Flora nodded, apparently seeing the truth in that observation. ‘So where is she now?’
‘I found her a place to sleep in an abandoned room in a warehouse,’ he said. ‘If she keeps her wits about her she should be fine.’
‘Take me to her,’ Flora said suddenly.
‘What? Why?’
‘Maybe I can help her,’ she said.
‘Well, aren’t you Lady Bountiful? Don’t you believe me?’ Hurt, he let a little of his resentment show in the tone.
‘Maybe if someone had offered to help me when I was first orphaned,’ Flora said with some heat, ‘I wouldn’t have had to become a whore!’
‘Oh,’ Jimmy said. Ouch. ‘All right. But she might not still be there,’ he warned.
‘Well, at least we’ll have tried.’ Flora gave him a hard look. ‘I’ll go and get my shawl and tell Aunt Cleora we’re off shopping, so remind me to buy something on the way back.’ As she moved through the door, she added, ‘We should pitch in with chores when we get back, like respectable youngsters. I want to make a good impression before Aunt Cleora takes me to meet Grandfather.’
Jimmy looked at the closed door. Chores, he thought. Wonderful.
Exile was looking worse all the time.
Flora pulled the back of her skirt up through her legs and tucked it into her waistband, forming a baggy equivalent of trousers which would allow her to climb.
Looks like nothing is going to discourage her, Jimmy thought, casually glancing to either side. There were people down at the end of the alley who could see them if they looked . . . but they probably wouldn’t. And even if they did, they probably wouldn’t care. The men—the ones loading crates of pottery on a mule-drawn wagon—were busy, and Jimmy’s experience with teamsters was that they didn’t go looking for trouble, unless it was after work and they’d been drinking.
Jimmy turned his attention to the climb. At least the bright light of morning showed the handholds well and they started to climb the low building beneath the window of the abandoned room in a workmanlike fashion. Flora had insisted on bringing along a bag of food she tied up in her skirt, and a small wineskin which Jimmy had tied to his belt. If anyone stops us I guess I could say we’re here to wash the windows, Jimmy thought as Flora moved up.
Then Flora said, in a hoarse whisper, ‘Jimmy! There’s blood!’
Flora looked down and showed Jimmy her hand, the palm of which was now smeared with a sticky brownish stain; the blood was nearly dried, so it had been there for a while. Jimmy took out his belt-knife and transferred it to his teeth; there were a few situations in which that was useful, and hostile entry into a room was one. He motioned for Flora to move to the side so he could pass.
Maintaining careful track of his tongue—he kept his knife sharp—he crouched below the window, then threw himself in with a roll, dropping the blade and catching the hilt as eyes and knife-point probed all around.
‘Shit,’ he said calmly, sheathing the knife, turning and extending a hand. ‘She’s hurt. Come on.’
Flora pulled herself up to the window and gasped at the sight of the blood on the floor—she knew almost as well as he did what constituted a serious wound—and when she saw Lorrie’s pale form lying amid the bloodstained cloth she put her hand over her mouth and plastered herself against the wall.
‘Banath protect us,’ she whispered. ‘She’s been murdered!’
Jimmy went to one knee beside Lorrie’s pallet.
‘No, she’s breathing,’ he said in relief. But there was still a lot of blood around. ‘Lorrie,’ he called quietly. He touched her shoulder. ‘Lorrie,’ he whispered.
The girl woke with a start and gasped as though drawing breath to scream. Jimmy hastily put his hand over her mouth. ‘It’s Jimmy,’ he said. ‘It’s all right. I’ve brought some food.’
‘We’ve brought you some food,’ Flora said, elbowing him aside. From her tone she had no intention of forgetting how much he’d protested when she’d asked him to buy the bread, cheese and wine they’d brought.
‘What happened?’ Jimmy asked. ‘Who did this?’
Astonishingly, she smiled: ‘Me,’ she said. Even then, the resemblance to the Princess gave him a jolt. ‘I was climbing out of the window and somebody yelled.’ She pulled herself up on her elbows and looked at him groggily. ‘I was surprised and I slipped. My leg got caught on something.’ She lay back down again. ‘I put a bandage on it, but it hurts.’
I’ll bet it does, he thought, looking at the tight sodden bandages. Gods but she’s clumsy! That brought a stab of guilt: Well, she’s not a Mocker. Just a farm-girl.
‘There’s a lot of blood,’ Flora said. ‘You’d better let me take a look.’
Lorrie blinked at her, then turned to Jimmy.
‘This is my friend Flora,’ he said. ‘She’s all right.’
Lorrie nodded and struggled to sit upright, untying the string at her waist, then looked at Jimmy. ‘It’s on my leg,’ she said.
Jimmy nodded. ‘Do you need help?’