
“Not anymore. The ones in Upper Davlova are
underground, and the ones in Lower Davlova were torn down after the
ban.”
The sun was setting, the lights flaring to
life one by one. About half were still gas, but the other half were
electric. Of the electric ones, some burned bright white, some weak
and yellow. Some shone steady. Some flickered as much as any
candle. I found the combination of electric and gas eerie. I
couldn’t decide if it was beautiful or obscene.
Jenko turned down an even narrower street.
Tenement buildings lined both sides, leaning threateningly over the
dirty street.
“I live here,” he said, pointing to the second
door.
Either Donato hadn’t paid him well, or he was
frugal. He sure wasn’t spending much to live in this decrepit
place.
We climbed a cramped staircase to the third
floor. The thinness of the walls was apparent. We could hear crying
babies, bickering children, and the low murmur of adult
conversations as we climbed.
“Ione hates it here,” he said quietly. “She’ll
be happy our stay is over.”
Ione turned out to be Jenko’s wife. She was a
stout woman with calloused hands and suspicious eyes. She clearly
wasn’t pleased to see Ayo and me following her husband through the
door.
Their apartment was bigger than I expected,
and immaculately clean — at least, as close as it could be, given
the run-down nature of the building. Jenko pointed Ayo and me to
one small bedroom.
“Ione has a friend who stays here sometimes,
when her husband drinks too much and turns mean. We keep this room
for her, but the two of you can use it tonight.”
The room was barely big enough for the narrow
cot it held. One wall contained a tiny window overlooking the
street. A steady, rhythmic sound came to us from the neighboring
apartment — thumping and heavy breathing. I focused on the ceiling,
trying not to be embarrassed by the noise, or by the way Jenko had
to live when not in Donato’s employ.
I failed at both.
Next to me, Ayo stood silent, staring out the
window.
Staring to the south.
“Give me a minute,” Jenko said. “Ione needs to
know what’s happened.”
The couple disappeared into the other bedroom.
I could hear the hushed tones of their conversation, although not
the exact words.
“Misha?”
I turned to face Ayo, his pale face lit by the
uncertain light from outside. “Yes.”
He hesitated, biting his lip. He reached up to
touch the spot behind his ear. His chin quivered as he fought to
hold back his tears.