Conversation · Washerwoman

You should look around your shack -- maybe she's rented it out to others too?

Ruby was here. You know it.

You need to look into these shacks. Especially hers.

Ask her about lodgings...

"God dammit, I know you know something. This shit is important!"

"'This shit?" Her eyes with their cataracts look at you. "I'm not going to do your work for you, just because you've got a potty mouth."

"This isn't about the Union, you know. You don't have to worry about retaliation."

"Ah, I should have known..." She shakes her head. "This is yet another Union mess. I'm not afraid of them, you know. We're not in the habit of being afraid around here."

"You know something. We're here to help."

"Aye, that you are, dark Omen -- help yourselves and your organization. Help the storm clouds gather on the horizon..." She shakes her head.

"Okay, but do you know who I'm talking about?"

"This is my little cinderblock town." She nods with a wrinkled smile. "I know what goes on around here."

"Oh. Well, let me know if that changes. Let's talk about something else."

"Aye, officer. I certainly will."

"Why was there a bullet under the floorboards of your shack?"

"God damn that girl," she murmurs softly.

And without anger. A long and harsh life has taught her not to buckle under pressure.

"A bullet?" The lieutenant turns to you and gives you a little nod, then turns to the washerwoman:

"You didn't put it there, did you? She did."

"Gone and hid things in there..." She shakes her head. "She's usually a good tenant. And not a stupid one either."

"You rented the room to her?"

“Yes, I let my room to that Ruby girl…” She speaks slowly, wringing out a rag, after a long silence. Her hands move into the water bucket. Some water sloshes over the edge.

"As I've done before when she's been in trouble, or just looking for solitude. I've made it clear -- we welcome all kinds of people here."

"When was this?"

"She came last Friday. Left on Monday, in a hurry..." Her wrinkled hand kneads a blue rag in the water. "What has she gotten herself into, that girl?"

She seems genuinely worried about her previous tenant. She's seen her hiding out from trouble before, but this seems different.

"That's for the police to find out." The lieutenant takes out his familiar blue notebook. "Right then, please answer each question to the best of your ability. I'm sure we have a few."

"I'm guessing you didn't put it there -- Ruby did."

"What is the song you're humming?"

"A lullaby my mother used to sing. I sang it to my kids too. It's an old Samaran children's song."

"Sounds nice."

"Yes." She nods. "It does."

"It's weird. I don't like it."

"Like I said," her tone sharpens, "it's an old children's song. You don't have to like it."

"What's it called?"

"'Surrender to the Night'," she replies, slowly rocking back and forth.

That's kind of grim for a children's song. Even if it is a lullaby.

"I got Lilienne's signature. Will you sign the papers now?"

"Lilienne should let her sword make her decisions. The girl just doesn't have the head for it." She lets out a chortle, coarse like a raven's caw. "Either way, I won't sign."

"So it was a test?"

"Aye. Lilienne's not the only one who's too trusting."

She wanted to see if you would do it and if she would.

"Wait, you promised!"

"You need to check your facts, officer." Her bony finger is pointing at you, soapy water dripping on the skirt. "I said no such thing."

True. She only said she wouldn't even consider signing before Lilienne.

"Where could someone stay around here?"

"Stay? Most people here are trying to leave..."

"That said, if lodgings is what you're looking for, I've got a free room in the shack." Her soapy thumb points to the building behind her.

"Don't know if I can afford another place to stay."

"I won't charge you for it. Take it as a gesture of goodwill, from the village to the RCM."

"I'm not sure it's appropriate for the RCM to accept free accommodations."

The old woman shrugs. "Or don't. It's your choice. No skin off my teeth."

"You got yourself a tenant!" (Get keys to your new home.)

"Don't make an old woman regret opening her house to the police." A key appears from under her apron. She hands it to you.

"Well, if you're not in the hostel in the morning, I'll know where to find you." He looks around and adds: "Here. In a shack."

He's a little relieved you're no longer in that room.

Should he? This environment encourages one thing and one thing only -- drinking.

Yum yum. It's not a shack nor a room nor a lodging -- it's a spiral staircase disappearing into bliss. Empty bottles on the floor, maybe some baggies...

Finally you have those lamos of Martinaise off your back, bratan. This looks like a great place to bring chicks.

"No, I don't want a free room, it's not proper." (Stay at Whirling-in-Rags.)