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Zeke preempted him. “Shut up, Huey. ”
Before Rector could press for details, a voice drifted up from the Chinatown entrance, and something at the edge of his vision moved. At first it looked so much like a ghost it almost stopped his heart. It was barely a flicker, and then it was something larger and fuller. It moved with purpose. The shadow was person-sized and it was masked.
Rector took a step back just as Houjin dropped to his knees. “Hello?” Houjin called down the hole. Then, clearly seeing someone he recognized, he lapsed into Chinese.
Rector and Zeke looked at each other, and Zeke shrugged. “I don’t know any of that Chinese talk. Huey tried to teach me, but I didn’t pick it up worth a damn. ”
“I don’t get how anybody understands it. ”
“Me either, but he says there are millions of people who speak it just fine, so it works for somebody, someplace. ”
The flash of motion down below swished again, and with it came the shape of a man wearing loose-fitting black from head to toe, though the edges of his garments had white hems that made him appear outlined—if horribly insubstantial—in the dark. He rose up the stairs (always, more stairs) with a smoothness that once again knocked up against Rector’s fear of ghosts and the way they hovered as they approached.
His masked head emerged, just high enough so he didn’t have to yell when he spoke to Houjin. Whatever they discussed, it involved Rector. He knew it easily, same as he knew Kirby Troost was to be watched and worried about, by instinct or suspicion. Houjin kept peeking at him, and his mood became precise: polite, but reluctantly so. He was arguing, and losing.
Finally he stood up, and the speaker disappeared back down below.
“What was that about?” asked Zeke. Rector would’ve asked himself, except that he didn’t think he wanted to know.
Houjin said, “Rector, we have to go down to the Station. Yaozu wants to see you. ”
“Yaozu?”
“He’s the man who runs the Station. And everything that happens down there. ”
Rector swallowed, hoping the mask hid his nervousness. “I know who he is. I’ve heard all about him. ”
“Have you heard it ain’t a good idea to tell him no?” Zeke asked.
“I heard that much, yeah. I still don’t want to go visit the Station. ”
Zeke took a stab at reassuring him. He slapped a hand on Rector’s back and told him, “I’m sure it’s no big deal. Sometimes he wants a word with people who are new here, that’s all. Maybe he heard about you selling in the Outskirts. Could be, he wants to talk business. Maybe he wants to offer you a job. ”
“Zeke, you’re full of shit. ”
“No. I’m not. There are rules down here, is all. ”
Houjin cleared his throat and suggested, “Let’s go across the bridges. It’s faster that way, and we’d have to wear masks underground anyway, thanks to that cave-in. ”
“Right!” Zeke said more brightly. “We can take in some scenery. ”
“I’m not sure I’m up to more stairs yet, fellows. ” Rector waggled the cane for emphasis.
Zeke slapped his arm again. “Get up to it, Rector. Yaozu isn’t a teacher, or one of them nuns at the orphan’s home. And no matter how big you talk, he won’t excuse you with a sick note. ”
Nine
Rector very badly wanted some water, but he knew better than to ask for it, because since they’d left the serious, sturdy confines of Fort Decatur there’d been nothing to drink but the thick, smoky air. Nobody would remove a mask in this permanent state of terrible weather, and even if there’d been a spot to do so, there was no water topside that didn’t run yellow.
“I don’t know,” he whined. He hated himself for sounding so weak, but there it was. “This is tougher than I’m ready for. I can’t do this, not so fast. ”
“We’ll slow down when we get to the third-level bridges,” Houjin promised. “For now, we’re still within grabbing distance. ”
“Grabbing distance?”
“Rotters. You know,” Zeke told him, urging him forward, around a corner, and up a ledge—even being so kind as to give him a boost. “Sometimes they pile up on top of each other, and they can get higher than you think. Anything within the first floor is grab
bing distance. ”
