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‘Why the wanderer?’
‘“’E ’oo ’as few friends: this is the wanderer.” I was a kid when I done it,’ he muttered, shoving his hand back under his armpit.
‘Made a believer of you, did they?’
Reaney said nothing.
‘No opinion on the UHC’s religion?’
Reaney cast another glance towards the large prisoner at the next table, who wasn’t talking to his visitor, but glaring at Reaney. With an irritable movement of his shoulders, Reaney muttered unwillingly,
‘I seen fings.’
‘Like what?’
‘Jus’ fings what they could do.’
‘Who’s “they”?’
‘Them. That Jonafun an’… is she still alive?’ asked Reaney. ‘Mazu?’
‘Why wouldn’t she be?’
Reaney didn’t answer.
‘What things did you see the Waces do?’
‘Jus’… makin’ stuff disappear. An’… spirits an’ stuff.’
‘Spirits?’
‘I seen ’er make a spirit appear.’
‘What did the spirit look like?’ asked Strike.
‘Like a ghost,’ said Reaney, his expression daring Strike to find this funny. ‘In temple. I seen it. Like… transparent.’
Reaney gave another hard blink, then said,
‘You talked to anyone else ’oo was in there?’
‘Did you believe the ghost was real?’ Strike asked, ignoring Reaney’s question.
‘I dunno – yeah, maybe,’ said Reaney. ‘You weren’ fuckin’ there,’ he added, with a slight show of temper, but after a glance over Strike’s head at a hovering warder, he added, with effortful calmness, ‘but maybe it was a trick. I dunno.’
‘I heard Mazu forced you to whip yourself across the face,’ said Strike, watching Reaney closely, and sure enough, a tremor passed over the prisoner’s face. ‘What had you done?’
‘Smacked a bloke called Graves.’
‘Alexander Graves?’
Reaney looked still more uncomfortable at this further evidence Strike had done his homework.
‘Yeah.’
‘Why did you smack him?’
‘’E was a tit.’
