Reave shrugged.
‘Maybe this is just the suburbs.’
‘Maybe.’
The gardens disappeared and they found themselves in an area of high walls and grey stone factories. Then the road swung round a corner, and out into a square. The square was surrounded by all kinds of imposing municipal buildings. They were built from the same grey stone, but had been dignified by the addition of pillars and broad steps. On the pavements, serious people in black and grey went soberly about their business. In the centre of the square was a bronze statue of a sour, elderly gentleman in the same long scholastic robe worn by most of the male inhabitants. He clutched a book under one arm, and held the other poised as though about to shake an admonishing finger. The whole place had an air of unshakable piety.
Reave swung the buggy into the kerb and looked around.
‘Don’t say this is downtown Port Judas.’
The albino had included a box of cigars in the hamper of goodies. Billy lit one and inhaled.
‘It looks like a good place to catch a boat away from.’
A man in a blue coat with brass buttons and a peaked cap was staring intently at Billy and Reave from the other side of the square. Billy glanced at Reave.
‘He’s got to be the law around here. He’s a cop if ever I saw one.’
‘Don’t look now but he’s coming over.’
The figure was sauntering across the square, fingering the stick that hung from his belt. He had the unmistakable unconcerned walk of cops in every place, every age.
‘We can’t have broken a law already.’
‘You never can tell.’
‘Shall we do a runner?’
‘No. Hang on and see what he wants.’
As the figure came closer Billy and Reave could see that his cap bore the legend ‘Port Judas Bureau of Correction’. He halted beside the buggy and jerked the finger of his white gloved hand at Billy.
‘Thou!’
‘Me?’
‘Yea, thou. What thinkest thou, parking in the main square?’
Billy smiled politely.
‘Sorry officer. We just drove in from the desert.’
‘Thou makest for the harbour?’
‘That’s right.’
‘Then make. Outlanders have their own quarter by the waterfront. Thinkest thou the good people of Port Judas suffer them to run all over the whole city?’
‘Well, no. We just didn’t know.’
‘Ignorance is no excuse.’
‘We’re really sorry.’
‘I think maybe I should book thee for vagrant wandering.’
‘We won’t do it again.’
‘Thirty days in the workhouse would ensure thou didst not do it again.’
‘Listen officer. We’re new in town. Give us a break.’
Billy gestured pleadingly with his cigar. The officer looked at it in disgust.
‘Put out that vile weed. Thou transgressed City Ordinance 417.’
‘Huh?’
‘Thou shall not partake of the weed tobacco in a public place. Penalty sixty days in the city workhouse. That’s ninety days thou couldst pull already.’
Billy ground out the cigar with his boot.
‘Listen …’
‘I think I shall overlook thy offences this one time. Hurry thyself to the outlanders’ quarter and we’ll say no more. I promise thee, though, if I see thy face …’
He glanced at Reave.
‘… or thy face either, around here again, I’ll book thee for sure. Understandeth?’
Billy nodded.
‘We understand. Thanks for letting us go, officer.’
Reave flicked the buggy into drive, and they moved off. The cop watched them until they’d left the square. Once out of sight of him, Reave glanced at Billy.
‘I think you were right about this town.’
‘I’ll say one thing for it, it’s better than Dur Shanzag. Let’s make it down to the outlanders’ quarter. The good people of Port Judas give me the creeps. I think we’d be better off with the bad people.’
The outlanders’ quarter was surrounded with a high stone wall made from the same grey stone as the rest of the city. Billy and Reave drove along the wall until they came to an entrance. Over it was a sign that read ‘Outlanders’ Reserved Area. Gates Closed Dusk to Dawn.’ Two more Bureau of Correction officers were on duty at the gate. They waved Billy and Reave down.
‘Are ye entering for the first time?’
Billy and Reave both nodded.
‘That’s right.’
One of the officers produced a bundle of yellow cards, and handed them one each.
‘Heed the warnings contained therein.’
They both promised they would, and the officer waved them on. As they drove into the outlanders’ quarter, Billy scanned the card. It was closely printed on both sides with stern warnings to outlanders as to what the good citizens of Port Judas considered to be unseemly behaviour. The gist of it was that any foreigner showing his face in the main part of the city had better have a pass, a good reason for being there, and get himself back behind the walls before sunset.
‘This is some friendly town.’
Reave glanced round.
‘It don’t seem too bad in here.’
The outlanders’ quarter seemed a good deal more human. Its streets bustled rather than proceeded with stern piety like they did outside. Sailors in striped shirts and rough cotton trousers rubbed shoulders with merchants in black robes. Street vendors cried their wares and hard-eyed men in frock coats, fancy waistcoats and wide-brimmed hats moved determinedly through the crowds. There was even a subtle difference in the women. They still wore the same grey dresses and white aprons as the strait-laced ladies on the outside, but many had discarded the starched white caps, and they contrived to show more cleavage and the occasional flash of leg. Reave grinned at Billy.
‘This looks more like it.’
Billy laughed.
‘I could feel more at home here. What we need is food, drink, a bed and some female company. Right?’
‘Too right.’
Billy pointed to a place ahead on the left.
‘How about that?’
It was a two-storey building. Grey stone again, but its woodwork was painted a cheerful yellow. Over the door hung a sign - The Hot Puddings. They pulled up in front of it.
‘Is that an inn, or is that an inn?’
They parked the buggy and walked inside. The front parlour smelled of ale and tobacco. The timbers of the ceiling were mellowed and darkened by generations of smoke. The place was lit by an iron fixture in the ceiling that held dozens of flickering candles. Their light reflected on the different coloured bottles behind the bar.
Billy and Reave stood in the middle of the parlour and looked around. There were maybe a dozen men in the place. Most were sailors, except one group of three who looked disturbingly like mercenaries either coming to or from Dur Shanzag. A small man in a white shirt, black trousers and a leather apron came out from behind the bar. He had a round moonface and slanted oriental eyes.
‘I help you gentlemen?’
‘We’re looking for a place to stay.’
‘You gentlemen find no finer rooms than here at the sign of The Hot Puddings.’
Reave looked sideways at the little man.
‘You the landlord?’
The little man nodded.
‘Sure. Me Lo Yuen. I run this place.’
‘Well tell me, Lo Yuen. What passes for money in this town?’
Lo Yuen looked suspiciously at Reave.
‘Port Judas crowns, of course. You got some?’
‘No stuff beam?’
‘Port Judas don’t allow. You got to have money. You got money?’
Lo Yuen was looking less and less friendly. Billy intervened.
‘We don’t actually have any money …’
Lo Yuen looked decidedly hostile.
‘… However, we do have this very fine desert buggy outside which we would very much like to find a buyer for.’