I stopped my thought. It was just my canine and me. There was no John in the equation.
I ran some water into a bowl for Harry Two from the set of pipes out back. At first the water came out dark, but it quickly cleared. That was good because this was the water I would drink as well. After Harry Two gulped down nearly the entire bowl, I let him out to relieve himself in the dirt behind my new lodgings.
I pulled a chair up close to the fire and stared into its flames as Harry Two settled next to me, his snout on his front paws. This place had belonged to Virgil Jane, and on his passing, it had gone to his son, my father. We had abandoned it when my parents went into the Care, but I felt I had more right to it than any other Wug.
A knock on the door disrupted my thoughts. I turned to it with trepidation. Was I about to find out that our old home had been confiscated by Council? Or that because I was too young to live on my own, I would have to leave?
I opened the door to see Roman Picus standing there.
“Yes?” I said as casually as I could.
“What’s got into ya, female?” he said as he rolled a lighted stick of smoke weed from one side of his mouth to the other.
“What’s got into me about what?” I asked innocently.
“Loons to here is what, o’course.”
“Loon wouldn’t take my canine, so I had no other choice.”
Roman looked down at Harry Two, who stood next to me. His hackles were up and his tiny fangs were bared. I could see he had excellent taste in Wugs.
“Givin’ up good digs over that beast? What rubbish.”
“Well, at least it’s my rubbish.”
“You’re too young to live on your own.”
“I’ve been living on my own ever since my parents went to the Care. Do you really think Cacus Loon looks after me? And John doesn’t live with me anymore. I can take care of myself. If Council doesn’t think so, they can take it up directly with me.”
Roman appraised me with a cunning look. “Speaking of, ya heard ’bout your brother?”
“He’s living with Morrigone now.”
“Old news. Talkin’ ’bout his promotion o’course,” he added triumphantly.
“Promotion?”
“Oh, ya mean you didn’t know?” he said gleefully.
I wanted to know what Roman was talking about of course, but I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of begging for it. He ground his smoke weed stick with his boot heel into the cobblestones outside my door and made a show of pulling his pipe from his greasy coat. He packed it with more smoke weed and lit it, puffing contentedly on his stem until gray smoke curled into the night air.
“So his promotion,” Roman began. He took two more puffs while he kept me waiting. If I had possessed a morta, there was no telling how many times I would have shot him. “His promotion to be special assistant to Council o’course.”
I felt like someone had just struck me in the belly. But I swiftly regrouped. “He’s a young. He can’t hold a position with Council until he’s much older.”
Roman replied in a condescending tone. “Well, now, Vega, that’s why they term it special. Parchment done and everything. Oh, it’s official all right. Thansius pushed it through with Morrigone’s blessing. Council had no choice, did they? Not with them two Wugs behind it. Up and down vote with all yeas, or so’s I heard. Even Krone went along, and that bloody Wug don’t agree with nothin’.”
“And what does a ‘special assistant’ to Council do?” I asked, scowling. I did it because I knew he would keep talking and giving me details just so he could continue to see me upset.
“Well, you musta seen John going over plans for the Wall with the both-a them.”
“I haven’t really been involved in the Wall other than making straps.”
“Oh, is that so?”
“Yes, that’s so,” I retorted.
Roman drew a bit closer but retreated slightly when Harry Two started to growl. “Right you are. Well, now they’ve enlisted him to oversee the whole blasted thing, haven’t they?” he said offhandedly.
I looked askance at him. “I thought Thansius was doing that.”
Roman shrugged. “Dunno. I hear it’s a right puzzle, lotta obstacles, so they say. My head’s too thick to quite unnerstand, but there you are.”
“So what is John going to do about it?” I asked.
He pointed his stick bowl at me. “Well, now, that’s the question, ain’t it? I hear he’s thinking ’bout the Wall and such. A great mind, so’s I’ve been told. Good thing one of the Janes ended up with something up here.” He tapped his forehead with his pipe.
“You’re saying Virgil Jane didn’t have a strong mind?”
“That’s in the past, Vega. Just down to you and John now. You make a honest living at Stacks, but no more’n that. Reached your limits, haven’t you? Now, John, well, he’s got possibilities, ain’t he? A future, you see. And after this special assistant job, with a bitta spiffin’ up, I could see him one light sitting on Council, I could.”
“Why would he want to do that?”
Now Roman looked stunned. “Sitting on Council? Why would he want to do that? Are ya out of your bleedin’ mind? And you and your brother, the last of the Janes. Sad business. Sad business indeed.”
“My mother and father are still alive!” I said through clenched teeth.
He dumped the dottle from his stick bowl onto the cobblestone and stamped out the spark and smoke with the heel of his garm-skin boots, then dipped a thumb into his belt and said, “Show me the difference ’twixt them and the dead. Corpses under sheets I call ’em.”
I didn’t have to touch Destin to know that it felt like a flame. But it couldn’t be any hotter than I was. I could tell that Roman wanted me to take a swing. He had put his thumb in his belt because in doing so, he had drawn back his long coat to reveal a short morta in a leather holder riding on his belt.
I decided not to take the bait. Well, that’s not entirely true.
“You know, it might be a good idea for John to sit on Council,” I said abruptly.
“Glad you seen the good sense in that. Mebbe you have a bitta brain after all, though I doubt it.” He laughed heartily until he very nearly choked.
I continued, ignoring this. “He told me he thinks Council should run all lodging because there are some Wugs who take advantage and charge too much. I’m sure he’ll share that idea with Morrigone, and she with Thansius.”
Roman stopped coughing and his jaw fell nearly to his short morta.
John had never said any of this. This was my idea, but since I was female, it never would be taken seriously.
“You have a good night, Roman,” I said, closing the door in his face. I smiled for the first time in a long while. But that wouldn’t last. I could taste it in my spit, as they said in Wormwood.
I put another small log on the fire and then gazed around my new, old home. My eyes went again to the stack of odds and ends in the corner. I ventured there. The fire lit the room poorly, so I grabbed a small lantern from my bundle, lit its wick using the fire flames and carried it over to the corner.
Harry Two sat next to me on his haunches and watched as time went by while I methodically dug through what amounted to a history of my family. There were colored images of my grandparents, Virgil and his mate, Calliope. They were a handsome couple, I thought. My grandfather’s features were vividly distinctive. There was a lot going on behind those eyes. Calliope was kind and bright and seemed to take great pleasure in seeing her family happy. I was quite her pet. And I would do anything for her. Yet her time was to be cut short, as it turned out. Calliope had succumbed to the sick a session before Virgil suffered his Event.
I finally put all of these things away and stared into the dying embers of my meager fire. I envisioned John, now firmly part of Council and, with it, the hierarchy of Wormwood, reading contentedly in front of a blazing fire in Morrigone’s beautiful library after having had a sumptuous meal.