“Why don’t you go wake the others,” John said as we drifted closer to the silhouette of Morland. He pulled on the air with relish, unencumbered by a night spent awake and upright.
“Why Morland?” I asked him. “You must be desperate for home.”
But if John Colson was desperate, it seemed to be for those towering oblong buildings rising up around us, and not for Kenton.
“Business first,” he said, pulling on the till.
“What business?”
“The Union’s.” He seemed to savor the word. “What other?”
Soon enough, the narrow boat was bumping gently against the pylons, and Theo and Patrick came up—Patrick stiff-jawed, and Theo gaunt—all of us surveying the docks for signs of danger.
But that was the thing about Morland: Every square foot was too full, too busy. No man glanced toward another, and everyone minded their own—an unwritten code.
Babies cried and chickens flapped indignantly within cages, and the sheer volume of bodies alighting and boarding boats was unfathomable. No one seemed to question the appearance of our mostly empty vessel. As soon as the narrow boat docked, people waiting on the jetty clambered onto the deck, not much caring whether I was bumped into the water in my negligence to move out of the way.
A hand took mine as though by instinct, and I saw Patrick beside me. He found a gap in the throng and pulled me into it, pushing against shoulders until we spilled out the other side. John and Theo followed quickly behind us.
The whole of Morland wailed and throbbed and perspired ahead. It seemed to invade a person, stopping up the ears and throat. My skin already felt covered in an inexplicable residue.
I’d forgotten how much I hated Morland.
John winked at me, and I recoiled. “Come on, then,” he shouted above the din.
Patrick and I held hands only as long as it seemed necessary. As soon as we entered the thoroughfare his fingers left mine, and I tucked my hands away in the pockets of my stolen robe.
The lanes of Morland were despairingly narrow, weaving uphill. Stall upon stall lined the street, their vendors screaming the names of wares to the oblivious traffic. John led the way up the steep incline, and I managed to slipbehind Patrick. That way, I didn’t have to think about his fingers glancing mine or what it meant.
“Where are we going?” I asked, for it seemed we were certainly headingsomewhere.
“Perhaps we ought to find a hotel?” Theo suggested from over my shoulder.
“Or perhaps we ought to part ways here, Teddy,” Patrick said without looking back. “I’ve got no desire to be within spittin’ distance of you.”
“Ah, let him tag along, son,” John said. “He’ll be swallowed up like a stray in this place.”
At that moment, a Crafter woman heavily adorned in glass jewels struck Theo on the shoulder with a tattered book. “IDIA WILL REDEEM YOU!” she shrieked, then blew a handful of white powder in his face. “PRAYER WILL CLEANSE YOU!”
Theo coughed and staggered backward. “Ah!Fuck,” he uttered, then quickened his step.
“Ain’t up to me whether he stays,” Patrick said, cutting a path through a queue of people. He nodded to me. “It’s up to her.”
I skipped a step, stumbling.
In truth, I had imagined we were all to part ways from here. I’d felt a sense of it creeping up with every passing minute. Patrick pulled ahead of me, and I was sure that at any moment, he would disappear into the throng, turn a corner and vanish. He’d broken me out of Belavere City, but surely his charity wouldn’t extend beyond that. He wouldn’t want me or Theo anywhere near Kenton. Morland, I’d figured, was where we would divide.
But we walked on, and he didn’t bid me away, didn’t melt into the crowd. In fact, he turned to catch sight of me every so often, ensuring I hadn’t fallen too far behind. Not meeting my eye but not letting me out of his sight for long.
I did not give my clumsy heart permission to hope. I could not afford to hope forhim.
I’d ruined us, hadn’t I? And men like Patrick Colson didn’t forgive.
Perhaps it would be better if I once more slipped into the cracks of the Trench and disappeared, and I could have done it, right there on that winding incline. I could step back into the crowd and erase myself.
The only thing stopping me walked just slightly ahead.
We reached the summit of the hill and turned down interminable corners until I felt dizzy, but Patrick and his father continued to lead us with intention, some invisible beacon guiding them, and I did not have the energy to question it.
