Chapter 9: The Rope

Joel woke before dawn in Max's bed, in his own body again, and lay very still.

He ached everywhere.

A ring of silver crescents glowed on his left shoulder.

He had not put it there, and he could still feel the bite under it.

Max slept beside him on his side, one hand curled loosely against the pillow, palm up.

Joel looked at the hand for a long time.

The palm was crossed with white ridges, thick and old.

Joel had seen scars like that on sailors.

He had seen them on the hands of men who had held a line while it ran.

He got up quietly and dressed in the dark.

At the door he found Raven in the corridor with his back to the wall and the little book closed in his fist.

They looked at each other for a moment.

"You stayed," Joel said.

"Yes."

"The whole night?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"To see what you'd do." Raven's green eyes went over Joel's collar, where the mark showed. "You're still alive. So am I."

Joel's face burned.

He walked past without answering, and Raven did not follow.

Linda took breakfast in her own sitting room, a pretty yellow chamber at the end of the west corridor.

Joel knocked, and she called him in with a smile.

She sat at a small table with her tea, in a blue morning gown and gloves the color of milk.

"Joel! You're up early. Sit, sit. Did you have a nice evening with Max?"

"It was informative."

"Was it?" Her smile sharpened with interest. "Did he say anything about the money?"

"No."

"What did he say?"

Joel took the chair across from her.

He turned his cup on its saucer.

"I had a dream," he said carefully. "About the river."

"I was in the water, and someone had me by the collar, and there was a rope."

"Oh." Linda put down her spoon. "Oh, Joel."

"Tell me again how it went."

Her expression softened at once, warm and tender, and she laid a gloved hand on his.

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