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He licked his lips. “Yes. I’ll tell you every bit. Just like I said, Ham did the work. I didn’t know nothing about it. Said he had some digging to do for the palace, but nothing more. Ham’s the closemouthed sort, and I never paid it no mind.
“Right after, he broke it on me, real sudden like, that he was quitting, and going off to live with his daughter, just like I told you. He was always talking about going to live with his daughter, before he had to dig his own hole, but he didn’t have no money and she’s no better off, so I never paid him no mind. Then he bought that donkey, a good one, too, so I knew he weren’t mooning this time. He said he didn’t want the money from the work for the palace. Said to hire a new man to help me.
“Well, the next night, before he left, he brought over a bottle of liquor. Good stuff what cost more than the bottles we always bought. Ham never could keep a secret from me when he gets to drinking, everyone knows the truth of that. He don’t tell what he shouldn’t to others, understand, he’s a man to be trusted, but he’ll tell me everything, if he’s been drinking.”
Verna took her hand back. “I understand. Ham is a good man, and your friend. I don’t want you to worry about betraying a confidence, Milton. I’m a Sister. You aren’t doing wrong to confide in me, and you need not fear I will bring trouble to you for it.”
He nodded, clearly relieved, and managed a weak smile. “Well, like I said, we had that bottle, and we was talking old times. He was leaving, and I knew I’d be missing him. You know. We was together for a long time, not that we didn’t…”
“You were friends. I understand. What did he say?”
He loosened his collar. “Well, we was drinking, and feeling all misty-eyed about breaking up. That bottle was stronger than what we was used to. I asked him where his daughter lived, so I could send him the pay from the tally to help out with things. I got this place, after all, and I can get by. I got work. But Ham says no, he don’t need it. Don’t need it! Well, I was powerful curious after he said that. I asked him where he got money, and he said he saved it. Ham never saved nothing. If he had it, it was because he just got it, that’s all, and hadn’t spent it yet.
“Well, that’s when he told me to be sure to send the tally to the palace. He was real insistent, I guess because he felt bad about leaving me with no help. So, I asks him, ‘Ham, who’d you put in the ground for the palace?’”
Milton leaned toward her, lowering his voice to a gravely whisper. “‘Didn’t put no one in the ground,’ Ham says, ‘I took ‘em out.’”
Verna snatched the man’s dirty collar. “What! He dug someone up? Is that what he meant? He dug someone up?”
Milton nodded. “That’s it. Have you ever heard of such a thing? Digging up the dead? Putting ‘em in the ground don’t bother me, it’s what I do, but the idea of digging ‘em up gives me the shivers. Seems a desecration. Course, at the time, we was drinking to old times and all, and we was in stitches over it.”
Verna’s mind was racing in every direction at once. “Who did he exhume? And on whose orders?”
“All’s he said was ‘for the palace.’”
“How long ago?”
“A good long time. I don’t remember… wait, it was after the winter solstice, not long after, maybe just a couple of days.”
She shook him by the collar. “Who was it? Who did he dig up!”
“I asked him. I asked him who it were they wanted back. He told me, he says, ‘They didn’t care who, I’m just to bring ‘em, wrapped up all pretty in clean winding sheets.’”
Verna worked her fingers on his collar. “Are you sure? You were drinking—he might have just been making up drunken stories.”
He shook his head as if he feared she were going to bite it off. “No. I swear. Ham don’t make up stories, or lie, when he drinks. When he drinks he would tell me anything true. No matter what sin he done, when he drinks he confesses it to me true. And I remember what he told me; it was the last night I saw my friend. I remember what he said.
“He said to be sure to get the tally to the palace, but to wait a few weeks as they was busy, they’d told him.”
“What did he do with the body? Where did he take it? Who did he give it to?”
Milton tried to back away a bit, but her grip on his collar didn’t allow it. “I don’t know. He said he took ‘em to the palace in a cart covered over real good, and he said they give him a special pass so as the guards wouldn’t check his load. He had to dress in his best clothes so people wouldn’t recognize him for what he was, so as not to frighten the fine people at the palace, and especially so as not to upset the delicate sensibilities of the Sisters, who were communing with the Creator. He said he done as he was told, and he was proud that he done it right, ‘cause no one got disturbed by his going there with the bodies. That’s all he said about it. I don’t know no more, I swear it on my hope to go to the Creator’s light after this life be done.”
“Bodies? You said bodies. More than one?” She fixed him with a dangerous glare as she tightened her grip. “How many? How many bodies did he dig up and deliver to the palace?
“Two.”
“Two…” she repeated in a whisper, wide-eyed. He nodded.
Verna’s hand fell away from his collar.
Two.
Two bodies, wrapped in clean winding sheets.
Her fists tightened as she growled in a rage.
Milton swallowed, holding up a hand. “One other thing. I don’t know if it matters.”
“What?” She asked through gritted teeth.
“He said that they wanted ‘em fresh, and one was small, and weren’t too bad, but the other gave him a time, because he were a big one. I didn’t think to ask him more about it. I’m sorry.”
With great effort, she managed a smile. “Thank you, Milton, you’ve been a great help to the Creator.”
He scrunched his shirt closed at the neck. “Thank you, Sister. Sister, I’ve never had the nerve to go to the palace, being what I am, and all. I know folks don’t like to see me around. Well, I’ve never gone. Sister, could you give me the Creator’s blessing?”
“Of course, Milton. You have done his work.”
He closed his eyes with a murmured prayer.
Verna gently touched his forehead. “The Creator’s blessing on his child,” she whispered as she let the warmth of her Han flow into his mind. He gasped in rapture. Verna let her Han seep through his mind. “You will remember nothing of what Ham told y
ou about the tally while you were drinking. You will recall only that he said he did the work, but you know nothing of its nature. After I’ve left, you will not recall my visit.”
His eyes rolled beneath his eyelids for a time before coming open at last. “Thank you, Sister.”
Warren was pacing on the street outside. She stormed past him without stoping to say anything. He ran to catch up.
Verna was a thunderhead. “I’ll strangle her,” she growled under her breath. “I’ll strangle her with my bare hands. I don’t care if the Keeper takes me, I’ll have her throat in my hands.”
“What are you talking about? What did you find out? Verna, slow down!”
“Don’t talk to me right now, Warren. Don’t say a word!”
She swept through the streets, her fists whipping in time to her furious strides, a storm rampaging across the land. The churning knot of fury in her stomach threatened to ignite in lightning. She didn’t see the streets or buildings, or hear the drums thundering in the background. She forgot Warren trotting behind her. She could see nothing but a vision of vengeance.
She was blind to where she was, lost in a world of rage. Without knowing how she had gotten there, she found herself crossing one of the back bridges onto Halsband Island. In the center crest above the river she stamped to a halt so abruptly that Warren almost collided with her.
She snatched the silver braiding at his collar. “You get yourself down into the vaults and link up that prophecy.”
“What are you talking about?”
She shook him by his robes. “The one that says that when the Prelate and the Prophet are given to the Light in the sacred rite, the flames will bring to boil a cauldron of guile and give ascension to a false Prelate who will reign over the death of the Palace of the Prophets. Find the branches. Link it up. Find out everything you can. Do you understand!”
Warren snatched his robes free and tugged them straight. “What’s this about? What did the gravedigger tell you?”
She held up a cautionary finger. “Not now, Warren.”
“We’re supposed to be friends, Verna. We’re in this together, remember? I want to know—”
