Ascension by Steven Galloway Read Free Book Online

south side of the street, next to a blacksmith’s. From the main road ran several smaller side streets that were closely crowded with houses, some better kept than others. At the very end of the worst of these side streets stood the two-room house where the Ursari family lived.
    It was not much of a house. There was one low, narrow wooden door in the front of the building and one tiny window on the side. The walls were made of rough stones covered with a crude plaster that was chipped and cracked and stained. The roof, constructed of sticks thatched together in a haphazard fashion, gave the house the appearance of sporting a shaggy head of hair.
    The inside of the house was nearly always dark. They owned a small kerosene lamp, but there had been no fuel now for nearly five years. Salvo slept in the front room with his brother, András, and his father’s tools, and his parents and the baby slept in the back room. They had lived in this house since just before the war had started; this was by far the longest they had ever stayed in one place.
    Directly to the right of the house, a ring of blackened stones enclosed a circle of lightly smoking ash, marking the fire that the family meals were cooked over. The residence had no fireplace, and before the drought, when it had rained, Salvo and his brother had held a sheet rubbed with grease over the fire to keep off the rain while their mother cooked.
    Azira Ursari was at this fire, preparing a painfully sparse meal, when she saw her husband and youngest son come running up the street. She instantly knew something was wrong from the way they ran; Miksa would never run like that for any reason other than danger.
    At twenty-six, Azira had been married to Miksa nearly half her life. She had bore six children, buried three, and if there wasone thing she could recognize with absolute clarity, it was imminent disaster. Remaining calm, so calm that a casual observer might not have noticed this shift in her perception, she straightened the scarf that corralled her inky hair and wiped her hands on a threadbare skirt. She picked up the baby that sat naked at her feet and went into the house to gather up the family’s belongings.
    As they reached the house, Salvo caught a glimpse of his mother, disappearing into the darkened doorway. He took in large gasps of air, bent at the waist with his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. His father didn’t even seem winded; save for the sweat on his brow there was little that would indicate how far he had just run. Seeing him, Salvo stood up and ignored his screaming lungs.
    Miksa scanned the area, shading his eyes with a hand. “Where’s András?” he asked.
    Salvo shrugged. He didn’t know any more than his father.
    “Go and find your brother. We have to leave this place.” He headed towards the house.
    “Where should I look?”
    His father turned, anger in his face. “How do I know? Just go and find him, Salvo, and do it quickly.”
    Salvo nodded and jogged down the street. On the next street over lived a girl that András was fond of. Maybe he was there, Salvo thought. Of course, he could be almost anywhere. András was a fantastic wanderer, a true Rom. You never knew where he would go, and neither did he. He could be ten miles from here or he could be right behind you. There was no way to tell.
    There were, however, places that he most definitely would not be. That was how it was in this town when you were a Rom. Some places you went and many you simply did not. The Roma lived on one of two streets, an unstated rule that was known by all,whether Roma or gadje. Similarly, there were stores and market stalls that Roma went to and those that they did not. No one seemed to know who had instituted these rules, and no one much cared. Most Roma didn’t want to associate with
gadje
any more than most
gadje
wanted to associate with Roma. It was very much a mutual feeling.
    There were exceptions. Salvo himself had no particular misgivings