Sanctuary - Lynn Abbey [119]
“Get me parchment—the boy brought a sheet the other day. I’ll draw you a map … and how to find Elemi. She won’t be glad to see you, but you’ll manage …” The Torch leaned back against the cellar wall. “You’ll manage.”
His eyes fluttered and closed.
“Froggin’ shite—”
They opened.
“You want the truth, don’t you, pud? Get me parchment.”
Chapter Eleven
There was a game Bec had made up at home in the stoneyard when he was left to himself—
In truth, all of Bec’s games were games he’d made up for himself and games he played by himself. His momma didn’t approve of the other youngsters on Pyrtanis Street. She didn’t let him out the gate unless he was with her, or Poppa, or Cauvin. And she would never let him go out with Cauvin if she knew half the places Cauvin took him. The only reason Bec knew anyone his own age was because of Cauvin. Cauvin knew people in every quarter of the city and let Bec roam while he visited with them.
Sure, sometimes Bec broke the rules and sneaked out of the stoneyard when Momma was distracted, but the Pyrtanis youngsters called him a momma’s boy. They teased him with words and sticks. So, mostly, he was a momma’s boy, keeping her happy, waiting for the chance to tag along after Cauvin, and making up games like Are you the one?
The object of the game was simple: pick who among the men and women who visited the stoneyard actually bought stone. Since Bec both made the rules and kept the score, it was easy, but not challenging, to be the champion. To keep himself amused, Bec made the game tougher and tougher until Poppa started asking him, after a potential customer departed—
Is he coming back? Is she going to buy?
Bec hadn’t been wrong in over a year. He’d learned that watching Poppa was as important as watching the strangers. It wasn’t just what people said, it was how they reacted—how close they stood, who leaned forward and who backed away, who told jokes, who laughed, and how. One man’s laugh might sound the same as another’s but mean the opposite because of how the man moved while laughing, or how Poppa stood while listening. Above all, an Are-you-the-one? champion had to pay attention to the little things and keep an open mind. An Are-you-the-one? champion also learned that the game would answer questions that had nothing to do with selling salvaged stone.
At the beginning—before Bec decided he really didn’t want to hear the conversation—Cauvin, Grandfather, and the stranger named Soldt stood so far apart that they couldn’t have touched fingertips if they’d tried. After Flower got ornery and Cauvin had returned from calming her, the men were, if anything, farther apart than they’d been when Bec ran, but gradually, as their conversation got quieter, they closed ranks. Before long, Cauvin and Soldt were practically rubbing shoulders, as if the two of them made common cause as they talked with Grandfather, who pressed himself against the root-cellar doorway until the very end, when he leaned forward and backed the younger men off.
No surprise, then, that when Grandfather settled back against the doorway as if for a nap, Soldt and Cauvin peeled off together. They headed straight for Bec.
“Get in the cart,” Cauvin ordered when he was close enough for conversation.
Bec leapt to his feet. “Where’re we going?”
“You’re going home.”
“Home?” Bec protested. “I didn’t do anything wrong. I was just trying to help when Flower acted up; you said so yourself. It wasn’t my fault!”
“I didn’t say anything was. We’re not staying out here today, and you’re going back to the stoneyard.”
“That’s not fair! I want to come with you!”
“Forget it.”
“Then, let me stay here—If I go home now, Momma and Poppa will wonder where you’re going when you should be working. Let me stay here, and we can pretend we were all together.” Cauvin didn’t answer immediately, and that got Bec’s curiosity burning. “Where are you going? You’re not going to miss supper, are you? You wouldn’t leave Sanctuary, would you?”
“The boy made a good point,” the stranger said. He had a