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Only now it seemed all roads in the Holy City led around and around in chilly circles crawling with an unimaginable density of pilgrims, prostitutes, dreamers, schemers, relic-buyers, indulgence-dealers, miracle-seekers, preachers and fanatics, tricksters and swindlers, prostitutes, thieves, merchants and moneylenders, soldiers and thugs, an astonishing quantity of livestock on the hoof, cripples, prostitutes, crippled prostitutes, had he mentioned the prostitutes?
Theology had never really been his strong suit, but he was reasonably sure the Saviour had talked a lot about mercy.
Alex couldn’t have given a smaller shit about all that if she’d gone at a turd with tweezers, but she knew better than to say so.
poetry
There’s no talent like not being there when things turn sour.
But you reach a certain age, everything reminds you of something.
The Vigga-Wolf screamed with fury and delight to be out of the horrid wagon and once again at her work, which was murder, and her hobby, too. Also murder.
Shiny was up again which you had to admire since he was sobbing away with one arm bitten all floppy. There’s a lesson. One moment you’re king of the yard the next your face is all red strips and blood’s bubbling from your empty nose hole.
Lying was a sin, apparently, unless you did it outrageously and persistently enough, in which case it qualified as scripture.
“We’re trapped!” squawked Alex. “It’s just like the inn!” “No, no,” said Vigga. “The inn was on land. You could run away from it. The inn wouldn’t sink.” Alex stared at her. “So it’s worse than the inn?” “Oh, it’s way worse.” And Vigga grinned as the ship hit a wave and they were all showered with spray.
“Oh God,” said one. People often said that when they met the Vigga-Wolf, which was a puzzle because she doubted she and God looked much alike.
“Plague on one side.” Brother Diaz gazed gloomily past the posts into the scrubby no-man’s-land beyond. “War on the other.” And he gazed gloomily back towards the burned-out wreckage of the village they’d passed not long before. “One could start to think these are the End Times.”
“You get to my age, you realise nothing lasts for ever. No love, no hate, no war, no peace. If a thing hasn’t ended … you haven’t waited long enough.” Sunny sniffed. “Is that meant to be comforting?” “It’s meant to be true. You had something. Be thankful for that.” Jakob gave a long, pained sigh. “Now you have to let it go.”
