The Land Across

by Gene Wolfe

  I saw that one go down the drain before I had even gotten through speaking. I will not tell you what she said.

  After that I had another idea. I would go to the American embassy and talk them into finding that stuff out for us through the Department of Commerce. But I knew if I sprung that idea on Naala right after my last one, it would be a goner, too. So I did not.

  At the prison, people were running around every which way yelling at each other. Nobody would talk to us, JAKA or no JAKA, except to tell us we would have to talk to the warden. She was not in her office, and nobody seemed to know where she was. Pretty soon I could see we were not going to get anything out of them and started keeping an eye out for a prisoner who looked familiar, one of the women I had seen working in that barn where Rosalee had been cutting cloth.

  I did not see anybody, but I saw something I thought might be almost as good, Building 124. The number was painted on the side, and they use Arabic numbers just like we do. I touched Naala and pointed. She took a minute to think about it before she nodded, but she did.

  Inside it looked a lot different, because it had been empty before but the women were in there now, each standing at the foot of her bed. I remembered where Rosalee’s was and went to it. She was not there, and it seemed to be the only bed in the whole place that did not have a woman waiting at the foot. Naala buttonholed a little woman at the bed next to it and flashed her badge.

  “I do not know, operator. I do not know anything about Madame Rathaus.”

  “Are you telling us you never spoke to her?”

  “I could not, operator. She did not speak as we speak, operator. She was of Amerika.”

  “I have talked with her! You, also, have talked with her. Tell me!”

  “Only a little, operator. We speak of the weather, of which guards are most cruel.”

  “We will return to that. The Rathaus woman slept here last night?”

  “Last night yes, operator. This morning no.”

  “When you woke she was gone?”

  “When we went outside, operator.” The little woman was almost whispering. “We must stand in lines, each in our places, operator. Her place was empty, operator.”

  “But she was here when you woke up?”

  “I am unsure, operator.”

  I was listening in, and I noticed a tall dark woman listening in, too. She looked like she wanted to talk, so I went over to her and asked if she had seen Rosalee this morning.

  “I see she is missing, operator. So did that fool, but she will not say it out of fear. When Madame Rathaus goes, I do not know. She goes in the night while I slept.”

  Here you will think I had bathrooms on the brain, but I started looking around for theirs. Building 124 had been a private house once, so the bathroom was not hard to find. Most of the windows in the whole place were open, and the one in the bathroom was no different. Wide open, and plenty big enough for a slender girl like Rosalee to crawl out of. I could have gotten through it myself.

  By the time I got back to Naala, she was finished with the little woman and was questioning another woman. I took her aside and said, “Hey, it was easy. These ladies have got to get up during the night sometimes just like other people. So Rosalee gets up and goes to the bathroom and out the window. I’ll show you.”

  Naala shook her head. “You, I believe. Do they sleep in their clothes?”

  I did not know, so we asked around. Most of them did. They had a few little personal things, like letters from outside or maybe their baby’s picture in a locket, and they were afraid they would be stolen. Also some women whose prison grays did not fit so good might want to trade. That happened, too, they said.

  “She did not have to dress to escape,” Naala murmured. She looked thoughtful, so I kept quiet while we left the prison. Pretty soon she got on one of the police phones and had a long talk with JAKA headquarters.

  14

  FINDING ROSALEE

  When she hung up, she smiled. “They blame me, as is only nature. I have show them nothing could be more useful for us.”

  I was thoughtful all the way back inside the prison and into the warden’s office.

  By that time she was sitting behind her desk again, writing something. Naala sat down without being asked, so I did, too. We did not talk, just waited until the warden stopped writing and looked around. “I do not recall that I wished to speak to you.”

  Naala said, “Clearly because you had nothing to tell us and nothing to ask us. With us it is otherwise. We have things to tell and ask. I have an office myself. It is in our Central Building. Perhaps you are aware of our Central Building?”

  The warden just looked at her.

  “With a few words I could have you brought to me there. When we were finished, perhaps you would return here. I cannot say.”

  The warden had no answer.

  Naala gave her plenty of time before she said, “Let us first be clear. The Rathaus woman was in my custody all day yesterday. She does not escape. She is return to your custody in the evening. She escapes in the night. Now you compose a report about this? So I think. A press of the button will submit this report, but you may wish to revise it before you send.”

  “The question, operator, is whether there is reason to revise.” The warden sounded scared.

  “A question you must answer. For your assistance I tell you this. We of the JAKA are happy with what we have achieved.”

  “Achieved? I wish to laugh, though an escape is not a thing to laugh at.”

  “When I return the Rathaus woman to your custody, she is in a dress I buy for her, a dress of red and white. Why do you not require her to resume the gray uniform of those in your custody?”

  “We did!” The warden jumped up. “Your dress we tear from her back! You have keep the uniform she wore! We are forced to supply another!”

  “It fit her well, I hope.” Naala was smiling. “This is in your report? The new uniform?”

  “Yes!”

  “That is good. Already two men and two women visit dress shops. Before the shops close they will have visited every shop in the city that sells such clothes. They ask about a man who come to buy for a slender woman, or a woman as it may be who buys clothes she does not try on, clothes too small. This may be fruitful. You have find how she passes over the wire?”

  The warden shook her head.

  “She has not. So it may be. She has gone out a gate. You have very many?”

  “Only one, operator.”

  Naala jumped up. “You lie to me! For this alone—” She stopped and laughed, and I about fell off my chair. “You will pay, warden.” Naala was finished laughing. “Never think you will not. How much you pay, I do not know.”

  “Please, operator…”

  Naala sat again. “It is too late for ‘please’ and you are a fool. The gate in front is narrow and well guarded. Yesterday I go to the place where the Rathaus women work. They make uniforms, and there is a wagon and a truck, a wagon to bring more cloth, more thread. I see the boxes on it. Also the army truck. It will be to take away the uniforms, I think. These must come in here, and go out, too. So a wider gate there must be.”

  The warden hated doing it, but she nodded.

  “How did the Rathaus woman escape? You do not know. No more do I, but I will guess. It is not single shifts that work making army clothes. No. Your prisoners tell me this. When the day workers stop the work, the night workers begin it. In this way the machines are keep busy. The Rathaus woman know boxes will be loaded on the army truck. Those who will load them are her friends. They will make a small space for her among the boxes. The truck must go slowly along the city streets. She move the boxes and jump off. This I cannot prove. Not yet.”

  Naala paused for another smile. “When her we catch, she will tell us.”

  After we got out of there I thought Naala would call for another police car, but we walked. “You will have the big questions for me,” she said.

  I told her she was dead on about that.
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  “We must think and think, you and I. We will find a café. There will be coffee for us. Rolls also if you wish them. You will have questions for me, and I a task for you. Are you to be trusted?”

  Of course I said I was.

  “I think yes and that is well. What do you think of Papa Iason? Is he, too, to be trusted?”

  I said he had not told us everything.

  “Not by us. No. By his father.”

  “You mean Russ. The other one’s dead.”

  “Yes, by Rathaus, his true father. He can trust him, do you think?”

  “I’ll have to think that one over,” I said.

  Naala gave me the mean grin. “This you must do as we walk, Grafton. When we are seated, you must tell me. Not yes only, or no. Explain.”

  There were plenty of cafés as soon as we got into a better part of town. Naala liked the fifth one (I think it was) and we sat down at an outside table with a shiny pink umbrella. I asked if she wanted my answer.

  She smiled. “You are sure of it?”

  “Stone certain. First, Papa Iason is religious. Not just because he’s a priest but because he never once griped about it. So religious, and the Bible says to honor your father and mother. So I say, yes, if he knows Russ is his real father, Russ could trust him.”

  “Does he know? What is it you think?”

  “We haven’t got any way to tell.”

  “Then we must guess. He looks at the picture of Rathaus and says it is an ordinary face. Possibly you recall this?”

  “But it meant something to him. I could see that.”

  “Three years ago Rathaus comes here. This the shopman tells. Why?”

  I said, “Beats me.”

  “You are familiar with our identity cards?”

  “No. I’ve never had one.”

  “There is on each card the date of issuance. This is for my JAKA and the police. If a woman has held her card twenty years, her face will have changed in certain ways. A man the same. Information is like bread. If it is not eaten it grow stale. So we must know. Papa’s card is of three years.”

  “O-o-o-kay.” I was trying to think what it might mean.

  “Does his son get a new card because he comes?”

  “I don’t see why he would.”

  “He does not. He get a new card because he is become a priest. He is ordained. For a priest, this is a great, great thing. His father learn of it, I think. How I do not know, but there may be many ways. Perhaps the mother tell him. Perhaps Papa Iason himself tell, or someone at the seminary. It does not matter. He learns, and comes to see his son ordained. He will shake his hand and give him some money it may be. He does not tell, the mother does not tell, Papa does not tell. He is a friend from the old years, they say. Or the son of the mother’s aunt who is dead. Whatever. But they know. Rathaus knows, the mother knows, and Papa Iason knows. Those three are sure. If you do not agree, I do not care. I too am sure.” Naala sipped her coffee, watching me over the rim of her cup.

  I told her, “I’m not as sure as you are, but you’re probably right.”

  “This I think. There is a cult, the Unholy Way. They make dark magic. Rumors have reach the JAKA long ago, and yesterday the archbishop tells us.”

  I nodded.

  “Rathaus makes the magic dolls. They have taken him. You agree?”

  I shook my head.

  “This the JAKA think. You do not. Tell me why.”

  “Russ was a pretty good guy. He didn’t always tell me the truth, but mostly he did. When he didn’t, he didn’t lie outright, generally. He talked like he had never been here until he and Rosalee came. But he didn’t actually say that, he just let me think it. That’s one thing.”

  Naala nodded. “Speak more.”

  “If the cult could just go in that prison and take people out, they would have taken a lot of them. That’s how it seems to me. There were some really bad guys in there, so why not? Only they haven’t, or it would have been all over in there. Everybody would talk about it, about all the escapes, and how somebody did and what it meant for the rest of us. It wasn’t like that at all. When Russ went missing there was a lot of fuss and I got shopped to the JAKA.”

  Naala nodded. “We may be right. I think so. Here for you is another question. They have who that we know? Name this person.”

  “That’s easy, and I’ve been thinking a lot about it. Martya. They had her, but she stole their hand and got away. She brought it to a priest because she thought he’d be the right guy to destroy it. By this time the cult may have killed her. I just hope they can’t find her.”

  “In what you say now you are entirely wrong, I think. She serve them. What is it the hand try to do last night?”

  “It tried to kill you, and it almost did. Only you said it was a whole woman. I know it wasn’t, that it was really the hand, but I didn’t think you knew that. What wised you up?”

  “Reason.” Naala chuckled. “Two great teachers we have, of which reason is one. We are both right. I see the long hair, the little face, you see only her hand. You would lie to me, I think, but not about such a thing as this. Also when we search, we find no woman. She cannot have slip away.”

  I nodded. “The door and all the windows were locked from inside.”

  “Just so. I am of the JAKA and am known to be so. You understand? This I hope. Also my apartment is on the lowest floor. This for me is nice, I do not have to climb the steps. Everyone want the lowest floor. But perhaps someone wish to slide the blade into my throat, so I have good locks. Alarms also. The locks are locked, the alarms silent….” Naala fell silent herself.

  “So you knew it was really just the hand.”

  She shook her head. “It is both. The hand is a hand. It is solid. I have pick it up. You also. The woman is a soul by God condemned, a bad ghost.”

  “I can’t see that,” I said.

  “You have the eyes.”

  That one stopped me dead. I sipped my coffee, which was thick with honey, hot, and black. Finally I said, “The hand doesn’t. That’s what you mean. Only it seems like it sees.”

  “Also thinks, without a brain. It hide so well we do not find it. Could this young woman I see hide from us in my apartment? No, this is absurd to think. The hand is wise. It find a place we do not think of, we the so clever ones. Yesterday we see the old man work his magic. His hands are oh, so clever because his brain think for them. Who think for that hand?”

  “I’m an American,” I told her. “We don’t believe in ghosts.”

  “You are not there.” She gave me the mean grin. “You do not ask me big questions. This you promised.”

  I looked away, seeing the empty, dusty street and the shabby buildings, each in its cheerful rectangle of trees. I wanted it to be America, and all these wine bottles and bright umbrellas wanted it to be Paris. But it was about as far from America and Paris as you could get. I said, “Russ had that dummy that looked like him. Where’d he get it?”

  “That is not a big question. He is helped in his escape. My friends at the JAKA think by the cult. You think by those who buy his dolls, and this may be correct. If we find him, we may learn. Ask another question.”

  “All right, here’s a big one. Why is it important that Russ could trust Papa Iason?”

  “If Rathaus can trust him, he have no reason to wish him no more. The hand snatch away life. It has try to snatch mine. A priest it would hate, I think, but your Martya bring it to a priest and leave it with him. Now you see?”

  I shook my head.

  “Does she wish him dead? This I do not credit. She is of Puraustays. It is not to be believed that she knows him. You have kiss her and share her bed. Does she have such a hand?”

  “Absolutely not,” I said.

  “She serves, I think. It is her master who wish the priest dead. Ah, you say, Rathaus. But the priest is his son. Even a bad man loves his son. So it often is, even if not always. Also this son is to be trusted. Why kill him? Why in such a fashion? There is no reason.”<
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  “But whoever sent Martya must have had a reason.”

  Naala nodded. “I offer one where I might offer many. The priest is Rathaus’s son and can be trusted by him. The first reason tell me, and the second I am told by you. This bad master think like me, so I think. He think around corners. You see? He cannot kill Rathaus, perhaps because he cannot find him. Very well, he will kill the son. In this fashion he rob Rathaus of an ally, also give him much sorrow. Both, he think, will be good.”

  I thought, too. “You’re saying that Martya gave Papa the hand so it would kill him, but it didn’t.”

  Naala nodded.

  “Well, why didn’t it? Why didn’t it work?”

  “We cannot know, only hope to find out. I will guess now, and quickly. But it is a guess merely. It try to choke me, yes?”

  It was my turn to nod. “Right. It did.”

  “You grasp it with both hands and tear it away. The priest does the same. He is a man, young and large. He will be stronger than I, perhaps as strong as you. He catch it and lock it away, who know where? It could be many places. In the morning he take it to the archbishop, who keep it where?”

  “In that box he gave us.”

  “No. In a drawer of his desk, a drawer he unlock with a key. He tell us Papa Iason offer to destroy it if he wish. The archbishop thank him but refuse. He will give it to us, to the JAKA. Perhaps he does not believe what Papa tell him. He does, I think, but knows we will not believe.”

  “You think the cult wants Russ dead. Why would they?”

  Naala sighed. “This is not hard to guess. He make the dolls and sell them. They are magic, or so many think. With them is sold a book of spells. To them he is a rival. In prison he cannot do this, so let him rot there. Now he gets out, so he must die.”

  “You want me to work on it.”

  Naala sipped more coffee. “It is a test for you. If you are wise, if you are to be trusted and have courage, we make great use of you, here and in Amerika. This I will judge as time passes.”