Мариам Петросян - The Gray House

“Almost forgot that I brought her along,” he says. “I thought I'd better. Those Cases don't exactly inspire confidence.”

Humpback snatches his pet and straightens out her feathers.

“What were you thinking, Blind? Keeping the bird under your clothes all this time! She can barely stand, poor thing!”

“I'm sorry. I told you, I forgot.”

The pack solemnly regards the Leader who is capable of forgetting about a crow hidden on his person.

“He's not a completely lost cause yet, tempting though to think he is,” Tabaqui says to Sphinx soothingly. “Believe me, he's still full of surprises.”

“Of that I have no doubt.” Sphinx stands up. “I’ll go ask Red why he's so jumpy all of a sudden. I hope he isn't holding a horseshoe in his mouth that would interfere with his ability to speak.”

Sphinx starts in the direction of the windowsill occupied by Red, but is intercepted by Black, rising up from the Sixth's table; his desire to have a private conversation is so obvious that every Hound in the vicinity immediately makes himself scarce to allow him the opportunity. To the extent it's possible in a room crammed with people.

“Sphinx, can I have a minute?”

Sphinx waits resignedly for Hound Leader—decked to the gills in the regalia of his position, including the collar that for him is not a required accessory—to approach.

“I need to tell you something ...” Black's chin thrusts forward, his pale eyebrows bunch together over the bridge of the nose. “I have finally done it!”

This sounds so ominous that Sphinx is reluctant to clarify what he's talking about. He's overwhelmed by the desire to cry out “Why, oh why have you done it, Black”—so strong that he's barely able to stop himself.

“You are probably going to laugh ...”

“No,” Sphinx says firmly. “I'm not. Whatever else, this I can promise.”

Black's eyes glaze over.

“I found a bus. A small one.”

Sphinx nods, says “I see,” and uses his shoulder to wipe the sweat off his face. Then he says “Why?” in exactly the plaintive voice that he successfully fought off not a minute ago.

Black looks around and begins to whisper confidentially.

“I had to distract them with something, don't you see? Buck them up a little. I couldn't just sit on my hands looking at how they were all running scared half to death. And then there was all this talk about a bus. So I figured I’ll get them their bus. I'm their Leader, after all, right? Remember how I told you that I knew where to find one? Well, I didn't get it from there exactly, there was this other place. doesn't matter, anyway. The important thing is, it exists.”

Sphinx nods.

“Right. That's the important thing. I get it, Black. It's great, it's wonderful. But what are you going to do if they take it into their heads to actually use it?”

“That's exactly what I wanted to talk to you about,” Black says pensively. “Because, you see, I can't just go and tell them that it was all for show, so that they wouldn't go stir crazy on me. I parked the bus near the dump and tossed some trash over it. You wouldn't believe it, but they used to visit it three times a day, every day, until those guys with the tents showed up. So now they don't anymore, of course, but the fact of it being there is what's keeping them together, you see?”

Sphinx looks at Black like it's the first time he sees him. The blue icicles of the eyes framed by the pale eyelashes. The dancing skeletons on the black pirate bandana.

“What I see is that you're screwed,” Sphinx says. “That's what I see.”

Black sighs.

“I know that. So, what do you think I should do?”

Sphinx itches to give him Jackal-like advice. To live holding his breath. To sing noiseless songs. To wash his face with softer water. But Black is a Leader, and this is not the kind of tone to assume with Leaders.

“Tell them that the bus is useless without a driver, and a driver is useless without a license. This they have to understand. It's common knowledge.”

Black shakes his head and sighs again. Takes off the bandana, scratches his head. His unhurried movements make Sphinx break out in an itch between his shoulder blades.

“Remember how I said I learned to drive? I mean, not that I'm an expert, but I'm pretty decent. And now I have the license too. Fake, of course. Rat got it for me. But the point is, I have it.”

“Black?” Sphinx says, looking into his eyes. “You've already decided, haven't you? What else do you need? Everything's in place, all that remains is to load whoever takes you up on the offer in that bus and drive into the sunset. What is it you want from me?”

Black shuffles his feet. Wipes the face with the scrunched-up bandana and says without lifting his eyes, “Nothing. I just had to tell you. That there's another way, you know. In case any of you guys would like to use it. I've already talked to Lary, he and Needle are definitely going. But maybe someone else?”

Sphinx looks at Black and thinks that this man in front of him is undoubtedly the same old Black that he's known for years, and at the same time someone completely different. That his Leadership has pushed him to the edge of inspired madness, beyond which even familiar people turn into strangers. He considers whether that's good or bad, and cannot decide definitively. It's probably bad for Black himself, but Sphinx likes this new unpredictable stranger much more.

“Thanks, Black,” he says.

Black shrugs.

“Not at all. I just wanted you to know. OK... I’ll see you.”

Black walks away in his swaying, bearlike gait. Clutching the bandana with the skeletons in his hand, wearing a quietly heroic expression. As Sphinx looks at Black's receding back, Noble drives up to him.

“What was it he wanted?”

“You know what,” Sphinx says, ignoring the question, “I seem to be acquiring a philosophical attitude.”

The search is apparently over. Counselors and Shark mill around the entrance to the canteen, arguing hotly. They come to some sort of agreement, haul Pheasants' table to the door, barring it, and Shark announces that since many of the things known missing haven't been discovered, the backpacks of everyone currently in the canteen will have to be searched as well. No one can hear anything after that. Shark's speech is drowned out by indignant howls and whistles. Even Pheasants join in, discipline be damned. Shark makes a couple of futile attempts to finish his thought, then shrugs and goes back to the counselors. They are huddled together at the table, waiting for the outrage to subside, but if anything, it keeps growing. Rats start throwing crockery. Plates and cups explode on the floor a couple of feet from the counselors, so it can be argued that Rats aren't aiming directly at them, but it still looks threatening, and Sheriff's nerves are the first to snap. He snatches the starter pistol from his pocket and empties the clip at the ceiling. He fires until everyone's ears start ringing.

Rats pipe down a little, especially since they ran out of things to throw. Pheasants, tableless, decide they've had enough and line up for the inspection, backpacks open and ready.

Smoker whips out the notebook again and feverishly scribbles in it like an obsessed reporter who suddenly stumbled upon a sensational scoop. Nanette, shaken by the gunshots, flutters away, but not before decorating the tablecloth with greenish squiggles of guano.

“They are especially vicious today, aren't they,” Noble says. “I wonder what it is they're missing, apart from all the things we know about?”

Sphinx looks at Tabaqui, who has been saying the same thing, but he is half-stunned with his own screams and neither hears Noble nor notices Sphinx's look.