If it were Edward in there, Harper would have simply followed him into the room and seen what he was doing. If he were packing, Harper would have helped him. If he were crying and cursing his luck, then Harper would have told him to do it later.
But Belimai was not at all like Edward. Belimai was deeply private. Even when Harper held Belimai's naked body against his own, touching and exploring every inch of him, he wasn't sure of his right to ask if it pleased Belimai. Physically, he knew Belimai well. But beyond the flesh, Harper knew less of Belimai's feelings than did the fleas in Belimai's bed.
Harper was scratching his shoulder involuntarily at the thought of fleas when Belimai emerged from his bedroom. He had dressed and held a satchel of belongings. His wet hair was tucked under a black cap that Harper was almost positive had once been his. Belimai offered Harper an ugly green coat and a pair of gloves.
The coat didn't do much to warm Harper's wet body, but it kept the wind from chilling him further.
"You left those gloves last time you were here," Belimai said. Harper removed his wet gloves and stuffed them into his pocket before pulling on the dry pair.
"I thought you said that you couldn't find them." Harper flexed his fingers against the tight leather.
"I did say that, didn't I?" Belimai shrugged. "Shall we go?"
"Do you have everything you need?" Harper didn't want to delay, but more than that, he didn't want to have to come back.
"I've got what I can carry. That will have to be enough, won't it?" Belimai's pale yellow eyes flickered over the ruined belongings that he was leaving behind.
"Let's go, then." Harper held the door for Belimai and felt absurd doing it. Belimai seemed too depressed to even offer a snide comment.
Harper followed Belimai through narrow alleys of tenements and workhouses. Eruptions of low thunder rolled through the noise of heavy machinery. Steam spewed out of chimneys only to be beaten down by the pelting rain. Most of the gas lamps had gone out, but distant flickers of lightning lit the sky from time to time.
As they walked steadily onward, the smell of the river began to drift through the rain and wind. They passed the cannery row and threaded their way between the lines of massive water pumps and sewage pipes.
At last, Belimai stopped beside the abandoned remains of a beached trawler. He pushed aside a sheet of corroded metal and started into the darkness of the ship's decrepit hull. The smell of urine and rotting kelp wafted out of the opening. Harper noticed the shadows of people watching them from inside the trawler's hull. Most of them had yellow eyes, like Belimai.
Harper caught Belimai's arm.
"This is where you're planning to stay?" Harper asked.
"It's out of the rain," Belimai replied.
"It's a shit hole." At the best of times, Harper found Belimai's living conditions a little too run down, but this was actually revolting.
"I'm not planning to move in," Belimai replied. "The Crone does her recruiting here."
"The Butcher Street Crone?" Harper lowered his voice as several of the Prodigals inside the boat stared at him. All of them were likely to be fugitives like Belimai, who were willing to work as whores and cutthroats in exchange for the Crone's protection from the Inquisition.
"Are you seriously thinking of working for the Crone?" Harper tightened his grip on Belimai's thin arm. "At best she'll make a whore of you. More likely she'll have you murdering honest men for ophorium."
"It might save me the trouble of buying the drug myself," Belimai responded.
A burning pain flared up through Harper's chest at the thought of Belimai ending up gutted on an Inquisition table or screaming from an execution fire. Even the Butcher Boys who weren't executed might as well have died. They were vacant bodies, living only to feed their addictions.
"She'll only use you, Belimai. As soon as you're too worn out or old, she'll let the Inquisition have you," Harper said.
"I worked for the Crone after I was first released from the Inquisition. She took good care of me then." Belimai's tone was oddly flat. "I'm accused of murdering a lord's niece. The Inquisition isn't going to just stop looking for me, and I can't hide in the clouds for the rest of my life. But the Crone has connections. If anyone can get a Prodigal out of the capital, she can. I'll just have to do a couple jobs for her first. Nothing I haven't done before." Belimai pulled free of Harper's grip. He gave Harper a short, forced smile.
"I guess we should call this goodbye—" Belimai began.
"Like hell." Harper grabbed Belimai at the waist and flung him up over his shoulder. Then he turned with Belimai and walked away from the rotting ship.
"Harper." Belimai hung limply against Harper's back. "What do you think you're doing?"
"What I damn well should have done from the start," Harper snapped. "I didn't run myself half to death just to hand you over to the Butcher Street Crone. I came to save your life, and no matter what you want, that's what I'm going to do."
"Harper, if you're caught with me—"
"Shut up." Harper didn't want to hear why he shouldn't be doing what he was doing. He knew the reasons well enough.
"At least put me down," Belimai demanded. "If anything is going to make an Inquisitor notice us, this is it."
"You are not going to work for the Crone," Harper stated flatly.
"All right. Just let me down."
Harper decided to oblige Belimai, partly because they looked conspicuous, but mainly because he was too tired to carry Belimai any farther. Harper set Belimai on his feet and then leaned back against a cannery wall. The slight overhang of its roof sheltered him from the rain. Belimai joined him against the wall.
"If you're found out helping me, they'll skin you alive," Belimai said.
"I'm thinking," Harper replied. He stared out at the sky.
He couldn't just take Belimai back to his house. His upstanding neighbors would report it in a matter of hours. Belimai would be safest outside the city, but every road and pier had checkpoints. The normal security would be intensified after a murder. Even Prodigals with special passes to leave the capital would be held back tonight. By morning, word would have spread, and even the lax security allowed for wealthy travelers would be tightened.
He wished he had a cigarette and dry feet.
"If this damn rain just would let up..." Harper muttered, as if all their troubles could be blamed on the weather.
"It's worse up high." Belimai gazed up into the dark clouds. Reflections of bursting lightning flickered across his yellow eyes.
"Is that where you went when they broke in your door?"
"Of course. As soon as I heard the wood crack, I was out the window. With the weather like this, there was no chance they could catch me in a net." Belimai frowned slightly. "But even I can't stay up there all the time. I nearly froze."
Harper considered hiding Belimai in Hells Below. Joan would take Belimai if Harper asked her to, he was sure of that. She might have changed her name, but she was still Harper's sister. But Hells Below was the first place anyone would look for a fugitive Prodigal. Also, Nick Sariel was there. Harper didn't like the idea of Belimai and Nick becoming reacquainted. Harper gazed at Belimai's sharp features. No, he didn't like the thought of Belimai and Sariel living together in Good Commons at all.