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“Because this is the kind of neighborhood where they might keep the royals. We have to get near enough to Rigg, if he’s still alive, that he can see our paths. Isn’t that what he does? You said he could see the paths even through walls.”
“I didn’t even think of that,” said Umbo.
“Well, what did you think? That we could ask where they keep the royals and then go and chat with Rigg?”
“I thought that the Revolutionary Council allowed common citizens to go look at the royals and take things away from them and stuff.”
“Yes, yes, but not any common citizen. And not just any old time, either. It’s only when they want to humiliate the royals or make some kind of political point or warning. And we wouldn’t be the ‘common citizens’ they’d send.”
“So it’s all for show.”
“Government is all show, when it isn’t murder in the dark,” said Loaf. “Or soldiers in the open.”
Instead of going back toward safer neighborhoods—safer for poor people, that is—Loaf was leading them through ever richer streets. Now the houses were each as wide as ten buildings in an ordinary part of town, and no windows looked out on the street at all, except perhaps on third stories.
“Do they all live in darkness?” asked Umbo.
“They all have large inner courtyards, and their windows look out into their private garden. They’re like little castles.”
“They don’t look so little to me,” said Umbo.
“That’s because you’ve never seen a castle.”
“And each one of these houses is just one family?” asked Umbo.
“One family, plus their servants and guards and guests, their treasuries and libraries and animals. Each one of these houses contains a hamlet’s-worth of people.”
“A burglar would have a hard time getting his second-story boy up into that window,” said Umbo.
“Even so,” answered Loaf, “please have the wit not to be seen looking up at it.”
Suddenly the road opened up to a park with broad lawns and low flowers and shrubbery, with only a tree here and there. Even the drainage ditch that kept the raised land dry was lined with grass that was kept close-mown by goats. Several huge buildings—not taller than three stories, but broad and finely made, faced with bright white stone—were widely spaced among the gardens.
“Here it is,” said Loaf. “The Great Library of Aressa Sessamo.”
“Which building?”
“All of them,” said Loaf. “If it was just one building it wouldn’t be all that great, would it?”
“Are we going inside?”
“Are you joking?” asked Loaf. “Do we look like scholars? They’d have us run off to an asylum as madmen.”
“I can read!”
“But how recently have you bathed?” asked Loaf. “No, I’m just thinking that if Rigg has any freedom at all, he’ll try to get here so he can learn more about his gift or about the history of the royal family or about contemporary politics—and by walking near here we’ll improve our chances of his noticing our paths.”
“So we’ll get to a place where I can piss pretty soon?” asked Umbo.
“Oh, you can do that here,” said Loaf. “Against any of these walls.”
“Rich people’s houses?”
“You’re pissing on the outside. The street side. They lime it white every six months anyway.” As if Umbo had given him an excellent idea, Loaf was lustily hosing down the base of a stucco wall.
Umbo saw that there were dozens of yellow-stained patches. “I would have thought Aressa Sessamo would be more civilized than this,” said Umbo. “In Fall Ford—”
“In Fall Ford—just like Leaky’s Landing—everybody can easily find a bush or a privy, so they can afford to be fastidious about never doing a bodily function in public. But this is a city in a swamp—every scrap of ground is valuable, and they’re not going to waste it on public toilets just for urine.”
