"Oh, no," Shed said. "Tell me about it."
"Come on, Shed. I paid you."
"Sure. And I'll deliver when you tell me why you're so rocky."
"Where's that Raven?"
"Upstairs. Sleeping." Raven had been out all night.
Asa shook a little more. "Give me that, Shed."
"Talk."
"All right. Krage and Red grabbed me. They wanted to
know about Raven."
So Shed knew how Asa had come by money. He had tried to sell Raven. "Tell me more."
"They just wanted to know about him."
"What did they want to know?"
"If he ever goes out."
"Why?"
Asa stalled. Shed pulled the mug away. "All right. They had two men watching him. They disappeared. Nobody knows anything. Krage is furious." Shed let him have the wine. He drained it in a single gulp.
Shed glanced toward the stair, shuddered. Maybe he had underestimated Raven. "What did Krage say about me?"
"Sure could use another mug, Shed."
"I'll give you a mug. Over the noggin."
"I don't need you, Shed. I made a connection. I can sleep over to Krage's any time I want."
Shed grunted, made a mask of his face. "You win." He poured wine.
"He's going to put you out of business, Shed. Whatever it takes. He's decided you're in it with Raven." Wicked little smile. "Only he can't figure where you got the guts to buck him."
"I'm not. I don't have anything to do with Raven, Asa. You know that."
Asa enjoyed his moment. "I tried to tell Krage, Shed.
He didn't want to hear it."
"Drink your wine and get out, Asa."
"Shed?" The old whine filled Asa's voice.
"You heard me. Out. Back to your new friends. See how long they have a use for you."
"Shed!..."
"They'll throw you back into the street, Asa. Right beside me and Mom. Git, you bloodsucker."
Asa downed his wine and fled, shoulders tight against his neck. He had tasted the truth of Shed's words. His association with Krage would be fragile and brief.
Shed tried to warn Raven. Raven ignored him. Shed polished mugs, watched Raven chatter with Darling in the utter silence of sign language, and tried to imagine some way of making a hit in the upper city. Usually he spent these early hours eying Darling and trying to imagine a way to gain access, but lately sheer terror of the street had abolished his customary randiness.
A cry like that of a hog with a cut throat came from upstairs. "Mother!" Shed took the stairs two steps at a time.
His mother stood in the doorway of the big bunkroom, panting. "Mom? What's wrong?"
"There's a dead man in there."
Shed's heart fluttered. He pushed into the room. An old man lay in the bottom right bunk inside the door.
There had been only four bunkroom customers last night. Six gersh a head. The room was six feet wide and twelve long, with twenty-four platforms stacked six high. When the room was full, Shed charged two gersh to sleep leaning on a rope stretched down the middle.
Shed touched the old-timer. His skin was cold. He had been gone for hours.
"Who was he?" old June asked.
"I don't know." Shed probed his ragged clothing. He found four gersh and an iron ring. "Damn!" He could not take that. The Custodians would be suspicious if they found nothing. "We're jinxed. This is our fourth stiff this year."
"It's the customers, son. They have one foot in the Catacombs already."
Shed spat. "I'd better send for the Custodians."
A voice said, "He's waited this long, let him wait a little longer."
Shed whirled. Raven and Darling stood behind his mother.
"What?"
"He might be the answer to your problems," Raven said. And immediately Darling began flashing signs so fast Shed could not catch one in twenty. Evidently she was telling Raven not to do something. Raven ignored her.
Old June snapped, "Shed!" Her voice was heavy with admonition.
"Don't worry, Mom. I'll handle it. Go ahead with your work." June was blind, but when her health permitted, she dumped the slops and handled what passed for maid service- mainly dusting beds between guests to kill fleas and lice. When her health confined her to bed, Shed brought in his cousin Wally, a ne'er-do-well like Asa, but with a wife and kids. Shed used him out of pity for the wife.
He headed downstairs. Raven followed, still arguing with Darling. Momentarily, Shed wondered if Raven was diddling her. Be a damned waste of fine womanflesh if someone wasn't.
How could a dead man with four gersh get him out from under Krage? Answer: He could not. Not legitimately.
Raven settled onto his usual stool. He scattered a handful of copper. "Wine. Buy yourself a mug, too."
Shed collected the coins, deposited them in his box. Us contents were pitiful. He wasn't making expenses. He was doomed. His debt to Krage could miraculously be discharged and still he'd be doomed.
He deposited a mug before Raven, seated himself on a stool. He felt old beyond his years, and infinitely weary.
"Tell me."
"The old man. Who was he? Who were his people?" Shed shrugged. "Just somebody who wanted to get out of the cold. The Buskin is full of them."
"So it is."
Shed shuddered at Raven's tone. "Are you proposing
what I think?" "What's that?"
"I don't know. What use is a corpse? I mean, even the Custodians only stuff them in the Catacombs."
"Suppose there was a buyer?"
"I've been supposing that."
"And?"
"What would I have to do?" His voice barely carried across the table. He could imagine no more disgusting crime. Even the least of the city's dead were honored above the living. A corpse was a holy object. The Enclosure was Juniper's epicenter.
"Very little. Late tonight, have the body at the back door. You could do that?''
Shed nodded weakly.
"Good. Finish your wine."
Shed downed it in a gulp. He drew another mug, polished his stoneware industriously. It was a bad dream. It would go away.
The corpse seemed almost weightless, but Shed had difficulty negotiating the stairs. He had drunk too much. He eased through the shadowed common, stepping with exaggerated care. The people clustered near the fireplace looked demonic in the sullen red of the last coals.
One of the old man's feet toppled a pot as Shed entered the kitchen. He froze. Nothing happened. His heartbeat gradually slowed. He kept reminding himself that he was doing this so his mother would not have to freeze on winter streets.
He thumped the door with his knee. It swung inward immediately. A shadow hissed, "Hurry up," and seized the old man's feet, helped Shed heave it into a wagon.
Panting, terrified, Shed croaked, "What now?"
"Go to bed. You get your share in the morning."
Shed's relieved sigh nearly became tears. "How much?" he gasped.
"A third."
"Only a third?"
"I'm taking all the risk. You're safe already."
"All right. How much would it be?"
"The market varies." Raven turned away. Shed closed the door, leaned against it with closed eyes. What had he done?
He built up the fire and went to bed, lay listening to his mother's snores. Had she guessed? Maybe she wouldn't. The Custodians often waited for night. He would tell her she had slept through everything.
He could not sleep. Who knew about the death? If word got out, people would wonder. They would begin to suspect the unsuspectable.
What if Raven got caught? Would the Inquisitors make him talk? Bullock could make a stone sing.
He watched his mother all next morning. She did not speak except in monosyllables, but that was her custom.
Raven appeared shortly after noon. "Tea and a bowl of porridge, Shed." When he paid, he did not shove copper across the counter.
Shed's eye widened. Ten silver leva lay before him. Ten? For one dead old man? That was a third? And Raven had done this before? He must be rich. Shed's palms grew moist. His mind howled after potential crimes.