Читать «Rulers of the Darkness (хвв-4)» онлайн - страница 384

Another thought occurred to Bembo: or we have to go on taking it till we lose. He resolutely shoved that one to the back of his mind.

He wasn't walking a beat here. He had to keep reminding himself of that. Whether he was or he wasn't, though, he soon found himself back at the constabulary station where he'd spent so much time before going to Gromheort. He hadn't seemed to belong anywhere else.

He went up the stairs and into the beat-up old building with hope thudding in his heart. He got his first jolt when he opened the door: that wasn't Sergeant Pesaro sitting behind the desk in the front hall. Of course not, you idiot, Bembo jeered at himself. You left Pesaro back in Forthweg. He didn't recognize the fellow in the sergeant's familiar seat.

The constable didn't recognize him, either. "What do you want, pal?" he asked in tones suggesting that Bembo had no business wanting anything and would be wise to take himself elsewhere in a hurry.

I'm not in uniform, Bembo realized. He fished in his belt pouch and found the card that identified him as a constable from Tricarico. Displaying it, he said, "I've been on duty in Forthweg the past couple of years. Lightning finally struck- they gave me leave."

"And you came back to a constabulary station?" the man in Pesaro's seat said incredulously. "Haven't you got better things to do with yourself?"

"Curse me if I know for sure," Bembo answered. "Tricarico looks dead and about halfway buried. What's wrong with everybody, anyway?"

"War news isn't so good," the other constable said.

"I know, but that's not it, or not all of it," Bembo insisted. With a shrug, he went on, "Here, at least, I know some people."

"Go on, then," said the constable behind the desk. "Just don't bother anybody who's working, that's all."

Bembo didn't dignify that with a reply. He hurried down the hall to the big room where clerks and sketch artists worked. A lot of the clerks he'd known were gone, with women taking their places. Most of the time, that would have cheered Bembo, but now he was looking for familiar faces. The jeers and insults he got from the handful of people who recognized him felt better than blank stares from even pretty strangers.

"Where's Saffa?" he asked one of the clerks who hadn't gone off to war when he didn't see the artist. "The army can't have taken her."

"She had a baby a couple weeks ago," the fellow answered. "She'll be back before too long, I expect."

"A baby!" Bembo exclaimed. "I didn't even know she'd got married."

"Who said anything about married?" the clerk replied. That made Bembo laugh. It also made him wonder why, if Saffa was going to fall into bed with somebody, she hadn't fallen into bed with him. Life isn't fair, he thought, and pushed on farther into the station.